Chapter 22 Family Calculations
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Joanna’s smile warmed in honest pride; to a mother, her own daughter would always be a jewel. She saw plainly the schemes turning in Hannah’s mind, yet she doubted that the Zonfrillo family, having declined Rita, would ever choose Fiona instead.
Still, if they did, the main branch would benefit. Only–Joanna was certain–Fiona could never tame Soren. Within half a year, his household would likely teem with fresh concubines.
That evening, the main and second branches enjoyed a rare reunion, the dining hall alive with clinking cups and overlapping laughter.
When the meal concluded, Hannah waved her gnarled hand like a magistrate dismissing a court. “Stanley, Fiona, you have only just returned. You all should go home and rest.”
Outside Ambrosial Garden’s moon–lit gate, the two brothers paused for a brief farewell, autumn mist curling around their boots.
Joanna hurried beside Stanley, her tone syrup–sweet. “Stanley, I have a pot of broth warming in my chambers–it should be perfect just about now.”
Stanley barely slowed, eyes fixed on the shadowed path ahead. “I’ve no appetite tonight. Go on back. I’m paying Isabel a visit.”
With that, he spun on his heel and strode away, his cloak fluttering behind him like a banner of quiet defiance.
Joanna’s smile froze, an unfinished curve stiffening on wax–pale lips. Fingertips brushed the face that had once turned heads, and in their cool tracing, her eyes hardened. Isabel keeps flaunting herself as though the ancient order between wife and concubine has been erased.
Elsewhere, Meryl and Zachary walked shoulder to shoulder along the pebbled path. The hush between them stretched so thin it felt ready to tear.
More than once, Zachary’s gaze slid sideways, lingering on his wife’s profile the way a penitent
studies a saint.
“Mother, Father misses you terribly,” Fiona said, pitching her voice between coaxing and plea, “Claiming he wished to see me was a ruse. All along, he just wanted an excuse to see you.”
“Your father misses no one, Meryl replied, arching an elegant brow. “If anything, he is already weary of a wife whose years are showing”
“I never-” Zachary began, his protest tumbling out before he could tame it.
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Chapter 22 Family Calculations
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“Shall I procure yet another concubine for you?” Meryl went on, her tone smooth as lacquer yet sharp enough to draw blood.
“I was wrong,” Zachary said, voice trembling. “Nothing ever happened with Eleanor. I only thought that I’d quietly dismiss her after Mother’s passing, sparing you and keeping Mother from heartbreak.”
“And if it happens again?” Meryl asked, her gaze steady as winter water.
Eleanor had almost cost Fiona her life. By then, Zachary knew better than to keep any woman, however innocent, at his side.
“There will never be a next time,” he vowed. “If Mother urges me again, I simply will not step into Ambrosial Garden until she relents.”
His greatest failing, Fiona reflected, was a tenderness toward Hannah so absolute that her slightest discomfort became law, and in the shadow of that devotion, Meryl had suffered for
years.
Still, if he was willing to change, forgiveness was possible.
Fiona tugged at Meryl’s sleeve, whispering, “Mother.”
Meryl let the quarrel drop. She had secured the promise she wanted; to press further would only drive her husband away again.
When they reached Lily Garden, Zachary was no longer barred from the gate. After four months, he stepped once again into his wife’s chambers.
Only then did Fiona allow herself to breathe.
For the next three days, Zachary emerged each dawn from Meryl’s rooms, hair askew yet face alight. Even his return from court grew earlier, as though gravity itself now pulled him home.
On the fourth morning, an imperial edict arrived, sending Zachary south to Yarburn on official business.
“Now we can speak freely,” Fiona said to Meryl after the servants withdrew. “His Majesty brought up Granny. He knows perfectly well, yet he insists I address him as Uncle Aldric.”
“His Majesty disapproves of your granny,” Meryl said with a dismissive wave. “If he says ‘Uncle Aldric, it need not trouble you
Fiona understood. The address was a showpiece, a public gesture meant to broadcast Emperor Aldric’s magnanimity.
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Chapter 22 Family Calculations.
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