"This accident was orchestrated by Count Paris," I continued.
"What?" Jordan gasped.
"I have evidence," I said calmly. "Would you like me to show it to you?"
He fell silent, the weight of my words rendering him speechless.
"Prince Jordan," I went on more gently, "I understand your feelings. I ask only that you do not hate her. That young lady… even if she enjoys your company, she is still bound by her father's will—Count Paris."
I paused, choosing my next words carefully.
"You must not marry her, Jordan. Not unless you wish to destroy your own life." My voice softened. "I will leave the final decision to you. Be wise."
He said nothing.
Instead, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. We sat down together, and I held him close.
My poor brother…
It pained me to say such things to him, but he needed to be strong. I would not allow him to fall into Count Paris's trap.
Jordan rested his head on my lap, and I gently patted his hair, offering what little comfort I could.
At that moment, the door opened.
"My queen, so this is where you are," Sir Léon said as he entered. He stopped mid-step, his gaze shifting. "And who might this be?"
"Cousin Jordan," I replied.
"Good day to you, Your Highness," Léon greeted with a slight bow.
"I should be the one greeting you," Jordan said with a small smile. He stood, straightened his posture, and bowed respectfully. "Greetings to High Prince Léon."
"There is no need for such formality, Your Highness," Léon replied, waving a hand dismissively as he gestured for Jordan to rise. "The queen and I are not yet married."
He then added, "I would be honored if both Your Highnesses would join me for dinner."
The moment felt calm—almost peaceful.
And yet, it stirred something unsettling within me.
As I stood and adjusted my posture, a quiet realization settled over my thoughts.
No matter how deep our love ran, no matter how much we accepted one another…
Sir Léon could never become king.
Perhaps… I should end the engagement.
Later, in the dining hall, that thought returned with even greater force.
I sat in the principal chair at the head of the table, as I always did. It was nothing unusual—I had grown accustomed to dining alone.
But now, with others beside me, the emptiness of it felt different.
I could not have a normal royal family.
"My dear sister, you seem dazed," Jordan observed.
"You have seemed distracted since this morning, Your Highness," Sir Léon added, concern evident in his eyes. "Is something wrong?"
"I apologize… I was just…" I faltered, struggling to gather my thoughts after being pulled so abruptly from them. "Please, pay it no mind. Did you need my attention?"
"Not particularly," Jordan said with a light laugh. "I only noticed you were not eating—which is unlike you."
I smiled faintly, but when my gaze fell to my untouched meal, my appetite was nowhere to be found.
Holding that smile became exhausting. Slowly, it faded.
"Has Father had dinner yet?" I asked.
"I do not believe Their Majesties have dined yet," Sir Léon replied.
I lowered my eyes again.
Sir Léon cannot become king… He will remain a bras droit.
The thought lingered heavily in my mind.