The Queen And The Third Prince
Tap the text to show or hide reading controls.
After finishing the letter from the Duke of de Broy, Emilenne smiled.
As always, Noel stood at her side.
“Within a few months, Lucien will inherit the position of head of the house, and Alban and Yumila will move to the territory. It seems Alban has finally captured Yumila’s heart… It took a long time—twenty years.”
“Anything he tried before was useless, after all. It’s a happy outcome.”
“She must have realized that no matter how much she resisted, Lucien belonged to Marguerite. Only then did Alban’s feelings finally reach her.”
“……That wasn’t such a pretty love story,”
Noel sighed.
“After all, it was the royal family that created the cause of House de Broy’s long internal strife.”
“That’s rather cold of you to say.”
“It concerns my cousin, after all.”
“I do feel sorry as well, even if I wasn’t directly involved. That’s why I had you—my trusted blade—watch over them, isn’t it?”
Exchanging words that hardly sounded like those of a mother and son, Emilenne and Noel shrugged at each other.
The royal family had its own set of circumstances.
Just as, during the reign of the king two generations prior, a prince with nowhere to go had been entrusted to House de Broy together with a vast dowry and a ducal title.
No one knew that the ducal title had originally been limited to three generations. Before the term expired, House de Broy obtained a hereditary dukedom in exchange for certain conditions.
Lucien did not know this either.
“By the way,”
Noel changed the subject.
Emilenne, who had been gazing into the distance, responded, leaning forward with interest.
“What is it?”
“Although Lady Yumila agreed to the Duke of de Broy’s proposal, it seems she hasn’t been able to sort out her feelings and has taken to her bed.”
“My…”
“And on top of that, Lady Marguerite is bedridden as well.”
“Oh?”
Emilenne tilted her head.
She wondered what kind of emotional strain could have caused that seemingly fearless young woman to fall ill.
“Surely Lucien didn’t do something?”
“No, it appears to be nothing more than a common cold.”
“I see.”
At Noel’s calm report, Emilenne lowered her brows.
“I do hope those two work things out.”
“We’ll make it happen, if it’s Your Majesty the Queen’s will.”
“Hehe, how reliable.”
Still speaking in a manner unbefitting mother and son, Emilenne and Noel exchanged smiles and laughed together.
Reading Settings
