The Grand Duke's Soulmate-Chapter 594: The Land Beyond the Fog

Elis placed each step with care as she emerged from the cabin onto the open deck.

The salty wind swept across the vessel, catching strands of her black hair and lifting them gently as she stepped out.

"Watch for the stairs, Your Highness," Athillia said, taking her hand and guiding her towards the open stretch of the deck.

Elis offered a faint smile, though her complexion remained pale.

Over the past weeks of the voyage, she had mostly been confined to her cabin, rarely venturing beyond its walls.

Today, feeling somewhat less exhausted from lingering drowsiness, she desired some fresh air and a brief moment to breathe.

"Just Elis, Athillia," she replied softly. "You do not wish to be addressed by your title, yet you insist on calling me by mine. It only embarrasses me. I am not royalty by blood, after all."

The Bargesian princess let out a light laugh.

"I have long cast aside that title," she said. "I would rather be known as a noble lady of my grandfather’s lineage than as a southern princess."

She paused briefly, her gaze shifting towards the sea.

"Besides, we are nearing Mederian waters, where your husband comes from. Surely, you deserve to be addressed as his princess consort here."

Elis’s steps faltered.

Her gaze dropped, a shadow crossing her expression as unease returned to her heart.

"I’m not certain he would still acknowledge me as such," she said quietly.

Athillia bit her lower lip, immediately realising her misstep. Gently, she rubbed the back of Elis’s hand in reassurance.

"He will," she said firmly. "His Highness Prince Kiev would never turn you away after learning that you are carrying his child."

Elis lifted her face, uncertainty still lingering in her eyes.

"You truly think so?" she asked.

Athillia met her gaze with quiet confidence.

"His Highness the Grand Duke has faith in him," she said. "Why shouldn’t you?"

Her tone softened.

"Whatever has passed between you and your husband... it belongs to the past. What lies ahead matters more."

She placed a gentle hand over Elis’s belly, where the bump was now visible.

"And this..." she continued with a warm voice, "this is your future. You will not face it alone. All of us will stand with you, and we will make sure both you and your child are protected, no matter what awaits."

Elis felt her confidence stir quietly within her.

These were not the first words of reassurance she had heard—yet hearing them again, spoken with such certainty, steadied the part of her that had often wavered with doubt.

More than that, everyone had treated her with remarkable kindness throughout the voyage.

From the grand duke to the knights, none had shown her anything but consideration.

Armel and Athillia, in particular, rarely left her side, tending to her needs with unwavering patience.

Rafe had also been especially attentive. He monitored her condition closely, preparing remedies to ease the discomfort brought on by her pregnancy.

Even the smallest signs of fatigue or nausea did not escape his notice. Under his care, her strength had gradually returned, if only a little.

And Kyren—

Though he spoke little of it, there were times when he would place a hand gently over her abdomen, quietly channelling his mana to stabilise the child within her.

The warmth it provided served as a steady, comforting presence that eased both her body and her heart. In the midst of this uncertain journey, she had not been alone.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke her train of thought.

Armel and Eli emerged onto the deck, both pausing in visible surprise when they saw her standing outside.

"Your Highness?" Armel swiftly moved forward. "Why didn’t you call and inform me that you wanted to come out? I should be accompanying you."

Elis smiled gently.

"You have been assisting me every day without rest," she said. "I thought it best to let you take a moment for yourself. I didn’t wish to trouble you."

The teenager frowned immediately.

"That’s not troubling at all," he said with a hint of protest. "It is my duty."

He huffed, almost disappointed.

"And Lady Athillia has been with you just as much," he added. "So you shouldn’t say things like that. If anything, it should be me taking over, not her doing all the work."

Beside him, Eli’s blue eyes turned to Athillia with concern as the conversation continued.

Elis let out a soft laugh.

"I am fortunate to have all of you," she said warmly. "Such devoted company is not something I take for granted."

While Armel eased at Elis’s response, Eli’s attention remained fixed on the Bargesian princess.

He knew well how devoted she was—how she rarely allowed herself rest when duty was concerned.

"You’ve been on your feet for quite a while," he said. "Perhaps you should rest for a bit. I could bring you something warm from the galley..."

Athillia blinked, slightly caught off guard.

"I’m fine," she replied, though her voice lacked its usual certainty.

Elis noticed the exchange immediately.

A faint smile curved her lips.

"Why don’t you go with Sir Henderson, Athillia?" she suggested gently. "You should take a short break as well."

"But... who will accompany you?" the Bargesian princess asked.

"Armel can," Elis replied. "He was just insisting on it."

The teenager nodded at once, almost too eagerly.

Still, Athillia hesitated.

Sensing her reluctance, Elis softened her tone.

"You’ve fulfilled your duty well," she said. "You deserve it."

Her gaze flickered briefly toward Eli, a knowing glint in her eyes.

"Go on."

After a brief pause, Athillia relented.

"...Very well," she said quietly.

Armel leaned closer to Eli and muttered, "Don’t get any funny ideas."

Eli blinked in confusion as he turned to the teenager.

"What do you—"

Before he could finish, Athillia suddenly grabbed his hand.

"Come," she said quickly, pulling him along. "I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat!"

"But I—wait—" the young knight stumbled slightly as he was dragged away, unable to get a clearer meaning of Armel’s words.

"I want bread and warm soup," Athillia continued, her voice carrying a hint of excitement as she led him off.

The teenager watched them go, shaking his head faintly.

"...He still doesn’t get it," he murmured.

"The matters of the heart are not so easily understood," Elis said gently, having overheard him. "But their bond is growing. In time... he will learn and admit it. They suit each other well."

The two shared a smile.

It was a quiet, fleeting moment — but for Elis, it carried more significance than it seemed.

Throughout the voyage, she had received so much care and love and gradually began to reconnect with those simple expressions.

Happiness, even when it was for others, no longer seemed so far from her heart.

Not far from where they stood, voices began to rise from the sterncastle. A discussion—not an argument—was taking place.

The shipmaster stood firm at the helm, his expression strained as he listened to the two men before him.

"We should be close," the pirate captain insisted, his voice rough with impatience. "I know these waters well enough. The island be near, I’d wager me last coin on it."

"Aye," added Seadog Grimm, the old seaman sniffing the air as though following a scent carried by the wind. "There’s a change in it... the tide, the breeze. Subtle, but it’s there. Land’s not far off."

The shipmaster frowned, casting his gaze towards the empty horizon. Only the vast stretch of sea lay before them.

"There’s nothing," he replied. "No land in sight. Not even the crew in the crow’s nest have spotted anything."

Seadog Grimm gave a low scoff.

"That’s because you’re relying too much on what you see," he said. "Out here, the sea speaks in other ways. You learn to listen long enough... you start to feel it before it shows itself."

"Aye! Couldn’t have been more right!" Captain Blackmane agreed.

It was a rare occasion—the pirate captain and Seadog Grimm in agreement.

Throughout the voyage, the two had rarely seen eye to eye.

Their arguments had been constant, often breaking out over trivial matters and drawing the attention of the entire crew.

It was only after Captain Blackmane lost a wager to Seadog Grimm, arranged by Kyren, that their quarrels had quietened.

Even so, to hear them now speaking with the same certainty was unusual.

Noah, who had been standing nearby, stepped forward.

"If both of you are certain," he said, his tone measured, "then we make a slight adjustment to our course. Nothing drastic. Just enough to confirm what you claim."

The shipmaster hesitated but eventually nodded.

The helm was turned slightly. For a time, nothing changed.

Then, without warning, a layer of mist began to form over the surface of the sea.

At first, it was faint, barely noticeable.

Soon, it grew thicker, engulfing the surroundings. The line where the sea met the sky vanished, and the view was swallowed by dense white fog.

Even the men in the crow’s nest called down—their visibility was reduced to almost nothing.

"What is this..." one of the crew murmured.

"It came too quickly," another said, anxious as well.

"Hold fast!" Captain Blackmane bellowed, his voice ringing across the deck. "No sudden moves, and none o’ ye start stirrin’ trouble! This ain’t no ordinary fog!"

Unease spread among those on board, but none dared to disobey.

In these waters, authority had been entrusted to the pirate captain, as decreed by the Grand Duke himself.

From the other end of the ship, Kyren stepped out. His gaze swept across the deck before settling on Elis.

Seeing her outside, he rushed to her at once.

"What is happening, Your Highness?" Elis asked, her voice soft but uneasy.

Armel stepped closer to her instinctively, his expression filled with concern as he glanced around the fog-covered deck.

Kyren reached them and steadied his voice.

"Stay calm," he said. "Do as Captain Blackmane instructed. Do not move unnecessarily."

His gaze softened slightly as it remained on her.

"There is no need to worry," he said quietly. "I am here."

Elis held his gaze briefly, then gave a small nod. Placing her trust in him, she braced herself.

By then, more of the crew had gathered on the deck, drawn by the sudden change.

The voyage had been smooth until now, without a single disruption. This was the first unusual occurrence, and it left everyone unsettled.

Rafe emerged from below deck, his expression tense as he took in the scene.

"What’s happening?" he asked, his voice edged with concern.

Kyren turned, but did not leave Elis and Armel. His reply came firm and controlled.

"A fog," he said. "Stay calm and wait. Hold your ground and let it pass."

Everyone obeyed without question.

Rafe stilled, though his eyes remained sharp and watchful.

They waited as the strange fog lingered.

A heavy stillness settled over the deck. No one spoke. Only the creaking of the ship and the steady rhythm of waves striking the hull broke the silence.

Time passed—though not for long. Gradually, the mist began to thin. The outline of the sea returned. Then the sky.

And ahead of them, a shape emerged.

It was faint at first, but then became clearer and appeared to be a landmass... vast and unmoving.

"Land ho!" came the cry from the crow’s nest.

Captain Blackmane swiftly raised his spyglass, peering through it as his expression sharpened.

The shipmaster narrowed his eyes. Beside him, Seadog Grimm leaned forward, as if confirming what he had already sensed.

"Sabel Island!" the pirate captain exclaimed. "By the tides... we’ve arrived!"

Before them lay the island at last.

Their destination.

Orders were soon given across the deck.

With the island now clearly in sight, the crew moved swiftly into position.

Sails were adjusted, their spread reduced to slow the vessel’s approach. The anchor lines were readied, and the deck shifted into disciplined motion.

From the island ahead, a signal rose from a watchtower near the shoreline.

A flag was lifted.

The crew at once took notice.

"Signal from the port," one of the men called out.

The shipmaster gave a brief nod, and the responding flag was raised in return, marking their identity and intent to dock.

It was the usual exchange, a silent understanding between ship and shore before any vessel was permitted to approach.

The waters near Sabel Island were calm.

As the ship drew closer, the outline of the port became clearer. Wooden piers stretched out into the sea, anchored firmly against the gentle tide.

A few figures could be seen moving along the docks, preparing to receive the incoming vessel.

"Drop anchor!"

With a heavy splash, the anchor plunged into the water, followed by the sound of chains uncoiling as the ship settled into place.

Ropes were cast. Men on the dock secured them, skillfully tightening the vessel against the pier.

Moments later, the gangplank was lowered. A solid bridge between sea and land was formed.

One by one, the crew began to disembark; those in charge began lowering the cargo.

Kyren stepped forward, his gaze turning toward Elis.

He paused briefly.

"May I?" he asked.

Elis blinked, instantly grasping his purpose. She remembered him doing the same when she first boarded the ship at Port Braska.

A faint flush rose to her cheeks.

"That won’t be necessary," she said quickly. "I can walk—"

Kyren did not move. His expression remained calm, but firm.

"Prince Kiev would not have allowed it," he said. "And neither will I."

Elis hesitated.

There was no defiance in his words, only quiet certainty. She knew he only meant to care for her as he had vowed.

After a brief moment, she relented, lowering her gaze.

"...Very well."

Without further delay, Kyren lifted her carefully into his arms.

His movements were steady, mindful of her condition as he carried her towards the gangplank.

Armel followed closely behind, watching with quiet approval.

As Kyren stepped onto the wooden planks and made his way toward the shore, the voyage they had endured finally came to its end.

They had arrived.

***

[At a distance, within the grounds of Semeta, by the palace’s garden...]

Anna paused.

The wind brushed lightly against her, carrying with it a strange, unfamiliar sensation.

She turned slightly, her brows knitting as she tried to make sense of it.

"...Someone has arrived," she murmured.

Jessy, who stood nearby, looked at her in confusion.

"Who?" she asked.

Anna shook her head slowly.

"I don’t know," she said. "But... it feels as though the wind is telling me."

Her hand rose instinctively to her chest.

"I feel... different, Nessy."

Jessy’s expression tightened.

The name—Nessy—confirmed that the princess’s mind had not yet fully recovered.

A flicker of worry crossed the nanny’s face. The last time Anna had shown such signs, something terrible had followed.

"Fetch His Highness Prince Kiev!" She quickly ordered a nearby guard.

At once, the guard bowed and hurried off.

Jessy remained where she was, her eyes fixed on Anna.

Meanwhile, the princess’s gaze drifted toward the distant sea, as though searching for someone she could not remember.

Jessy’s heart pounded.

’Please... don’t let it happen again,’ she prayed silently.