Chapter 106.2

“She seems to have…ridden off,” Petisson reported with a hint of tension in her voice, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room.

Two hours passed relentlessly, yielding little progress, as Petisson relayed the information she had gathered.

“A stable boy discovered a horse wandering in the marketplace with its reins loose,” she continued, her tone measured. “It was confirmed to be one of the horses kept within the castle—a horse that had gone missing a few days prior, suspected to have fled after its bridle was cut.”

Despite her efforts to convey the details, there was no discernible reaction from the duke, who remained stationary in the center of the bedroom.

“Did anyone witness two discreet women moving about during the early hours?” Rezette asked.

“No sightings were reported. It’s possible she ventured to a secluded area before mounting the horse. No one saw anything,” Petisson confirmed solemnly. “The horse’s reins were removed beforehand.”

The duke’s voice pierced the silence, chilling the air with its frosty edge. “So it appears she had planned her escape.”

“That…seems to be the case,” Petisson conceded, her words heavy with resignation.

No one, including Rebecca Petisson, could offer a defense for the princess any longer. Without a meticulously orchestrated escape plan, her disappearance seemed implausible.

Yet, no one within the castle, including the duke himself, had anticipated such audacity from her.

The princess, once adored by the people as a living blessing, seemed to lead a life limited to simple pleasures—eating meals alone, leisurely strolls, delving into books, exchanging letters, and sharing intimate moments with the duke in their chambers. Such routines comprised the extent of her existence.

I noticed you’ve been particularly despondent and restless lately… Could it be that you deliberately left the door ajar, seizing the moment when I let my guard down?

Petisson’s concern grew as she observed the Duke, who remained absorbed in the papers clutched tightly in his hands, poring over them for over half an hour now.

Alfredo, having scoured every inch of the princess’s chambers and beyond with the help of numerous servants, grew increasingly agitated. “There’s no sign of anything missing, Your Highness. Not even spare clothing. It’s likely she had an accomplice. Should we begin by questioning the servants?”

The duke’s silence hung heavily in the air, his attention seemingly elsewhere as Alfredo continued his report.

“The princess’s personal maid has been evasive, but other maids have spotted her frequenting the laundry room in recent weeks. Just last week, she ventured outside the castle, purportedly on an errand for Her Highness. Shall we track her movements, Your Highness?” Alfredo pressed, seeking guidance.

But the duke remained aloof, his focus unwaveringly fixed on the papers before him. Abruptly, he lifted his gaze, turning to stare out the window. Beyond the glass, a golden field basked in the warm embrace of sunlight, casting a glow upon his inscrutable expression.

“Autumn…” His voice trailed off softly, as if suddenly grasping the significance of the season.

A moment later, the solemn atmosphere was shattered by a joyous voice, ringing out amidst the tension.

“Your Highness!”

Freya, the princess’s physician, dashed into the room, her face alight with emotion.

“Your Highness, congratulations…!”

The unexpected proclamation hung in the air, leaving everyone stunned and bewildered.

The duke, along with others intimately familiar with the princess’s circumstances—Petisson, and even Alfredo, who had sensed a shift in the air—paled at the news.

Freya, beaming with evident joy, scanned the room, seeking reassurance in the faces around her. It was the announcement the duke had been fervently awaiting.

The method of determining pregnancy by dropping a single drop of blood onto a grain of millet or barley was arduous but remarkably accurate. After six months of anticipation, it was finally confirmed— the princess was pregnant.

Having forged a close bond with the princess during six months of examinations in the capital, the elderly physician’s face reflected a blend of depth and joy. With the confirmation of her pregnancy, a weight seemed to lift from her shoulders—no longer would she fret over the absence of a child, nor need she retreat from public view.

Though the thought of her belly swelling over the next ten months brought a mist to her eyes, the miraculous conception of life warranted celebration.

“I’ve never had the privilege of examining a woman bearing a dragon’s child,” Freya mused aloud, her tone a mix of concern and anticipation. “Perhaps I should seek guidance from herbalists or physicians within the palace.”

As she glanced around, expecting to be met with an outpouring of congratulations, an uncomfortable silence enveloped the room. The palpable unease contrasted starkly with Freya’s own jubilant mood.

The duke, his countenance frozen like a statue, finally stirred, his voice barely above a whisper. “When?”

“Pardon?” Freya’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“When did she conceive the child?” The duke’s words hung in the air, laden with unreadable emotion. One thing was certain: the expression etched upon his features lacked the pure joy one would expect from a husband upon learning of his wife’s pregnancy.

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