The Mind-Reading Mate: Why Is the Lycan King So Obsessed With Me?!

"Your mother's magic was always mysterious."Lazarus let out a heavy sigh. "Even though we trusted each other and shared countless secrets, she never spoke to me about her magic."

Iriana had rarely shown her abilities in front of others. Most of the time, she only used it to make flowers bloom in the greenhouse garden, but there was a time where she healed a bird with a broken wing.

Her magic remained a mystery, yet every time a mage visited the Duke of Illvaris's estate, they would always remark that she carried an extraordinary amount of magical energy. She would usually brush it off with nothing more than, 'Not really.'

"Besides that, she was also incredibly strong," Lazarus continued, his eyes softening with memory. "Strong enough to lift a sword I couldn't even budge. She was … magnificent."

[Back then, people mocked me for being weaker than my wife. But what did they know? My wife could dominate me and I—]

Primrose quickly shook her head, trying desperately to block out her father's thoughts. It was far too awkward to hear about her parents' sexual life!

"What's wrong, Rosie?" Lazarus asked when he noticed her shaking her head.

"No, I'm fine! Just … a little headache." She forced a smile. "But really, I'm fine, Father."

Before he could say more, Primrose hurried to change the subject. "So, Father … if Mother was that strong and magnificent, then why couldn't she heal herself?"

Her words were soft, careful, as though she was afraid they might hurt him. "Was it … because of me?"

"Oh, don't say that!" Lazarus immediately tightened his hold on her hand, his voice firm but filled with love. "You were never a mistake! Your mother was overjoyed to bring you into this world, and I believe with all my heart that even if she could turn back time, she would still choose to give birth to you again."

"How can you be so sure?" Primrose lowered her head, murmuring softly. "How could she ever choose to give birth to me again … if it meant dying in return?"

"Oh, my sweet child …," Lazarus whispered, his eyes filled with tenderness. He moved his chair closer, as if wanting to shield her from the weight of her own doubts.

He reached out and gently cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at him. His voice softened as he said, "Because your mother loved you more than she loved her own life. That's the kind of woman she was, Rosie. Brave, selfless, and stubborn in the best way."

"I forbade people from talking about this to you because I knew it would break your heart," Lazarus said, his voice low and rough. "Yes, while she was pregnant, her body grew weaker. The doctors did everything they could, but nothing worked. Still, every day she would tell me that you were the best thing that had ever happened to her."

"Back then, long before she met me … your mother once told me that her entire family had been killed by bandits."

Lazarus's voice grew heavy, as though every word pulled on old wounds. "She never spoke of it often, but when she did, her eyes would turn distant … as if she was looking at ghosts I could never see. She was the only one who survived that night."

Primrose's heart ached. She had always imagined her mother as someone surrounded by beauty and warmth, never knowing she carried such a tragic past. "She must have been so lonely," she whispered.

Lazarus nodded slowly. "She was. But even then, she carried herself with strength. She told me once that the flowers she grew in the greenhouse were her way of remembering her family. Each bloom was a life she had lost … and nurturing them gave her comfort."

"She also told me that she truly wished to have a child to carry on her family's legacy, something that had been stolen from her when the bandits took everyone else away." He added, "That's why, Rosie … she chose you. You were her hope, her future, her way of keeping her loved ones alive through blood and memory."

He paused, his eyes glistening as his voice cracked. "Even though it broke me to lose her, I take comfort in one thing. I know … I know she's no longer alone. She must be with her family again in the afterlife, and because of that, I don't have to worry too much about her."

Primrose bit her lower lip, her vision blurring with tears as she tightened her grip on his hand.

One selfish question pressed at her heart, refusing to let go, why would her mother risk her life just to continue a legacy, if Primrose herself would grow up never knowing anything about it?

"Maybe the bracelet is the key to your seal, my wife." Edmund said the obvious thing, but added, "Maybe … once the seal is broken, you'll learn more about your mother too."

Primrose lifted her wrist, staring at the silver bracelet that suddenly felt far heavier than it looked.

It was her mother's last gift, her whispered words, her dying wish. It all seemed to circle back to this single piece of jewelry.

"But … how can I open the seal?" Primrose lifted her face, her eyes finding Edmund's. "I don't know anything about magic. Can you help me?"

Edmund's gaze softened as he reached across the table, brushing his fingers lightly over her wrist where the bracelet gleamed in the light. "Of course I'll help you, wife. We'll figure it out together."

"We can ask Sir Leofric, and maybe Lady Lorelle as well," Edmund said. "They're both experts in handling matters like this."

Leofric had never noticed the seal within Primrose's body, but that was only because he'd never examined her as closely as Dr. Celdric had. Still, if anyone could be trusted with such a question, he would be the right man to ask.

Aside from that, Lorelle had the ability to see things others often overlooked. Now that her pain had finally eased, she might even be able to reveal more truths to Primrose than anyone else.

"When will they come to the palace?" Primrose asked.

"Tonight, most likely," Edmund replied. "That will be the best time to bring Lady Lorelle inside without anyone from the outside noticing."

She nodded. "Alright, tonight."

After learning the truth about the silver bracelet, Lazarus no longer had any other valuable information regarding Iriana's magic. Because of that, they decided to simply talk about Iriana's life while she was still alive, something Lazarus rarely shared with Primrose because of the wound it left on his heart.

Edmund, who still had many duties to attend to that day, reluctantly left Primrose with Lazarus in the greenhouse garden. But before he went, he made sure to steal a kiss from her lips, passing along his saliva in the process.

Luckily, Primrose had brought along a folded fan and quickly lifted it to shield their deep kiss from her father's eyes. Still, when the kiss ended, Lazarus sat stiffly, his face clouded with annoyance, as if the sight alone was proof that his beloved daughter had indeed been stolen away by a shameless stray dog.

"Father, you're the one who sent me to his door," Primrose teased, chuckling softly as she caught sight of Lazarus's sulking face.

Lazarus's expression instantly shifted to guilt at his daughter's words. Once Edmund's figure was no longer in sight, he said softly, "I'm sorry about that."

"What are you sorry for?" Primrose asked as she spread strawberry jam on her scone. "Our marriage turned out to be a success in the end."

"But I still can't help but wonder … what if your marriage hadn't gone well?" Lazarus murmured, his voice heavy with worry.

Primrose let out a small, bitter chuckle. "Then I probably would have died."

Lazarus's hand froze halfway to his teacup, his eyes widening at her words. "Rosie, don't say that," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Do you realize what it does to me, hearing you speak that way?"

Primrose lowered her gaze, her lips curved in a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It was only a thought, nothing more," she said gently. Then she lifted her head and forced a brighter smile for her father's sake. "Don't worry, Father. It won't happen."

"Of course, it won't happen!" Lazarus raised his voice. "You're not allowed to die before your old father does first!"

At that moment, Primrose understood with painful clarity that her father had never been able to live properly in her past life after learning of his daughter's death. The weight of that truth pressed against her heart, making her cherish his presence even more.

"Alright, let's stop talking about death while we're both still alive." Primrose lifted a spoonful of scone and held it out toward Lazarus. "Here, eat this sweet while your butler isn't around to forbid you from having something like this."

Lazarus blinked at her, then let out a small huff of laughter despite himself. "Now you finally let your father enjoy life, instead of nagging so much about what I can and can't eat!"