Chapter 228: Unspoken Debts

After a long night spent turning over options, measuring risks, and silently cursing Matthias’s stubborn martyrdom, Olivia had no desire for rest. The moment the winter sun cut through the morning haze, her carriage was already settled before the towering gates of the Imperial Palace.

​She stepped down onto the cobblestones. Her stance was rigid, her spine perfectly straight as she adjusted the heavy collar of her cloak. She didn’t look back, but as she stared up at the stone facades of the palace, a distinct sensation crawled up her neck—the prickle of eyes watching her from the shadows of the secondary barracks.

​Distance or not, Matthias was tied to this fortress now. Under his assumed name as a High Sentinel, the palace line was his post. He was keeping his vigil from the dark—too deeply entangled in his own duty to cross her path, yet close enough to see her arrival. Olivia ignored the phantom gaze. She had a grander board to play today.

​An imperial carriage arriving at dawn never went unnoticed; the gate guards had undoubtedly signaled the crown prince’s pavilion the moment her coat of arms cleared the outer ring. As she reached the main portico, the heavy inner doors opened. Kyle descended the stone steps—his steps brisk, his usual crown-prince decorum melting into a familiar, sharp grin the moment his eyes found her.

​"Sister!" Kyle called out, his boots clicking firmly against the stone as he closed the distance. "How are you?"

​He lunged forward for an embrace, but Olivia held up a single, gloved hand, stopping him dead in his tracks. "Keep your hands to yourself, Kyle."

​Kyle rolled his eyes, dropping his arms with a dramatic sigh. "What is your ongoing issue with physical affection?"

​"It’s unnecessary, particularly in public," Olivia said, her voice dry as she brushed past him toward the warmth of the interior. "Leave it be and walk with me."

​"Fine, fine," he muttered, quickly falling into step beside her, his long strides easily matching her pace. "So, did my beloved sister come all this way just to grace me with her presence?"

​Olivia glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her expression flat. "It is entirely too early in the morning for you to be this talkative. And no, I didn’t come for you."

​Kyle adjusted the lapels of his uniform, his playful demeanor shifting slightly. "Then why are you here?"

​"To see His Majesty," she replied coldly. "But since I’ve already crossed the threshold, there is someone else I’ve been meaning to exchange a few words with."

​Kyle raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

​"Your wife, dear brother."

​"Ah. Layla." Kyle’s pace slowed slightly.

​"Yes. Where is she?"

​"In her room," he answered shortly.

​Olivia stopped walking. She turned to face him, a sharp, knowing glint in her eyes. "Her room? Are the two of you not sharing quarters?"

​Kyle scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking intensely interested in the marble patterns of the floor. "Well... it’s complicated."

​A short, genuine laugh escaped Olivia’s lips—the first real amusement she had felt in hours. "Do not tell me you inherited my exact disposition, Kyle. Are your arguments with your wife lasting for weeks on end now too?"

​"What do you want from me?" Kyle grumbled, looking slightly defensive. "We share the same bloodline. It seems our stubbornness runs in the family."

​"Clearly," Olivia said, her lips twitching. "Just take me to her."

They walked in silence through the long, vaulted corridors of the Crown Prince’s private wing until Kyle stopped before the double doors of the inner chambers.

​"I’ll leave you here," he said, clearing his throat. "Good luck with her."

​Olivia studied his face, noting the lingering tightness around his mouth. "You’re still angry with her, aren’t you?"

​Kyle didn’t deny it. He offered a faint, tired smile that didn’t reach his eyes, nodded once, and turned back down the hallway without another word.

​Olivia stepped forward and knocked firmly against the polished wood. She waited, her stance unyielding, until a quiet, subdued voice came from within.

​"Come in," Layla said.

​Olivia pushed the door open. Layla was sitting near the window, her fingers gently patting the back of little Ann, who was resting against her shoulder. When Layla raised her head and saw Olivia standing there, she froze.

​Neither woman offered a greeting. The time for empty aristocratic pleasantries had expired months ago. Olivia walked over to the chaise lounge and sat down, her movements deliberate and calm. Layla watched her, then walked over to the bassinet, carefully lowering the sleeping infant into the blankets before turning to take the seat directly across from Olivia.

​For a long minute, the room was entirely silent.

​"I thought you would have come to see me sooner," Layla said softly, her voice devoid of its usual defensive edge.

​Olivia let out a dry, humorless breath. "What can I say? After everything that unfolded, I was exhausted. I could barely move my own weight, let alone drag myself here to have a screaming match with you."

​"I suppose that’s fair," Layla murmured.

​Olivia leaned back, her gaze dropping to her own hands before cutting back up to Layla’s face. "I don’t even know what to tell you, Layla. But honestly... how could you sit there and watch me twist in agony? You knew the truth. You knew the weight I was carrying, and you didn’t say a word to ease my mind. How could you be that cruel? I reached a point where I wanted to leave this world entirely because of him. Why?"

​Layla remained still, but her fingers gripped the fabric of her skirt so tightly her knuckles turned white.

​"Because he is my brother," Layla whispered, her voice cracking slightly under the weight of the admission. "To you, Matthias is a husband. But to me... I am the daughter whose father discarded her and whose mother despised her. Matthias was my brother, my father, my mother—he was everything. He supported every step I took in this life. Risking his safety, risking losing him entirely... that was a gamble I couldn’t afford to take."

​She looked up, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "And I never imagined you would go so far as to try and end your own life, Olivia. I thought... I had hoped that once you discovered the pregnancy, things would stabilize. I know I broke your trust. You have every right to hate me, or to strike me if it pleases you. But it was a direct mandate from His Majesty—one I couldn’t disobey—and I was doing what I had to do to protect the only person who ever gave me a reason to survive."

​Layla braced herself for the expected outburst, for the biting sarcasm or the cold rage that Olivia usually deployed. But when she looked across the table, she found Olivia simply watching her with a strange, faint smile that made Layla’s throat tighten even more.

​A thin, high-pitched wail broke the silence. Ann had awakened, her small fists flailing against the blankets.

​Before Layla could rise, Olivia was already on her feet. She stepped over to the bassinet and lifted the small child into her arms with an easy, practiced familiarity.

​"Hush now, little one," Olivia murmured softly, rocking the baby gently against her chest. "Your aunt is here. There’s no need to cry, sweetheart."

​Ann’s whimpers slowed to a rhythmic hiccup. The small girl reached out blindly, her tiny fingers tangling into Olivia’s dark hair, pulling at the strands.

​"She really has an obsession with my hair, doesn’t she, Layla?" Olivia noted quietly.

​She turned her head toward the couch. Layla’s cold, controlled facade had shattered completely. She was sitting with her head lowered, silently wiping away the tears she could no longer hold back. The absolute lack of a reprimand from Olivia was cutting through her far deeper than any insult could have.

​"My goodness," Olivia sighed, her voice turning weary. "Why are you crying? I haven’t even scolded you yet."

​"I know," Layla choked out, her shoulders shaking. "That’s exactly why it’s worse."

​Olivia let out a long, heavy breath, keeping her eyes on the child in her arms. "I was furious with you. But I’m done carrying it. In the end, you kept my husband alive, even if your methods were terrible—and they truly were terrible. But you brought him back to me, so there’s no purpose in lingering on the anger. The real challenge now is making my idiot brother understand that."

​Layla wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I wish he would. I’ve managed to alienate both of you simultaneously."

​Ann, triggered by the tension in the room, began to let out another sharp cry.

​Olivia looked between the weeping mother and the screaming child, throwing her hands up slightly in exasperation. "Who am I supposed to quiet down first? You or your daughter? For heaven’s sake, please stop, both of you."

Before either of them could answer, the door swung open without a single knock. Kyle stepped back into the room, his eyes scanning the scene.

​"Why are the two of you weeping?" he asked, looking genuinely bewildered.

​Olivia shot him a glare that could have pierced armor. You were listening at the door, you absolute rogue.

​Kyle didn’t even try to deny it. A slow, knowing smile touched his lips as he walked over and smoothly took Ann from Olivia’s arms.

​"Hush now, little one. Papa’s here," he muttered. The child quieted almost instantly at the deep, familiar vibration of his voice, letting out a small, wet sound that resembled ’Ba-ba.’

​"Yes, sweetheart, it’s Papa," Kyle murmured. He moved to the couch, stepping closer to Layla. He looked down at her tear-stained face, his expression softening significantly. "Stop the crying, Layla. You’re going to set the baby off again."

​Layla looked up at him, her eyes raw with genuine remorse. "I’m sorry, Kyle. I’m truly sorry."

​Kyle shifted the baby to one arm, extending his other hand to pull Layla up from the couch and into his chest. He held her firmly, ignoring her slight resistance. "I forgave you a long time ago, you foolish woman. I was just waiting for you to actually take a step toward me, but you’ve always been too much of a coward to do it."

​Layla hid her face against his uniform, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at having Olivia witness the display.

​Olivia watched them for a moment, the heavy knot in her chest loosening just a fraction. Kyle caught her eye over Layla’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything aloud, but his lips moved in a silent, clear direction:

​ Go see His Majesty.

​Olivia gave him a brief, sharp nod, lifting her hand in a silent wave of dismissal as she turned toward the exit. The domestic disputes were settled. Now, it was time to deal with the court.