Awakening Love Reborn to Be His Duchess (Elowen Hale) novel Chapter 336

Chapter 336 The Nordian Visitor

Cassian lifted a brow.

Elowen made a small sound of surprise. “Daphne?”

What is she up to now?

At the Crown Prince’s Wing, the Nordian princess’s carriage arrived nearly an hour late, moving so slowly it felt deliberate.

Flowira stepped down wrapped in silver fox fur, one hand pressed to her temple, her impatience and exhaustion plain on her face.

Daphne had been waiting so long she was nearly frozen through. Even so, she forced a polite smile and stepped forward. “Your Highness.”

Flowira’s heavy–lidded eyes lifted. She replied in a stream of Nordian, her tone lazy, but sharp enough to cut.

Daphne didn’t understand a word.

Luckily, on Iris’s advice, she had arranged for an interpreter fluent in Nordian.

The interpreter stepped forward. “Her Highness says she doesn’t speak Avenlor.”

That gave Daphne pause. If the princess didn’t speak the language, how had she and Elowen chatted at the royal banquet not long ago?

But there was no time to dwell on it. Daphne had a purpose today.

She turned slightly. “Tell her this: she is the Nordian princess, here perhaps to strengthen relations between Nordia and Avenlor. His Majesty and Her Majesty both expect me to spend time with her. Since it’s snowing, I invited her here for drinks and to enjoy the garden view.”

The interpreter relayed every word.

Flowira listened and gave a careless answer. “Hmm.”

She wandered into the warm inner sitting room, her gaze drifting over the room with bored indifference.

The brazier burned brightly, and in one corner a pot of ambergris smoked, its sweet, heavy scent filling the air.

Flowira wrinkled her nose. “Smells awful.”

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20:05 Tue, May 12 →

Capser 296 The Nanton Vicjant

It was only two words, but the bluntness was merciless. The palace servants in the room all

went stiff.

Daphne’s smile twitched and nearly slipped. She snapped at the maid beside her. “What’s wrong with you? Take it out!”

The servants hurried to remove the fragrance burner. Someone opened a window to let in fresh air.

Little by little, the thick sweetness faded, replaced by the cold, clean scent of winter outside.

Flowira’s expression relaxed. She dropped into an armchair without ceremony, not waiting for Daphne’s pleasantries before making herself completely at home.

Daphne seethed. These Nordians, even their princesses, had no manners at all. Still, she swallowed her temper and put on her polished diplomatic smile. “You have a bold spirit, Your Highness. It’s a privilege to meet you.”

Water was brought.

Flowira barely acknowledged Daphne. She sniffed the cup and didn’t bother hiding her dislike.

Daphne noticed and bristled inwardly, but pressed on, going straight to the point. “Perhaps you don’t know this, but the one who was originally meant to marry into the Crown Prince’s Wing was the Duchess of Duskmoor. She and His Highness grew up together. They were childhood sweethearts. But at the wedding feast, she suddenly changed her mind and said her heart belonged to someone else. His Majesty took pity on her sincerity and allowed her to marry the Duke instead.”

Flowira, bored until then, finally looked up when she heard the words Duchess of Duskmoor.

She listened to the end, then narrowed her eyes at Daphne. “So you and she are close?”

Daphne didn’t know what the princess was really asking, so she answered carefully. “Close? Not really. We don’t see much of each other these days.”

She paused, studying Flowira’s expression, then added, “But we aren’t strangers either. We grew up together. And now she’s become my… aunt by marriage.”

The official translated.

Flowira stopped tapping her chin and looked Daphne straight in the eye. Then she spoke two quick, cutting lines in Nordian.

The interpreter was visibly sweating. “Her Highness says, Then you must be terrible at making friends. You grew up together and still aren’t close?“”

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