The Grand Duke's Soulmate-Chapter 586: The Entourage’s Departure (I)

Morning broke clear and golden over the duchy.

The air was crisp and bright with promise. Not a single cloud marred the expansive blue sky, and a steady breeze swept across the forecourt, fluttering banners bearing Gerhard’s crest.

It was, by all omens, a day suited for a journey.

The entourage had gathered before the main gates—horses saddled, supplies secured, and the men in travelling armour. This was not a campaign of war, but neither was it leisure.

At the front of it all stood Kyren, clad in dark riding leathers beneath a long travelling cloak fastened at the shoulder. His posture was steady, gaze keen, presence commanding even in silence.

Before him stood those who would remain behind and the rest of the castle’s occupants, giving their respect to the soon-to-depart entourage and seeing them off.

Emily and Meredith stood calmly, their rounded figures gently shaded by their gowns. Scarlett and Rania stayed close, attentive to their ladies’ comfort.

At one side of the gathering, Ayden and Clara stood with their hands gently clasped, their newlywed joy still evident. On the other end, Gerald, the steward, looked composed, yet his eyes cast downward.

Rachel, now appointed as chief lady-in-waiting, stood with composed authority over the gathering, her posture straight and assured.

Little Evan rested securely in her arms while Ethan held onto her free hand, peering curiously at the knights.

Sylvia stood poised on her right, mirroring the effortless dignity Rachel exuded, with Mary on her left.

And at the centre, distinct and unmissable, stood Garin, the third-in-command knight, and formally vested with authority as the Grand Duke’s representative in his absence.

Kyren’s gaze fell upon those who remained behind, a quiet melancholy shadowing his expression, though his resolve still stood firm.

Hope, though unspoken, shone clearly in every gaze.

Beneath their composed stillness lay anticipation. They were not merely sending out an entourage, but entrusting it with their future.

Everyone hoped Elis would soon be reunited with Kiev, protected alongside their unborn child, and that the mission would be accomplished without bloodshed.

And above all, they prayed for safe passage, for success, and for the day Anna and Callis would walk through Gerhard’s gates.

"Rotate patrols along the southern wall and keep a close watch on the frontier roads. See to the merchants and ensure fair levies, settle disputes swiftly, and keep trade flowing without unrest. Attend to the petitions of the townsfolk and oversee the council in my stead," Kyren instructed evenly. His gaze hardened with quiet authority. "Do not hesitate where firmness is required."

Garin bowed his head. "Understood, Your Highness. I will not fail you."

The grand duke held his stare a moment longer, not merely as a command, but as trust bestowed. He was leaving Gerhard in the knight’s hands.

Kyren then turned to Gerald.

"Manage the household accordingly. Oversee the servants, keep the castle in order as you usually do, and remember to assist Garin with all administrative matters," he instructed.

The steward bowed deeply, but emotion overcame him before he could straighten fully. His shoulders trembled, and to his own embarrassment, tears began to spill down his weathered cheeks.

"I have always been at ease when Your Highness rode to campaign or departed on ducal affairs," he confessed hoarsely. "But... this time... it feels different."

Kyren’s gaze softened slightly.

"I saw your sorrow... and I never want to see you like that again. I wish for Your Highness’s happiness, and I believe Lady Raychard holds the key to it," the steward added, his voice filled with emotion. "Although I haven’t yet had the chance to meet her or Mrs Amares personally, the way everyone talks about them... I am confident they are admirable ladies. I only hope to serve them well when they come."

He lowered his head once more, brushing at his damp eyes with the back of his sleeve.

"Please... bring them home safely, Your Highness."

"I will," the grand duke replied without hesitation. "No matter the cost, I will bring them back."

"We have faith in you, Your Highness. It won’t be long before Gerhard finally welcomes its mistress," Clara said brightly, though her voice softened at the end. "How I wish I could accompany you."

"You are newlywed," Kyren answered, his tone gentler though still composed. "I have no desire to part you and Ayden so soon. Moreover, having you around would be great to oversee the safety of the ladies."

Clara bowed. "Your Highness is considerate and wise."

"Ayden is needed here to fill the void in my absence. Though there are other healers in the duchy, none would serve as capably as you," Rafe interjected as he approached.

"I’m only your assistant, Mr Amares," Ayden said, flushing slightly.

"Only in title," the healer cut in with an easy smile. "In skill, you stand no less than a full healer. I have complete confidence you will shoulder the responsibility and see to everyone’s well-being."

Ayden straightened immediately, his face lighting up at the trust placed in him.

"I’ll do my utmost."

"And I’ll guard them with my life," Clara added.

"I know that you would." The grand duke nodded, acknowledging.

Rafe then turned to his assistant.

"Watch for swelling in the legs of the pregnant ladies. They must not strain themselves when walking. If either shows early signs—"

"I know," Ayden interrupted gently, trying to hide his nerves. "I’ve memorised every instruction you’ve given me."

"Right... You’ve always been meticulous," the healer said with a chuckle, before stepping back into place.

Alex then moved toward Meredith. Rania instinctively loosened her hold on her lady’s arm and stepped aside, giving them space.

Meredith lifted her chin, though her fingers trembled slightly where they rested over her rounded belly. A tender, longing smile curved her lips as Alex stopped before her.

He reached for her hands first, then lowered one palm carefully to her stomach.

"Behave while I’m gone," he murmured, as though speaking directly to the child within. "Don’t trouble your mother too much."

Meredith let out a faint, watery laugh.

"The baby is not the one who troubles me. It’s the father."

"Ah... really?" He leaned closer, resting his forehead briefly against hers. "Then I shall return quickly to redeem myself."

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic. "Come back safely. That’s all I ask."

"I will. Wait for me," His voice lowered, firm with quiet promise.

He bent and pressed a lingering kiss to her brow, then another to her belly—gentle and reverent—his heart heavy at the thought of leaving his pregnant wife behind, yet resolute in fulfilling the duty he could not forsake.

A few steps away, Noah stood before Emily. Unlike Meredith, she did not attempt to hold back her emotion. Her eyes were already shining.

"You’re not allowed to name the baby anything dreadful while I’m gone," he muttered gruffly, though his hand was careful as it came to rest over her stomach.

Emily sniffed.

"That depends. If you return so late, I might reconsider."

"Emily." His tone hardened immediately. "Don’t."

She looked up at him, her composure faltering.

"Just... don’t do anything reckless. I’ve heard the Mederian maidens are famed for their beauty. We’ve seen Mrs Amares—so it’s no mere rumour."

He huffed softly. "I am a knight, not a fool."

"You’re both," she shot back weakly, tears threatening.

Noah exhaled through his nose, then cupped her face—far more gently than his rough exterior suggested he could.

"I’ll come back," he said, quieter now. "You and the little one... you’re my responsibility."

She covered his hand with hers. "And you’re ours."

For a moment, neither spoke. Then he leaned forward and kissed her—brief, restrained, yet filled with unspoken longing.

"Wait for me," he echoed Alex’s earlier words, though his voice carried a different weight.

Emily nodded. "Bring them back."

"I will."

In the meantime, Drystan approached Sylvia, a faint stiffness lingering between them. It was the first time they would part since their marriage.

Sylvia lowered her gaze, fingers twisting the fabric of her gown as she weighed her words.

Should she offer him a tender farewell, as Meredith and Emily had done? Or should she keep it formal and composed?

Neither felt quite right.

Yes, they were husband and wife—but bound first by contract, not by love. And yet, something had shifted in recent days.

The night Drystan had drawn her into his arms and touched her with a hunger that was anything but indifferent, the lines between agreement and emotion had blurred.

What had begun as mutual respect within clear terms had quietly drifted into uncertain territory.

Every time he held her close, every time he claimed her with that intense, unwavering gaze, she felt something deeper beneath it... something that felt dangerously close to care. More than duty. More than convenience.

Yet he never spoke of it.

And each time she gathered the courage to ask him what lay in his heart, her question had dissolved beneath him.

The way his hand had cupped her waist, firm and possessive...

The way his lips had claimed hers...

The warmth of his breath against her skin...

Sylvia swallowed, her pulse quickening at the recollection.

What were they now? Contracted partners? Or something neither of them had dared to name?

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Huh?" Sylvia blinked and looked up.

Drystan’s brown eyes settled on hers, searching.

"You seem flustered. Are you unwell?" He lifted a hand and placed it lightly against her forehead.

Her cheeks flushed deeper.

It had always been easy for him to display such gestures before others to make their marriage appear affectionate and convincing. But after they had truly shared a bed, his touch no longer felt like an act.

"I-I’m fine," she murmured, gently pushing his hand away.

"I suppose you are," Drystan said, studying her a moment longer.

Her skin felt warm beneath his palm, heat rising not from illness but from nerves and something far less innocent.

Perhaps it was simply the sorrow of parting...

Sylvia gathered her courage. Drystan would be gone for an uncertain length of time—at best, two or three months. But even that was only a hope. Missions had a way of stretching beyond promises.

If she did not speak now, she would be left waiting with questions that would gnaw at her heart.

She lifted her gaze to him, resolve flickering in her eyes.

"I wanted to speak with you," she said quietly.

"About what?"

His blunt tone made her chest tighten. As if he truly did not know when he most certainly did.

"You know... a-about us," she murmured, lowering her eyes as her voice faded.

Drystan’s expression shifted, subtle but apparent.

She had cornered him with this before, and each time he had escaped—distracting her with his lingering touches, and kisses that stole the breath from her lungs and left no room for further questions.

But today, she did not retreat.

"We’ll speak when I return," he said shortly.

"But—"

"Hey..." His voice softened, though the firmness remained beneath it. "This is going to be a long journey. It wouldn’t be wise to start something heavy before I leave, would it?"

Silence settled between them.

"...I suppose not," she said at last as she lowered her eyes, though the answer did little to quiet the unrest in her heart.

"Don’t you think you’re supposed to give me something?" he asked suddenly.

Sylvia lifted her eyes, confusion plain on her face.

"Give... what?"

Drystan did not wait for clarification.

If Alex and Noah could be openly affectionate before everyone, why should he hold back?

Whatever restraint he once possessed had long since dissolved the night he first claimed her in his arms.

Let them call him bold... let them whisper...

If he were to leave her behind, he would at least take a good memory with him.

"This."

He drew her into his embrace, one hand steady at the back of her neck as he bent and claimed her lips.

The kiss was slow at first, then deepened with unmistakable heat.

It lingered long enough to turn heads and for murmurs to ripple through the gathered group. Only when Sylvia’s breath faltered did he finally release her.

"Oh, ho! Sir Mills is exceptionally affectionate today," Luke teased.

Drystan wiped his lips with the back of his thumb while Sylvia’s chest rose and fell, her cheeks flushed crimson.

"Well, I wouldn’t want my wife forgetting how I taste while I’m away," he replied lightly.

Soft laughter rippled through the group. Sylvia’s eyes widened in disbelief.

"Drystan!"

She bit her lower lip, mortified, and was just about to scold him when he caught her hands in his. His fingers brushed slowly over the backs of her palms, the teasing glint in his eyes fading.

"Remember me, Sylvie," he said softly. "Whatever happens... remember me."