The Rejected True Heiress (Liora and Callum) novel Chapter 312

Liora’s POV

The palace was surrounded by a thick layer of snow that blanketed everything, burying the sprawling gardens beneath a shimmering sea of white. It made the tall, white marble walls and columns almost appear to glitter under the morning sun as they reflected the brightness of the snow, and the buttery light spilling out from within the windows made me smile in anticipation for the familiar warmth of home.

I hadn’t set foot in the palace in too long. At the academy, there were so many days that I spent dreading the idea of going home, but now that I was here, I was glad to see the place I’d grown up come into view.

The gates swung open in response to my bloodline ability, and Marcus drove through the thick walls. As the gate fell shut behind us, I let out a small breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Marcus glanced at me. “Are you alright, Princess?”

I nodded. “Yes, it’s just… nice to be home.” Deep down, a small part of me was also glad to be protected behind several feet of thick stone and metal, as if the memory of Bianca was a giant, clawing beast that might rip me to shreds the moment I stepped outside.

Marcus pulled up to the front of the palace, where the enormous, circular driveway had been freshly plowed, fresh white pebbles laid down atop the old ones. A retinue of palace staff was waiting for me on the front steps, and they rushed forward before the car even stopped.

“Welcome home, Princess,” a butler said as he opened my door for me, bowing sharply at my waist. Several attendants and maids did the same and quickly began unloading the car of my belongings, although I could have handled carrying it myself.

I made my way inside, where my father was waiting in the grand foyer. The air smelled like waxed floors and fresh flowers. I sank into my father’s embrace, inhaling his scent and the scent of home.

I didn’t spend too long settling in—just a quick shower, then I changed into something more suitable for the palace. I selected a simple but elegant blue house gown from the closet, combed my hair and swept it up into an updo, then threw on the slippers—which the servants had warmed for me by the fire—before I headed downstairs.

The solarium was on the main floor of the palace, situated in the eastern wing. My mother often spent her days there when she wasn’t holed up in her room with the shades drawn tight to not let in any sunlight. If she was in the solarium, that was typically a good thing; it meant that she wasn’t in the worst state.

Emphasis on worst. It could still be a mixed bag when it came to my mom.

I took a deep breath before I opened the door to the solarium. The air inside was warm and slightly humid, the scent of soil and flowers filling my nostrils. I spotted my mother sitting in her usual spot by one of the many windows, in a large peacock chair with her feet propped up on a little stool and a servant fanning her.