Free Web NovelChapter 179: Ink and Silence
Chapter 178: Ink and Silence
Lyria’s POV
For a moment, I thought perhaps I had misread what I had seen.
Perhaps it had not been a look of disgust at all.
Perhaps it had been nothing more than the angle of light upon Duke Thorncrest’s expression.
That seemed more reasonable, and even more acceptable.
And yet... it was untrue. free𝑤ebnovel.com
When my gaze drifted back toward him, he was already looking at me.
Our eyes met across the space between the tables, across the stillness that stretched between suitors, observers, and expectation itself.
He did not hold it long.
Just long enough for me to notice.
Then, very faintly, his lips tilted up in a smirk.
It was small and courteous in its execution, as though even amusement in this place had to observe etiquette.
And then he turned away.
I did not understand how those two expressions could appear in the span of a second on his face, but I thought nothing of it.
I turned my attention forward once more, letting the moment settle into silence where it belonged.
Whatever that had meant, it was not something I could afford to dwell upon.
A movement at the far end of the hall drew my attention.
A footman stepped forward.
His uniform was precise, every seam aligned with the discipline expected of palace service. He came to a stop at the centre where all eyes could reach him, and bowed with practiced ease.
When he spoke, his voice carried clearly through the hall.
"By decree of the Crown," he said, "the first trial shall now commence."
A pause followed his words.
"All suitor candidates have thirty minutes," he continued, "to compose an original piece upon the assigned theme, home."
His gaze moved evenly across the hall, landing on the suitor candidates.
"You are reminded," he added, "that upon the ringing of the bell, all writing shall cease immediately."
A slight tightening of his posture accompanied the next words.
"Any candidate found still holding a pen after the signal will be penalised accordingly."
Then, more formally still—
"Further instruction shall be provided upon completion of the time."
He stepped back half a pace.
"And may the Goddess watch over this endeavour."
With that, he bowed once more.
And withdrew.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. There was only silence, and then a bell rang, signalling the beginning of the competition.
And in that instant, the hall changed.
Pens were lifted.
Ink met parchment.
The quiet tension dissolved into focused stillness.
Every suitor moved.
Except not all in the same way.
I watched them without meaning to at first.
It was difficult not to.
Duke Thorncrest took his pen between his fingers but did not begin at once. Instead, he turned it between his fingertips, as though testing its weight. As though the act of writing itself required consideration beyond mere instruction.
Baron Redwick lowered his gaze immediately to the parchment before him.
His expression tightened slightly. And perhaps it was because I had spent a bit of time with him that I knew it was in concentration as he gathered his thoughts.
Lucian stood in much the same manner.
It struck me faintly then how similar they looked in that moment, though I doubted either would appreciate the comparison.
I found it amusing, and I might have laughed under different circumstances.
Earl Hawthorne, however, looked as though the parchment itself had become an accusation.
His lips pressed together. Then parted slightly, as if he meant to speak to no one in particular. No sound came. Instead, he exhaled through his nose and shook his head once, as though trying to dislodge a thought before it could settle properly.
Then he bent forward, finally beginning.
Duke Valenridge did not move at all.
For several minutes, he remained exactly as he was when the bell had sounded.
Unbothered.
His gaze was not even fixed upon the parchment at first, but somewhere beyond it, as though the concept of writing itself was something occurring at a distance from him rather than something he was required to participate in.
I noticed, faintly, that Lucian glanced up several times during those early minutes.
And every time, his expression was one of exasperation.
It was controlled, and perhaps others would not notice, but I did... perhaps it was because we were becoming a bit closer, like I was with the others.
For a brief moment, I had the entirely improper thought that he looked as though he might physically move Duke Valenridge himself into action.
But he did not.
Instead, he lowered his gaze every time and continued writing.
Time passed.
The hall remained filled with the sound of ink meeting parchment, soft movements of pens, and the occasional shift of posture.
Fifteen minutes in, Duke Valenridge still had not written a single word.
I became aware then that others were noticing it as well.
Not in any way that could be considered improper.
But awareness in a room like this did not require speech.
It simply existed.
Then, at around the ten-minute mark, something changed.
With visible reluctance—almost as though he were yielding to pressure he had only just acknowledged—Duke Valenridge finally lowered his gaze fully.
He picked up his pen.
And began to write.
A quiet exhale seemed to pass through parts of the room.
Lucian’s shoulders eased ever so slightly.
Baron Redwick’s frown lessened, and he gave a small nod, as if he too was relieved.
Earl Hawthorne’s pen did not pause, but he too exhaled.
Duke Thorncrest’s smile widened, and I caught a brief moment when he closed his eyes and exhaled too.
I found myself noticing something I had not expected to notice at all.
They had all been watching him.
Even while pretending not to. freēwebnovel.com
I did not understand what that meant.
Or why it mattered.
But it did.
I glanced across the hall briefly, as though checking whether anyone else had observed the same thing.
No one appeared to react.
Or perhaps they simply hid it better than I did.
There was silence for a while.
And the slow, steady passing of minutes toward something none of us could yet see.
