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Fated Eclipse: The Illegitimate Princess And Her Alpha Suitors

Chapter 41: Of Questionable Illnesses and Betraying Stomachs · Oct 17, 2026

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Chapter List (452)

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1 Chapter 1: The Prophecy 2026-10-17
2 Chapter 2: A Moon Among Shadows 2026-10-17
3 Chapter 3: The Duke Who Did Not Bow 2026-10-17
4 Chapter 4: The Man Who Saw the Shadows 2026-10-17
5 Chapter 5: Behind the Queen’s Door 2026-10-17
6 Chapter 6: The Cost of Survival 2026-10-17
7 Chapter 7: Beneath the Sleeping Crown 2026-10-17
8 Chapter 8: A Stranger Beneath the Lanterns 2026-10-17
9 Chapter 9: A Kiss for a Stranger 2026-10-17
10 Chapter 10: The Cost of Obedience 2026-10-17
11 Chapter 11: Silent Witness 2026-10-17
12 Chapter 12: A Morning of Calculated Obedience 2026-10-17
13 Chapter 13: The Water Is Cold After All 2026-10-17
14 Chapter 14: The Weight of Waiting 2026-10-17
15 Chapter 15: Names Spoken Like Blades 2026-10-17
16 Chapter 16: Where Silence Still Belonged to Me 2026-10-17
17 Chapter 17: The Name He Stole from My Mouth 2026-10-17
18 Chapter 18: A Favour Stolen Back 2026-10-17
19 Chapter 19: Names, and the Things They Unsettle 2026-10-17
20 Chapter 20: A Curious Absence at Breakfast 2026-10-17
21 Chapter 21: Of Breathless Attendants and Borrowed Paper 2026-10-17
22 Chapter 22: Of Windblown Sketches and Stubborn Curiosity 2026-10-17
23 Chapter 23: The Door at the End of the Wing I 2026-10-17
24 Chapter 24: The Door at the End of the Wing II 2026-10-17
25 Chapter 25: Promises in a Silent Room 2026-10-17
26 Chapter 26: A Question Too Close for Comfort 2026-10-17
27 Chapter 27: Where the Palace Refuses to Breathe 2026-10-17
28 Chapter 28: Chains Do Not Decide Who Belongs to the Sky 2026-10-17
29 Chapter 29: Of Gentle Lessons and Borrowed Breakfasts 2026-10-17
30 Chapter 30: Of Words Borrowed from Better Tongues 2026-10-17
31 Chapter 31: Lessons That Linger Longer Than Bells 2026-10-17
32 Chapter 32: Of Broken Porcelain and Borrowed Silence 2026-10-17
33 Chapter 33: Of Shadows, Commands, and Silent Defiance 2026-10-17
34 Chapter 34: Of Straw, Silence, and Small Mercies 2026-10-17
35 Chapter 35: Of Dust, Dung And Dignity 2026-10-17
36 Chapter 36: Of Silk, Scent, and Silent Triumphs 2026-10-17
37 Chapter 37: Of Courtesy, Blood, and the Shape of a Lie 2026-10-17
38 Chapter 38: Of Shadows Claimed and Histories Rewritten 2026-10-17
39 Chapter 39: Of Praise Bestowed and Mercy Postponed 2026-10-17
40 Chapter 40: Of Leather, Breath, and Dangerous Familiarity 2026-10-17
41 Chapter 41: Of Questionable Illnesses and Betraying Stomachs 2026-10-17
42 Chapter 42: Of Stubborn Kindness and Unwelcome Generosity 2026-10-17
43 Chapter 43: Of Dangerous Kindness and Unwanted Compliments 2026-10-17
44 Chapter 44: Of Curious Scents and Unspoken Questions 2026-10-17
45 Chapter 45: Of Wolves Beneath Noble Skies 2026-10-17
46 Chapter 46: Of Missing Garments and Unfortunate Encounters 2026-10-17
47 Chapter 47: Of Unfortunate Encounters and Missing Reason 2026-10-17
48 Chapter 48: Of Debts, Displeasure, and Delayed Decency 2026-10-17
49 Chapter 49: Perfume and Filth 2026-10-17
50 Chapter 50: A Shadow to the Moon 2026-10-17

Chapter 40: Of Questionable Illnesses and Betraying Stomachs

Lyria’s POV

”What?”

The word escaped me before I could stop it.

For a single dreadful heartbeat, I feared the sharpness of it had betrayed me.

But the Duke did not appear offended. If anything, he looked more concerned.

”Your voice,” he said gently, as though explaining something very obvious to a stubborn child. ”It sounds rather strained.”

He tilted his head slightly as he studied me.

”I was merely wondering if you had taken ill.”

A slow knot of unease formed in my stomach.

”I a-assure you, Your Grace,” I said carefully, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the stone floor between his boots, ”I-I have no c-cold.”

The Duke did not immediately respond.

Instead, I heard the faint shift of his coat as he straightened. Then he turned his head toward the Earl, who was still standing, watching the interaction.

”Lord Hawthorne,” he said thoughtfully, ”tell me something.”

There was the quiet rustle of cloth as the Earl adjusted his stance.

”Yes, Your Grace?”

”Am I the only one who noticed?” the Duke asked.

There was a small pause after his words.

I could feel their attention hovering over me like a weight pressing against the back of my neck.

The Earl spoke slowly.

”I am afraid I do not understand what Your Grace is referring to.”

The Duke gave a short hum.

”Well,” he said, as though mildly surprised, ”that is rather unfortunate.”

There was a small movement, and I risked the faintest glance upward.

The Duke had lifted one gloved hand. And he was pointing directly at me.

”She,” he said plainly.

Making my stomach drop.

”She is speaking rather strangely,” he said.

The Earl was silent as the Duke continued.

”It sounds very much,” he added with thoughtful seriousness, ”as though she has a rather unfortunate cold.”

His tone grew slightly more reflective.

”One severe enough, I should think, to have affected her voice.”

For a moment the Earl said nothing.

Then I heard the faint shift of his boots against the stone.

”Now that Your Grace mentions it...” Lord Hawthorne said slowly, like he had just gotten the enlightenment. ”...I believe you may be correct.”

I swallowed.

The Earl continued thoughtfully.

”Yes. There is indeed a certain... roughness to it. One I have not heard from any female I am well acquainted with.”

The Duke made a small sound of satisfaction.

”Finally,” he said.

Lord Hawthorne gave a low hum.

”It does rather resemble the sort of voice one develops when suffering from a particularly disagreeable cold.”

The Duke nodded.

”Precisely.”

My heart began to pound harder at their words.

The Duke’s attention returned to me with renewed enthusiasm.

”You see?” he said pleasantly. ”Lord Hawthorne hears it as well.”

He stepped a fraction closer.

I instinctively leaned back again.

”You truly need not pretend otherwise,” he added kindly. ”If you are unwell, it would hardly be proper for you to remain here.”

My pulse skipped.

”Working in the stables,” he continued thoughtfully, glancing around the space, ”would almost certainly worsen such a condition.”

His gaze returned to me.

”I am quite certain the people responsible for your duties would release you if they knew you were ill.”

I cleared my throat.

”I-I am not i-ill, Your G-grace.”

The words came out slightly rougher than intended.

The Duke frowned faintly.

”You are quite certain?” he asked me.

”Y-yes, Your Grace.”

A small silence stretched between us.

Then the Duke folded his arms slowly.

”Well,” he said at last, ”that is certainly surprising.”

”And why,” he continued thoughtfully, ”is that?”

I hesitated.

Because if I did not say something soon, they would continue asking questions.

And the longer they stood here, the greater the chance that something else might betray me.

So I forced my mind to produce an explanation.

”I-It is not a cold, Your Grace,” I said quietly.

”Oh?”

”It is... a-a-a t-throat condition.”

The Duke blinked in shock.

”A throat condition,” the Duke repeated.

”Y-yes, Your Grace.”

”And this condition,” he continued, his tone growing more interested by the second, ”causes your voice to sound as though you have swallowed a handful of gravel?”

My ears burned.

”It makes it s-somewhat... huskier than it o-ought to be,” I admitted carefully.

The Duke raised one eyebrow.

”Does it indeed?”

I nodded once.

Silence descended at that point. Then the Duke turned slowly toward Lord Hawthorne.

”Well,” he said mildly, ”that is certainly a new one.”

Lord Hawthorne crossed his arms. His voice carried a note of quiet curiosity.

”I cannot say I have heard of such an ailment.”

”Nor can I,” the Duke agreed.

He turned back to me.

”What precisely is this illness called?”

I froze.

Because I had not thought that far ahead. My mind scrambled uselessly.

”I-it is... rather r-r-rare,” I said weakly.

The Duke leaned forward slightly.

”Rare?”

”Yes, Your Grace.”

”How fascinating.”

The Duke tilted his head again, studying me like an interesting puzzle.

”And you believe I may not have heard of it?”

I nodded.

”I b-believe that is likely, Y-your Grace.”

His lips curved faintly.

”Well now,” he murmured, ”that is rather unfortunate.”

He did not sound convinced, not even a little.

He opened his mouth to speak again.

And I braced myself for another question I would not be able to answer, or one I would have to come up with a quick lie for.

But before he could speak—

My stomach growled... loudly too.

Heat rushed violently to my face. I could feel it spreading from my ears down to my throat.

I wished—very sincerely—that the floor might open and swallow me whole.

The Duke blinked. Then his mouth slowly curved upward.

And he laughed. I had to admit, it was quite a nice sound to be heard.

”Ah,” he said lightly.

Lord Hawthorne made a small sound that might have been a suppressed chuckle.

The Duke glanced thoughtfully at my stomach.

Then back at my face.

”I wonder,” he said with exaggerated seriousness, clasping his hands behind his back.

”Could it be,” he continued, clearly enjoying himself far too much, ”that this mysterious illness affecting your voice...”

His eyes glinted.

”...also appears to affect your stomach?”

I wished I could disappear.

”Specifically,” the Duke added helpfully, ”in the form of hunger.”

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