A Touch of Shadow: The Duke's Obsession

The following morning, Rhaegar made his way to the halls of Ostenton Brocade.

The brocade house was already awake with the murmur of servants and the faint fragrance of sandalwood drifting through its carved corridors, yet the moment he arrived, the atmosphere seemed to freeze beneath the weight of his presence.

Without waiting for an announcement, he pushed open Lucas’ chamber doors and strode inside.

Lucas was seated behind a lacquered desk, bent over a stack of account ledgers. Candlelight flickered across his elegant features, gilding the sharp line of his jaw. At the sudden intrusion, he looked up in surprise, his brows knitting faintly.

"Lord Thorne? To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Rhaegar crossed the room in measured steps until he stood before him like a shadow cast by storm clouds, tall and imposing beneath the pale wash of daylight.

"Lord Ostenton."

The younger man slowly straightened, clearly getting a little nervous. "Yes?"

Rhaegar’s gaze was cold enough to freeze the entire city. "I know everything you have done to her."

The color drained from Lucas’ face almost instantly, making him look sickly white.

Silence spread between them, heavy as iron.

Rhaegar looked down at him, his expression darkening.

"I will give you one final chance." His voice was calm, but beneath that calm lay something terrifying. "Stay away from her. Do not test my patience anymore."

Lucas rose to his feet and met his eyes directly.

"My lord," he said quietly, "is it wrong for me to love her? Does the Imperial Law forbid one man to love another man’s woman?"

Rhaegar’s eyes narrowed, his blood pressure rising. "There is no fault in loving her." His voice darkened. "But stalking and scaring her are completely different matters."

Lucas suddenly released a small laugh. The sound was completely wrong—strained, sharp, edged with something dangerously unhinged.

"Scaring her?" he repeated. "I merely wanted her to look at me." His gaze burned with restless obsession. "In what way am I inferior to you?"

Rhaegar did not answer. Instead, he drew the dagger hanging at his waist.

The blade flashed like winter lightning before he drove it straight into the desk in front of Lucas.

A violent bang shattered the silence. The knife buried itself deep into the hardwood, the steel sinking several inches into the lacquered surface.

Lucas’ face turned deathly pale once more. He shivered, pressing himself harder against the sturdy surface of the chair.

Rhaegar leaned forward slowly, one hand braced against the desk as he stared directly into his eyes.

"If there is a next time," he said in a low voice, "this blade will not be lodged in a table. It will go right into your chest."

Then, he simply turned and left without another word.

The chamber doors slammed shut behind him.

Lucas remained motionless where he stood, staring at the dagger embedded before him.

He did not move for a very long time.

At last, he reached out and wrapped his hand around the hilt of the gleaming dagger. He tried to pull it, but the blade would not budge at all.

His jaw tightened. He tried again, using more force this time. Still, it remained unmoved. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

Lucas kept staring at the dagger in silence.

Then suddenly, he smiled.

The expression creeping across his face was enough to send a chill through the bones of anyone who saw it.

Lady Lian entered from outside carrying a tray of tea, only to freeze in horror at the sight of the weapon sunk deep into the desk.

"Lucas... this..."

The man slowly turned to look at her.

"Godmother."

Something in his eyes made her heart lurch with freezing fear.

"You... you mustn’t do anything foolish. You mustn’t!"

He smiled again, softer this time, though somehow even colder.

"Foolish?" he murmured. "Everything I have ever done has been deliberate and smart."

He grasped the hilt once more. This time, the blade finally came free.

Steel gleamed beneath the lantern light, cold and merciless.

Lucas lowered his gaze to the shimmering edge, and little by little, the light within his eyes faded into darkness.

For an entire day, he locked himself inside his chambers.

When Nareen came knocking, he cursed her away. When Lady Lian brought him food, he did not even open the door.

Only after nightfall did he finally emerge.

He decided to go alone to a gambling den in the eastern quarter of the city. It was the sort of place he had once despised—a den of smoke, vice, and quiet crimes hidden beneath lantern-lit eaves.

Someone was already waiting for him in the rear courtyard.

A stranger shadowed in the dark.

That man wore plain clothing and carried himself like any ordinary drifter, but his eyes were sharp and venomous, the eyes of someone accustomed to bloodshed.

"So, Young Lord Ostenton," the man drawled, "have you made your decision?"

Lucas gave him a single nod. "I have."

The stranger chuckled. "Rhaegar Thorne is not a man easily provoked."

"I know."

"And you came anyway?"

Lucas fell silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was frighteningly calm.

"She is the only thing I have ever truly wanted in this lifetime."

The man studied him for a long moment before giving a slow nod.

"Very well. Pay enough silver, and the matter will be handled."

Lucas reached into his robes and withdrew a thick stack of silver notes, placing them onto the table.

The man counted them carefully, satisfaction flickering across his face.

"Then wait for good news."

Lucas rose and walked toward the door, but just before stepping outside, he suddenly stopped.

"Do not hurt her."

The stranger blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "What?"

"Her," Lucas repeated without turning around. His voice was low and absolute. "You are not permitted to touch even a single strand of her hair."

The stranger laughed.

"Lord Ostenton," he said lazily, "it’s not going to be easy, but... I’ll see what I can do."

Lucas said nothing. He merely pushed open the door and disappeared into the depths of the night.