Chapter 286: The Fool Who Loves

Chapter 286: The Fool Who Loves

[Osric’s POV—Dawnspire Wing—Later]

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed longer than it should have. Her voice still lingered in the air—cold, cutting, and final.

"You can do whatever you want... just leave me alone."

I exhaled slowly, but it wasn’t air that left my lungs—it was something heavier, something that burned on its way out.

For a moment, I just stood there outside her chamber, staring at the intricate gold carvings on the door, the same ones I used to trace absently whenever she slept. Now, it felt like a wall between us—and it was.

"Jealousy," I whispered under my breath.The word tasted like ash.

Of all the things I could’ve said... of all the ways I could’ve defended her.

Why that word? Why did my tongue betray me like that?

She had every right to hate me. She had fought, bled, and burned for me more times than I could count—and I had thrown her loyalty into the fire like it meant nothing.

I pressed my hand against the door for a fleeting second, feeling the faint warmth through the wood. It was the closest I could get to her now.

"So... feel like drinking?"

The voice drifted from the hallway, sharp enough to slice through my thoughts.

I looked up. Rey stood a few steps away, leaning casually against the arched window, sunlight painting golden over his smug grin.

I exhaled. "No. I need to stay on guard."

Rey pushed himself off the wall, taking a few lazy steps closer. "C’mon, there are a dozen knights posted outside her door, and Marshi’s inside. She’s not exactly unprotected, Osric."

"I said no," I muttered, my tone clipped.

But Rey didn’t take the hint. He never did. He folded his arms, eyeing me with that irritating mix of amusement and pity. "You look like you’ve been run over by a carriage and dragged halfway to hell. One drink won’t kill you. Probably."

I gave him a look. "It’s barely a day, Rey."

He snorted. "A man who’s just fought with the woman he loves doesn’t need the right day or the right weather to drink."

I frowned, but the corner of his mouth quirked higher.

He added softly, "He just needs the wrong words."

That hit harder than I wanted to admit.

For a second, neither of us spoke. The air between us carried too many unsaid things—regret, exhaustion, and the quiet ache of things that couldn’t be undone.

Finally, I muttered, "Fine. Just one."

Rey grinned, satisfied, clapping me on the shoulder. "That’s the spirit. Or at least, soon to be."

***

[The Royal Wine Chamber—Later]

The royal wine chamber was quiet at this hour—dim light, amber glow flickering against the glass shelves that held enough bottles to drown an army’s sorrow.

Rey sauntered in like he owned the place, sweeping a few goblets off the table and filling them without ceremony. "To terrible decisions and worse timing," he said, raising his glass.

I sat across from him, leaning back in the chair. "You’re drinking to your life story, not mine."

"Same genre," he replied dryly, taking a sip. "Different author."

I didn’t respond. The burn of the wine felt dull against my throat, as if my body had grown immune to punishment.

Rey watched me for a moment, then exhaled. "You know, I thought Princess would throw a vase at your head or freeze your boots to the floor. But ignoring you? That’s new. That’s... worse."

"Don’t remind me," I muttered.

"I mean," he continued, unfazed, "I’m surprised you survived that talk without being turned into a statue. What did you say to her?"

I hesitated — and that silence was answer enough.

Rey’s smirk faded. "Grand Duke?"

"I am not...grand duke yet," I said.

"You will...one day." He said and asked, "So...what did you say to the princess?"

I set the goblet down a little too hard. "I told her she was losing control. That if she’d killed that girl, they’d have called her a tyrant and..." I whispered low, "...I used the word jealousy."

Rey winced. "Oof. You didn’t."

"I did."

He leaned back, whistling low. "And she said?"

"Nothing I didn’t deserve."

Rey was quiet for a long while, swirling the wine in his cup. Then he said, softer now, "You love her, don’t you?"

I didn’t answer immediately. My hand clenched around the rim of the goblet. "I thought I did everything right," I said, voice barely above a whisper. "I thought protecting her meant stopping her before she crossed a line she couldn’t return from."

"And now?" Rey asked quietly.

I exhaled shakily, eyes fixed on the crimson swirl in my cup. "Now... I think I was the one who crossed the line."

The words hung heavy, settling over the chamber like smoke.

"She looked at me like..." I swallowed hard, jaw tightening. "Like I’d betrayed her. Like I was no different from everyone else who doubts her strength."

Rey didn’t mock me this time. He just leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes sharp. "So... instead of calming the storm, you poured more fuel on it?"

I nodded, bitter. "Yes... I am an idiot. I know my Lavi... maybe like His Majesty, but she’s smarter than anyone gives her credit for. Even drenched in rage, she knows exactly what she’s doing."

Rey smirked knowingly. "Relationships grow from mistakes, Lord Osric. The trick is... neither of you can give up on each other. Not even when it feels impossible."

I met his gaze, silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. For a while, the only sound was the faint crackle of the fireplace. The kind of silence that binds two men who’ve both loved someone far too fiercely to speak carelessly.

Finally, Rey pushed the bottle toward me. "Drink. Maybe it won’t fix anything... but it’ll make the night quieter."

I poured myself another glass, swirling it, watching the dark liquid catch the firelight. "I don’t need the night to be quiet," I murmured, voice rough. "I just need her to look at me again... the way she used to."

Rey tilted his head, studying me. "And if she doesn’t? What then?"

I hesitated, the weight of my failure pressing down. "Then... I’ll burn myself in the attempt. If she doesn’t forgive me, I have no right to exist in her world anyway."

Rey’s smirk softened, turning almost serious. "To the princess, then... and to fools who love her anyway."

I raised my glass, the wine burning a trail down my throat. "And to the fool who deserves her forgiveness the least... but hopes for it the most."

The fire crackled. The wine burned. And yet, the ache of her absence was far sharper than any taste of alcohol.

"Alright..." I muttered, setting the glass down with a clumsy thud. "I should leave."

Rey arched a brow, lounging back in his chair. "Leave? Where? You can’t even stand straight, Lord Osric. I should probably help before you break your royal neck."

I lifted a hand, fingers spread unsteadily. "No... no help needed. See? I still have five fingers... all functioning." I squinted at them for a second. "Wait... do I?"

Rey snorted. "Barely."

"I can walk," I insisted, staggering a step forward with all the dignity of a dying swan. "And I will go to her."

Rey tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "To her? You mean..." He didn’t even need to finish.

"Yes," I pushed to my feet anyway, swaying. "To her," I said, determination wobbling with every syllable. "My Lavi. My terrifying, beautiful Lavi. I have to... convince her..."

Rey leaned forward, half-amused, half-concerned. "Convince her? Lord Osric, you can barely convince your legs to work."

I waved him off, staggering toward the door. "No... no, listen—she’s angry. So angry. I have to beg. I’ll kneel if I have to. I’ll..." I hiccuped softly, trying to stand tall. "... I’ll let her stab me once. Maybe twice. That’ll make her feel better."

Rey sighed, rubbing his temples. "Fantastic plan, truly. But I still insist you—"

But I was already at the door, clutching the frame like a lifeline. "No, You don’t understand, Rey. When she’s mad... the whole palace feels it. The windows... the guards... even the air trembles."

He chuckled softly. "And yet you still want to walk into the storm?"

I looked back, grinning faintly—the grin of a man too drunk to hide his heart. "Yes, she is the beautiful storm and If it means I can stand in her storm again... then yes. Every time."

Rey exhaled, shaking his head. "Fine, lover boy. Go get yourself killed. I’ll make sure they engrave ’died seeking forgiveness’ on your tombstone."

"Make it sound noble," I mumbled, already stumbling down the hall. "Like... ’He died trying to apologize to the sun.’"

And with that, I wobbled away into the dim corridor—toward her chamber, toward the one woman who could destroy or forgive me with a single look.

My Lavi’s chamber.