Chapter 229: A glimpse in the past 4
Forty-three years ago
The afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the grand library, its tall windows allowing beams of soft light to spill onto the polished marble floors. The faint scent of aged parchment mingles with the fragrance of fresh flowers arranged meticulously in every corner. The room is a quiet haven amidst the chaos of court life, and for once, there is peace.
I watch from a discreet corner as Princess Mirelle sits curled up on a velvet chaise, her slender fingers gently turning the pages of an old book. She’s always been a contradiction—famous for her scandals and rebellious streak, yet often content in moments like this, lost in the world of stories. Most of her mischief, I know, is simply to spite Concubine Danielle, a subtle rebellion against a mother who has never truly loved her. But here, in the stillness of the library, Mirelle is simply herself—a young woman seeking escape.
Her raven-black hair cascades down her back, shimmering like silk under the soft light. She has her mother’s beauty—there’s no denying that—but where Danielle’s allure is sharp and calculating, Mirelle’s is warm, effortless, and genuine. Her emerald eyes, often mischievous or defiant, now hold a distant, thoughtful gaze as she stares out the window, lost in her own musings.
"Joan," she calls softly, pulling me from my thoughts. Her voice, always melodic, is quieter now, almost wistful. "Do you think true mates exist? Someone meant for you?"
I blink, surprised by the question. It’s not often Mirelle speaks of such things. I glance at her, noticing how she isn’t really looking at me but at something far beyond the garden view. There’s a longing in her expression that tugs at my heart.
"I don’t know, Your Highness," I answer honestly. Love, destiny—these are luxuries I’ve never had the chance to ponder. But I see the yearning in her eyes, and I know she isn’t really seeking my answer, just voicing the question that lingers in her soul.
"I think they do," she says softly, almost to herself. "They have to."
Her words hang in the air, delicate and fragile. I hesitate before asking, "Do you want a true mate, Princess?"