Page 82 of A Rising Hope (The Freckled Fate #3)

EPILOGUE 3

FREDERICK DE VILLIAR

Ten years after the end of the war. Svitar

“ A ure—” Whatever question I came up to ask her got stuck in my throat like a broken bone, making me choke on my own words.

“Sir, I—” the half-naked Casteol, lay spread on his back on my daughter’s bed. In a panic he tried to move, but Aurelia forced him back down.

“Yes, daddy?” My daughter questioned, not bothering to even glance in my direction, her face only inches away from his exposed skin. Eyes narrowed as she colored in the large floral tattoo on his chest with a small paintbrush.

I gawked; my hand glued to the door handle.

“You had a question, daddy?” My daughter finally turned to me, delighting me with a questioning look that turned into a loud glare the more I gaped.

“I-” I stuttered.

“Okay, then. I’ll talk to you when I am done with my painting.” She waved me off, returning to her art project . And all I managed to do was nod and close the door.

My chest raced and anger mixed with panic heated my blood as I stormed the long halls of our Svitarian townhome. I plunged into my study, air wheezing from my chest, brows furrowed deep.

My wife raised her brow at me in question, noticing my distraught look. I shook my head, still in disbelief.

“What’s the matter, mi amor?” She paused her painting, wiping her long brush against the splotched paint cloth on her large easel.

“There is a man in my daughter’s room,” I blurted out.

“Ah yes, Florian is visiting her today,” my wife replied, completely unfazed. Her calm demeanor did nothing to calm my troubled state.

“Fleur, there is a half-naked man on my daughter’s bed!” I repeated, surely, she would share my panic. But instead, she smiled.

“Which half?”

“ Fleur !”

“It’s an important detail.” She chuckled in a manner only the most mischievous court ladies could do.

“ Top , gods, the top, Fleur.” I plummeted into the chair next to the ceiling-high bookshelves filled with all manner of books. I rubbed my reddened face with both of my hands. “She is out there coloring in his tattoos while he just lays there staring at her, playing with her hair.” I gestured to the hallway that led to my daughter’s bedroom. “It’s preposterous!”

“Oh, don’t be such a bore. They are having fun.” My wife returned to her canvas, tilting her head at an angle as she assessed her painting. “We were doing much more wicked things when we were their age than simply coloring tattoos.”

“Yes, but I was a lord. I was going to marry you.”

“She’s had a crush on him since the first time she met him. And he shares the same feelings for her, if not even more. You should’ve seen the bouquets of flowers he brought to her after his cat attacked the bird she’s been nurturing back to health. The poor boy was so distraught. He serenaded her for hours outside the window, just so she’d talk to him, and then he leashed that trouble-maker of a cat for her. She never laughs as much as she does with him. She’s also never been at ease with any boy besides him. So don’t mess with it.” My wife shot me a quick, threatening glance. “Besides, he is also a lord.”

“A drug lord, Fleur, drug lord. Which is precisely my point.”

“Ah, a minor detail. I think they are rather adorable together. Our baby girl is grown up Frederick, she is ready to spread her wings far into the sky and fly.” Fleur dabbed the brush into a few mixed oil colors, placing gentle strokes against the canvas as she talked. “You can’t deny you like the kid. You are the one going hunting with him and going to the men’s gaming clubs together. I think you enjoy his company more than you are willing to admit.”

“Well, he is not the worst, I suppose.” I released an exasperated sigh.

“He is really trying to get you to like him. I think he might be in love.” My wife smirked suggestively.

“What have you done, Fleur?” I turned to her.

“Just when he asks, tell him you approve. Do you understand?” She glared.

“Gods, is my baby girl really that grown up?” I swallowed hard.

“Time quickly passes, Frederick, and soon we shall be nothing but a fleeting memory, a passing thought, ash and dust. But our love will continue to live on in those we have loved.”

“Our baby girl . . . ” I pinched the bridge of my nose, completely lost. “What am I going to do now?”

“Oh, mi amor, live, of course. And enjoy the unknown that the future holds.”