Her Graceful War Song (Carissa Sinclair) novel Chapter 690

As soon as Florence heard that Daniel was to be locked away in the dungeon, she hurried after Eleanor.

"Your Highness, have you changed your mind?"

"Just lock him up for now," Eleanor snapped, feeling a wave of irritation wash over her.

"Yes, of course. Please don't be angry. You must take care of yourself," Florence urged gently.

"No one can compare to Hector. Even if he looks exactly the same, if he's not him, then he's not him. Not even the slightest resemblance can stir my heart. In fact, that face only makes me furious," Eleanor ranted as she stormed back into her room, a fire burning in her eyes.

After she sat down, she still felt overwhelmingly restless.

"Bring me water and scented soap. I need to wash my hands," she ordered.

The maids hurried about, bringing in warm water.

Eleanor washed her hands repeatedly, scrubbing away the memory of touching Daniel. It was just like how after every encounter with Henry, every moment spent close to him under the flickering light of the lanterns had to be washed away—requiring her to soak in bucket after bucket of hot water to rid herself of that repugnant aura.

After dismissing the maids, Florence sighed deeply as she observed Eleanor's increasingly unhinged demeanor.

"Your Highness, do you love Hector for his face? He's dead. Even if someone looks just like him, he's not the man in your heart. Why torment yourself so?" she asked.

In the past, Eleanor couldn't stand anyone saying she loved Hector. Even Florence saying it would provoke a sharp rebuttal. But now, Eleanor didn't want to argue. She suddenly felt that aside from loving and hating Hector, she had no connection to him whatsoever.

So, love and hate it would be.

Though Eleanor's eyes were dark and full of unspoken sorrow, her words were laced with venom as she said, "It's all fate. I don't want to see a face like his again. Ruin Daniel's face and kill both his sons. As for his pregnant wife… Didn't you say that pregnancy is a hellish experience for a woman? Then, just send her through the gates of hell to join her husband."

Florence's heart chilled at those words. "Your Highness, we shouldn't do that. Tomorrow is the Emberfest Festival, and you've spent days transcribing scriptures. Why not let them go? After all, we are honoring the souls of the departed…"

"Then, let's honor them all at once tomorrow," Eleanor replied coldly.

Looking up to see Florence standing motionless, she erupted in anger, shouting, "What? Do you pity them? Fine, I'll indulge your kind heart. Kurt!"