My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 24

In both of Fiona’s previous and present lives, Roxanne’s mounted archery lagged behind her refined command of etiquette and music. Even so, during the same examination in Fiona’s previous life, Roxanne had seized the top mark among every young woman present.

Fiona considered it only fair–Roxanne was diligent, bright, and deserved her laurels. In fact, Fiona had chosen her as a quiet benchmark of excellence.

On the ride back toward the estate, Naomi could no longer contain herself. She leaned forward in the carriage and flashed Soren a practiced smile. “Soren, if I place within the highest tier in archery, will you let me have Tempest?”

Tempest had been captured the previous year when Soren campaigned with Alexander in Broadmoor. The blood–red stallion, fierce and untamed, had nearly killed three handlers before Soren personally broke him in.

Soren’s answer remained cool. “That depends on how well you actually do.”

Naomi accepted the conditional promise as an outright yes, and her grin stretched dangerously close to her ears. “By the way, Fiona asked me to say that if she happened to offend you during the autumn hunt, she hopes you’ll be generous.”

Soren offered no reply. He had never intended to press the matter; Fiona’s minor transgressions against him were, by then, almost routine.

Naomi lowered her voice as though sharing state secrets. “I’ve been thinking, Fiona is actually quite lovely. Why not introduce her to Callum?”

She truly did like Fiona.

Soren’s brows knit together. “You’re not even of age yet, and already your head is full of matchmaking?”

Chastened, Naomi clamped her lips shut. Yet inwardly, she remained convinced that Callum would appreciate a woman like Fiona–skilled in mounted archery, exactly his type.

Only a few days earlier, when she had been gossiping with her maid about Fiona’s stunning ride during the autumn hunt, Callum had, for once, stayed and listened until the story ended.

That was remarkable, considering how utterly indifferent he normally acted toward anything involving young ladies.

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14:41 Fri, Oct 10

Chapter 24 Autumn Archery Scores

:

59

+20 Free Coins

That night, however, it was Soren who found his thoughts drifting. He slipped into sleep and tumbled straight into the strangest dream.

In the dream, a woman had moved into Radiant Lodge–the private courtyard he guarded so jealously. Soren never entered, yet he knew her every movement with impossible clarity. Sometimes she sat at the threshold, reading beneath the lantern light. Sometimes she stitched delicate embroidery. Sometimes she knelt among the flowers, pruning with patient fingers.

She was neither intimate nor distant–a presence balanced on the edge of familiarity.

With cheerful audacity, she claimed every corner, setting down curious knick–knacks until the once–pristine lodge was utterly transformed.

He had never once allowed anger to cloud his features. Instead, he surrendered the master bedchamber to her and withdrew to the study, bedding down on a narrow chaise amid the glow of a single oil lamp and the scent of parchment and ink.

Then, one evening, she pushed open the study doors. In her hands rested Glowstrike–the famed bow once wielded by General Sentor, a relic every ambitious man in the realm would have begged to touch.

She stood bathed in lamplight, beauty so striking it felt unreal–skin like fresh cream, lips a bloom of early–spring peach, eyes brimming with warmth. In that moment, she resembled an older, more self–possessed version of Fiona.

“Before

my wedding, countless men tried to coax Glowstrike from me,” she said, voice a silken lilt. “But it was part of my dowry, and I will give it only to my husband.”

He met her gaze in silence, the flicker of the candle mirrored in his eyes, revealing thoughts he dared not speak.

“It will not be a gift without price,” she added, cheeks igniting as she bit her lower lip. “From tonight on, my husband must return to the rear courtyard. We have been wed for three months. I do not wish to spend another night alone.”

The invitation was bold, almost brazen, yet her lowered lashes and shy smile softened it to a plea so alluring that even a heart forged of iron would have crumbled.

Soren jolted awake, pressing fingertips to his temples to chase away the remnants of the dream.

The night air was icy, yet a restless heat pulsed deep in his abdomen, as though the dream still clung to his skin.

Days later, when Penelope casually mentioned Fiona, Soren’s hand paused–barely perceptible

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Chapter 24 Autumn Archery Scores

-halfway through lifting his cup. That dream was absurd, nothing more.

59

+20 Free Coins

“They say the top score in this year’s archery trials went to Ms. Fiona,” Penelope remarked, a thread of disbelief woven through her words.

Soren showed no surprise. He had read the results the previous day. Roxanne placed second, Naomi third–only those three achieved the highest ranking.

“Old Mrs. Niven has asked me to accompany her to Frostenden Temple tomorrow,” Penelope continued, brows knitting. “I cannot help wondering if her purpose is what I suspect.”

The thought left Penelope rubbing her own forehead. Every mother wanted her daughter well matched, yet aiming for the Zonfrillo heir felt like slighting the Niven family.

“If you sense trouble, Mother, simply decline,” Soren said without lifting his head.

“The palace watches your every move. A formal marriage may take time, so perhaps we should arrange two personal attendants for you,” Penelope suggested. “A man your age should not live entirely alone.”

“I leave for Broadmoor after the New Year,” Soren answered. “Please spare yourself the worry. The current climate leaves me no energy for such matters.”

Penelope knew his resolve when she heard it. He was never one to chase idle pleasures, and she could only let the idea drop.

Meanwhile, the Niven Estate buzzed beneath the glow of Fiona’s first–place victory in archery.

Even Fiona herself had not dared dream of such a ranking, her swollen wrist–still tender after half a month–felt gloriously worth the pain at that moment.

Meryl’s joy overflowed. She showered every servant and page in the courtyard with rewards, then penned letters to Zachary, Vincent, and Helen, eager to trumpet the news to all corners of their world.

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