The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 316: Hope Lost

Jessamyn’s heart raced as her eyes locked on the sharp blade in Lady Celena’s hand, the deadly tip pressed against Cordelia’s swollen belly. Time seemed to slow, each second more agonizing than the last.

She could see the terror in Cordelia’s eyes, wide and pleading, and the malevolent glee that danced across Lady Celena’s face—a twisted pleasure in the violence she held at her fingertips.

Without thinking, Jessamyn stepped forward, her voice trembling but resolute. "Stop it, Celena! Leave her alone!" she shouted, her protective instincts surging to the surface as she tried to shield Cordelia with her own body. "Cordelia, step back!" she commanded, pushing her friend behind her as if her very presence could act as a barrier between them and the sword poised to take Cordelia’s life.

Lady Celena’s cold, calculating eyes flicked toward Jessamyn, her smile growing wider, more sinister. "You’re here," she sneered, her voice dripping with malice, as if she had been waiting for this moment, savoring it. "I knew you’d come."

Jessamyn’s breath caught in her throat as a chill crept up her spine. She ran to Cordelia, shoving her back further, her heart pounding against her ribs like a wild animal desperate to escape a trap. But there was no escaping this. They were trapped.

Celena’s laughter rang through the air, a twisted sound that made Jessamyn’s skin crawl. "Mother was right. She knew I’d find you here."

"Mother?" Jessamyn’s voice barely held back her shock. Her mind reeled as she processed the words. Lady Celena, Jerrick’s sister? Was it possible? Could this woman, this deranged, dangerous woman, be a daughter of the same mother who had brought Jerrick into the world?

Her hands trembled, the truth too horrifying to fully comprehend. Jerrick had spoken of his ability to recognize bloodlines by scent—a gift he shared with his brother William. They had detected Isadora’s bloodline that way, but Jerrick had never mentioned Celena. How could he not have known?

Was Lady Celena lying? Or had Jerrick’s mother manipulated her into this cruel role, molding her into a weapon of her own making?

There was no time to dwell on these questions. Jessamyn took a deep breath, steeling herself against the fear that threatened to paralyze her. "So, that wretched mistress taught you well, raised you to be just like her," she spat, her voice shaking with equal parts fury and fear. "You’re one fine daughter."

She had to keep Lady Celena talking, distract her somehow. She needed to find a way out of this nightmare. Cordelia’s life—and her own—depended on it.

Yet, deep inside, Jessamyn felt a new terror gnawing at her. Her unborn son, usually so active, so responsive, had gone quiet. Too quiet. He had been her strength in moments of fear, his movements a reminder of the life growing inside her. Now, his stillness made her blood run cold. She knew what it could mean. Every mother did. Stillbirth.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought them back, refusing to succumb to the grief that threatened to overtake her. She couldn’t lose hope—not yet. Not when Cordelia needed her, not when there was still a chance, however slim, to protect her son.

Lady Celena moved with a slow, deliberate grace, the sword still gleaming with fresh blood as she gestured with it, her madness apparent in every twitch of her hand. "Yes, Mother taught me well," she crooned, her voice almost reverent. "She raised me for this moment. So we could meet like this."

Her eyes glittered with an unhinged glee as she continued. "Am I still a mistress, though?" she asked, her tone mocking, as she brought the sword closer to Jessamyn’s face, the bloodied tip just inches from her skin. "The King is dead, you see. I made sure of that." She tilted the blade, revealing the bloodstains that Jessamyn hadn’t noticed before.

Jessamyn’s stomach lurched as the words sank in. The King is dead. Celena had killed him, the sword in her hand the very weapon she had used to drive through his heart.

"You’re here at the right moment," Lady Celena continued, her smile widening as she took pleasure in Jessamyn’s horror. "When the Crown Prince arrives, I’ll kill this whimpering b*tch," she said, gesturing toward Cordelia, who was trembling behind Jessamyn. "And then, together, as a family, we can kill him, too. Although, I only want your baby."

Jessamyn’s breath caught in her throat. She’s talking about Prince Louis. Lady Celena wanted to kill the current King.

"Such a difficult choice, isn’t it?" Celena mused, tapping the sword against her cheek, her expression shifting to one of mock consideration. "The Council wants you alive. But if I leave you alive, they’ll get him. If I kill you now, they lose but he’ll e alive. He’s not needed anymore too. It’s such a tough decision, don’t you think?"

Jessamyn’s heart sank. She could barely process the chaos swirling around her. Cordelia in danger, Jerrick’s life threatened, and her son eerily silent within her womb—it was all too much.

Just then, Celena raised the sword, her smile twisting into a cruel grin as she aimed it directly at Jessamyn’s chest.

Meanwhile, back in Aurelia Castle, Isadora’s mind raced as she remembered Jessamyn’s words. There was a specific type of salt, found only in the caves of Iron Mountain, that could disrupt the strongest spell circles. She had to act fast.

Without wasting another moment, she rushed out of the chamber, her heart pounding in her chest. Bernard was standing just outside, his eyes widening in surprise as she came barreling toward him.

"Isadora!" he exclaimed, grabbing her shoulders to steady her. "Are you alright? You’ve been gone for—"

"No time!" she interrupted, her voice urgent. "The rock salt from the caves... I kept some in the tea room. Bernard, get it. Now!" She shoved him away, not even waiting for his response, her mind too focused on saving William to entertain any explanations.

Bernard looked confused, but he didn’t question her. He turned and ran down the hall as fast as his legs could carry him.

Isadora rushed back into the spell chamber, where William lay still within the glowing circle. His body, which had seemed lifeless just moments ago, was now stirring ever so slightly, as though he were fighting against the magic that held him captive.

"William!" she cried, kneeling beside the circle. "William, can you hear me? You have to fight! Please, snap out of it! Tell me how to help you!"

His voice was barely audible, a broken whisper that sent a chill down her spine. "Jessamyn..." he muttered, his eyes half-closed.

Isadora’s heart clenched, the name slicing through her like a knife. "What about her?" she asked, her voice trembling. "William, what’s happened to her?"

"She’s... dead," he whispered, his voice filled with a deep, aching sorrow.

The words hit Isadora like a physical blow. She stumbled back, her hand clutching her chest as if trying to keep her heart from shattering. "No," she breathed, shaking her head in disbelief. "No, that’s not true. You’re delirious... you have to be." Tears filled her eyes as she collapsed to the floor, her knees giving out beneath her.

How could it be? Jessamyn, the woman she had served, the one who had always seemed so strong, so untouchable—dead?

She looked at William, lying so weak and broken within the spell circle, and her heart nearly gave out. No. Jessamyn can’t be dead. If she’s gone... what’s left?

Suddenly, the spell circle began to crack, emitting a turbulent glow. It flickered and weakened as if William was fighting back, clawing his way out of the magical binds that held him.

Seeing this, Isadora snapped out of her despair. Jessamyn isn’t dead. She can’t be. There’s still hope.

With newfound strength, she rose to her feet, pounding her fists against the glowing barrier. "William! You need to save her! Jessamyn needs you! Snap out of it!" she shouted, desperate to break through to him.

The cracks in the circle deepened, the light flickering more intensely. Some parts of the barrier grew dark, but when Isadora tried to push through the weak spots, she was still repelled.

"Isadora!" Bernard’s voice called from the hallway.

She rushed out, finding him holding the pack of salt, his face pale with concern. She snatched it from his hands and hurried back inside, her heart racing. With trembling hands, she threw a handful of the salt onto the glowing circle, hoping it would work. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

At first, nothing happened, and Isadora’s heart broke, tears spilling down her cheeks as she knelt on the floor. "Milady... please, be safe," she whispered, her voice shaking with fear and grief.

But then, the room filled with a loud cracking sound, and Isadora looked up to see William on his knees, his eyes wide open and glowing with a strange, otherworldly light. The salt she had thrown onto the circle was suspended in the air, shimmering with a pale, ethereal glow.

Isadora’s heart skipped a beat as she realized something had gone terribly wrong.

What have I done?