Chapter 177 CHAPTER 177
The sound of something heavy shattering against a wall echoed down the palace corridor, sharp and violent enough to make two maids freeze mid-step. A moment later came the crash of something else - wood splintering, glass breaking, fabric tearing. The guards stationed outside the king’s chambers exchanged uneasy glances but did not dare knock again. They had already tried. The butler had tried. Even one of the senior advisors had approached the door and retreated quickly when no answer came.
King Ethan had locked himself inside.
No one had seen him come out since the council meeting.
The palace, usually steady and disciplined, felt like it was holding its breath.
Down in the kitchen, however, life moved on with the familiar rhythm of clinking pans and rising steam. Isabel slipped onto the counter near the large wooden island, swinging her legs lightly as the housekeeper set a plate in front of her. The smell alone made her eyes brighten.
“You are spoiling me,” Isabel said cheerfully, picking up a warm roll and tearing into it. “I swear, one day I’m going to have to start training like the warriors just to keep up with how much I eat here.”
The housekeeper didn’t smile the way she usually did. Instead, she stood there wiping her hands nervously on her apron, glancing at Isabel as if debating whether to speak.
Isabel noticed the look immediately. She chewed, swallowed, and narrowed her eyes playfully. “If you’re about to tell me it’s embarrassing how much I eat, I already know. I promise I try to control myself. It’s just that the food here is dangerously good.”
The housekeeper waved her hands quickly. “No, no, child, that’s not it at all.”
Isabel tilted her head. “Then what?”
The woman hesitated, lowering her voice. “It’s about the king.”
Isabel straightened slightly. “What about Ethan?”
“He came back from the meeting and locked himself in his room,” the housekeeper said. “He’s been in there for hours. We can hear him throwing things. He won’t answer anyone. Not the guards, not the butler. We’re worried… he might hurt himself.”
The warmth drained from Isabel’s face. “Hurt himself?”
“I don’t know what the Silverpine elders said in that meeting,” the woman continued anxiously. “But both he and Princess Lisa looked terribly upset afterward. Lisa left with Commander Liam, and shortly after, the king shut himself in.”
Isabel didn’t wait to hear more. She slid off the counter, leaving her plate half-eaten. “Thank you,” she said quickly, already heading toward the door.
The corridor outside Ethan’s chambers felt colder than usual. The guards stepped aside as soon as they saw her approach. She didn’t hesitate. She knocked firmly.
“Ethan?”
No answer.
She knocked again, a little louder this time. “I know you’re in there.”
Still nothing.
She rested her forehead briefly against the door, lowering her voice. “I heard what’s been going on. I don’t know everything, but I know it’s been a lot. The memories, the elders, Silverpine showing up… I know you’re hurting.”
Silence pressed against her words.
She swallowed and tried again. “I don’t understand politics. I don’t understand council secrets or erased memories. But I do understand that even if you’re a king, there’s still a person inside that crown. And that person deserves to feel things without breaking alone.”
The quiet on the other side felt heavy.
“If you don’t want to open the door,” she continued softly, “that’s okay. I won’t force you. But I’m not leaving. I’ll sit right here until you’re ready. I won’t talk anymore. I’ll just… be here.”
She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, her back against the door.
Minutes passed.
The corridor was silent except for distant footsteps and the faint hum of palace life continuing elsewhere.
Then suddenly the lock turned.
The door swung inward so quickly that Isabel nearly toppled backward into the room. She gasped, losing her balance, but strong hands caught her before she hit the floor.
“You’re really stubborn,” Ethan muttered, steadying her.
She looked up at him and gave a small smile. “Sometimes stubbornness is useful.”
He stepped aside and let her in.
The room was a disaster.
A shattered mirror lay across the floor. The beddings had been ripped off and thrown into a heap. A chair was overturned, and several books lay scattered with pages bent and torn. A lamp had been knocked over near the wall, its shade cracked.
Ethan stood in the middle of it all, his shirt clinging to his body with sweat, his breathing slightly heavy as if he had only just stopped moving.
For a moment, Isabel said nothing. She simply took it in.
“I’m aware it looks bad,” Ethan said quietly, not meeting her eyes. “I don’t usually redecorate like this.”
She glanced around once more before looking at him again. “Compared to everything you’ve been holding in? This is actually a healthy outlet.”
He huffed a tired breath that might have been a laugh.
She pulled a chair upright and sat down facing him while he sank onto the edge of the mattress.
“I’m not supposed to lose control,” he said after a moment. “I’m king. I’m supposed to hold everything together. Everyone looks to me for stability. And lately…” He gestured vaguely at the wreckage. “Lately I feel like I’m splitting apart.”
Isabel leaned forward slightly. “Then maybe stop trying to be king for five minutes.”
He looked at her.
“You’re Ethan first,” she continued. “The crown comes after. If Ethan falls apart, the king falls apart anyway. So maybe taking care of Ethan isn’t weakness. Maybe it’s responsibility.”
He studied her with something close to disbelief. “Where do you get all this?”
She shrugged lightly. “People keep telling me I sound like an old woman trapped in a teenager’s body. I haven’t decided if that’s an insult or a compliment.”
He chuckled as he shook his head. “It’s definitely a compliment. I’m tempted to bring in as one of the council members.”
Her expression softened. “You don’t have to carry the crown every second of the day. You can be angry. You can be frustrated. You can even break a mirror if you need to. But you don’t have to do it alone.”
Silence settled between them, but this time it wasn’t suffocating.
“Promise me something,” she said gently.
He raised an eyebrow. “That sounds dangerous.”
“Promise me that when you’re hurting, you won’t shut everyone out. At least not me. As long as it’s not classified royal secrets, you tell me what’s going on. Deal?”
He considered her seriously for a moment.
She extended her pinky finger toward him. “You have to pinky swear.”
A faint smile broke through the tension on his face as he hooked his pinky with hers. “There I was thinking you were wise beyond your years.”
“And?”
“And then you demand a pinky swear.”
She grinned. “Balance.”
He squeezed her finger lightly before releasing it.
She stood up and brushed imaginary dust from her clothes. “Now that we’ve prevented you from overthrowing your own bedroom, do you want to get out of here? The staff are terrified. I think someone almost fainted.”
“And go where?” he asked, glancing around the chaos.
“To the city. Pauline’s cafe. Her meals fix most existential crises.”
He looked at her for a long moment, then bent down to pick up his jacket from the floor. “I need to change first. I’m drenched.”
She wrinkled her nose dramatically. “A shower would also be a very wise decision, Your Majesty – you stink.”
He shot her a look as he headed toward the bathroom. “Remember, I’m still king. I can have you imprisoned.”
She crossed her arms. “Then I’ll have to imprison you for refusing basic hygiene.”
A quiet laugh escaped him as he disappeared into the bathroom.
The room was still messy. The mirror was still broken. The bed was still overturned.
But the air no longer felt like it was about to explode.
And for the first time since the council meeting, the king of Mooncrest did not feel alone.