Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 165: Sandra’s Thoughts.

Chapter 165: Sandra’s Thoughts.

Afternoon.

Marketplace.

Critic Citadel, Critic-Ishire.

*********************

Theodore decided to stay calm, it couldn’t be that serious yet, she might have entered the shop they were standing outside of.

He turned for the shop and just like that Lydia sprang out behind an umbrella. "How do I look?" she asked with a big beautiful grin on her face.

Theodore paled and slightly disturbed he grabbed her arm and yelled. "Lydia, where- you look strangely amazing" he commented after noticing her frown of discomfort.

"As always lady Theodore" Conan added gentlemanly.

"Thank you, I cannot believe we have not worn hats since and summer is almost over" she complained.

Theodore was still experiencing the after effect of his overflowing emotion so he could only watch her.

Lydia had only wanted to buy something and he had reacted so poorly. If she were to find out, she might think he was trapping her with him, that he thinks she might leave him soon then she would be disappointed and actually leave.

But that was true and that scared him.

A middle aged man, the hat vendor drew her attention back to his goods. "My lady?"

Her brows raised in realization. "Yes, two for Dorothy and Joyous" she told him as though he was supposed to know their names.

"One for Helena, Shi’Enz and Gabriel" she continued as she counted the Theodore household in her head.

"Gooseberry?" Theodore called out to her.

She blinked. "Yes, you think the cats too can wear hats?"

Her question made Theodore frown.

"What about us?" Conan asked boldly for Theodore.

"Whatever the fuck do you mean us? Gooseberry you should pick a colour for me too" Theodore snarled, his eyes cold.

Lydia placed her palm on her husbands shoulders. "Yes, you can buy some for you, Conan and Tom"

"Do you think Shade would need a hat?" the more she asked questions, the more Khalid talk and.

"You have met him?" Conan asked in disbelief.

Theodore glanced at him, pressed his lips on a thin disappointed line before

"I was unaware, lady Theodore kindly purchase hats for us too" Conan invited with a smile.

She shook her head. "I think I have enough"

Conan resisted rolling their eyes her "Okay, Theodore you are buying for us"

"We are not, we do not need hats" Lydia.

Sigh. Conan looked to the sky for patience before using the whole crits he got to purchase a hat for Tom.

The boy deserved a reward.

And then they left for the Citadel.

*

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*

Afternoon.

Office, Citadel.

Critic Citadel, Critic-Ishire.

******************

"How is your stay in the Citadel?" Conan asked.

It has been a while since they’d been back from the outside breakfast and Theodore had invited Lydia to sit with them out here but she refused and choose to stay in their chambers instead.

"This cities girls still have eyes for me and I have an unexplainable urge to just go home, that was a long reply" Conan said cockily.

"It was, I also wish to leave here, this place, but my home is with me, it makes it bearable" Theodore responded honestly.

His eyes held warmth that Conan would’ve laughed at but he was beginning to wonder and relate to Theodore in that aspect.

He no longer wanted any girl, he wanted the ocean blue eyed witch.

"What do you think Salvadore wants?" he asked after a moment of silence.

Theodore appeared thoughtful for a moment before he responded. "He is desperate, perhaps something threatens his position?"

He relaxed on his seat, the bright sky making him scrunch his face. "I wonder what" he added.

"Ask him today, staying here would not solve it" Conan advised, he had once wished Theodore would let then stay in the Citadel but now it was just a chore he didn’t wish to do. "Unless he believes your presence scares them" Conan added with a frown of contemplation as he mauled over what he had just said.

Theodore frowned in contemplation. "Magic practitioners?" he guessed.

"This might be bigger, or his mother is behind everything"

"God, Sandra" Theodore groaned. The woman was a vixen.

"I cannot let them bring this kingdom to the ground" Theodore muttered to himself but Conan heard it and nodded in agreement. "We have worked and fought too hard for that" he commented.

"Did you see the condition of the city now? Unfairness is their stem" Conan said disgusted. No one had regards for the lower class despite the high level of sophistication and pride in Critic Arley, unfairness wasn’t their forte. Gossip was.

That was why the Muckraker must’ve picked the place, Conan thought. They always had drama.

"Cities are different" Theodore pointed out, he believed every city grows the way the leader guides it and was not in the mood to be accused of terrorism or be labeled a traitor.

"Have you seen the Statham girl?" Conan

Theodore shook his head, he hadn’t forgotten about her, she had been the one to pay his boy to spy on his wife, he needed to see her but she wasn’t here anymore and intimate conversation were things he preferred to avoid with Salvatore.

"I wonder if she is at the slave establishment too" Conan wondered out loud.

"God, Salvatore" Theodore groaned again. What family has his father left behind for him? He wondered.

A movement drew their attention Theodore’s right. A tall grey royal guard bowed his head from the waist making Theodore grimace before he announced.

"Your highness, his majesty has invited you to his office".

Finally, Conan breathed, the faster Theodore worked the earlier they get to leave.

Theodore stood up with a long breath. "Lead the way then. He pointed for the guard. The guard nodded and resumed his walk.

"You indeed are a prince" Conan whispered with a smile.

"If you are not drunk do not talk drunk" Theodore countered making Consn howl.

*

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*

Afternoon.

Garden, Citadel.

Critic Citadel, Critic-Ishire.

*****************

In the serene sanctuary of her chamber’s garden, Sandra sat alone, her thoughts swirling in a tumult of resignation, concern and determination.

She held a newspaper and though her eyes skim the pages of the newspaper, her mind was elsewhere, consumed by the weight of the decisions she must make regarding her daughter-in-law.

One she has blatantly refused to accept, she wanted to be the one to pick a wife for the boys.

With a bitter heart, she contemplated the various tests she had devised, each intended to assess Lydia’s worthiness in her son’s life.

It was strange, Theodore was the one who married her while her foolish son still pined and was heavily infantuated by her.

She had her tests and they would make Salvatore see, there was the cooking test, a gauntlet of family recipes and culinary traditions meant to gauge not only skill but also reverence for heritage. She nodded.

Then there would be the dance of elegance, where posture, grace, and demeanor are scrutinized under the watchful eye of tradition. She knew Lydia was a neglected child so this one would be something she wouldn’t know a thing about.

Knitting needles clack in her imagination as she envisions yet another test, assessing patience and attention to detail through the creation of intricate patterns.

And woven into the fabric of her plans is the test of social finesse, where her supposed daughter-in-law must navigate the intricacies of high society with poise and charm.

She knew she would fail.

But amidst the array of trials she has devised, a nagging doubt persists.

Is this truly the one to bring happiness and fulfilment into her sons life?

Would he finally believe he was worthy?

Despite her reservations, she felt compelled to forge ahead, fueled by a mother’s love and a desire to ensure her son’s future is secure.

It was ridiculous and insane because the girl she was trying to get for her son through underhanded methods was married to her step son.

Surrounded by the verdant embrace of the garden, Sandra grappled with her conflicting emotions, her determination tempered by a sense of unease. Theodore was a dangerous man but she would face any danger for her son. She hated the slut he had by his side now and would offer him Lydia however way she can.

Each flutter of a passing butterfly or whisper of the wind serves as a reminder of the fleeting nature of time and the urgency of her mission. Theodore was getting unnerved and she knew she should thread slowly. She could make Theodore hate her instead of trying to make Salvatore hate her.

Lydia had to be using magic on the royal boys. She mused angrily.

And so, she sat in solitude her heart trembles with uncertainty, the weight of her decisions pressing upon her like the midday sun, casting long shadows across the garden’s expanse.

She didn’t feel a presence behind her until a voice reached her. "Queen Mother" she got a nod from Sandra before she continued. "Lady... Miss Lydia wishes to see you" the maid corrected herself. They were all surprised when the kings mother had instructed them to refer to Prince Theodore’s wife as miss but they couldn’t object they were mere maidens.

And if she didn’t accept the lord marriage they knew the king would follow suit.

Now Lydia was here to see the woman who hated her presence but would pretend until the end.