My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 114

Helen could remain powerful forever, Fiona would be happy to see Cecilia forever wreathed in adoring crowds. But should the Princess Royal’s Estate ever fall, Cecilia’s extraordinary beauty would turn from blessing to curse, and the consequences would be unbearable.

In Fiona’s previous life, Cecilia’s fate had been savage–first kept by Zephyr for a fleeting season, then forced into a soldiers‘ camp. After that, Fiona never learned whether Cecilia was dead or alive.

This time she intended to make sure such tragedy never repeated.

Cecilia leaned closer. “Will you sew Mr. Xavier’s new wardrobe yourself, Fiona?”

“Only if you come choose fabric with me,” Fiona said. Her embroidery was passable at best, but idle hands needed something to occupy them.

Helen’s birthday approached as well. What rare treasure had Princess Helen not already seen? Meryl’s jewelry had originally come from the estate; sending them back would feel stale. So Fiona decided to make Helen a gown of her own design.

Just finishing the peony bursting across the collar would take a full month. Still, once that stubborn blossom was done, the remaining stitches could be completed within another.

For peace and quiet, Fiona moved out to the hillside manor on the outskirts of Yondale.

Solitude was not her only motive. She had learned that Pierre’s abandoned country cottage lay nearby–an ideal vantage from which to gather whispers about the late official’s affairs.

Yondale sat ringed by mountains. Even in midsummer, the air stayed cool, and crimson lanterns already dotted the city walls in anticipation of Helen’s grand birthday–every corner humming with festivity.

“Why are we starting the decorations so early this year?” a laborer asked while wiping sweat beneath the shade of an ambrosia tree.

The foreman, older and sharper–eyed, answered in a hush. “Word is this birthday marks a major milestone. His Majesty will send envoys, and the imperial guests could arrive any day

now.”

“Funny. None of the local lords look pleased.”

“Those fat bureaucrats have ruled Yondale like kings. When inspectors come from Jexburgh, who knows whether they’ll bring praise—or punishment? Hard to celebrate under that cloud,”

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Chapter 114 Hidden Preparations

the foreman muttered.

* Free Coins

A few days later, the Princess Royal’s Estate, the Thankerton Estate, and every household of standing gathered outside the city gates at dawn, anxiously awaiting the delegation.

By noon, the imperial cavalcade finally rolled to a halt within Yondale’s walls. Gleaming royal carriages and fresh, spirited stallions–none showing the least fatigue after their long journey -announced that the true weight of Jexburgh had arrived.

At the front of the column rode Soren. The dark brocade of his coat caught a faint gleam of sunlight, yet the richness of the weave announced him louder than any trumpet. Tall, shoulders relaxed, chin lifted, he looked as though a master had brushed him into being, a living painting set free from silk.

Even Helen, who had seen plenty of men, felt a small hitch in her breath. So the tales were true. No wonder the daughters of Jexburgh topple over each other for him, and even my own radiant Fiona could not catch that gaze.

A man worshipped so openly by women could hardly avoid growing proud; the tilt of his neck made that clear.

At his waist hung an emerald token, its surface carved so finely that even from a distance one could read the imperial dragon. Emperor Aldric himself had bestowed the piece; to behold it was to feel the court’s stern gaze.

The courtyard responded as one. Silks rustled, boots scuffed stone, and every head lowered in practiced reverence.

Helen dabbed at the corner of an eye, though no tear dared appear. “I am moved that His Majesty still remembers me.”

Soren studied the aging vixen before him. Despite the seasons etched in the calendar, not a single one had settled upon her face. Everything about Helen gleamed with the opulence of Yondale itself, proof of a life exquisitely tended.

“His Majesty stands for filial piety, loyalty, and honor,” Soren replied, tone as smooth as winter tea. “Since Your Highness is his aunt, His Majesty naturally keeps you ever in his thoughts.”

Behind the soft curve of her painted lips, Helen’s memories flashed crimson. She still recalled the rivers of blood Emperor Aldric had spilled to claim his throne. The winner wears the crown, the loser rots in the dust, yet the people still groan beneath taxes. A sage he is not.

“Is His Majesty in good health?” she asked.

“His Majesty treasures talent above all. Lord Pierre fell ill and passed away recently, and His

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Chapter 114 Hidden Preparations

Majesty is stricken with grief.”

D:.

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