My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 137

hapter 137 Unspoken Crossfire

Chapter 137 Unspoken Crossfire

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A prickle of uncase slid through Quentin. Helen’s cunning was endless–who knew what snare she might set next? Seeing Soren unharmed eased him, but only a little.

“Lord Soren!” Luna hurried from her carriage, decorum forgotten. Skirts gathered in shaking hands, she half–ran across the yard, worry etched into every line of her face.

She stopped just short of him when she noticed the tight line of his brow. “Are you all right, Lord Soren?” She knew the feud between Alexander and Prince Jinks‘ court and feared Soren might have paid the price on enemy ground.

“I’m fine,” Soren answered, the two words clipped but reassuring.

Helen let her gaze flick from Soren to Luna, a slow, knowing smile curving her lips. “Safe travels. Lord Soren.”

Soren offered her a single, unreadable look. His face stayed calm, but Helen caught the chill beneath.

“No need for hostility,” she murmured lazily. “If you marry one day, a partnership between us is not impossible.”

The words dripped with regal dominance, as though she had discovered the softest part of his armor and pressed her thumb against it.

Quentin’s stomach tightened. A storm brewed in Soren’s eyes, yet his features remained an unbreakable façade–serene on the surface, lethal underneath.

“Farewell,” Soren said, his tone so mild it skimmed the surface of the chill morning air. He lowered his lashes, burying every stray emotion beneath a practiced calm, then stepped into the waiting carriage without a backward glance.

The wheels had barely rolled beyond Yondale’s last stone marker when Quentin slapped the side panel, fury flashing in his eyes. “That scheming Helen thinks the rest of us are pawns on her board. Give me the chance, and I will see her removed–permanently.”

More than once, she had worked in secret to sabotage the Zonfrillo Estate. Each wound she carved was fresh in Quentin’s mind, stoking his anger like tinder under a flint spark.

Soren said nothing. He sat motionless, hands folded, the faint creak of leather reins filling the silence between them.

“Villains meet their end in time,” Luna told him gently, leaning from her seat across the aisle.

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11:43 Tue, Oct 14

Chapter 137 Unspoken Crossfire

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“Commander Young, there is no need to seethe. Emperor Aldric has little patience for the Princess Royal. When we reach Jexburgh, His Majesty will see that justice finds her–if not today, then soon.”

Her voice carried the quiet certainty of winter snow settling over restless branches.

“You speak wisely, Ms. Threadgold. I will ride ahead and scout the road. Look after Lord Soren.” Quentin said as the carriage neared the narrowing cliffs of Gorgegate Pass.

“Lord Soren, you must be thirsty after the long miles,” Luna coaxed, lifting a porcelain flask. “I prepared a bottle of Celestial Nectar. Will you take a sip?”

“No.” Soren’s reply was a single syllable, soft but final.

He leaned back, thoughts drifting to the Niven family in Jexburgh. A marriage to Fiona meant endless negotiations–favors traded, allegiances weighed.

The court’s knots will not loosen in a day. I carry Pierre’s burden now; if I press for the wedding too soon, every minister will smell blood and circle. Emperor Aldric is not so easily outwitted.

Fiona had been honest–part of him balked at surrendering his freedom. Behind him stood the entire Zonfrillo Estate, its future balanced on his choice. From a certain angle, sacrificing that future for one woman seemed folly.

Yet when reason rose, memory followed. In an unguarded moment, he was back in last night’s dark room–heat, breath, the gardenia–scented air—and the carriage rocked beneath him as he lost the thread of thought.

Regret? No, not quite. The cost is high, but the feeling is real.

“Lord Soren, you look exhausted today,” Luna ventured, worry creasing her brow. She had never seen him so drained, his usual edge dulled to a muted glow.

Soren blinked, returning from his reverie, and offered no answer.

Luna bent forward, fingertips pressing gentle circles to his temples. As she moved closer, she caught a whisper of gardenia clinging to his coat. The subtle fragrance halted her mid–motion, as though answering a question she had not dared to ask.

Back in Yondale, Fiona had not stepped beyond the west court since Helen brought her home. She had planned to slip beyond the gates, perhaps spy on Pierre’s residence, yet

it was the city’s rivers and hills she truly loved. Now, even the emerald slopes and mirror–bright water felt stripped of their charm, beauty drained by sorrow she could not name.

“Ms. Fiona,” Pearl whispered while washing her back. The maid’s hands trembled at the bruises

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11:43 Tue, Oct 14

Chapter 137 Unspoken Crossfire

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