In Tranquil Pce, Cecil sat still in a chair while Phoebe carefully dried his damp hair.


    "You just washed your hair the other day, and now your hair and face are covered in fur after you went out to y with that little roon. If this happens again, I''ll smack you on the backside," she said with an air of annoyance.


    The child, with delicate features and bright eyes, leaned into his sister''s embrace. He smiled widely and said, "But the little roon is so fun and cute! It walks all over me with its little feet, and it''s so cozy when I hold it."


    Phoebe sighed. "Mom said that Dad doesn''t like roons. You keep telling him about it. No wonder he''s been avoiding youtely."


    Cecil remained perfectly still, letting his sister continue tob his hair.


    But he wasn''t one to back down, so he said, "Dad and I are two different people. We each have our own likes and dislikes. Just because Dad doesn''t like


    something doesn''t mean I can''t like it. I really like the roon. I love it. No matter how much Dad dislikes it, I won''t give it up."


    Phoebe tapped his nose. "Sharp-tongued."


    Cecil grinned. "You can''t win against me because you don''t have any good arguments. Uncle Rafael always says that if you''re reasonable, no one can talk over you."


    "Then, why haven''t you gone to practice martial arts with Uncle Rafaeltely?" Phoebe asked, raising an eyebrow.


    Cecil tilted his head. "He''s only teaching the basics, which I can practice here. I''ve already learned it all. As for horseback riding... I can''t get on a horse yet. I''ll wait until I''m older and my legs are longer to practice."


    "You''ve already learned it all? I don''t believe you."


    "I really have." Cecil nodded vigorously. "Uncle Rafael teaches the same things every day. Connor still has to learn them, but I only needed one lesson to get it."


    "You''re just bragging," Phoebe teased, poking his nose affectionately. "Well, never mind. You''re still young. You can wait until you''re older to learn properly."


    "It''s just the basics. It''s not like I need to brag about it. It''s nothing that impressive," Cecil mumbled.


    A curtain gently fell, obscuring Sylvia''s bright, beautiful face. She held the little roon in her arms as she walked out, her expression thoughtful and weighed down.


    The attendant following her softly said, "Prince Cecil isn''t affected, Your Grace. Don''t worry."


    "He''s still young. He doesn''t understand what His Majesty''s favor really means," Sylvia replied, sighing softly.


    It was as if a heavy, unspoken burden pressed against her chest, and she couldn''t find a way to release it.


    Previously, Sylvia had never given much thought to such matters. But once ambition took root, it grew like a stubborn weed. It was impossible to suppress, and it spread


    uncontrobly. Now 1.61


    Jete''s pregnancy, Sylvia felt the need to set fire to the thriving growth inside her, unwilling to let it go.


    "Mydy, it''s said that Lady Jete has beenining to His Majesty about how Lady Grace and Prince Caden have been disturbing her. Lady Grace hasn''t gone to visit her over the past few days," the attendant whispered quietly.


    Sylvia sat down, absently stroking the little roon in her arms. It was hard to tell what she was thinking.


    After a long pause, she finally looked up and asked, "Lady Jete''s pregnancy was going well. How could it suddenly go wrong?"


    "They say His Majesty has been taking medicine, which is affecting the pregnancy," the attendant replied.


    "Probably just bad luck," Sylvia remarked calmly, a sh of coldness crossing her gaze.


    On the night of the 18th, Jete suddenly experienced unbearable abdominal pain.


    By the time Dorian arrived, she was already bleeding. After administering needle treatment and giving her two doses of medicine, they still couldn''t save the baby.


    Throughout the ordeal, Salvador


    stayed close by. His expression was


    unreadable as he listened to


    Dorian''s report, delivered in a


    trembling voice. The disent


    Salvador felt remained hidden behind hisposed demeanor. Instead, he reassured Jete, telling her to rest and take care of herself.


    Jete wept, nearly copsing from the weight of her sorrow.


    Her pale face was damp with sweat, and through her pained sobs, she cried, "Someone must have harmed my child. Your Majesty, please investigate!"


    Victoria came personally to offer her condolences.


    An investigation would be carried out, of course, but the royal physicians had already warned that Salvador''s constant use of medicine, especially during the time Jete conceived, had made the child more


    vulnerable than usual. Given that, it


    was already a miracle the pregnancy hadsted this long.


    After a thorough investigation, no signs of foul y were found. In the end, the


    matter was considered closed.