A Touch of Shadow: The Duke's Obsession

Chapter 172: Expecting

Erian left. The door closed behind him with a sharp click.

Marina remained seated alone in the private room, watching the closed door with a cold grin. Watching the place where he had disappeared.

Little by little, the smile faded from her face completely.

Until only coldness remained.

***

After that night, Erian changed again.

He still guarded the rear courtyard. He still chopped firewood and carried water each day.

But he kept a greater distance from Caelith.

The burning intensity that had once lingered in his gaze appeared less often now.

Caelith noticed the difference, too. To her surprise, she felt relieved.

And yet... Beneath that relief lingered an unease she could not explain.

Something felt wrong. Something was shifting beyond her sight.

She simply could not determine what. And she hated that nothing could remain the same around her.

***

Rhaegar had been returning later and later these days. Whenever he came back, the faint scent of blood clung to him. Each time she asked, he merely said that official cases were piling up.

And each time, she believed him.

What she did not know was how many dangers he had already crushed before they ever reached her.

The men who had been watching Firefly Pavilion had quietly disappeared one after another.

Those who intended harm had been invited away for "tea" by the Imperial Guard long before they could act.

Threats were extinguished before they could become visible.

Yet Rhaegar never spoke of any of it. And Caelith remained blissfully unaware.

***

Not long afterward, joyful news arrived from Yvaine’s household.

She was expecting a child.

The moment Lance learned the news, he became nearly impossible to endure. The usually steady man transformed into an overexcited fool.

Every day he found an excuse to visit Firefly Pavilion. Every day he spoke about the baby. Every day he insisted that Caelith, as the child’s aunt, should be the one to choose a name.

For the first time in many weeks, genuine laughter returned to the pavilion.

Even Caelith found herself smiling. It was the first truly happy news she had received in a long while.

Watching Yvaine rest a protective hand over the slight curve of her abdomen, Caelith felt a faint, unexpected ache in her heart.

A trace of envy. A quiet longing.

But she said nothing. Some thoughts were better left unspoken.

That evening, she sat alone in the courtyard watching the moon.

Not far away, beneath the old locust tree, Erian crouched with his back turned toward her.

Neither spoke. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

The night wind carried a touch of autumn chill. Caelith pulled her robe closer around her shoulders.

Then she rose and returned to her room.

Behind her, Erian slowly turned his head. His gaze followed her retreating figure until she disappeared beyond the doorway.

He continued looking long after she was gone.

Only then did he lower his eyes once more.

The moon hung bright overhead.

Yet within the darkness gathering beyond the courtyard walls, something unseen was drawing nearer.

At dawn, before the first sunlight had fully broken across the rooftops, a commotion erupted outside the alley.

The noise woke Caelith from sleep. Throwing on an outer robe, she pushed open her door.

Several men stood outside the courtyard gate.

Leading them was a middle-aged merchant dressed in an expensive charcoal uniform. Behind him, two servants carried several bolts of fabric.

The sight immediately stirred a sense of familiarity.

The merchant stepped forward and cupped his hands respectfully.

"Miss Emberlyn?"

She nodded.

"I’m Flinn Proville, proprietor of the Proville Family Cloth House in the eastern district."

"What brings you here so early, Mr. Proville?"

The merchant stepped aside, while the servants lowered the bolts of fabric.

The moment Caelith saw them, her heart sank.

She walked over and examined them carefully. There was no mistake––these were the very same fabrics that had caused trouble for Firefly Pavilion.

The colors had faded horribly. The ruined dyes matched the defective handkerchief exactly.

"Mr. Proville," she began, "this fabric..."

"Miss Emberlyn." He interrupted her with a troubled sigh. "I came here today to apologize."

Caelith paused. Genuine surprise flickered across her face. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

Mr. Proville bowed his head.

"I allowed greed to cloud my judgment. I accepted fabric from an unknown supplier and sold it without proper verification."

His expression was filled with regret.

"I never imagined it would damage Firefly Pavilion’s reputation."

He gestured toward the remaining bolts.

"I’ve brought back everything that was left."

Then he reached into his coat and withdrew a heavy money pouch.

"I am also prepared to compensate you with twice the amount of your losses."

Holding the pouch with both hands, he offered it forward.

Caelith did not take it. Instead, she looked directly at him, her eyes narrowed.

"Mr. Proville." Her voice was calm. "Who sold you the fabric?"

For the briefest moment, his eyes flickered.

"This..." He forced a smile. "I don’t know. I only met the person once."

Caelith said nothing.

At some point, Erian had emerged from the rear courtyard and taken up a position behind her.

Mr. Proville glanced toward him, and the moment their eyes met, his face changed.

A trace of panic surfaced.

"Miss Emberlyn," he said hurriedly, "the silver is yours, the remaining fabric is yours. Let us end this matter here."

Without waiting for a response, he placed the money pouch on the ground. Then he turned and hurried away with his servants.

Caelith watched him go, her frown deepening. Beside her, Erian stepped forward.

"Should I follow him?"

Caelith shook her head. "No need."

She crouched beside the discarded fabric. Running her fingers over the ruined cloth, she studied it carefully.

Mr. Proville’s appearance had come too conveniently. Too suddenly. As though someone had pushed him forward. As though someone wanted this matter buried.

And that realization only deepened her suspicions.

***

One afternoon, Yvaine arrived for a visit. Her stomach had only begun to show, yet she walked with exaggerated caution.

Lance hovered beside her like a loyal guard protecting a priceless treasure.

Every step she took made him nervous. Every slight movement earned a worried glance.

Watching them, Caelith could not help laughing.

"Really?" Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Is all of this necessary? It’s only been three months, and your wife is very healthy."

The moment the words left her lips, Yvaine burst into laughter while Lance immediately straightened with righteous seriousness.

To him, three months or nine months made no difference.

As far as he was concerned, both mother and child were treasures more precious than his own life.