Free Web NovelChapter 154: The Smile That Means More Than It Says
Chapter 153: The Smile That Means More Than It Says
Lyria’s POV
Duke Thorncrest tilted his head slightly at the question, his smile not fading in the least.
"Is it wrong," he asked lightly, "that I smile so often?"
There was no defensiveness in his tone. If anything, there was curiosity—as though he found the question more interesting than offensive.
Lady Mirelle regarded him calmly.
"The people wish to understand," she said, "whether there is a reason behind it."
He considered that for a moment, though the expression on his face suggested he already had his answer long before the question had been asked.
"To be quite honest," he said, "there is no grand reason behind it."
"The world is... rather large," he continued, his tone easy. "And within it, both good and bad things occur. That much is unavoidable."
He leaned back just slightly in his seat, relaxed in a way that seemed entirely natural to him and entirely out of place in such a formal setting.
"But I find myself wondering," he went on, "what benefit there is in refusing to smile simply because unpleasant things exist."
His gaze moved briefly across the hall, not settling on anyone in particular.
"More often than not," he said, "the good outweighs the bad—if one is willing to see it."
There was a quiet sincerity beneath the lightness of his tone now.
"And so," he added, "I smile because there is much to be pleased about."
He paused.
Then, as though remembering himself, his smile widened just slightly.
"And," he said, "if I may add—"
"I also smile," he continued, "so that those who see it might find reason to do the same."
His gaze softened, just a fraction.
"If someone is having a difficult day," he said, "and they happen to see me smiling... perhaps it will lighten their mood, even if only slightly."
"Of course," he added after a beat, the lightness returning fully, "there is also the matter of my appearance."
Lady Mirelle’s brow lifted faintly.
"I am, after all, quite handsome," he said without the slightest hint of shame.
"If I were to frown constantly," he continued, "I might very well lose that advantage."
That earned a faint, amused shake of the head from Lady Mirelle.
"I cannot be like certain individuals I am acquainted with," he added thoughtfully. "Forever scowling, as though the world has personally offended them."
As he spoke, his gaze flicked briefly toward Baron Redwick.
Then, just as quickly, toward Lucian.
I noticed it.
And despite myself, a small sound of amusement escaped me. I lifted my hand slightly, covering it before it could become anything more noticeable.
Lady Mirelle allowed a small smile to touch her lips before she composed herself once more.
"I see," she said.
There was a brief pause before she continued.
"Now," she added, "this is a hypothetical question."
Duke Thorncrest inclined his head slightly, still smiling.
"If," she continued, "you were to find yourself drawn to someone who is not a Moon candidate—"
"That will not occur," he said, cutting in without hesitation.
The shift was subtle.
But it was there.
For all his lightness, for all the ease in his manner, there was something firm beneath it now.
"I did not come here without purpose," he continued. "Nor did I enter this selection without intent."
His tone remained pleasant.
But there was no room for misinterpretation.
"I have a reason for being here," he said. "And I intend to see it through."
Lady Mirelle was quiet for a moment.
I watched her carefully.
She was observing him now quite differently from how she observed Lucian.
Duke Thorncrest met her gaze without wavering.
Then, after a brief moment, she nodded.
"Very well," she said. "Then perhaps you may tell us something of yourself."
His smile returned easily, as though the brief firmness had never been there at all.
"I suspect there is little need to repeat my name," he said lightly. "It has already been stated."
"I enjoy humour," he continued. "That, I believe, is quite evident."
"It is also my preference that those around me possess the ability to understand it," he added, his tone thoughtful. "Though, unfortunately, that is not always the case."
Again, that subtle glance—toward the same two individuals.
I lowered my gaze slightly, hiding the amusement that threatened to show more openly this time.
"I enjoy running," he went on, "particularly in my wolf form. There is something to be said for the feeling of wind against one’s skin... and through one’s hair."
There was a quiet murmur at that.
"It is... freeing," he added.
He paused briefly before continuing.
"I have recently come to the conclusion that brown is not an entirely disagreeable colour," he said.
My fingers stilled slightly at my side. I wondered for what reason he could be saying that.
"I appreciate art, as well as those who are willing to learn," he continued. "Those who understand that knowledge is not something one simply possesses, but something one continues to build."
There was a steadiness to his tone now, though the smile remained.
"I value those who know when to act," he added, "and when to step back. When to advance... and when retreat is the wiser choice."
Lady Mirelle listened without interruption.
"And," he continued, the lightness returning once more, "I possess a rather notable fondness for sweets."
"I would not be opposed," he added, "to sharing them under the appropriate circumstances."
There was a brief pause.
"I am also quite fond of horses."
This time, he looked at me, his gaze resting on me.
"And," he added, a faint glint in his eyes, "I find myself particularly drawn to individuals who possess a certain... mischievous quality."
Heat rose to my face before I could stop it.
I lowered my gaze quickly, though I was certain the reaction had not gone entirely unnoticed.
A soft chuckle followed from him, quiet but unmistakable.
Lady Mirelle cleared her throat lightly, though there was still a trace of amusement in her expression.
"Thank you, Your Grace," she said. "That will be all."
Duke Thorncrest inclined his head with easy grace before rising from his seat.
He stepped away without hurry, as though the entire exchange had been nothing more than a pleasant conversation.
The next names were called in succession. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
The interviews continued.
One after another.
Voices rose and fell in measured tones. Answers were given. Questions were asked. The rhythm of the hall settled into something steady, almost predictable.
I listened.
But not closely.
My attention drifted.
Not entirely, but enough that the words being spoken no longer held my full focus.
When Marquess Corvin Hale was called, I... well, I pretended as though I could not hear anything at all. I had been listening at first, but it was boring and of no interest, so I decided not to do so anymore.
By the time the interview moved on again, I was only half-aware of the transition until it was Earl Hawthorne’s turn.
My gaze lifted slightly.
He stepped forward with a visible hint of nervousness, though he attempted to compose himself as he took his seat. And I paid attention, but one thing stood out to me—even at this point, Duke Valenridge was still not present, and I wondered what it was that was going on and why he was not present.
