The Duke's Bed Warmer

The morning was bright but cold as they rode south. The countryside stretched around them still the same. Fields spread across the landscape, and the river wound through them like a silver thread. Everything felt familiar and distant simultaneously.

Alina had been quiet since they left Ravenmoor. Austin rode beside her but didn’t push her to talk, understanding her.

After almost half an hour on the journey, she finally spoke.

"You know...I can handle his anger. I can handle his excuses. But...I don’t think I can handle him crying," Alina said suddenly, her voice faltering.

Austin didn’t say anything. Instead, waited for her to continue.

"When I was little, he used to cry whenever mother sang certain songs," Alina said, a sad smile touching her lips. "He always looked helpless when he cried. And...and everytime I saw him crying...I wanted to protect him."

"If he cries, you’ll remember the father you loved," Austin said.

Alina nodded.

"And you’ll feel guilty for being angry at him?"

Alina didn’t answer because he was right.

"That’s not guilt Alina...that’s grief," Austin said,

glancing at her.

Alina stared at him in confusion.

"Grief? For what?"

"For the father you deserved."

The words hit her harder. Alina blinked her tears back and looked away, not wanting to continue the conversation. The rest of the journey passed in silence.

By afternoon, they had reached her house. The sight of her home made Alina’s chest ache. It looked different than she remembered. The garden which used to be full of beautiful flowers looked like a wild forest. The walls and roof needed repair.

Austin dismounted and took her horse’s reins.

"I’ll be right here," he said, pointing towards the fence.

For a second, she wanted to ask him to come inside with her. Then she shook her head.

"I’m sorry... but this is something I need to do alone."

"I know," Austin replied, covering her hand with his.

She dismounted and walked towards the door. Elspeth opened the door before Alina could even knock. She looked frailer than the last time Alina had seen her. The heavy burden of caring for a dying man alone had clearly taken a toll on her own health.

But when her eyes landed on Alina, she smiled and wrapped her arms around her tightly.

"You came," she said. "I thought you would never after..."

She couldn’t finish and Alina understood why.

"How is he?" Alina asked, the moment she broke the hug.

Elspeth’s smile disappeared immediately. She turned to look at her father’s room. Then she sighed.

"Come inside," she said and stepped aside.

Her house had changed a lot in just a few months. The furniture was the same. The curtains were the same. Even the old clock on the wall still showed the wrong time. But it was quieter. The warmth and liveliness was gone.

Elspeth led her to the kitchen and poured her tea. Alina wrapped her fingers around the warm cup, inhaling the soft scent of the tea.

"It still tastes the same," Alina said as she took a sip.

Elspeth smiled.

"I’m glad you still remember the taste."

Alina narrowed her eyes.

"Why won’t I?" Alina said, looking offended. "No matter how many teas I drink...this will always be my favourite."

Elspeth smiled again, then her expression turned serious.

"Your father...he heard about Ashby. A merchant brought the news about his arrest. He has been different since then...he talks to himself and keeps reading old documents...sometimes, he read the letters your mother wrote him before they got married and cries. And sometimes...."

"Sometimes what?"

"He asks about you. Whether you’re safe, whether the duke treats you well, and how you must be feeling after knowing about your mother."

"Where is he?"

"In the back room," Elspeth replied. "Alina... he is ashamed. The guilt has done what the drinking never could. He has given up on his life."

"I’ll go and see him," Alina said and walked towards the room.

The room was slightly open. Alina put her hand on the knob and slowly pushed it open. The room was dark despite the afternoon sun outside. Curtains had covered all the windows. The room smelled of wine that made Alina’s stomach turn.

Her father sat in the chair by the fireplace. He was barely recognizable. His hands trembled in his lap while his eyes were sunken.

The moment he saw her, he froze.

"Alina..."

Alina stepped forward and sat on the chair across from him. The distance between them somehow felt even wider than the room.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Fine," Alina replied.

He nodded, smiling, then became serious.

"I know about Ashby," he said, looking down at his trembling hands. "I should have told you years ago about your mother. I should have told you the truth and let you decide what to do with it."

"You should have."

"Instead I drank and hid," he said, guilt spreading on his face. "And when they came for you I signed the papers and let them take you because I was too weak and too scared to stop it."

Alina knew the truth. Alina knew what her father had done. But hearing him confessing everything hurt her more than she expected.

"Your mother....before she died she made me promise. She said if they ever came for you, I had to tell you who you were and let you fight. That was her last wish. But I broke it the moment I signed your contract."

Alina’s throat tightened.

"She asked you to tell me?"

He nodded.

"In her last week, she knew she didn’t have much time. And wouldn’t be here to protect you. So she asked me to give you the one thing she could leave behind—knowledge of what you are."

"And you buried it."

She chuckled.

"Because I was afraid of your questions, of you drawing attention. To me...ignorance seemed safer."

"It felt safer for you," Alina replied. "Not for me."

"You’re right," he said, his voice cracking. "I was selfish. I told myself I was protecting you. When the truth is...it was my cowardice."

The room suddenly felt suffocating. For months, she had waited for this confession. And now, when her father was actually confessing...it didn’t make a difference. It neither healed anything nor erased anything. It just hurt her more. And she realized no confession or apology could give her back what she had lost.

"I don’t hate you anymore," Alina said, after a while.

Her father’s eyes widened immediately. For a brief second, hope flickered across his face.

"But I can’t forgive you."

The hope disappeared immediately. He nodded as if he was expecting this answer.

"You didn’t sell me because you had no other option. You sold me because that was the easier option. And I’ll never forgive you for that."

"You’re right...I don’t deserve your forgiveness."

Alina wiped her tears which she didn’t remember falling and recalled why she had actually come here. She didn’t want to have this conversation anymore.

There are some wounds that never heal, no matter how much time passes. Instead, they hurt more with time. And this was one such wound.

"I came to tell you something," she said, straightening herself. "I’m marrying Austin."

"No," her father almost shouted. "You cannot marry him."