The Rejected True Heiress (Liora and Callum) novel Chapter 342

Liora’s POV

When I returned to the palace, I honestly expected to find that half of it had burned down in some freak fire, or that someone was dead.

I didn’t find any of that.

The palace was as peaceful as ever, quiet and cheerfully lit, the yellow porch lights illuminating the melting snow. The butler smiled at me and offered to take my jacket when I entered, but I shook my head, not intending to stay for long.

“Your father and his… advisor are in the drawing room, Princess,” he said, bowing his head respectfully.

I took a step, but then paused and looked at the butler. “Advisor?” I asked.

The butler looked a little sheepish. “The witch. Belinda, I believe her name is.”

I arched a brow. “She’s not his advisor.”

“Recently appointed,” the butler corrected.

I stared at him. The butler just shrugged, indicating that he was just as confused as I was. It made no sense; the witch had been here for a couple of weeks at most. My father hadn’t appointed a new advisor to his council in years. What was so special about this woman that he would do such a thing?

Maybe the butler was mistaken, I told myself as I headed toward the drawing room.

To my surprise, though, the witch was there when I walked into the room. She was sitting in an armchair by the fire, knitting something while my father stood by the mantle, speaking to each other in hushed voices.

They both looked up when I entered, and Belinda set aside her knitting. She stood and curtsied.

“Princess,” she said, averting her gaze.

I looked at her for a moment then turned to my father. “You wanted to see me?”

I stood there for a moment, holding the letter as I looked at my father. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Of course, it’s clear that he still believes Bianca is the princess whom he is rejecting,” my father said, almost laughing. Indeed, the letter mentioned “Princess Bianca”, not me. My father then added, “Perhaps it’s time to tell him. Maybe you can make amends.”

“Dad.” I tossed the letter onto the coffee table. “You know that ship has sailed. We broke our mate bond ages ago, and I have no intention of repairing it after all he’s done.”

My father breathed in and nodded. “We figured you would feel that way.”

“We?” I glanced at Belinda, who was still standing there, smiling at me. She reached down, pulling a small folder out of her knitting basket, and handed it to me. I took it, but shot my father a look.

My father, noticing my glance, simply smiled. “That’s a list of eligible bachelors in the kingdom.”

“We talked about your arranged marriage,” Belinda said. There was that word again: we. “And we decided that perhaps it’s more appropriate, now that you are an adult, if you were to be given the liberty of choosing your own mate.”