Chapter 52
Peyton greeted her with a bright, energetic tone, his delight at seeing her evident.
Adrian had his back turned, while Edith was fully visible. His tear-streaked face was not something Peyton should see.
Quickly, Edith stepped forward, positioning herself to block Adrian from view.
“What brings you here, Peyton? I didn’t hear that you were coming to the palace.”
“I was originally scheduled to meet His Highness, but it seems I’ll be leaving empty-handed.”
“Oh dear, you must not have heard. His Highness is in the middle of his rut cycle. All his appointments have been canceled for a few days.”
“I did receive word that the meeting was postponed,” Peyton replied.
“Then why…?”
“I heard that starting this cycle, His Highness would be accompanied by an omega. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of his well-being.”
His response left a bad taste in her mouth. At best, he was showing concern for the crown prince and observing the palace atmosphere. At worst, he was snooping around.
It seemed Peyton wanted to see how the crown prince was managing with his omega partner. But Adrian wasn’t in the prince’s chambers—he was here. The need to hide Adrian’s less-than-bright expression had only grown.
Edith folded her hands defensively and adopted a stern tone.
“How His Highness spends his cycle is, strictly speaking, a matter of royal confidentiality. Even if you’ve heard something in passing, I’m afraid I have nothing more to say on the matter.”
It was widely known among the aristocracy that the crown prince, despite being a dominant alpha, rarely kept omegas close. While royal health matters were supposed to remain top-secret, reality was often less ideal.
But Peyton’s bold insinuations and probing were inappropriate, even for someone of his station.
“Ah, please don’t misunderstand,” Peyton said, raising a hand as if to placate her. “I didn’t mean to pry anything out of you.”
“Good to hear,” Edith replied curtly.
“It’s not uncommon for alphas or omegas to clear their schedules during cycles. I only meant to comment on that, nothing more.”
Edith made an effort to soften her expression. It wasn’t worth escalating the situation.
“Either way, it’s a shame you came all this way only to leave empty-handed. The palace will likely reschedule the meeting and notify you soon.”
Peyton’s eyes curved into a polite smile, clearly trying to ease the tense atmosphere.
“But… is that person with you not Sir Raymond?”
Peyton’s keen eyes easily recognized Adrian, even from behind, thanks to his striking hair color. Edith’s attempt to shield him had been in vain.
Adrian turned around and stood, his face composed once more.
“Good day, Sir Graves. It’s an honor to greet you.”
He had already regained his usual calm demeanor and exchanged pleasantries with Peyton without a hint of discomfort. For a while, the two engaged in polite, formal conversation, masking any underlying tension.
“Sir Raymond, is it all right for you to be away from His Highness right now?” Peyton asked pointedly.
“I just came down from his chambers. I needed a bit of rest myself. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t inquire further,” Adrian replied evenly.
“Ah, my apologies for overstepping,” Peyton said, though his prying tone lingered.
Despite Edith’s earlier comments, Peyton continued his probing, his intentions now unmistakably clear. His actions hinted at a desire to undermine the crown prince. Given his family’s ties to the old aristocracy, his lack of goodwill toward the royal family was unsurprising.
Adrian, maintaining his polite demeanor, spoke.
“Forgive me, but may I take my leave now? I have other matters to attend to.”
His tone subtly implied he needed to return to Clyde, though Edith knew he had no intention of going back upstairs.
“Of course, Adrian. You should go,” Edith chimed in, playing along.
“Edith, see you later,” Adrian said softly before excusing himself.
As Adrian disappeared from view, Peyton’s narrowed gaze lingered on his retreating figure.
Edith couldn’t help but notice how different Peyton seemed now compared to when she had met him as a potential suitor. His demeanor exuded the unmistakable aura of someone accustomed to power and influence.
The old nobles, like Peyton’s family, had little reason to bow to the royal family. Rather than submitting, they often pursued their interests through disputes and schemes, even going so far as to provoke the crown prince deliberately. It was all part of their strategy and tactics.
Peyton’s gaze shifted from Adrian to Edith, as if he had now set his sights on a new target.
“You seem to be quite close with Sir Raymond, Edith. You addressed him very familiarly by name.”
“Adrian and I have known each other since our academy days,” she replied.
“Have you been close since then?”
His questioning felt intrusive, as if he were probing for something. Edith, unwilling to give him any leverage, responded vaguely.
“At the academy, we all got along with one another.”
Inwardly, she docked Peyton’s already middling score as a suitor from 50 points to 10. She resolved to find an appropriate time to end their courtship discussions altogether.
While the financial conditions of his family were advantageous, their worldviews were too misaligned for any meaningful conversation. Moreover, she couldn’t forget the people at his family’s estate who had sabotaged her plans for the marksmen’s tournament. Edith, with her ambitions for a successful event, and Peyton, scheming to interfere, were too ideologically opposed to make a good match.
Unaware of her thoughts, Peyton extended a friendly invitation.
“If you have time, would you join me for an outing today?”
Citing work as an excuse would be ineffective. Peyton was well aware that Clyde was confined to his chambers. Instead, she found another reason.
“Regrettably, I’m not feeling very well,” she said.
“Oh dear, what’s the matter?”
“Just…”
He waited for her to elaborate.
She almost mentioned having a slight cold but hesitated, an idea forming in her mind.
“Just aches and pains here and there,” she said instead.
His face immediately shifted to one of concern.
“How badly are you hurt? Edith, are you all right?”
Worry filled Peyton’s earnest gaze as his eyes swept over her from head to toe.
“It’s nothing serious. As you can see, I’m up and about just fine.”
“Even so, it’s concerning. You should rest in your quarters rather than lingering here.”
“Yes, I was thinking the same,” she agreed.
“But I’d really like to know where and how badly you’re injured,” he pressed.
Her work attire was stiff and formal, concealing any indication of bandages underneath. She offered only a faint smile in response, saying nothing more.
“When you’re feeling better, please let me know. I’ll come to see you again.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry to send you away like this,” she replied with polite finality.
Peyton departed, crossing the lawn outside the cafeteria. Even as he walked away, he glanced back repeatedly, seemingly still worried about her.
Once alone, Edith’s expression darkened.
On a whim, she had tested him, and Peyton had unwittingly revealed more than he realized. All she had said was that she ached here and there—a statement open to benign interpretations, such as a sore shoulder or general fatigue.
But Peyton had immediately jumped to the conclusion that she was injured.
In the royal palace, injuries among nobles in service were rare. Peyton’s assumption hinted at prior knowledge, as if he had anticipated her being hurt.
Even more suspiciously, he didn’t ask where she had been injured but focused on how extensive the injury was.
‘Chilling. Truly.’
The possibility that the sniper who targeted Edith at the arena’s rear gate was acting on Peyton’s orders could not be dismissed entirely.
However, Peyton’s apparent concern for her seemed genuine, at least on the surface.
Perhaps the culprit was another noble aligned with his faction. They appeared to convene regularly, and it was possible Peyton had merely heard about the incident through their network.
‘I can’t figure Peyton out. Does he want me as his wife or does he want me dead?’
When had he learned that Edith would be participating in the marksman’s tournament? He had seemed utterly unaware during her visit to his estate. If he had known beforehand, he surely wouldn’t have left the tampered target sheets lying around so carelessly.
The identity of the sniper’s mastermind remained uncertain.
What was clear, however, was that whoever was behind it had made a serious attempt on her life. It was proof enough that they viewed Edith as a serious threat.
Her sense of caution heightened considerably. She now understood why Clyde had been so insistent about her remaining within the safety of the crown prince’s protection. His precautions were beginning to make sense.
—
Late at night, Peyton visited a renowned astrologer. This practitioner, introduced only through exclusive connections, was famed for their unparalleled expertise.
The astrologer was particularly celebrated for their ability to read the movement of stars. Society held that celestial omens were the most reliable and credible form of prophecy.
Peyton confided in the astrologer about the situation concerning Edith. He wasn’t necessarily planning to act solely based on the reading, but he sought the session as a way to clear his mind before making any critical decisions.
The astrologer, their pale eyes fixed on the heavens, appeared to see only the stars, oblivious to their immediate surroundings.
“Did you say that Omega is injured?” the astrologer asked, their long robes shifting as they absentmindedly gestured with their fingers.
“She may not even be an Omega. It’s just my speculation,” Peyton replied.
“She is an Omega,” the astrologer confirmed.
“Is she really?”
“And she’s not injured. She shines bright and clear.”
Peyton let out a low exclamation and listened attentively to the astrologer’s words.
It was true that Edith appeared outwardly unharmed. Perhaps her earlier claim of being unwell had nothing to do with the injury at the arena. If so, the bloodstains found at the scene must have belonged to someone else.
When Peyton had learned that Count Dietrian had hired a sniper, he had been horrified. The incident unfolded before he had any chance to intervene.
It was only after the attack that Peyton had been informed of the details: Edith’s participation in the marksman’s tournament, the covert sniper’s presence, and the ensuing chaos. The news had left him utterly stunned.
The reason for his visit to the palace earlier that day was to check on her condition.
“Are you certain Edith is in good health?” Peyton asked again.
The astrologer snapped, annoyed.
“Maybe she has a scratch or two. Do I have to account for every little detail? If you’re going to question me like this, you might as well leave.”
“No, please continue,” Peyton insisted.
The astrologer, who rarely relied on tools, pulled a crystal ball the size of a fist from their robes. With their unseeing eyes, they projected the starlight into the orb.
“Hmm… this Edith you speak of…”
