Chapter 131: The Cruelty of Comparison

Chapter 131: Chapter 131: The Cruelty of Comparison

"No wonder His Highness is set to marry her."

"I heard Lady Deborah used to follow the Duchess of Draevenor around. Now it seems the Duchess can’t quite compare. She doesn’t appear to have any notable talents of her own."

Another lady quickly covered her friend’s mouth.

"Hush! She’s a Duchess! We don’t get to gossip about her. Are you trying to offend the Duke of Draevenor?"

Deborah set down her wine jug and turned towards them.

"Exactly. The Duke is fiercely protective of his Duchess. I’ve faced his reprimand several times myself."

The noble ladies fell silent, offering only polite smiles.

Deborah sighed softly.

"You all know how it is. Some people in this world are simply skilled at charming their lords. With the favour of a powerful man, they gain protection. Others, less eloquent and less adept at sweet words, can only endure their grievances in silence."

The ladies exchanged knowing glances.

It was obvious who Deborah was referring to.

So that was the Duchess of Draevenor’s greatest skill—keeping her husband pleased and using his favour to throw her weight around.

When they looked towards Elysia again, their gazes had changed.

There was now a faint but unmistakable disdain in their eyes.

Deborah noticed.

A satisfied curve touched her lips.

"You mentioned a tale," Vaelen said slowly.

He did not particularly like Deborah, but he had to admit that Legends of Cassiopeia was a rare masterpiece. He greatly admired the mysterious writer known as Alhena.

Since Deborah was Alhena, he could afford her a little more patience.

Hearing that she intended to write another tale, his tone softened slightly.

"What do you want to write about?"

Deborah shook her head gently.

"I haven’t decided yet. I’m wondering whether I should write another tale of love or try something different this time."

She tilted her face towards him.

"Your Highness, do you have any ideas?"

Vaelen replied indifferently, "Write what you want. There’s no need to ask me."

Deborah looked at him, her voice sweet and coaxing.

"I haven’t settled on a theme yet. But if you were to spend more time with me in the future, perhaps inspiration would strike."

Vaelen paused before answering without looking towards her.

"You are my betrothed. I will naturally spend more time with you."

A blush touched Deborah’s cheeks.

She pushed the filled wine cup towards him.

"Your Highness, your wine."

Vaelen gave a short hum, picked up the cup, and took a small sip.

Meanwhile, Cassiel and Elysia had taken their seats in a nearby pavilion.

They were close enough that Deborah could see them clearly with only a glance. Her attention was drawn towards them almost instinctively.

She watched, stunned, as Cassiel picked up the wine jug and poured a cup for Elysia.

Shouldn’t she be the one serving him?

Elysia looked at the cup, tilted her head, and said something to Cassiel.

Reading her lips, Deborah could tell that she was refusing the wine.

Deborah sneered inwardly.

So ungrateful.

She had actually refused wine poured by the Duke himself.

Surely his displeasure would follow.

With that thought, Deborah elegantly began peeling lily seeds for Vaelen.

When she looked up again, however, Cassiel showed no trace of annoyance.

Instead, he appeared perfectly content as he peeled lily seeds himself.

After removing one from its pod, he carefully took out the bitter core before placing the seed on the small plate in front of Elysia.

Deborah stared at her own hands, then at Elysia.

A bitter sense of resentment settled in her chest.

"You have to admit, the Duke treats his Duchess remarkably well."

"I’ve never seen a Prince be so attentive."

"His Highness doesn’t treat Lady Deborah like—"

The noble ladies began whispering again, this time mentioning Vaelen before abruptly cutting themselves off.

But not before Deborah heard them.

Her fingers tightened around the lily pod.

She gritted her teeth, fury burning silently beneath her composed expression.

Why would a man reputed to be cold and ruthless treat Elysia with such tenderness?

For the first time, doubt crept into Deborah’s mind.

Could Elysia’s claim that she was his beloved actually be true?

The thought made her stomach churn.

Elysia had something Deborah desperately wanted—a husband who cherished her without reservation.

Yet Deborah had claimed something Elysia could never have.

She was now Alhena.

Everyone believed she had written Legends of Cassiopeia, a tale the entire kingdom admired. Her name already carried a reputation that no amount of beauty or a husband’s favour could easily rival.

But as Deborah looked at Vaelen, watching him drink the wine she had poured for him, that certainty no longer brought her the satisfaction it once had.

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment before shifting away.

No matter how famous she was, no matter how highly others praised her, she could not bear the thought of Elysia having something she did not.

Her fingers slowly tightened around the lily pod.

Then her expression hardened.

Her new tale would not merely be another success.

It would be even more extraordinary than Legends of Cassiopeia.

She did not believe she was incapable of achieving what the original author had achieved. This time, she would prove it.

With its success, she would cement her identity as Alhena and secure her reputation as the most talented lady in Aveanlor.

And when the entire kingdom praised her once again, she would no longer be merely Lady Deborah.

She would be Lady Deborah Drakemont.

The future Crown Princess.

The most talented woman in Aveanlor.

And then—

Even Elysia would have to look up to her.

Deborah’s lips curved into a smile.

She had already made her decision.

She would make sure Elysia could never escape her shadow.

Elsewhere, Elysia had already eaten four or five of the lily seeds Cassiel had peeled for her, a smile gracing her features.

"Freshly picked lily seeds are so fragrant and sweet. Delicious!"

She ate another.

"Could we take some home?"

Cassiel continued peeling patiently, his head bowed as he worked.

"If you like them, we can have the entire pond’s lily pods picked for you."

Elysia blushed.

"That would be too much. And I couldn’t possibly eat them all."

After a few more, she finally felt full.

She looked at Cassiel.

"My lord, I’m done."

She reached for the half-peeled pod in his hand.

"Let me peel some for you! You should have some too."

But Cassiel moved his hand away.

"No need."

Elysia tilted her head.

"Should I wash my hands first?"

Cassiel smiled faintly.

"It’s not that your hands are dirty."

His gaze fell briefly to her fingers.

"Peeling these is rough on your fingers."

Elysia was taken aback.

She looked down at her own hands.

In her past life, her existence in the Crown Prince’s Wing had been bleak, and by the end, her hands had become worn and weathered.

Now, only the faintest of calluses marked her palms.

She slowly turned her hands over, studying them.

The difference was almost laughable.

In her previous life, she had spent years doing everything herself. There had been no one to care whether her hands were rough, no one to notice when her fingers were sore, and no one to tell her to stop before her skin split.

She had simply grown accustomed to enduring everything in silence.

Now, someone was concerned that peeling a few lily seeds might hurt her hands.

The realisation left her strangely quiet.

Cassiel glanced at her.

"What is it?"

Elysia quickly shook her head.

"Nothing."

She curled her fingers slightly.

"It’s just..."

She looked at him, a soft smile slowly returning to her lips.

"I suddenly remembered something."

"What?"

"After my family was gone, there was no one left to care about whether my hands hurt."

Cassiel’s expression changed almost imperceptibly.

Elysia did not seem to notice.

She simply looked down at her palms again.

There was no complaint in her voice.

If anything, there was a trace of amusement.