The Reason Why the Forsaken Fake Returned Chapter 66

“…We ran into each other at the last royal event. The day Your Highness announced your return.”

 

“And?” Caleb narrowed his eyes and quietly pressed her.

 

Shailoh’s lips parted and closed a few times before she turned her head, dodging his gaze. “Nothing happened. There were a lot of people there.”

 

Caleb hooked his index finger under her chin and turned her face back to his, forcing their eyes to meet. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“I was going to. I was just waiting for the right time.”

 

Caleb let out a low sigh and raked a hand through his hair. “I thought we shared everything. I didn’t think you’d start keeping secrets from me.”

 

“And what about you!”

 

Shailoh had plenty to say as well. Caleb was keeping things from her too. He hadn’t told her in advance what had happened on the third prince’s engagement day, and it was the same with Octavia. But when she tried to call him out, her lips froze and refused to move. A vague sense of dread seemed to clamp around her ankles and hold her in place.

 

“Sasha.” Looking down at her, Caleb’s fingers idly toyed with her neck. “Tell me. What kind of relationship do you have with Declen?”

 

“What?”

 

“I mean Duke Yesiol.” As if fastening a collar around her, Caleb’s thumb and forefinger circled her throat, demanding an answer.

 

Feeling stifled, Shailoh grabbed his hand. “There’s nothing between us. We only ran into each other by chance at the mansion I visited on Countess Rodon’s invitation.”

 

“Really?” His narrowed eyes looked down at her, icy and cold.

 

Under his repeated questioning, Shailoh sighed and struck back. “Then what about you, Your Highness? How did you end up barging into the library with him?”

 

“He said he’d been keeping an eye on you. When he heard you were heading toward the library with Albert, we went together.”

 

To be honest, seeing Declen again had surprised him. They might have been childhood friends who’d grown up together, but he was a man Caleb had been out of touch with for a long time. Like the Dukes of Yesiol before him, he had all but secluded himself in his territory, cutting off contact with the outside world.

 

“Still, Your Highness must have been glad to see an old friend again.” Taking advantage of the slackening grip, Shailoh pushed his hand away and sat up straight.

 

“And how do you know that?”

 

“When you were on the brink of death from poison, Sir Eric came. That’s when I heard the three of you had been close friends as children.”

 

“He sure ran his mouth about pointless things. It was all in the past anyway.”

 

Watching Caleb mutter, Shailoh stared straight at him and said, “Even so, I was happy to hear it. You never talk about your childhood, Your Highness.”

 

“Because there’s no need to.”

 

As a child, he’d been young, naive, and stupid. He’d let himself be tossed around without the slightest idea how the world worked. And because of that, he lost everything.

 

“Speak of the devil.” No sooner had he sunk into his thoughts than he heard someone outside. With a cold, mocking smile, Caleb pushed himself to his feet.

 

“What?” Her eyes, looking up at him without understanding, were innocent.

 

A gentle hand brushed over Shailoh’s hair. “Get changed and come out to greet our guest, Sasha.”

 

* * *

The unexpected visitor was none other than Declen Yesiol. This was already their third meeting. Twice out of those three, he’d helped her. He was a welcome benefactor, but running into him so suddenly made things awkward.

 

Fidgeting, Shailoh offered a greeting. “I heard about what happened yesterday… Thank you, Your Grace.”

 

Instead of answering, Declen, seated across from her on the couch, simply stared straight at her. When nothing came back, Shailoh snuck a sidelong glance at Caleb sitting beside her. Only his mouth smiled as he broke the silence.

 

“Declen.”

 

“…”

 

“Sasha is greeting you.”

 

“Ah.” Like a man waking from a dream, Declen answered belatedly. “My apologies. You just don’t feel entirely unfamiliar.”

 

Leaving a guest to flounder in embarrassment wasn’t proper manners for a host. Even if she’d never actually invited him, Shailoh lightly picked up his words.

 

“Countess Callen, my cousin, once said you look like you’re from the North. Maybe that’s why.”

 

There was something odd in the way Declen looked at her. But unlike Albert’s, his gaze wasn’t unpleasant or slimy. There was nothing lewd in it. It was simply the look of someone observing her from a distance.

 

“Declen. Is there something on Sasha’s cheek?”

 

Only when Caleb, now clearly uncomfortable, shot him a frosty warning did Declen finally drag his eyes away from her. He dipped his head with a heavy nod.

 

“Yes. That’s it. It’s not often you see someone from back home around here.”

 

At his slow reply, Caleb’s arm tightened around Shailoh’s shoulders, and the corner of his mouth lifted.

 

“I see. A northerner, huh… I’ve never thought of her that way.”

 

“I only found out recently myself.”

 

“Perhaps you adapted so well to Kildare Mansion because your roots are there.”

 

“Doris said the same thing.”

 

“May I ask about your family?”

 

Shailoh blinked a few times. Duke Yesiol was curious about her family? It was a rather out-of-the-blue question, but the man in front of her had saved her twice. After a brief hesitation, she answered honestly. “My mother passed away when I was young, and I don’t know who my father is. I wasn’t born from a proper marriage.”

 

“Sasha.” Caleb looked at her as if to ask whether she really needed to be that honest.

 

Shailoh continued calmly. “My mother wasn’t from the North, so I suppose my father must have been. Does that answer your question?”

 

“…More than enough.” Apparently satisfied, Declen gave a faint smile and lifted his teacup.

 

Caleb, watching him with clear displeasure, brushed his fingers over the bridge of Shailoh’s nose. “Come to think of it, Sasha, you said Mr. Wyson gave you a script last time. Since it’s a rare day off, how about you go over it today?” He was saying there was something the two men needed to discuss alone.

 

“That sounds good.” Even without him spelling it out, Shailoh understood he was asking her to give them privacy, and she rose naturally to her feet. “Then I’ll excuse myself first. Please make yourself at home before you go, Your Grace.”

 

Declen only nodded in reply. After exchanging a brief look with Caleb, Shailoh left the parlor. The moment the warmth she brought into the room slipped out with her, the atmosphere froze over in an instant. Without even bothering to savor the fragrant black tea, Declen took a swallow and spoke first.

 

“She’s practically your wife. Have you two been together long?”

 

“Stop taking an interest in my woman.”

 

“My woman?” At Caleb’s brazen retort, Declen’s brows shot up. “…Since when?”

 

“Why do you care? You’ve been getting on my nerves since earlier.” Caleb, who stayed composed no matter the situation, actually bared his teeth.

 

Caught off guard by the unexpected reaction, Declen’s lips parted. “You…”

 

“What?”

 

“…I wondered, but you really don’t know.”

 

“Don’t know what?” Those turquoise eyes glared at him, icy cold.

 

Declen let out a hollow laugh and shook his head. “Maybe that’s for the best… It’s nothing. More importantly.” With his face smoothing back into its usual blankness, Declen’s tone turned sharp. “You’ve done something rather reckless. Joining hands with Albert, did it never occur to you he’d stab you in the back the first chance he got?”

 

“I had my reasons. Just not like this.”

 

On the night of Albert’s birthday banquet, Caleb had planned to see his father. If he said he wanted to welcome his father in front of everyone, the man wouldn’t have been able to refuse. But things had gone in a direction he never anticipated, and he’d lost his chance.

 

“I heard Queen Ingrid smashed a couple of porcelain vases yesterday. Sounds like word of what happened is already making the rounds.”

 

“She ought to be grateful her son’s birthday didn’t turn into a funeral.” Scoffing, Caleb fished in his coat, found his cigarettes, and lit one with a match. It was a cigarette he tried not to smoke when Shailoh was around.

 

Declen watched the long stream of smoke curl upward, then spoke slowly. “There must be something important in the royal castle, Caleb.”

 

“And if there is, are you planning to help?”

 

“If you want me to.”

 

“Declen Yesiol.” Calling his name in a low voice, Caleb leaned back against the sofa, looking relaxed. “What brought you down to the capital all of a sudden?”

 

“…”

 

“Answer me.” His tone was gentle, but his eyes were anything but. The oppressive force of it pressed down on Declen’s shoulders, as if dragging him down to Caleb’s feet. “Even after all my repeated persuasion, you never budged. So what made you show yourself of your own accord?”

 

“You know, don’t you? That I’m looking for my half-sister.”

 

Caleb’s hand, grinding his cigarette out in the ashtray, stilled. “…So you finally found some kind of lead?”

 

“No. Not at all. It just felt irresponsible to leave everything to you, so I came down while I was at it.”

 

“While you were at it?” Caleb’s brows drew together.

 

Declen gave him a faint smile. “I’ll help you, Caleb. You’re far more suited to the throne than Albert, after all.”

 

“…”

 

“But I have one condition.”

 

“What condition?”

 

“When Sasha Griche wants to, you’ll let her go.”

 

“…What?”

 

The loosened atmosphere snapped back into a frigid chill. At the incomprehensible condition, Caleb’s eyes flashed with a dangerous light.