The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 83: The King

As the crown prince departed, the air lightened, shedding its tension and becoming more breathable.

Isadora sighed deeply out of relief and William whispered words of comfort in her ears. Slowly, Isadora calmed down and Jessamyn let go of her hand.

Jessamyn stretched her hand. Isadora had clutched it too hard out of fear and it hurt. As she was stretching, she realized something.

Her other hand was not free.

Attempting to extend her other hand, she found it enveloped in a fiery warm grasp. Her heart skipped a beat as she pondered when Jerrick had taken hold of her hand.

After a moment of reflection, she came to the realization that it hadn’t been him who initiated the contact. The fault lay squarely with her.

When she was thinking about how to stop him from acting rashly, she considered grasping his sheath before executing the curtsey. However, in a moment of unconscious impulse, she had clutched his hand instead of the sheath.

How come I didn’t even realize he was holding my hand?

She found her impulse to be in contact with his flesh perplexing. She was not in contact with him for years, yet she could be at ease with him and touch him freely as she did in the past.

She tried to free her hand from his hold but he didn’t let go. There was a slight curve at the corner of his lips.

The herald announced the arrival of the King, and the blare of trumpets filled the air. Everyone stood still until the king reached his throne and then the men bowed as the women did a deep curtsey.

Jerrick didn’t let go of Jessamyn’s hand even when she was doing the curtsey.

The aged king stood before his throne, a figure of faded grandeur amidst the resplendence of his court. Though his title commanded respect, the man who bore it seemed all but a shadow of his former self. Once revered for his wisdom and strength, he now appeared distant and detached, as if haunted by unseen demons that whispered in the recesses of his mind.

His subjects, loyal yet wary, paid homage to the crown he wore, but their reverence was for the symbol it represented rather than the man who wore it. And so, as the courtiers bowed and the trumpets heralded his presence, they did so not out of love or admiration, but out of duty and deference to the throne.

Jessamyn saw Louis, the crown prince, standing beside his father with the itinerary. He had taken on the role of the heir seriously for the past few years ever since the king was identified with a mysterious sickness.

Jessamyn’s heart fell observing the deterioration of the old king. Seven years ago, he had the physical strength to stand and walk but now he walked with a hump and couldn’t stand as if he was a ninety-year-old man, not seventy.

Her eyes unconsciously ended on Jerrick. He looked disgusted with his lips pressed and his eyes were looking around as if he was waiting for something.

What is that about?

The courtiers at the other side of the hall observed the king keenly to handle any fumbles. It was a pity to watch the highest authority of the land acting like a senile fool.

"Selene..." The King said with a shaking voice. "My beloved Selene is here..." He tried to walk off the platform toward... Jessamyn.

Everyone, including the Crown Prince, looked at Jessamyn with shock.

Why is the King saying my mother’s name? Jessamyn’s heart skipped a beat.

Louis tried to stop his father but the mad old man found the strength to shuffle toward Jessamyn. The courtiers tried to get to the King before he further embarrassed himself.

At that moment, when the entire hall was looking at the King acting up on one of his deliriums for all his subjects to see, a soft jingle of jewelry and a gentle ruffle of silk skirt was heard.

Jessamyn turned to her side to see a young woman, not older than 25 walking through the red carpet. She was clad in gold jewelry from head to bottom. Her lips were painted red and the golden crown with hanging charms that covered her forehead was designed in the form of the moon cycle with the full moon in the center. He walked like a swan—elegance personified. Waterlilies, the official flower of Ayberia were embroidered on her white dress with gold threads.

Pearls adorned her silver-blond hair, while her captivating blue eyes remained fixed ahead, seemingly unaffected by the distractions of her surroundings.

The older officials pressed their lips and averted their eyes. The women glared at her with a vengeance. Jessamyn was surprised to see the hate directed at that woman.

Who is she? Is she the future Crown Princess? Has the Crown Prince rejected Lady Cordelia and chose her? She doesn’t look like she’s from Ayberia...

Jessamyn looked at Jerrick to see if her confusion could be answered but he looked at her as if she did something abominable. She quickly averted her eyes.

That woman walked to the King who struggled to get to Jessamyn. "I’m here, My Beloved," she spoke, her voice sweet and gentle as the streams that flow in spring. "Your Celena..."

She then pressed her red lips on the parched lips of the old King holding his hunched shoulders. The King drew in a sharp breath, as though her presence had infused him with newfound vitality. Holding her hand, he walked to the throne, leaving some space beside him for the woman to sit.

Jessamyn blinked, lost for words. What did I witness?

That woman, however, didn’t mind the King and walked to the Crown Prince, getting the itinerary from him. The Crown Prince relented his place to that woman and went back to his seat.

Her eyes ended up at the crown prince, now standing with a forced smile, as if what he witnessed didn’t affect him. Jessamyn was surprised that the Crown Prince didn’t put up a fight. But then she realized things might have progressed so far that his fight wouldn’t change a thing. All he could do now was to keep his head low and wait for his father’s passing to inherit his rightful throne.

At least the probability of that woman giving birth to another heir was almost nil...

As a first child herself, who experienced neglect from her father after her mother’s passing, Jessamyn felt a deep sense of empathy for the crown prince.

Why do the other women separate the children from the father almost always? What kind of man is the King to openly flaunt his mistress who is younger than his son?