Her Graceful War Song novel Chapter 1537

With so much on her mind, Grace couldn't sleep. She rose, pulling a shawl over her shoulders, and walked with Lyra to Caden's chambers.

Silently, she dismissed the attendants keeping watch over him for the night. Taking a seat by his bedside, her gaze fell upon her son's delicate, youthful face. He seemed to be having a nightmare. Even with his eyes closed, she could feel the fear emanating from him.

She let out a quiet sigh, a flicker of vexation rising within her.

Asher—that was the middle name Trevor had chosen for Caden, one meant to instill virtue and teach him kindness and humility. But in truth, it was a name meant to make him docile, to mold him into a man who would yield and never fight, forever content in the shadow of others.

Why should he settle for that?

Her son had every advantage but birthright. In every way, he surpassed Kylie's son.

It was not that Grace wished to fight, but without a fight, there was no survival.

Kylie was narrow-minded, selfish to the extreme, and utterly intolerant of threats to her position. If Caden had been dull or unremarkable, perhaps it wouldn't have mattered. But he was neither. Instead, he was the brightest and most gifted of the three princes.

How could one tolerate a rival sleeping soundly beside them?

Connor might not be so ruthless now, but who could say what the future held? He and his mother would never tolerate threats to their power. To stand aside was to court ruin; to surrender was to die forgotten and unmourned.

Tomorrow, Grace would win. There was no alternative.

She had never entertained the notion of failure.

The plan was foolproof and carefully crafted to ensure success. Every detail had been meticulously arranged, and it was a strategy that would strike two birds with one stone—eliminating both Connor and Sylvia.

For nearly an hour, Grace lingered by Caden's side, watching over him in silence. At last, she rose and slipped away. Lyra quietly summoned the waiting attendants to return before following after her mistress.

"You should rest, Your Grace. It is late," Lyra murmured.

Grace pulled her cloak tighter, the high collar shadowing the edges of her face. Her eyes, however, glinted coldly in the darkness.

"This night is not meant for sleep. No doubt Queen Kylie is just as restless. She still clings to the foolish hope that Prince Connor will prove himself tomorrow, that the court officials might change their minds about him," she said.

Lyra shook her head. "If anything, Queen Kylie is torn between hope and despair. Prince Connor is improving, but has grown distant. She sought him out at Serenity Palace, yet he barely spoke to her. She left in tears."

Mortified, he pulled the blanket over his face and kicked his legs in frustration.

"What's so shameful about that? I once fought a dog for scraps from a rubbish dump. Not only did the dog get the food, it also bit me," Ryan said lazily, his tone lighthearted.

He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a crescent-shaped scar on his arm. The edges of the old wound were thickened with scar tissue—evidence of how deep the bite had been.

"See? Many were watching, and they all had a good laugh. Now, that was embarrassing. Your situation hardly compares," he added.

Connor gazed at the mark on his friend's arm, noting how deep the bite had been. A pang of sorrow stirred in his chest.

"You endured such hardships... It's a relief that Uncle Rafael found you. I swear, you'll never go hungry again, nor will you ever have to fight a dog for scraps."

Ryan grinned. "Of course. From now on, I'll stick close to you. I'll be eating fine meals and drinking the best wine."

"You will," Connor promised. "Where there's food for me, there will be food for you as well."