The Duke's Reluctant Bride

Chapter 15: The King's Scattered Blood

Adeline's face froze as she processed Quentin's words, her breath catching in disbelief. Eldren blood—it was a term she had encountered in passing, always dismissing it as mere legend. But now, hearing Quentin speak with such conviction, she felt the weight of its reality.

"It might seem unbelievable, Your Grace, but it's true," Quentin said, adjusting his glasses.

"Four hundred years ago, before the Dark Lord's fall, King Mulzart of the Eldren died in battle," he began. "There's an old saying: When an Eldren king falls, his blood will scatter among the people for generations. Those with Eldren blood inherit rare traits like Lady Clara's golden eyes, any other features that are exceptionally uncommon, and the abilities that echo the king's own power. These abilities can be extraordinary but often untamed."

Adeline nodded, her mind racing. The pieces were beginning to fall into place. "If Clara holds such power, why did the Duke leave her with them back then?" she asked, her voice sharp with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Quentin was momentarily surprised by her knowledge. Until he realized it must be her abilities at work.

"Ah, I see," He smiled faintly. "House Branwen is not really known for cruelty. His grace, Eric trusted them for their warmth and hospitality. But after Lady Leone's tragic death during childbirth, they blamed Clara. They called her a monster who killed their daughter. It was absurd of course—an innocent child bearing such blame." 

His voice softened. "Duke Lucien must have thought Clara would be safer in Veridonia, far from Wintermere. After losing so much, he couldn't bear the thought of losing her too."

Adeline's chest tightened. Her thoughts drawn to Clara's bright golden eyes, now tinged with an unspoken weight. 

"Four years ago, when the Duke visited his niece in Veridonia, it didn't take him long to figure out the young lady's situation." Quentin began, his voice steady but laced with a hint of lingering unease. "I remember when the informant reported Clara's condition to him. He froze the whole room—literally. The air was so cold, I thought I'd freeze to death too! And his face..." Quentin shuddered dramatically. "Let's just say I wouldn't want to be the poor soul who crossed him that day."

"What happened after that?" Adeline asked, a small, nervous smile tugging at her lips

"With the evidence gathered by the informant, the Duke fought for custody of Clara. In the end, he won and House Branwen's reputation was shattered, and they were permanently exiled." Quentin shrugged. "Though it took Young Lady Clara a month to trust her own uncle after all she had been through. There was a time she escaped into the forest; all the knights were searching, and finally, Duke Lucien found her. However, when he returned, he had a bite wound on his shoulder, but Clara was unconscious in his arms."

"I see, that explains it," Adeline said, raising an eyebrow. "Do you think House Branwen deserves any pity?"

Quentin smirked, his tone playful but tinged with sincerity. "Pity? No, why do you pity a monster?"

Adeline lifted her hand, a sly grin spreading across her face. Quentin's eyes sparkled with amusement as he matched the gesture. Their palms met in a resounding high five.

"Well said, Quentin" Adeline voice carrying both pride and determination.

"I know right?!" He replied dramatically.

After a moment of giggle and silence between them, Adeline's smile faltered a little, as if wanting to say something more.

"Do you think Clara's mother ever regretted having her?" Her voice was soft, almost hesitant.