Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 232: The Comeback of the General’s Daughter

There were more whispers. Lara, who has far better hearing than normal humans, heard their words. They lingered like ghosts, flickering from one corner of the courtyard to another.

Lara could feel their eyes—sharp and assessing—dragging over her plain dress, her travel-worn boots, the braid that hung loose over her shoulder. She held her head high, meeting their curious stares with a gaze that did not waver until Freya’s gentle voice grabbed her attention.

"Husband," she started, her hand grasping Lara’s wrist. "You and Asael can handle the ceremonies if you can’t wait for me. I’ll help Lara get dressed." Her words hung in the air for only a heartbeat before she turned, gliding toward a side door, pulling Lara along with her.

Lara barely had time to glance back, catching a glimpse of Mira standing stiffly, her smile frozen mid-blossom, brittle and unyielding. Freya didn’t look back—didn’t even pause to acknowledge Mira’s presence.

The birthday celebrant remained rooted to the spot, fingers curled against the silken folds of her gown. For two long years, she had filled the emptiness left by Lara’s disappearance, had soothed and served and smiled until her cheeks ached. Now, Freya brushed past her as if she was air. How dare she?

Mira’s chest tightened, her hands smoothing the fabric of her skirts to keep her composure. The smile remained—a delicate thing, perfectly sculpted—but the light in her eyes had dimmed. For a moment, she watched the door through which Freya and Lara had vanished. Her mind swirled with thoughts, which she quickly pushed away. But before she could continue to dwell on the sting of abandonment, she was distracted by a commotion at the door.

A servant burst through the heavy wooden doors, breathless and flushed. His voice rang out, clear and crisp over the murmurs of the guests. "His Highness, Prince Reuben, and Prince Alderan have arrived!"

Gasps were heard from the crowd, especially from the young ladies.

The courtyard shifted like water rippling in a breeze. Heads turned, voices hushed to whispers threaded with excitement and awe.

General Odin straightened, his posture snapping to rigid formality. His sons—tall and broad-shouldered—moved to flank him in practiced unison. Together, they strode to the entrance to greet the royal guests, boots clicking against the marble with military precision.

Mira watched them go, her hands pressed flat against her lap, fingertips white with pressure. She could hear murmurs from the young nobles praising her for her luck. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

Mira’s smile was as bright as the sun. She could hear the warm exchange of greetings from the entrance, General Odin’s voice carrying with practiced grace.

"Thank you for coming, Prince Reuben, Prince Alderan. It is a great honor for the Norse residence to welcome the two princes today."

Mira swallowed, her heart fluttering in her chest. Two princes of the royal family had come to her coming-of-age celebration. She barely registered the whispering around her, the way other noble girls glanced her way with thinly veiled envy. Mira’s smile returned, more genuine this time, eyes sparkling with pride. She had dreamed of this day—her entrance into society not just as a girl of the Norse family, but as the shining star of their household. The one who held everything together when it was unraveling.

From her corner, she craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the princes as they entered. Prince Reuben, tall and elegant, his fringe covered a part of his forehead, while the rest of his black hair swept back with the careless grace of someone who charmed so many women.

Prince Alderan followed, broader in the shoulders, his gaze sharp and assessing. Their movements were confident, fluid, and elegant.

General Odin led them toward the long, polished table at the front of the courtyard, where the most honored guests were seated.

But Prince Reuben did not sit. His gaze roamed the courtyard, eyes narrowed with purpose.

"General," he began, his voice smooth and clear, cutting through the murmur of the guests. "I heard that Lara has returned. I would like to congratulate you on finding your daughter." He spoke with the grace of royalty, but his eyes continued to sweep the gathering, restless and searching.

General Odin inclined his head, pride and relief mingling in his expression. "Yes, Your Highness. She has returned to us."

Prince Reuben’s gaze remained sharp, probing the faces around him, lingering on doorways and shadowed alcoves. His brow furrowed slightly. "I don’t see her," he remarked, voice lowering just a fraction. "Isn’t this party for her?"

Mira stiffened, the smile draining from her face so swiftly it left her lips trembling. Her party? This was her coming-of-age celebration. Hadn’t they come to her party? To see her finally take her place in society?

The prince’s words hung heavy in the air, rippling out through the crowd like a stone tossed in still water. People began to whisper, heads turning, eyes searching.

Mira’s fists clenched in her skirts, the silk crumpling beneath her grip. No, she thought fiercely. This is my day. Her eyes darted back to the entrance where Freya and Lara had disappeared, a cold spike of dread worming its way into her chest. Had Freya taken Lara away to make her presentable? To parade her back out and steal Mira’s spotlight?

For two years, Mira had been the shining light of the Norse family. The adored niece, who became the daughter. The cherished one. She wasn’t about to let that change—not even for Lara.

...

Meanwhile, at Lara’s bedroom.

"Lara, look!" Freya’s voice was rich with nostalgia as she moved to a grand wardrobe, its doors creaking open to reveal dresses wrapped in muslin and lace. She pulled one free, the fabric tumbling in cream and blush pink layers. "My coming-of-age dress," she whispered, eyes misting over. "I kept it all these years. I knew it would be for you."

Lara reached out, her fingertips brushing the delicate fabric. It was beautiful. For a moment, she was lost in its softness and the shimmer of light that danced across the silk. But more than anything, she was lost in her mother’s warmth and excitement—a feeling that was foreign to her.

"This is beautiful, Mother," Lara uttered, a genuine smile gracing her face. She let her mother and Reya fuss over her, dressing her and styling her hair.

And when they were done, Freya cried.