My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 53

Chapter 53 Stirrings Of The Heart

Chapter 53 Stirrings Of The Heart

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He sighed. “Women don’t seem to favor my sort. The admission tasted foreign on his tongue, seasoned with a hint of doubt he had never allowed before.

He knew the battlefield rewarded blunt efficiency; social halls rewarded charm. Sweet talkers won smiles long before swordsmen did.

Yet determination hardened his gaze. He had mastered strategy, cavalry, siege, and blade; he could learn the language of compliments as well. Let the right woman become his wife, and he would lace every dawn with words soft as rose petals, proof that steel could also sing.

Naomi’s curiosity finally bubbled over. “And which lady, exactly, has captured your attention?”

Callum hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fiona,” he confessed at last. “Few know she was once considered for Soren, so talk will be scarce. I, for one, don’t mind the past.”

“And what about your mom?” Naomi asked, her eyes gleaming with the promise of fresh intrigue.

Callum let out a long breath, the muscles between his shoulder blades finally unclenching as though someone had lifted a hidden millstone from his back. “Mother always follows my lead.” he said, the quiet certainty in his voice smoothing the air between them. “If I say yes, she will echo it without hesitation, so put that worry out of your mind.”

Unlike his elder brother, Callum was not destined to inherit the Zonfrillo Estate, nor did any real power sit in his hands. At best, he would someday stand behind Soren, advising. interpreting, steadier than a shadow yet never quite in the light.

Those altered expectations left doors ajar that remained bolted for Soren. A match with the formidable Niven family–politically impossible for an heir–was, for Callum, a perfectly acceptable avenue.

Once, Callum had envied Soren’s glittering title, imagining the thrill of having every courtier’s knee bend at your approach. Today, he felt the cleaner exhilaration of choi the lightness. that came from knowing no chain was fastened to his wrist.

“When we are back in Jexburgh,” Callum said, his fingertips tapping a restless rhythm against the lacquered map case, “I’ll quietly ask around the Niven Estate and learn exactly what they think of me. If Fiona’s heart turns in the same direction, I will walk through their gates in broad daylight and lay my proposal at her family’s feet.”

“You have my full support, Callum,” Naomi said, her smile bright but her gaze flicking toward the corridor where Soren usually appeared, as though already wondering how Soren would

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Chapter 53 Stirrings Of The Heart

take the news.

Fiona would make a splendid sister–in–law.

Determined, Callum paid another visit to Winnifred, and laid out his intentions with a frankness that surprised even him.

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“If you truly wish for her, I’ll see what strings can be pulled,” Winnifred said with a soft laugh. “It’s rare enough to find someone who catches your eye–let alone awakens that slow–burning heart of yours. Let’s not waste the chance merely because my wooden–headed son was slow to recognize it.”

Winnifred knew her husband’s affection tilted toward their firstborn. Tristan. She had long decided that, in matters of marriage, she would tip the scales back toward Callum, giving the second son at least one arena where he was cherished first.

“Thank you, Mother,” Callum said, the formality sitting awkwardly on his usually self–reliant

tongue.

Winnifred could not help shaking her head: never in his fiercely independent childhood had Callum uttered words like that. “Go to Broadmoor with an easy mind,” she told him, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from his cloak. I’ll make discreet inquiries while you’re away. If, when you return, both your match and Soren’s can be settled, the estate will overflow with celebration.”

Reassured by her promise, Callum turned his full attention to preparations for the northern campaign, mind no longer split between duty and the quiet throb of his heart.

A few days later, the two young lords of the Zonfrillo Estate rode out of Jexburgh one after the other, banners snapping in the crisp dawn. Emperor Aldric himself accompanied them to the city gates, a rare honor that told every onlooker just how highly the brothers were regarded.

“Who can say when Mr. Callum and Mr. Soren will return?” someone in the crowd murmured, craning for a last glimpse of the departing riders.

“By the time they do, their marriages will surely be arranged. I wonder which families will claim such prizes.”

The remark drew a soft, knowing scoff from a man in a plum–colored cloak. “You think the choices haven’t already been made? These are the Zonfrillo brothers–we can be certain the matches were decided weeks ago. They’re only waiting for the proper moment to announce them.”

For a few days, the departure of Soren and Callum remained on every lip, tavern tables vibrating with speculation. Then, as always in Jexburgh, fresh intrigues surfaced, and talk of

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Chapter 53 Stirrings Of The Heart

the brothers drifted away like smoke on a shifting wind.

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Such was Jexburgh: an endless stage where new performances rushed in before the final. applause of the previous act had even faded.

Since leaving the palace, Fiona had remained within the Niven Estate, venturing beyond its gates only in daydreams. The horsemanship exam was drawing near, and she refused to let a single skill rust through idleness. Meanwhile, preparations for Ulrich’s wedding to Yolanda. turned the estate into a humming workshop of silks, schedules, and carefully edited guest lists.

Joanna had begun appearing at the second branch far more frequently, her habitual hauteur softened by necessity; she needed Meryl’s unerring taste to ensure her son’s wedding feast. earned every whispered compliment.

This very day she pressed Meryl into composing the wedding invitations, for the older woman’s calligraphy had once won competitions and still flowed like spring water across. parchment.

Out of respect for the Niven family name, Meryl poured her full attention into each sweeping stroke.

“Once Ully is safely married, it will be Fiona’s and Vincent’s turn next,” Joanna said, the prospect warming her tone in a way few had ever heard.

Meryl sat back, allowing the lamplight to spill over the letter she had been reading. In that warm glow she counted her blessings–one daughter already well married, a son on the verge of passing the highest examinations. If Ulrich won the laurels next spring, every drawing room. in Jexburgh would whisper her name as the mother who trained her children to perfection.

“Yet here we are with no suitor even sketched in for Fiona,” Joanna said, glancing toward the girl. Her tone, honey–smooth on the surface, carried the faintest sting of accusation.

Meryl’s smile tightened. She could not pretend she felt no worry. After the New Year, another handful of eligible young men became engaged, and the circled

which she might choose shrank like frost beneath morning sun.

Fiona’s age made matters awkward. Two years older and the field would be wide; two years younger and choices would again abound. Fate had placed her in the single lull between generations–too old for the boys just born, too young for those already promised. If Meryl pledged her now, the match would feel rushed. Wait too long, and only children would

remain.