Love's Unexpected Awakening Elowen's Choice novel Chapter 525

In the Crown Prince's Wing, Alaric lay buried under heavy blankets, brow furrowed as he turned onto his side and pressed his face into the pillow, exhaustion clinging to him like a weight he couldn't shake.

He did not want to get up.

Tristan hesitated for a moment before forcing himself to speak. "Your Highness, it's already quite late. The ministers said you must be there before the morning bell..."

"I heard you the first time, didn't I?" Alaric snapped, irritation sharp in his voice. "Do you ever stop talking?"

Tristan immediately fell silent.

Alaric's expression darkened as he threw the covers aside and sat up. He remained at the edge of the bed, head lowered, pressing his fingers hard against his temples as they throbbed.

"...It's all for Ella... all for her... I'll make her regret it..."

I'm doing all of this for her. She'll see eventually. She has to.

He muttered to himself for a long moment before finally gritting his teeth and forcing himself to stand.

He had just slipped on his shoes and tried to rise when his knees suddenly gave out beneath him. Without warning, he dropped hard onto the floor.

The impact knocked the last trace of sleep out of him.

Tristan had his back turned, focused on straightening the bedding, and didn't react in time.

Back when things were different, Alaric would have been attended by several servants the moment he stirred. Now, ever since his temperament had grown increasingly suspicious and volatile, he kept only Tristan and Iris close.

Today, it was Tristan's turn.

Too many tasks, too few hands. A moment's delay was inevitable.

Alaric's humiliation instantly turned to anger.

"You blind idiot!" he snapped, voice rising. "What matters more, me or those damn blankets?"

Tristan flinched, nearly dropping what he was holding. He turned, saw Alaric sitting on the floor, and went pale as he rushed forward.

"Your Highness!" he said, reaching out to help him up.

Alaric slapped his arm away. "And now you show up? What good is that?"

Tristan froze, then dropped low, pressing himself to the floor. "Your Highness, forgive me! It's my fault!"

"My fault?" Alaric let out a cold laugh. "Then go wait outside the door and get your head straight. Stay there for two hours. Don't move unless I say so."

Tristan pressed his forehead to the cold stone. "Yes, Your Highness."

He started to rise when Aralic said, "Stay down."

Alaric's voice cut through the room, low and icy.

Tristan stiffened.

He did not dare lift his head. Slowly, he lowered his knee back to the ground and began moving toward the door on his hands and knees, inch by inch.

Alaric watched him leave, the anger in his chest easing slightly. He grabbed the bedpost and pulled himself up, steadying his balance.

The meeting with the Ministry of Rites dragged on endlessly, dry and suffocating. By the time Alaric had been seated there for hours, his head felt heavy, his thoughts sluggish.

At Hale Manor, the morning could not have been more different.

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