am-books Chapter 204: The Fading Crown
Chapter 204: The Fading Crown
Olivia slowly stopped the motion of the swing. She stood up, her brows furrowing into a tight knot beneath her veil as she turned around to stare deeply into her brother’s eyes. The sudden, suffocating weight in his voice made her skin prickle.
"Kyle... what is wrong with you?" she demanded, her sharp gaze cutting through his guarded expression. "Why are you talking like this?"
Kyle swallowed hard, the sharp lump in his throat making it difficult to breathe. A profound, piercing sadness washed over his eyes as he looked down at her.
"I am not supposed to tell you this, Olivia," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "But..."
"But what?"
As she pressed for answers, Kyle’s eyes drifted, lost to a sudden, painful memory that dragged him backward in time.
He was no longer standing in the courtyard. In his mind, he was back inside the stifling chambers of the palace, staring at Lucius, who was coughing violently in front of him. Kyle had rushed to his side, his heart hammering against his ribs in utter panic.
"Your Majesty! What is wrong? What happened?" Kyle had cried out, his voice echoing frantically in the room. "I heard that you collapsed! Doctor, what is wrong with him? Why is he like this?!"
Lucius’s face had been terrifyingly pale, the ghostly white of his skin broken only by the drops of fresh, crimson blood staining the corners of his mouth. His eyes, usually so sharp and commanding, were clouded with a deep, crushing exhaustion.
The Imperial Physician had looked up at Kyle, his eyes filled with a heavy, professional sorrow. "I do not know, Your Highness... His Majesty’s health has deteriorated drastically over these past few days. I cannot even fathom how or why it happened so quickly. I fear... I fear he is very ill."
"Father..." Dropping every ounce of his royal titles and strict decorum, Kyle had stepped closer to the bed, reaching out with trembling hands. "Papa... what is the matter? What is wrong with you? You don’t look well at all."
Lucius had forced his heavy eyelids open, offering his son a strained, terribly fragile reassurance. "I am fine... do not worry, Kyle. I will be fine."
For minutes that felt like an eternity, Kyle had stood frozen by the bedside, simply staring at his sick father, refusing to believe the weakness of the man who had always been an unshakeable pillar.
When he finally stepped out of the chamber to clear his suffocating chest, he found the Imperial Physician waiting for him by the heavy double doors, his head bowed.
"What is it?" Kyle had asked, his voice tight. "I could tell you were holding back your words in front of him."
The physician had let out a shaky breath, looking around to ensure no one was listening. "Your Highness... I believe the Emperor is past the point of recovery. What I mean by this... is that he has been struck by a mortal illness. He is dying."
Pulling himself out of the dark memory with a shudder, Kyle’s focus snapped back to Olivia standing before him on the frost-covered grass. His voice carried a heavy, melancholic weight, and his eyes remained unmovingly fixed upon her, stripping away his usual easygoing armor.
"The Emperor’s health has plummeted to rock bottom, Olivia," Kyle revealed, his jaw clenching tightly as his sharp gaze swept across their surroundings, searching the shadows of the courtyard. "The Imperial Palace is suppressing the news entirely, keeping it tightly under wraps. I don’t know the specifics of how it happened so quickly... but he is going to die very soon. That is exactly what I mean."
Olivia’s breath caught in her throat, a sudden, icy chill cascading down her spine. "He is... what?" she whispered, her voice trembling beneath her veil. "He looked perfectly fine at the funeral. How can he just be dying?"
Kyle let out another weary sigh, the weight of the entire Empire pressing down on his young shoulders. "Time is a luxury we no longer possess since this crisis began. I must return to the palace immediately. If you change your mind and wish to see him... if you want him to know the truth of who you are before it’s too late, I will personally handle the arrangements."
"Very well..." she managed, her voice barely a whisper. "You may leave."
With a final, somber glance, he turned and vanished past the gates, leaving her entirely alone in the suffocating quiet of the garden.
Unable to bear the freezing wind any longer, Olivia retreated inside, locking herself within the heavy silence of her private chambers. For hours, she remained frozen in that room, drowning in the quiet, refusing to utter a word to anyone. Her mind had become a turbulent battlefield, torn violently between a fierce refusal to face the man who abandoned her mother, and a paralyzing dread of future remorse.
It was in this state of profound desolation that Isabella found her. Stepping into the dimly lit room, Isabella paused, her gaze locking onto Olivia’s overwrought, conflicted features.
"Olivia..." she began softly, her brows furrowing as she approached. "Did something happen, girl?"
"It’s nothing, Isabella."
"Truly?" Isabella pressed, her skepticism clear.
Olivia stared at her for a few agonizing seconds before finally breaking her silence. "Isabella... if there was something you had to do, and you were faced with two choices—where doing it would bring regret, but choosing not to would bring regret just the same... would you do it?"
"Hmm..." Isabella murmured, pondering the weight of the question. "Regretting what you didn’t do is always far worse than regretting what you did. Besides, you are Olivia. In all the time I’ve known you, I have never seen you regret a single action. What on earth is making you hesitate like this?"
A sudden, breathless laugh escaped Olivia’s lips—a flash of her true spirit breaking through the gloom. "You are entirely right. I am Olivia Locron. Why am I even hesitating?"
With renewed purpose in her stride, she turned and headed straight for the door.
"Where are you going at this hour?" Isabella called out, startled by the sudden shift.
Olivia didn’t look back as she opened the door. "To do the one thing I know I won’t regret, my dear."
Hours bled into the dark night as the carriage rattled forward, its wheels splashing through the cold mud. Inside, a thousand agonizing possibilities wove themselves into a chaotic web within Olivia’s mind, the rhythmic swaying of the carriage doing nothing to soothe her racing heart. By the time the grueling journey finally came to an end, the grand, imposing silhouette of the Imperial Palace loomed before her like a golden cage under the moonlight.
There, standing beneath the cold stone archway of the palace gates, was Kyle, wrapped in his royal cloak.
As she stepped down from the carriage, his eyes met hers. "What are you doing here?" he asked, though the tension in his shoulders seemed to melt away at the sight of her.
"I would be lying if I said I didn’t expect you," he admitted, a faint, weary smile touching his lips. "I held onto a shred of hope."
Ignoring the rigid guards flanking the entrance and completely disregarding his status as the Crown Prince, Olivia marched up to him and pinched his ear firmly. "Take me to him, you stubborn little nuisance."
"Alright, alright! This way, dear sister," Kyle winced, though a gleam of relief shone in his eyes as he led her through the labyrinthine, softly lit corridors of the palace.
Finally, they came to a halt before a massive, ornate door guarded by elite knights. The heavy silence of the royal wing settled over them, and Kyle turned to her, his expression turning solemn once more. "I do not wish to force you into a decision you might resent. Are you sure about this?"
Olivia offered him a calm, reassuring smile, her classic cold confidence returning. "It is fine, Kyle. It is not as if this will alter the blood flowing through my veins. Besides, I survived years under Roland’s roof; a dying Emperor could hardly be worse than him, my dear."
She pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside, while Kyle quietly retreated into the hallway, granting them the sacred space they needed.
As she crossed the threshold, the sheer opulence of the grand chamber felt suffocating. There, enveloped by the luxury of the imperial suite, sat the Emperor. His face was starkly pale, devoid of its usual royal vitality, but his eyes were instantly and unmovingly fixed upon her.
"Welcome, Olivia," he murmured softly.
He did not greet her as the Duchess of Locron, nor did he use any formal titles of state. To him, in this fragile moment, she was simply Olivia.
She stared at him for a few agonizing seconds, the tension in the room thick and unfamiliar. Feeling the rigid weight of protocol, she began to lower herself into a formal bow, but his frail voice cut through the quiet before she could.
"Do not bow, please. Come closer."
"Ah... as you wish, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice momentarily faltering as she closed the distance between them.
Standing right before him, a whirlwind of thoughts raced through her mind. How could she possibly justify the sudden, unannounced visit of the Duchess of Locron to a dying Emperor’s private quarters, let alone unpack the staggering reality that she was truly his daughter?
An heavy, unspoken silence descended upon them, neither knowing how to bridge the immense chasm of lost years. Finally, the Emperor broke the stillness.
"I was the one who told Kyle to bring you here."
Olivia’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. "What?"
"Sit on the bed, please," he requested gently, his hand gesturing weakly to the space beside him.
"Very well," she said, complying as she sat down, though the confusion in her heart only deepened. "But... why did you send for me?"
He looked at her, his eyes clouded with a profound, aching sadness. "Let us call it the selfishness of a father," he whispered, the words heavy with a lifetime of hidden grief. "A father who wishes nothing more than to look upon his eldest daughter in his final days—even though he is the very reason for her unhappiness."