Chapter 95 — She Has Returned?!
The golden carriage rolled through the bustling streets, lined with people eagerly awaiting its arrival. They cheered, calling out the names of the princess, the Prince of Selvarys, and the king of Eldoria, honoring them for restoring peace to a kingdom once on the brink of chaos.
"They seem happy for your return," Lucian remarked, a mocking tone lingering in his voice.
He had never been welcomed as the "Prince of Selvarys," but rather as the god of war, shaped by years on the battlefield.
Cynthia did not answer him. She knew their cheers were hollow. They weren’t celebrating her return out of genuine happiness, but because she was the one who had stopped the war by agreeing to marry Lucian. Even if their voices sounded joyful, she couldn’t forget how they had welcomed her in her past life when she returned to Eldoria for Alistair’s marriage. Their smiles now were only because they could catch a glimpse of Lucian through the carriage window—a sign that their marriage held enough stability to keep him at her side, and that their kingdom was safe from war.
As the carriage slowed before the palace gates, Cynthia kept her gaze fixed on the passing crowd, her expression calm but her eyes shadowed by memories. These were the same people who had once thrown stones at her carriage, who’d muttered about "the cursed princess" whenever she walked through the palace halls. Why? Simply because she couldn’t wield magic and the king did not care about her at all. Yet, despite thinking she can’t use magic, they still cheered her simply because in this life, the king supported her.
"Disgsuting," was all she could think.
She glanced at Lucian, who seemed more interested in the architecture than the people. For all his disdain toward her and her lineage, he had once been just like them, condemning her without question. Yet now they sat side by side to demonstrate a perfect coup;e to her people. The irony was bitter, almost laughable.
The carriage came to a stop, and the doors opened with a flourish. Lucian stepped out first. He extended a hand to her, a gesture more for the crowd than for her benefit.
She took it, feeling the familiar chill of his touch, and together they walked forward towards the palace.
As they ascended the palace steps, a voice called out from the crowd, clear and hopeful. "Long live the princess!" The words sent a flicker of something close to regret through Cynthia, though she kept her expression neutral. The people who praised her now had no idea how much of herself she’d lost to give them peace.
Once inside, Lucian dropped her hand the moment the doors closed, his face settling into an unreadable mask. "Your people are easy to please," he murmured, his voice laced with contempt. "They forget years of bloodshed as soon as a peace treaty is signed."