Chapter 85: Unveiling the Veil of Secrets
**Thelma Zane’s Perspective**
It was a seemingly ordinary Saturday, with the palace bustling as usual. The southern Duke sat in the grand living room, sharing nostalgic moments with my father. Meanwhile, Carolyn, or rather the witch masquerading as her, was sent off with my mother under the pretense of selecting her graduation dress.
Carolyn had hesitated, reluctant to leave her father’s side, but even she must have understood that the Queen’s private chambers were no place for her to linger uninvited.
“See you later, Dad,” she said, kissing the southern Duke’s cheek with an almost exaggerated
sweetness. “I’ll miss you.”
The Duke returned her kiss with a warm smile, watching her departure as if they were the perfect picture of a loving father and devoted daughter.
To an outsider, the scene might have seemed idyllic, but I couldn’t shake the unease her words. stirred. “I’ll miss you,” she had said, but it felt more like a veiled warning–a reminder that her eyes were always on us, even in her absence.
Unbeknownst to Carolyn, the werewolf grandmaster disguised as an attendant was tasked. with shadowing my mother and her. His primary objective was not to interfere unless. absolutely necessary, for the use of sorcery could alert the enemy. However, any suspicious activity on Carolyn’s part would not escape his watchful gaze.
My father leaned back in his chair and teased the Duke with an easy camaraderie that belied
the tension beneath the surface. “Come now, Benard. Don’t look so forlorn. Women have an unparalleled sense of beauty. I’m sure Carolyn will have a delightful time with my wife.”
He placed a firm hand on the southern Duke’s shoulder, a subtle gesture meant to convey reassurance or perhaps a silent signal, one born of their shared understanding forged in years of conflict.
The Duke seemed to catch on instantly. His previously genial expression shifted into something far more guarded, the friendly warmth draining from his face like water from a
sieve.
“Stop joking, Walter,” he replied, his tone straddling the line between jest and sincerity. “No father can ever be completely at ease with his daughter. Surely you understand that.”
His gaze shifted to me as he spoke, and in that instant, I felt as though a dagger of ice had pierced through my chest.
What was he implying? Did he know who I truly was?
The thought sent a chill down my spine. My true identity was a closely guarded secret, known
only to a select few: my parents, Aldrich, Duke Frank, Kara, and Tracy. These were individuals. whose loyalty was beyond question. There was no way any of them would betray me.
Sensing the precariousness of the moment, my father’s expression turned somber. “Ah, my old friend, you know how much I yearn to feel the joy of fatherhood. But my Madeline…” He trailed off, his voice heavy with sorrow. “Well, you know the story,”
To the world, *Princess Madeline*-my assumed identity–had perished shortly after birth. This narrative served as a shield, a carefully constructed façade to protect me from threats both external and internal.
If the Duke truly believed this tale, he should have offered my father a few consoling words. Yet, he remained silent, his eyes darting between my father and me with a gaze that seemed to strip away every layer of pretense.
The silence was deafening. Unless the Duke had somehow managed to plant spies or magical surveillance within the palace, there was no way he could know the truth. The alternative explanation was equally troubling: the witch impersonating Carolyn had uncovered my identity and shared it with him.
The implications of such a revelation were dire.
Before the tension could escalate further, Duke Frank interjected, his voice light but purposeful. “Would anyone care for some tea?”
He motioned to Kara, who nodded and began preparing refreshments.
The Duke’s demeanor shifted back to one of politeness. “That sounds delightful. Carolyn mentioned she was fond of the palace’s black tea. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s currently charming Her Majesty into offering her desserts to accompany it. Young women tend to have insatiable appetites for sweets, don’t they?”
My father met the comment with a knowing smile. “Indeed. Kara, ensure that Helena receives plenty of refreshments, and accommodate any of Carolyn’s requests. Let’s make sure our guest is well cared for.”
I understood the unspoken message behind his words. He was instructing Kara to subtly increase the guards around my mother while keeping a close eye on Carolyn.
In the corner of the room, Dorothy stood silently blending into the shadows like an unassuming servant. Her presence was a calculated decision; she was there to observe, to gather insights, and to act only if the situation demanded it. The Duke seemed oblivious to her, his focus fixed on the conversation at hand.
“Time moves so swiftly,” he mused. “I can hardly believe Carolyn is graduating from high school. Just last year, she was such a shy, reserved girl. Now, it’s as though she’s a completely different person–more outgoing, more confident. They say a girl changes eighteen times as she grows up, don’t they?”
The statement was londed with subtext. He was effectively confirming what we had long suspected: the Carolyn we knew was no longer the real Carolyn. A witch had taken her place, and the Duke was fully aware of it.
My father nodded, maintaining his amicable façade. “Children do grow up so quickly. It’s remarkable how much they change in such a short time.”
The Duke’s expression darkened, his words becoming sharper. “Do you remember last year’s Moonlight Festival? I had planned to bring Carolyn to the Lycan Pack to meet you and the Queen. But for reasons I still can’t fathom, she became upset and ran away from home. I searched for her for over a week before finally finding her at a remote manor on the outskirts of human society.”
So that was when it had happened. The Moonlight Festival last year–this was when the real Carolyn had been taken.
“When she returned, she was… different,” the Duke continued, his voice tinged with
bitterness. “I tried to speak with her about what happened, but she refused to confide in me. She rejected therapy, displayed erratic behavior, and even exhibited signs of self–harm. I don’t know what she endured during those days, but she’s not the same girl I raised.”
His words painted a grim picture, but the underlying message was clear. The witch posing as Carolyn had not threatened him overtly, but she had made her dominance known. Any attempt to expose her would endanger his daughter’s life.
The southern Duke’s hands were tied, his choices limited by a cruel ultimatum: compliance or his daughter’s death.
And so, the stage was set for a delicate and dangerous game, one where every word and action carried the weight of untold consequences.
Chapter S The Enigma of Baby’s Breath
Chapter 86: The Enigma of Baby’s Breath
