The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

”Good afternoon, Your Highness.”

”Good afternoon, Travis.”

Sylvian acknowledged the valet’s greeting as they stepped into the grand drawing hall of the palace. Travis had served the Crown for decades and was well accustomed to receiving members of the royal family whenever they came to seek an audience with the King.

”Is Father in his private quarters?” Sylvian asked, pausing near the arched entry.

”Yes, Your Highness. The morning court session adjourned roughly twenty minutes ago, so His Majesty has retired to his chamber to rest,” Travis replied.

His gaze shifted to the young woman standing beside the prince. The valet studied her subtle profile for a moment, clearly trying to place her features, but the tailored gown, carefully styled hair, and polished demeanor made recognition difficult.

Noticing the elder servant’s hesitation, Sylvian offered a faint smile. ”Travis, this is Iliana. Surely you remember her?”

Travis’s eyes widened slightly as the connection took hold.

”Ah—forgive me, my lady. I apologize for failing to recognize you immediately.” He lowered his head in a formal bow. ”Miss Iliana appears remarkably changed today. It is the attire and styling, no doubt.”

”Indeed, Iliana looks quite different with all this deliberate preparation,” Sylvian remarked, shooting a teasing glance in her direction.

Iliana cast him a brief, embarrassed look, while Travis discreetly suppressed a smile.

”I am certain His Majesty will welcome your arrival,” the valet said, stepping aside to clear the passage.

Sylvian took Iliana’s hand, leading her through the corridors toward the royal suite. Outside the King’s heavy double doors, Travis stepped ahead to announce them, returning a moment later to draw the doors open. ”You may enter, Your Highness.”

As they crossed the threshold, Iliana’s pulse quickened with nervousness. Following the strict decorum the Dowager Duchess had drilled into her that morning, she quietly slipped her hand from Sylvian’s grip to maintain proper distance before the sovereign.

”Sylvian, my boy!”

King Nyxen stood from his seat, opening his arms. The prince crossed the room to meet him, and the two shared a brief, warm embrace. Watching the unreserved affection between father and son, Iliana felt her anxiety ease slightly.

”Father, forgive me for taking leave without notice these past few days,” Sylvian said, stepping back with an apologetic expression.

”Think nothing of it,” King Nyxen replied, his tone low as he leaned in slightly. ”You went to pursue the woman you love, and by the looks of it, you succeeded.”

A look of quiet gratification settled on Sylvian’s face. He stepped aside, opening the floor to her.

”Greetings, Your Majesty,” Iliana said, dipping into a measured curtsy just as she had practiced.

”It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss...”

”Iliana, Father,” Sylvian replied.

”A lovely name,” King Nyxen acknowledged, offering a nod of approval. Turning toward the door, he signaled his valet. ”Travis, send word to the Crown Prince and Crown Princess. Inform them I require their presence in my chambers at once.”

”Please, take your seats,” Nyxen said, gesturing toward the plush velvet sofas across from his desk.

Sylvian and Iliana waited for the King to settle into his armchair before sitting down together.

”What is your house name, Miss Iliana?” Nyxen asked, fixing his gaze on her.

”Forgive my oversight for not providing my full name earlier, Your Majesty,” she replied, keeping her voice steady. ”It is Iliana Martinez. I come from a modest background, and I own a small bakery.”

”I hold little interest in lineage or titles,” Nyxen said, shifting his glance toward Sylvian, who failed to hide a faint smile of pride. ”If my son has chosen you, he clearly sees something remarkable.”

Iliana maintained a soft, polite expression, her hands remaining loosely clasped in her lap.

”Tell me, Miss Martinez—what drew you to my son?” King Nyxen inquired.

”Because he does not view me merely as a prospective wife, nor does he look down upon my work,” Iliana said, choosing her words carefully. ”Given his standing, he could have sought a match that offered political influence or vast wealth. Yet he humbled himself to assist me in my shop, despite knowing nothing of the craft. Even when I initially turned him away, he remained steadfast. There is much I admire in him, Your Majesty. I recognize that as a commoner, the expectations of the court—”

”Miss Martinez,” Nyxen interrupted softly, cutting her off before her anxiety could spill over. ”I do not measure a person by rank or social standing. Contentment and true happiness are the only pursuits worth holding in this life. Sylvian sought a partner who possessed her own ambition and identity, and he clearly found that in you. I am simply glad his persistence won your regard.”

Nyxen had no intention of allowing his son to endure the same fate he had suffered. Bound to the Crown by duty and coerced into a loveless marriage, he knew all too well the agony of living without affection.

Iliana watched the king, taken aback by his gentle demeanor. He had neither judged her humble origin nor questioned her right to stand beside his son. It became immediately clear to her where Sylvian had inherited his humility and grace.

Just then, the valet stepped into the chamber to announce the arrival of the Crown Prince and Crown Princess.

Sylvian and Iliana stood at once, offering their respectful greetings as the royal couple crossed the threshold.

”We meet again, Miss Martinez,” Ciaran said, offering a warm smile as he placed a supportive hand against his wife’s back. ”Allow me to introduce my wife, Crown Princess Angelina.”

”I regret we could not meet during your previous visit, Iliana. My health was rather frail that day,” Angelina said gently, resting her hands over her visibly grown belly.

”Let us all sit first,” Nyxen interjected smoothly, motioning for Travis to have a fresh assortment of refreshments brought in. ”We shall have plenty of time to converse once everyone is comfortable.”

~~~~~

In the late afternoon, as the sun neared the horizon, Damian sat at the edge of the wooden dock, casting pebbles he had gathered from the garden into the quiet water. Eilika was resting in her room, granting him a rare moment of solitude.

”Your Grace, what brings you out here alone?” Maurice’s voice broke the silence. He approached without ceremony, removing his boots and hose before sitting beside Damian on the worn planks, dipping his bare feet into the cool lake.

”There are signs of conflict on the horizon, Maurice,” Damian said, watching the ripples spread across the lake’s surface.

”What?” Maurice looked at him in sudden alarm. ”Our borders have been quiet for months.”

”It is subtle, but news arrived from the southernmost frontier of growing unrest,” Damian replied gravely. ”The garrison commanders are attempting to contain it, but the friction is not dissipating.”

”That is troubling indeed,” Maurice replied, his expression darkening. ”Does the Duchess know of this?”

”Not yet,” Damian said, shaking his head. ”I refuse to burden her. She is already carrying enough anxiety for Roman after Liliana’s true nature was exposed. She avoids speaking of it openly, fearing the mention of my first wife will cause me distress, but I can read the disquiet in her eyes. I have no desire to add another shadow to her mind.”

”It is not a certainty yet, Your Grace,” Maurice offered, seeking to reassure him. ”Should war prove inevitable, our forces will prevail. We always do.”

”Perhaps, but victory does not spare those who wait at home from agony,” Damian said, tossing the last pebble into the water and watching it sink beneath the dark surface.

”You know as well as I what a war demands of us. I still recall my father’s return from the battlefield, only to succumb to his wounds soon after. My mother spent the remainder of her years trapped in isolation. And in the fog of that grief, I surrendered my heart to the wrong woman.”

Maurice fell silent, weighing the weight of the Duke’s words and the heavy memory between them.

Damian ran a hand through his hair, letting out a weary breath. ”Perhaps I am overthinking things. In any case... teach me how to cook. I wish to prepare something fine for Eilika’s dinner tonight.”

”Of course, Your Grace,” Maurice replied, a faint smile breaking his serious demeanor. ” Dusk is already falling, so we ought to begin at once. By the time the Duchess wakes, a hot meal will be waiting for her.”

After wearing their shoes, the two men stood up from the dock and made their way back toward the residence.

As they entered the kitchen, the staff instantly bowed to the Duke.

”Tonight, I will prepare the dinner. Please assist me well but I want to do most of the cooking,” Damian answered, then glanced at Maurice. ”Eilika was talking about a creamy pasta. Do you know anything about that dish?” he then inquired.

”Yes. The process is lengthy though, Your Grace,” Maurice answered.

”Your Grace, I will start the preparation,” the cook said as he walked to them with an apron in his hands. ”Please, wear this.”