The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 352: The Iris Flower
Jerrick made sure his son, Ricky, was dressed appropriately for the coronation. Though children weren’t expected to attend, Ricky had been so eager to visit the capital city that he clung to Jerrick like a lifeline, his tiny hands clutching his father’s tunic as if afraid of being left behind in Roche.
The child’s enthusiasm was infectious, though it filled Jerrick with a mixture of unease and wonder. A happy smile had spread across Ricky’s face, and as Jerrick watched him, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of discomfort. "Why don’t you speak?" he asked gently, kneeling to meet his son’s eyes.
Ricky, barely more than a toddler but already wiser than his years, looked back at his father with a defiant glint. Jerrick had long known his son was capable of speaking—he could feel it in the quiet intensity of the boy’s gaze. Yet, Ricky remained silent. Even when he needed something, his tiny hands would reach out, but no words would follow.
"I know you can speak," Jerrick persisted, his brows furrowed in frustration. Ricky responded by turning away and sliding off the bed, his tiny feet padding softly across the room. The boy made his way outside, wandering as he often did, his curiosity drawing him toward the garden. Jerrick watched as Ricky plucked an iris flower from a nearby bush, handling it with the same gentle care he always did.
The iris. His son’s favorite flower, a small but poignant detail that spoke of the boy’s complexity. Jerrick had grown accustomed to these quiet moments of tenderness, though they only deepened his sense of grief.
They soon departed for the palace, and as they approached, Jerrick was greeted with such fanfare that it made him shift uneasily. He had always welcomed the pomp and ceremony of court life, but now it felt hollow. His heart still ached with the weight of Jessamyn’s absence, and the lavish surroundings only seemed to emphasize the emptiness inside him.
The ladies of the court, however, were oblivious to his inner turmoil. Their attention quickly turned to Ricky, cooing and fussing over him, treating him like a little prince. Ricky, clearly unimpressed by their doting, scurried away, his small frame disappearing into the crowd. Jerrick exchanged a glance with Bernard, his trusted knight, who immediately went after the boy, his loyalty unwavering as he trailed after the young earl.
Bernard had taken his role as Ricky’s personal knight to heart. He adored the boy, finding joy in serving him with the same devotion he’d once shown Jerrick. It was a comfort, albeit a small one, to know that his son had such unwavering protection.
As the coronation commenced, Jerrick stood in the grand hall, surrounded by the grandeur of the kingdom. King Louis, now crowned, stood proudly on the raised platform, Queen Cordelia at his side. The throne behind them shimmered beneath the stained-glass image of the goddess, a symbol of divine right and royal power.
To the right of the king stood William, the Grand Duke, a silent pillar of strength. To Louis’ left was Wolfhart, the famed Lycaon Wulfhednar, Jerrick himself in his white wolf form—a sight that sent ripples of awe through the crowd. The Theodulf bloodline had always commanded respect, and Jerrick’s presence only heightened that reverence.
Kneeling in unison, the nobility acknowledged the strength of the king and the unshakeable loyalty of the men who stood by his side.
But even amid the grandeur, Jerrick’s thoughts were not on the ceremony. They were with Ricky, his little boy who, unbeknownst to him, had wandered into Queen Cordelia’s private chambers.
Inside, Cordelia had returned after the coronation, her ceremonial robes heavy on her shoulders as the weight of the event began to take its toll. She longed to be free of them, to change into something lighter before the evening’s ball.
As she entered the chamber, eager to see her baby daughter, she stopped short. Sitting casually on her bed, as if it were his own, was a small boy with raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes.
Her breath caught in her throat. "Oh, dear," she whispered, her voice soft with surprise. She knelt before him, studying his face, recognizing instantly the resemblance to someone she had once cherished deeply. "You are the exact copy of Jessamyn," she murmured.
"The Archduke’s son, Your Majesty?" one of the maids ventured, her voice filled with awe. "The Princess was crying and restless. He came in, and she calmed down immediately."
Cordelia’s gaze flickered to her daughter, now sitting peacefully, her tiny hand clutching an iris flower—unmushed, cradled with a strange gentleness. It was a flower Cordelia hadn’t seen in the room before.
"The boy... the Earl of Roche... gave the flower to the Princess," another maid explained, her voice tinged with wonder.
Cordelia’s eyes widened. "Did you?" she asked softly, turning to the little boy. "My daughter is named after the iris flower," she added, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. What were the chances that he would offer her that very flower?
Then, with a clarity that stunned everyone in the room, the boy spoke. "Elestren, my bride," Ricky said, his voice strong, his words deliberate.
The maids gasped, their shock evident at hearing such articulate speech from a child so young. Cordelia, however, felt a wave of something much deeper—a connection to Jessamyn, to the night she had saved her life and her daughter’s life. Jessamyn had whispered something then, something Cordelia had carried with her ever since. Jessamyn had said that her son would one day protect his bride.
And now, here he was.
Tears welled in Cordelia’s eyes, and she reached out to gently touch Ricky’s hand. "Your bride, is she?" she repeated, her voice soft with wonder and affection. "Did you come here to meet her?"
Ricky nodded, solemn and unwavering, as if the weight of those words was something he understood fully.
Cordelia chuckled softly, though her eyes remained damp with emotion. She felt a powerful sense of fate unfolding before her—one that had been set in motion long ago, in a moment of kindness and bravery that now rippled through the lives of these two children.
