Chapter 338: Heart was born bitter

Ciaran cradled the infant with utmost caution, his eyes welling with emotion as he gazed down at her.

For all his commanding stature as Crown Prince, a profound hesitation seized him; she appeared so remarkably small and fragile that he was almost afraid to adjust his hold. He kept his posture stiff, terrified that the slightest sudden movement might cause her harm.

Nyxen stepped forward, resting a steadying hand against his son’s back.

"Go inside and attend to your wife," he advised gently. "The child belongs at her mother’s side."

Ciaran offered a silent nod, his gaze lingering upon the newborn a moment longer. "Yes, Father." With care, he entered the bedchamber.

Sylvian watched the doors click shut behind his brother, then turned to his father with a big smile. "Father, you are a grandfather now," he declared. "And I am an uncle."

A radiant warmth broke across Nyxen’s face. "Indeed," the King replied, his voice softened by an emotion he seldom displayed. "A daughter has been born to our bloodline after four generations."

He paused, visibly moved by the weight of the moment. Though his reign had known countless grand ceremonies and military triumphs, none held the singular joy of this quiet arrival.

"My granddaughter has arrived," Nyxen murmured beneath his breath, staring toward the chamber doors. "She brings a great blessing upon this house."

"Travis," Nyxen commanded, his voice ringing with firm authority. "Send word of the princess’s birth across every province. Order the royal granaries opened. Let free rations be distributed to every household this month for the commoners. The kingdom shall celebrate with us and bless my granddaughter."

Travis bowed low. "At once, Your Majesty," he replied, turning swiftly to execute the royal decree.

Nyxen then turned his attention to the midwife standing nearby. Without hesitation, he unclasped a heavy, jewel-encrusted collar from around his neck and held it out to her. "For your flawless service today."

The woman gasped softly, receiving the precious heirloom with trembling, outstretched hands. "My deepest gratitude, Your Majesty."

The King then slipped several heavy gold bands from his fingers, bestowing them upon the attendant maidservants. "These are for the rest of you. You delivered my granddaughter safely into this world, and such work shall be rewarded accordingly."

The servants bowed repeatedly, overwhelmed by the king’s sudden rewards.

Sylvian looked on, taking quiet pleasure in the sight. To Nyxen, this was more than the birth of an heiress; it was the arrival of the first royal princess in over a century.

~~~~~

The next morning, Damian and Eilika returned to the cottage. As they stepped into the drawing room, they were surprised to find August there, lounging comfortably with his legs crossed over the edge of the table and his eyes closed as though he had been waiting for them.

"August, what are you doing here?" Damian asked, arching his brows in surprise.

At the sound of his voice, August’s eyes snapped open. He lowered his legs from the table and rose to his feet.

"How was your outing?" he asked mischievously, his gaze shifting toward Eilika.

Eilika offered him a slight bow out of respect.

August gave her a brief nod before turning his attention back to Damian.

"I wanted to talk to you about something..."

He paused and glanced around the room, making certain they were alone. Then he stepped closer to Damian and lowered his voice.

"It is about the person who sent you that threatening message."

Damian’s expression immediately became serious.

August leaned closer and whispered, "It was Garrett. Xavier’s son."

"I know," Damian replied calmly.

August’s expression changed at once. He had clearly not expected Damian to already know.

"You knew?" he asked, studying him with surprise.

Before Damian could answer, Eilika turned toward August.

"Prince August, how is Roman doing?"

"He is doing well," August replied. A faint smile touched his face before he added, "You care a great deal for him despite—"

He stopped himself, realizing too late that finishing the sentence might hurt her.

Eilika gave him a pointed look.

"You are still the same."

She then glanced toward Damian. "I will go upstairs. You should attend to Prince August."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked toward the staircase.

August watched her leave, while Damian’s expression hardened the moment she disappeared from sight.

"You still have to find a way to hurt someone, don’t you?"

"Forgive me," August replied, lifting his hands slightly. "It was a slip of the tongue."

Damian gave him a cold look before walking farther into the room.

"How did you find out that it was Garrett?" August asked, his expression becoming serious again. "I want to find him and kill him."

"August, you will do nothing of the sort," Damian replied firmly.

He removed his robe and handed it to Maurice, who immediately took it from him. Damian then walked toward the couch and lowered himself onto it with a tired sigh.

"We will discuss it later. I am exhausted at the moment." He leaned back for a moment before looking toward August. "And who told you to come here? Weren’t you supposed to finish your task?"

Before August could answer, a servant entered and offered Damian a glass of water before presenting another to Maurice.

The men accepted the glasses, taking a drink as August moved to the chair opposite Damian.

"I came because—"

Before he could finish, a messenger hurried into the drawing room.

"Your Grace!"

He bowed deeply before turning toward August.

"Your Highness."

August nodded, and the messenger continued.

"I have a message from the palace. The Crown Princess has given birth to a baby girl. She is the first princess born into the royal family in four generations."

Damian’s weary expression immediately brightened.

"That is wonderful news," he said with a broad smile.

Even Maurice smiled at the announcement, clearly delighted by the news.

"A princess after four generations," he murmured. "What a joyous occasion."

On the other hand, August’s expressions remained rigid. He wasn’t either happy or sad. It was just a normal news for him. But what he wondered was if his body was celebrated in the same manner.

A chuckle escaped August’s lips, immediately drawing the eyes of both Damian and Maurice. Their expressions turned cautious; they had assumed he would feel anything but joy at the news.

"Tell me, Damian," August began, his voice tinged with a faint bitterness. "Was my father this thrilled when I was brought into the world? Surely your mother mentioned something to you over the years. I was an illegitimate son, after all."

The messenger’s brow furrowed in sudden discomfort, but before he could utter a word, Maurice offered a silent gesture dismissing him from the room. The servant bowed hurriedly and withdrew.

"You constantly question your father’s affection for you," Damian remarked. He set his water glass onto the small mahogany table beside him. "That is a question for your brothers, not me. I was never raised within the palace walls, so I would not know. My mother never spoke of your birth."

"You are right. I directed the question to the wrong person," August murmured, pushing himself up from his chair to take his leave.

"Stand where you are," Damian commanded, his tone hardening. "Are you truly not happy for them?"

August paused, turning his head slightly. "Why should I be happy? The child is not mine," he replied coldly. "And its father was never pleased by my existence. I am merely returning the courtesy."

"The Crown Prince regards you as his own brother. Do not let the resentment that the former Queen created consume your heart, August," Damian advised. He understood the sharp edges of August’s pride too well to confront him directly. Moreover, the King had made it clear that August was meant to stand beside Ciaran in the years to come, and Damian served as the vital bridge between them.

"My heart was born bitter," August replied, a faint, mocking smirk touching his lips.

"Why must Prince August always insist on painting himself as the villain?" Eilika’s voice echoed down from the middle of the staircase.

Both men turned toward the sound, finding her descending the steps while holding a silver water jar.

"The jar was empty, so I went to fetch it myself," Eilika explained simply. A servant hastened forward to relieve her of the pitcher, bowing low as he took it from her hands. Damian allowed a small, knowing smile to touch his lips; he knew if anyone could untangle August’s stubborn thoughts, it was Eilika.

She paused on the final step, her gaze fixing gently upon the prince. "You possess a generous heart, Your Highness. You simply have not allowed yourself to discover it yet. Do not direct your anger toward a newborn child. You are her uncle, and she deserves to know you as a great and loving uncle."

August let out a soft hum. "Roman enjoys every passing day, and Louis takes exceptionally good care of him," he revealed, his tone easing slightly. "You have no reason to worry for him."