Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate
Chapter 218: Playing the Pity Card...

Chapter 218: Playing the Pity Card...

The chamber Selene stepped into smelled of cloves and parchment, with all its expensive, lacquered wood and thick velvet curtains designed to drown out the rest of the world.

Her father, Lord Alderic, stood with his back to her, studying the flames in the hearth like they held secrets he’d misplaced.

She didn’t wait for him to turn.

"You promised me, Father," Selene said in a calm and clipped voice. "You said the Council would handle her. You said she’d be dealt with."

Lord Alderic didn’t flinch. "The King made his ruling. We don’t have the numbers to push back without destabilising the inner circle."

"We will if you withdraw your troops," Selene said, stepping forward. "The route to the northern pass. Your trade guards, your reserve soldiers. If you cut them—all of them—they’ll feel it. And the people will feel it too."

"You’re suggesting I starve the city?"

"I’m suggesting we force a choice." Her voice lowered. "Remove Evelina, or watch Arcadia bleed out slowly. Make it clear she’s the fracture point."

Alderic finally turned, eyes narrowing. "You’d bring your own kingdom to its knees for this?"

Selene smiled. "No. I’d bring her to hers."

Lord Alderic said nothing for a long time. The fire crackled softly in the fireplace, casting a warm orange glow that highlighted the wrinkles on his face.

Selene’s eyes never left him.

Then, she said quietly, almost too calmly, "You never loved me as much as you loved what you built."

Alderic’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

"You spent your whole life trying to carve your name into the pillars of this kingdom," she continued, stepping closer. "And now it’s within reach, but you hesitate. For what? Honour? Mercy? Evelina?"

Her voice wavered a bit on the last word—not because she was sad, but because she was deliberate. It was a practised emotion, one she had perfected when she wanted to manipulate things her way.

"I’m your only child, Father," she said, eyes glittering in the firelight. "Your heir. Your blood. And yet you stand there, unmoved, while they toss me aside. Do you think I haven’t noticed how they speak of me now? How they look to her in court? Whisper her name instead of mine?"

"That’s not what this is about—"

"It’s exactly what this is about," she snapped. "Don’t you see it? She’s the wedge between us and power. She’s taken the prince, the council’s attention, even the people’s sympathy. If you let her stay, they’ll forget your name. They’ll forget mine. Everything you worked for—all of it—washed away by the outsider you once voted to execute."

Alderic’s expression was tough, but his quietness encouraged her to continue.

Selene lowered her voice again. "I’ve always stood by you. Always. I memorised the council laws when I was ten. I learned how to speak to nobles the way you taught me. I bled for your causes without question. I smiled through every slight, every backhanded compliment about being ’Lord Alderic’s clever daughter.’ And I never asked for anything."

She let that linger.

"Until now."

He studied her with that unreadable expression—one only a seasoned war tactician could wear. And yet, she saw it. The crack. The hesitation. The flicker of something paternal behind those eyes.

"If you love me," Selene whispered, "then prove it. You once said it was your dream to control the direction of this kingdom. You once said I was the key. So let me be that. Help me remove her."

Alderic turned away again, back to the fire, as though it held the answer he didn’t want to voice.

Selene stepped forward once more. "Do this, and the path is ours again. The throne will look to us when the smoke clears. You’ll be the hand behind the crown. I’ll be the face they trust."

"And if Damian refuses?" Alderic asked quietly. "If the king holds fast?"

Selene’s smile was slow. "Then we don’t force their hand. We let the kingdom feel the pressure. And when it cracks, they’ll beg for stability. For order. For someone strong enough to take the reins."

"You’re talking about destabilising a kingdom."

"I’m talking," she said coldly, "about preserving our future."

The fire crackled.

And in the silence that followed, Lord Alderic didn’t say yes.

But he didn’t say no.

And Selene knew the door had opened.

All she had to do now... was walk through.

—

Later, as twilight fell across the higher balconies of the royal keep, Selene found Prince Zade just as she knew she would—pacing the upper garden walk, tension written in every line of his body.

His shirt was half-laced, his gloves missing, and a scroll clutched tight in one hand.

She didn’t announce herself.

"Any update on the scroll?" Selene asked softly, stepping into his line of sight. "The one I gave you about Evelina, have you gone through it?"

Zade stiffened. His eyes, the same golden-brown shade as autumn leaves, narrowed slightly.

"I have."

"Well?" she asked softly.

He didn’t look at her. "You want me to twist this and destroy her."

"I want the truth," Selene said, stepping closer. "That name—Evelyn Matthews—it’s not Arcadian. And it appears in Luther’s own notes, linked directly to Evelina Drewstone."

"That doesn’t prove anything," Zade said.

"Doesn’t prove it’s nothing, too," Selene said simply.

Zade turned sharply. "Maybe. Or maybe you’re trying to turn suspicion into poison."

"You love her," Selene accused.

Zade didn’t deny it.

"Yes, I do," he said quietly.

Selene’s mouth flattened into a line. "Even knowing she belongs to Damian?"

"She doesn’t belong to anyone," he said, his voice suddenly sharp. "And I would never hurt her. No matter what you try to push me into. That journal, those names, they don’t mean anything. And even if they did, I’ll prefer to keep it buried."

"You’d risk treason for her?"

"I’d risk myself," Zade murmured. "But I won’t betray her. Not even for you."

Selene stared at him, the edge of her poise trembling.

Zade didn’t wait for her reply. He turned and strode off, fists clenched at his sides.

—

Evelina was tucked into the high north wing library when Zade found her, her fingers tracing lines of faded maps spread across the reading table.

Candles flickered along the far wall, casting golden shadows across her cheekbones and the tired slope of her shoulders.

She looked up at the sound of his approach, instinctively alert. "Prince Zade?"

He didn’t speak right away.

Instead, he stopped a few feet away, gaze unreadable. "I needed to see you."

Something in his tone made her set down the quill in her hand. "Is everything alright?"

"No," he said. "And yes. I don’t know."

She waited.

Zade exhaled, stepped forward, and then laid the journal on the table between them.

"I found this in Selene’s possession," he said. "She gave it to me. Said it belonged to Luther once."

Evelina didn’t move. But her eyes scanned the worn leather cover, the familiar lines of the old western dialect scribbled along the edge.

"She wanted me to use it," he said. "To expose you. To accuse you. Said it links you to someone named Evelyn Matthews."

Every breath in Evelina’s lungs stilled.

"I read it," Zade continued softly. "And I saw the names. Evelyn Matthew. Evelina Drewstone, written side by side."

Evelina slowly raised her eyes to his.

Zade stepped closer. "Does the name Evelyn mean anything to you?"

For a heartbeat, she couldn’t speak.

Then she blinked once, twice. Her voice was steady when she replied, "No. It doesn’t."

A lie. Polished and perfect.

Zade didn’t challenge it.

He nodded slowly, gaze searching her face. "I thought maybe... I don’t know. I just had to ask."

Evelina placed a hand gently on the journal. "Thank you for bringing this to me."

"I haven’t shown it to anyone," he said. "And I won’t."

She looked up again. "Why?"

Zade’s smile was faint, bittersweet. "Because I care about you. And not just as the prince’s mate. Not just as a warrior. But... as you."

Her lips parted slightly.

"I know it’s foolish," he said with a small shrug. "And I know your heart is already spoken for. But that doesn’t change how I feel."

Evelina stood, careful with her words. "Zade..."

He shook his head. "You don’t have to say anything. I just... needed to be honest. Selene’s trying to tear you down with half-truths and fear. I won’t be part of it. I’ll protect you. With whatever strength I have."

She blinked once, forcing her expression to remain neutral, but something inside her shifted. Gently. Regretfully.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Zade offered a faint smile, and for a moment, he looked younger than his title allowed.

Then he nodded. "Goodnight, Evelina."

As he walked away, the silence felt thick. Evelina stood by the window in the library for a long time, watching the wind flicker the flames of the torches on the walls.

She gently touched the cover of the journal but didn’t open it.

"You handled that well," Relia murmured.

"I feel like a walking contradiction," Evelina replied.

"You’re not. You’re a woman with a complicated past and two men who’d burn the world for you. One already tried."

Evelina closed her eyes.

She knew where her heart stood.

And no matter what secrets she buried or what came next, there was no space in her for anyone but Damian.