Love's Unexpected Awakening Elowen's Choice novel Chapter 562

Anson withdrew at once.

Cassian glanced up briefly. "Alaric's man?"

Elowen nodded. "He's getting restless. Sending someone to feel things out."

Cassian gave a quiet acknowledgment and went back to the dough, saying nothing more.

Tristan stood outside the side entrance of Hale Manor for a full half hour under the midday sun. The heat pressed down heavily enough to make his head swim.

He didn't dare urge anyone. He simply stood there, posture rigid, sweat tracing down along his temples.

At last, a maid came to bring him inside.

In the Great Hall, Elowen sat at the head of the room, composed and unreadable.

Tristan kept his gaze low as he stepped forward, offering a deep, formal bow before repeating Alaric's message word for word.

Elowen listened without interruption, then gave a soft, almost amused breath. "He really said all that?"

Tristan steadied himself. "Yes, Your Grace."

Elowen shook her head faintly. "Working for someone like that can't be easy."

She wasn't trying to make things difficult for him. But the Crown Prince's side had been pushing too aggressively, and she intended to take that edge down a notch.

To Tristan, her words landed with unsettling weight.

He instinctively lifted his head, then quickly lowered it again, unsure how to respond.

"Go back and tell him this," Elowen said, her tone calm and even. "There's no middle ground left between us. No room to negotiate. Either he falls, or I do. That's it. If he thinks he can use that incident again, he's welcome to try. I'll be waiting."

She gave a slight tilt of her chin. "You can go."

Tristan turned to leave.

"Wait."

Elowen seemed to recall something. "Last time, it was Iris who came, wasn't it? Why the change?"

Tristan hesitated. His lips parted, but no words came.

Elowen's expression softened just slightly. "He's always been like this. It's not easy, serving under him."

She glanced toward Mira.

Mira stepped forward with a small, polished white vial and held it out.

Elowen's voice turned gentle. "This was prepared by a physician here at the manor. It helps with swelling and leaves no scars, especially on delicate skin. I heard he struck her recently. Take this to her."

Tristan stared at the vial for a moment before looking up at her.

Something tightened in his chest, something he couldn't quite name.

When he reached out, his fingers trembled.

What would it be like... to serve someone like her instead?

After venting his fury, Alaric sank down amid the mess, his breathing uneven.

Her stance left no room at all.

That meant she intended to use the court qualification trials to bring him down completely.

She hated him.

Because he refused to marry her.

Alaric clenched his jaw.

He wasn't about to sit and wait for ruin.

"Come on," he said hoarsely. "We're going to see my mother."

When Alaric entered, Isla sat in the inner chamber, turning a strand of polished stones between her fingers. The light from the iron sconces along the walls flickered softly across the room.

Her gaze lifted, cool and distant as it landed on him.

"Well," she said, her tone edged with faint mockery. "Look who decided to visit. It's been a while since I've seen such an important guest."

Alaric lowered his head. "Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty?" Isla let out a quiet laugh. "I thought the Crown Prince, in all his glory, had already forgotten where he came from."

Alaric pressed his jaw slightly, then bowed his head further. "I wouldn't dare. You've always been on my mind."