The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 297: Her Intention

Jessamyn’s appetite had long fled, replaced by the gnawing ache of fatigue and despair. Each spoonful of the bland stew only served to remind her of what she craved most—comfort, warmth, and Jerrick’s strong embrace.

She longed for the sanctuary of their bed, where she could nestle against the steady rise and fall of his chest, the place where her worries would dissolve in the rhythm of his heartbeat. But here, among the gnarled trees and jagged rocks of the cold forest, such comfort was a distant memory.

Her fingers instinctively found the small trinket hidden within the folds of her cloak, the one Jerrick had given her before his departure. It was a simple charm, yet imbued with powerful magic, and Jessamyn had gone to great lengths to keep it hidden from the woman who held them captive.

The woman—Jerrick’s mother—possessed an uncanny ability to sense anything magical, sniffing out even the faintest of spells. Yet, by some miracle, she hadn’t identified this trinket. Jessamyn suspected it was only a matter of time, so she refrained from using it. The risk was too great; if the woman discovered the trinket’s purpose, she would surely destroy it. Jessamyn knew she had to bide her time, waiting for the perfect moment to send a message to Jerrick, one last desperate plea for rescue.

They had been in this desolate forest for days, yet no animals roamed the woods. The silence was eerie, unnatural. Not even a bird’s song pierced the thick air, and Jessamyn wondered if this unnatural stillness was yet another of the woman’s spells.

Her captor’s knowledge of magic was vast and terrifying, encompassing ancient rites that Jessamyn had only read about in the Theodulf Library. It was this dark magic that had enabled her to easily subdue William and ensnare Bernard, binding him with chains forged in spells of agony.

Jessamyn’s heart tightened at the memory of William falling, blood soaking into the snow. She had no idea whether he was still alive.

Each passing day without a word from Jerrick gnawed at her spirit. She clung to the hope that he had returned from the war, but the more time stretched on, the more that hope dwindled. If he were back, surely he would have found her by now.

Despair threatened to choke her, but she couldn’t afford to give in—not while she carried their child, and certainly not while Bernard continued to suffer on her behalf.

The woman moved a short distance away, her attention now focused on some sort of spell. Jessamyn watched her warily as she whispered incantations into the night, clutching an object in her hands. The words were foreign to Jessamyn, twisted and ancient. Whatever the woman was doing, it was far beyond Jessamyn’s understanding. Still, she recognized the dark power in those spells.

Jessamyn’s heart raced as the woman’s words echoed in the clearing. She feared the woman might cast another spell on her, forcing her into unconsciousness or worse—ensuring she had no choice but to surrender her unborn child.

The woman cared nothing for Jessamyn’s well-being; it was only the baby within her that held any value. That twisted obsession was fueled by a deep-seated resentment, one that had grown like a poison in her heart.

Jessamyn had heard her captor mutter more than once about teaching the Kaiser family a lesson, proving the supposed superiority of the Theodulf bloodline. But the venom in her voice whenever she spoke of Jerrick suggested that her motivations ran far deeper. It wasn’t just about bloodlines—it was personal.

The Theodulf Library had hinted at spells like the ones this woman wielded, but much of her magic was unknown even to Jessamyn. She wondered if Jerrick knew all of them, or if even he would be outmatched by the dark arts his mother had mastered.

Perhaps she was using some kind of cloaking spell, hiding them from those who might seek to find them. Whatever the case, Jessamyn’s mind was a tangled mess of fear, exhaustion, and confusion.

She needed to find a way out of this nightmare, to change their situation before it was too late.

Seizing the moment while the woman was distracted, Jessamyn scooted closer to Bernard and quickly offered him her bowl of stew. He hesitated, his eyes filled with guilt, but Jessamyn insisted. Despite his hunger, he only sipped half of it, though she knew he could have devoured the entire bowl in a single gulp.

When she urged him to take more, he shook his head, pointing silently at her belly. The concern in his eyes tore at Jessamyn’s heart. Despite his suffering, he was still thinking of her and the child she carried.

"Please, drink it," she whispered, pushing the bowl back toward him.

He refused, his lips pressed into a thin line. The little he had taken was enough to bring a spark of clarity back into his weary eyes, but it was clear he wouldn’t take another drop. With a sigh, Jessamyn finished the rest of the stew, though it did little to fill the gnawing emptiness inside her.

Bernard’s expression was apologetic as he watched her drink, but she shook her head, offering him a small, reassuring smile. She was more than happy to share whatever she had with him, even if it meant sacrificing her own comfort.

As she finished the meal, Jessamyn slipped off her worn shoes, grimacing at the sight of her swollen feet. The relentless march had taken its toll on her body, and the rough terrain had left her sore and aching.

"Shall I massage your legs, Milady?" Bernard whispered, his voice barely audible.

Tears welled in Jessamyn’s eyes at his offer. When they had first met, Bernard had treated her with indifference, barely acknowledging her presence. But now, despite everything he had endured, his concern was for her comfort.

She blinked rapidly, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much trouble, Bernard," she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion.

Bernard shook his head vehemently, his lips parting as if to speak. But before he could, the woman turned sharply, her gaze locking onto him with suspicion.

Bernard immediately fell silent, his body tensing. Jessamyn quickly scooted away, pretending to be engrossed in massaging her legs. The woman’s eyes narrowed as she approached, her expression icy.

Jessamyn’s heart pounded, but she forced herself to meet the woman’s gaze with defiance, continuing to rub her aching legs. She was so exhausted she could have fallen asleep right there on the rocky ground.

But sleep was a luxury she couldn’t afford, especially not when the woman’s attention shifted suddenly to Bernard. In a flash, she crossed the distance and grabbed him, her nostrils flaring as she sniffed the air around him like a predator catching the scent of prey.

The chain around Bernard’s neck shimmered, the silver links gleaming ominously as the woman’s expression twisted into something feral. Her eyes flashed with cold fury. "You shared your food!" she screeched, her voice grating like shattered glass. "You dared disobey me! Just because he allowed you to sit on his throne, you think you have power, don’t you? You think you’re the queen?" She spat the words, venom dripping from every syllable.

Jessamyn’s heart raced as the woman’s outburst echoed through the forest. It was clear now—this wasn’t just about bloodlines. The woman’s bitterness stemmed from deep-seated resentment. Jessamyn had been honored and cherished by Jerrick, given a place by his side, while this woman had been reduced to nothing more than a shadow.

The realization struck Jessamyn like a blow. This was revenge—revenge against the Kaiser family for the humiliation she had suffered.

The woman’s grip tightened on the chain, twisting it mercilessly. Bernard’s pained screams filled the night air, echoing through the silent forest like the wails of a dying soul. Jessamyn’s hands clenched into fists, helpless fury burning in her chest as she watched the cruelty unfold.