Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 189 - Hundred And Eighty Nine
The Fifth Of The Next Month...
The morning of the fifth dawned bright and clear, the sky a vast, unbroken expanse of blue. It was the kind of day poets wrote about, a day that promised glory.
Outside the imposing gates of the Royal Barracks, a black carriage rolled to a stop. The horses stamped their hooves, sensing the tension in the air.
Inside, Ashlyn sat close to Carlos. She reached up, her hands steady, and straightened the high collar of his new military coat. She smoothed the fabric over his shoulders, picking off an invisible speck of dust.
"You have done your best this past few weeks," Ashlyn said, her voice filled with a supportive warmth she didn’t entirely feel. She was anxious. The prophecy was clear, but the waiting was torture.
Carlos puffed out his chest, looking at his reflection in the carriage window. He looked the part. He looked like a commander.
"I have prepared thoroughly for this audience," Carlos replied, his voice brimming with unearned confidence. He patted the pocket where his notes on strategy—notes he had barely skimmed—were kept. "Set your heart at ease, my dear. The generals will see my potential. They cannot ignore a Thompson."
Ashlyn smiled, a mask of perfect faith.
"Grandmother hopes you will do well," she reminded him, invoking the matriarch’s name to add weight to the moment. "She is praying for you right now. Bringing honor to the family is all she asks."
Carlos reached out and caressed her cheek. His hand was warm.
"I will make the whole family proud of me," he promised. "When I walk out of those gates, I will be the Grand Duke in all but name."
Ashlyn nodded. "Go. Seize your destiny."
Carlos opened the door and stepped down from the carriage. He walked toward the main gate with a swagger in his step. Ashlyn watched through the window as the guards stopped him. She saw them take his letter of invitation. She saw them pat him down, searching for weapons, a standard procedure that looked humiliatingly like a criminal inspection.
He disappeared inside the stone walls. The gates closed with a heavy clang.
Ashlyn let out a long breath. It was out of her hands now.
She knocked on the roof of the carriage.
"Take me home," she ordered the driver. "We have a party to host."
Back at the Thompson estate, the transformation was complete. The main hall and the gardens had been turned into a festival ground. Lanterns of gold and red hung from the trees. Tables groaned under the weight of roasted meats, exotic fruits, and fountains of wine. Musicians played a lively, triumphant tune.
The guests had arrived in droves. Nobles, merchants, distant relatives—everyone who wanted to be close to the rising star had come. The air was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses.
Ashlyn had changed into her finest clothes—a gown of deep crimson velvet, embroidered with gold thread, a dress fit for a Duchess. She moved through the crowd, her head held high, playing the role of the gracious, victorious hostess.
Everywhere she went, she heard the same refrain.
"Congratulations in advance!" a baron shouted, raising his glass to her.
"To the new Commander!" a lady chirped.
"The Thompson family is truly blessed!"
Ashlyn smiled, fluttering her fan to hide the tightness in her jaw. She soaked in the praise, letting it calm her nerves.
"Thank you, thank you," she murmured, nodding to the guests.
She saw a familiar carriage pull up to the entrance. Her parents had arrived.
Lord Malone stepped out, looking regal in his best coat. Lady Anita followed, her eyes wide as she took in the splendor of the party.
"Wow!" Lady Anita exclaimed, looking at the silk banners and the silver platters. "The Thompson estate is lavish. Ashlyn has really outdone herself."
Ashlyn hurried to the grand foyer to meet them.
"Mother! Father!" she cried, opening her arms.
She hugged them both, burying her face in her mother’s shoulder for a brief moment of comfort. She took the gift they brought—a heavy box wrapped in silk—and handed it to a passing maid without even looking at it.
"You have finally arrived," Ashlyn said, linking her arms with theirs. "I was worried you would miss the toast."
"We wouldn’t miss it for the world," Lord Malone said, beaming.
"When my husband returns," Ashlyn said, leading them into the hall, "we will celebrate properly. The announcement will be made tonight. You will have to stay here tonight. I have rooms prepared."
Lord Malone feigned modesty. "Oh, how could we impose? The estate is so busy."
"Why not?" Lady Anita interrupted, laughing. "Our son-in-law will return with honors. We should be here to greet the hero."
Just then, Marissa appeared.
She was descending the grand staircase. She wore a simple dress of pale blue, elegant but understated compared to Ashlyn’s crimson finery. She looked calm, almost detached from the chaos around her.
She walked up to them, a polite smile on her face.
"Father, Lady Anita," Marissa said, curtsying respectfully. "Welcome. Your accommodations are prepared in the guest wing. Please, stay comfortably. Treat this as your own home."
Lord Malone smiled with pride. He looked at his two daughters—one the Grand Duchess, the other the wife of the future Commander. He felt like a king.
"Thank you, Marissa," he said, his face wide with smiles.
Lady Anita, however, couldn’t resist. She looked around the hall, scanning the crowd. She saw the musicians, the food, the guests.
But she noticed who was missing.
She turned to Marissa, a smirk playing on her lips. She saw a chance to taunt the daughter of the woman she hated.
"This is such a grand occasion," Lady Anita said, her voice dripping with fake concern. "A celebration for the family’s future."
She leaned in.
"Why is His Grace absent again?" Lady Anita asked loudly. "Does he not care about his brother’s success? Or is he... afraid of being overshadowed?"
