My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 43

Chapter 43 Cousins Cross Paths

Zephyr lingered, curiosity overtaking haste. “How is that white parrot faring?”

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“My uncle hired a birdkeeper, and the creature is lively enough,” Fiona confessed, “but it refuses to gain any weight. I lose sleep worrying it might die–Emperor Aldric gifted the bird, and letting it perish would be unthinkable.”

A bright laugh escaped Zephyr. “That breed is wilful to the bone, almost feral. Ordinary keepers never grasp its habits. Next time you come to the palace, bring the parrot along. I’ll look after it for a spell

Fiona assumed he spoke only out of courtesy. Her chances to enter the palace were rare, yet she answered with unfeigned delight, assuring him of her gratitude.

That gratitude, layered and precise, was itself a gift; the more surprised Fiona appeared, the greater Zephyr’s sense of magnanimity.

After Zephyr’s carriage rolled away, Fiona turned the conversation over in her mind. Clearly, the bond between Zephyr and Soren was not unbreakable—a fragile seam she might, in time, stitch or sever.

In her previous life Soren had bristled whenever Zephyr’s name crossed her lips, so their true relationship remained a mystery to her even now.

Before the new shop could so much as lift its shutters, Fiona stole away to Clear Sky Pavilion, slipping through its moon–carved gates with the hush of a secret.

There she found proof of Harriet’s legendary speed. The crude herbal recipes Fiona had handed over only days earlier already gleamed on polished display as Lustre Pills and Softbloom Balm–white pearls of medicine and pale–rose ointment resting inside boxes of red sandalwood that shone like fresh lacquer.

One glance at the gorgeously carved lids–crimson veined with gold, hinges discreet as whispers–and anyone would swear the contents must be priceless.

In that moment, Fiona finally understood the old tale of the fool who bought the box and lett the pearl behind. Even she, who knew the treasures were inside, had felt her gaze captured first by the box.

“So, Harriet asked, folding her arms with light amusement, “is this what you had envisioned when you first sketched your plan for me?”

“Harriet, your design is leagues cleverer than my poor outline ever was.” Fiona’s cheeks

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Chapter 43 Cousins Cross Paths

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warmed. “If you saw the childish drawing I started with, you would laugh yourself breathless.”

Harriet’s soft laugh spiraled through the perfumed air. “With a silver tongue like that, Fiona, it is no wonder Lord Soren treats you rather differently from the rest.”

Differently? Hardly. Soren only values me because I am useful, Fiona thought, bitterness flickering behind her polite smile. “I still have not worked out,” she confessed aloud, “how to persuade Roxanne to carry these beauty remedies to Penelope on our behalf.”

Harriet waved the worry away. “You needn’t fret. Lord Soren delivered them to her personally this morning.”

Soren’s signature carried weight no coin could buy. If he handled the gift himself, the extra share of profit he claimed was a tax Fiona could live with; ruthless he might be, but his results were iron–sure.

For the shop’s day–to–day management, Fiona recruited Jonathan, a former Niven estate bookkeeper disgraced for theft. The man had stolen only to pay for medicine that kept his ailing mother alive. Fiona saw that filial devotion and seized it as leverage.

She hired the best physician for the invalid, praised Jonathan’s devotion to her face, yet let him glimpse the steel beneath the silk–betray her, and those precious medicines would vanish.

“The theft at the Zonfrillo Estate has haunted my sleep for years,” Jonathan said, eyes shining with tears. “Ms. Fiona, you trust me still–rest easy. I will never betray you.”

With that pledge in place, Fiona finally dared breathe. The shop, at last, felt secure.

“I rarely meet Lord Soren myself,” she told Harriet with deliberate sweetness. “If you cross paths with him, please convey my gratitude.”

Harriet tilted her head. “He is recuperating alone on Frostenden Mountain. Should you wish to thank him, find a reason to visit. A closer bond with Lord Soren could only benefit the Niven family.”

Harriet would never have spoken so plainly had it not been for Vincent’s sake, and Fiona knew it.

Still, the hint took root. A few days later, Fiona slipped out of the Niven estate alone, clothes disguised beneath a gentleman’s brocade robe. She borrowed a carriage from Clear Sky Pavilion and headed toward the snow–draped ridges of Frostenden Mountain. It was her first true venture beyond guarded gates. Powerless to fight even a chicken, she clenched her gloved hands, praying the road remained as honest as Duflana’s countryside was reputed to be.

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Chapter 43 Cousins Cross Paths

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From the lodge high above, Soren’s keen gaze caught the figure at once–a “young man” in ornate robes, stooping to break a single plum blossom before tiptoeing up the serpentine path, every step placed with the caution of a doe on ice.

The walk, graceful yet endearingly timid, betrayed her. Who but the Niven family’s pampered fourth daughter moved with that softly sheltered sway?

At the lodge door, Soren was practicing his sword skills, his blade slashing the air like a hawk stooping for prey. Each stroke split wind and powdered snow alike, flakes bursting around him in pale explosions.

In a blink, the sword whistled toward the threshold–toward Fiona–its icy edge hovering a breath from her throat.