Free Web NovelChapter 173: I’m Always Here
A faint blush colored Yvaine’s cheeks.
"What can I do?" she said helplessly. "He’s the one who’s nervous."
Beside her, Lance grinned like a fool, unable to hide his happiness even if he tried.
Yvaine took a seat and turned toward Caelith.
"Sister, I heard the cloth merchant came by today?"
Caelith nodded. "He came to offer us compensation."
Yvaine blinked in surprise. "Compensation? Why?"
Caelith recounted the morning’s events, explaining how Flinn Proville had returned with the remaining bolts of defective fabric and attempted to repay the losses.
After hearing everything, Yvaine fell silent for a moment.
"Sister... this matter..."
"Someone is manipulating things from behind the curtain," Caelith said quietly. "Flinn Proville is nothing more than a scapegoat."
The color drained from Yvaine’s face.
"Who?"
Caelith did not answer, but she already had a name in mind. What she lacked was proof.
Near the doorway, Erian stood with his back turned toward them.
At first glance, he appeared entirely uninterested. Yet every word spoken inside the room reached his ears.
And none escaped his notice.
***
That evening, Rhaegar returned. For once, he actually came home early. The sun had not yet completely disappeared beyond the horizon when he stepped through the courtyard gate.
Caelith was in the kitchen preparing supper. Hearing movement outside, she leaned out through the doorway.
"Have you eaten?"
"Not yet."
"Then wait."
Rhaegar walked to the entrance of the kitchen and leaned casually against the doorframe.
There he remained, watching her.
Her sleeves were rolled up to her forearms, exposing elegant wrists pale as carved jade.
The fire burning beneath the stove cast a warm glow across her features, painting her cheeks with soft shades of crimson and gold.
For a long time, he simply looked at her, completely fascinated.
Caelith eventually became aware of his gaze. It lingered far too openly to ignore.
"What are you staring at?"
A smile tugged at the corners of Rhaegar’s lips.
"You." The answer came without hesitation.
The blush already coloring her face deepened instantly. Lowering her head, she returned her attention to the pan, determined not to look at him.
Several moments later, Rhaegar spoke again.
"Flinn Proville came today, I hear?"
Caelith’s hand paused. She turned her head, her eyebrows arched.
"How do you know?"
Rhaegar did not answer, offering her a hinting smile.
Realization dawned on her right away. "You had people watching?"
Pushing himself away from the doorway, he crossed the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
"Always."
Caelith froze briefly. Then she sighed.
"I’m not a child."
Rhaegar rested his chin lightly against her shoulder.
"I know." His voice softened. "But I worry all the same."
For a moment, neither spoke. The only sounds were the crackling fire and the gentle simmering of food.
Eventually, Caelith extinguished the flames and transferred the dishes onto serving plates.
Then she turned to face him.
"What have you discovered?"
Rhaegar shrugged, his face calm and almost indifferent.
"You already know."
Caelith nodded. "Lady Marina."
Rhaegar decided to refrain from confirming her guess.
"Is it her?"
The silence stretched. At last, he nodded.
"I’ll handle it."
Caelith immediately shook her head.
"No."
For the first time, genuine surprise crossed his face. "No?"
She met his gaze directly.
"She came after me." Her voice was calm. "I’ll deal with her myself."
For a long moment, Rhaegar said nothing, simply staring at her as he admired the unwavering strength that had always drawn him toward her.
Finally, he reached out and pulled her into his arms once more.
"Don’t wear yourself out. If it’s too much, I am always here to help."
Caelith rested her forehead against his chest, smiling at his reassurance.
"I know."
***
The following morning, Caelith paid a visit to the Walerick residence.
Standing before the grand gates, she asked the gatekeeper to announce her arrival.
The servant disappeared inside. Several minutes later, he returned, his expression was somewhat strange.
"Miss Caelith..." He hesitated. "Our young lady says... she will not receive visitors today."
Caelith nodded calmly.
"Very well. then"
Without argument, she turned to leave. She had taken only a few steps when a voice called out behind her.
"Miss Caelith."
She stopped and turned. Marina stood at the entrance, a gentle smile curving her lips.
"I changed my mind. Since you’ve already come all this way," she said warmly, "wouldn’t you like to come inside and sit for a while?"
Caelith looked at her, examining her appearance. Those eyes curved pleasantly. That smile appeared sincere. Yet she knew better––beneath that sweetness lurked something entirely different.
Something calculating. Something patient. Something dangerous.
For weeks, they had circled one another from afar. Now, at last, they stood face to face.
The chilly breeze drifted through the street between them. Neither woman looked away.
And for the first time, the masks they wore seemed just a little thinner than before.
Caelith turned back without hesitation. Then she followed Marina through the gates of the Walerick residence.
The estate’s rear garden was vast and exquisitely maintained. Artificial hills rose among winding stone paths, streams murmured beneath elegant bridges, and flowering shrubs stretched beneath the fading autumn sunlight. The entire scene possessed the refined beauty of a noble household whose wealth had accumulated over generations.
Marina led her to a pavilion overlooking a lotus pond.
Servants quickly arranged tea and delicate refreshments before withdrawing.
The two women sat facing one another.
Marina lifted the teapot and poured a cup for Caelith herself.
"Miss Caelith," she said with a pleasant smile, "what brings you here today?"
Caelith looked directly at her, her expression unchanging.
"Lady Walerick, let us not waste time circling around the matter."
For the briefest moment, Marina’s hand paused. Then the smile returned just as seamlessly.
"What is it you wish to say?"
Without a word, Caelith removed the faded handkerchief from her sleeve and placed it upon the table. The ruined embroidery lay between them like a silent accusation.
"The fabric used for this batch was sold to Sir Flinn Proville by your people."
Marina lowered her gaze to the handkerchief. The smile never left her face.
"Do you have proof?"
"No."
A faint laugh escaped Marina’s lips.
"Then on what grounds do you accuse me?"
Caelith simply watched her laugh. The stillness between them felt heavier than any argument.
Marina lifted her teacup and took a leisurely sip.
"Miss Caelith," she said at last, "I know you dislike me."
She set the cup down gently, her fingers sliding over the rim.
"To be honest, I do not particularly like you either."
Her eyes lifted, piercing her with their sharpness.
"And yet," she continued softly, "there is nothing you can do about me."
The words were spoken with perfect politeness. Yet beneath the elegance lay naked provocation.
Caelith rose to her feet, pinning the other woman down with her glare.
Marina simply tilted her head. "Leaving already?"
Caelith flashed a quick smile down at her opponent.
"I only came here to tell you one thing."
Marina tensed. Caelith’s voice was calm, but every syllable carried suffocating weight.
"Do not touch the people around me."
Before Marina could respond, Caelith turned and walked away. She never looked back.
Behind her, Marina remained seated in the pavilion.
The smile lingering on her face slowly faded.
Bit by bit. Until nothing remained.
Only cold anger.
***
Outside the Walerick residence, Erian was waiting, too. He stood beneath the shadow of a stone lion, motionless as a sentinel carved from granite.
The moment he saw Caelith emerge, he stepped forward.
"Are you alright?"
Caelith nodded. "I’m fine."
Together, they began the journey back.
The afternoon sun slanted across the streets, painting long shadows upon the cobblestones.
After a time, Erian spoke again. "It was her."
Caelith did not ask who he meant. "I know."
His gaze lingered on her profile.
"What will you do?"
For several moments, she said nothing. The truth was that she did not know herself.
Marina possessed everything that mattered in the eyes of society.
A prestigious family. Political influence. A father who stood among the highest officials of the empire.
And Caelith? She possessed neither rank nor powerful connections.
Only herself. Only patience. Only the hope that one day Marina would make a mistake large enough to expose the truth.
But would she? Caelith was no longer certain.
***
That afternoon, an unexpected visitor arrived at Firefly Pavilion.
A maid from the Thorne Manor stood at the entrance, smiling politely.
"Miss Caelith, the Dowager Lady wishes to speak with you."
Caelith looked up in surprise. Rhaegar’s grandmother wanted to see her?
"Now?"
The maid nodded. "The carriage is already waiting."
A strange feeling stirred within her chest. She agreed, then changed into a fresh dress and followed the servant outside.
Erian immediately moved to accompany her. Before he could step forward, the maid blocked his path.
"The Dowager Lady requested only Miss Caelith."
Erian’s eyes shifted toward Caelith. There was evident concern within them.
Caelith shook her head, smiling gently. "It’s alright. Stay."
The carriage doors closed. Moments later, it rolled away.
Erian remained standing in the street long after it disappeared from sight. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm
A faint crease formed between his brows. Something about the summons unsettled him greatly.
***
At the Northern Duke’s Manor, the Dowager Lady was waiting within her private courtyard.
The elderly matriarch sat upon a raised couch surrounded by tea and freshly prepared pastries.
The moment she saw Caelith enter, her face brightened.
"Come here, child."
Caelith approached and took the seat beside her. The Dowager Lady clasped her hand warmly.
"You’ve grown thinner."
Caelith only smiled. "I haven’t."
The old woman studied her quietly. Then she sighed.
"I heard about what happened at Firefly Pavilion."
Caelith stiffened, expecting a scolding.
The Dowager Lady continued.
"I raised Marina before my eyes. I know exactly what sort of temperament she possesses."
Silence settled between them. The old woman looked directly at her.
"What do you intend to do?"
Caelith lowered her gaze. After a moment of contemplation, she answered honestly.
"I have no evidence to make a move."
The Dowager Lady nodded.
"Without evidence, there is little that can be done, true."
She lifted her teacup and took a thoughtful sip.
Then she added quietly, "But you have me."
Caelith froze.
The Dowager Lady set down her cup.
"That child is proud and reckless. She has never learned where her limits lie."
A hint of steel entered her voice.
"It seems I shall have to remind her."
Emotion suddenly tightened in Caelith’s throat.
For weeks she had stood alone against accusations, schemes, and hidden enemies. She had prepared herself to continue fighting alone.
She had not expected support.
Least of all from the woman before her. She was convinced that Marina was just a part of her scheme to push her away from Rhaegar.
But maybe... she had made a rather big mistake in judging her so fast.
"My Lady..."
The old woman chuckled softly.
"What a foolish girl."
Her wrinkled hand patted Caelith’s gently.
"If you are to marry my grandson, then stop calling me My Lady."
Her eyes softened. "Call me Grandmother."
The simple words struck far deeper than any grand declaration.
A warmth spread through Caelith’s chest, bringing an unexpected sting to her eyes.
For the first time in many days, the weight pressing upon her heart felt slightly lighter.
***
By the time she departed the Duke’s Manor, evening was beginning to fall. The sky glowed with fading gold and violet light.
Inside the carriage, Caelith leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Her thoughts were hopelessly tangled.
The Dowager Lady’s support was undoubtedly a blessing.
Yet would Marina truly surrender?
Would a woman who had already gone so far simply abandon her ambitions?
Caelith doubted it.
As the carriage rolled through the darkening streets, one certainty remained.
This matter was far from over. The true storm had not yet arrived.
