A Touch of Shadow: The Duke's Obsession

"Why did you steal the medicinal herbs from Sacred Hall?"

"I did not steal them," the man insisted hoarsely. "They have wronged me."

"Wronged you?" Lance stepped forward and cast a short blade onto the floor before him. "This dagger was found within your dwelling. The markings upon its edge match precisely the scratches upon Sacred Hall’s window frame. And in your home, we discovered a snow lotus yet unsold. The evidence is complete—do you still dare deny it?"

At the sight of the incriminating proof, the man’s defiance crumbled. He bowed low, striking his forehead against the ground.

"I confess! The herbs—I took them. But I was driven to it, my lord, I swear it! I had no other choice!"

"Speak plainly."

"My mother..." His voice trembled. "She suffers from consumption. The physician said only century-old rose hips tincture and raindrop aloe might prolong her life. But such medicines—how could I ever afford them?"

"I went to the apothecary, hoping against hope. I begged the proprietor to grant me the herbs on credit. Not only did he refuse, but he also had me beaten and cast out like a beggar."

His hands clenched against the cold stone.

"I had nowhere left to turn. I never wished to become a thief... but I could not simply watch her die!"

"Before the law, there is no place for clever excuses."

Rhaegar’s voice was cold and absolute, cutting through the man’s plea without mercy.

"To steal valuables is to incur thirty strokes and exile to the barren lands. Take him away and imprison him."

At once, the man collapsed fully to the ground, his strength abandoning him.

"Mercy, my lord! I beg you! My mother—she awaits me... she cannot live without me!"

But Rhaegar did not so much as glance at him. With a slight motion of his hand, he signaled the guards.

The Shadow Guard stepped forward and seized the man, dragging him away despite his desperate cries.

Lance hesitated, then spoke carefully.

"My lord... though he has broken the law, his crime was born of filial devotion. Might there be—"

"The law is the law," Rhaegar interrupted sharply. "It admits no indulgence."

Lance lowered his head—but did not retreat. After all, they both served the Emperor, and the Emperor was their law.

"My lord... this man hails from Easenwale County."

That name lingered heavily in the air.

It was the homeland of Dolly, Caelith’s attendant.

For a fleeting moment, something shifted in Rhaegar’s expression—so slight it might have gone unnoticed by any but the most observant.

At length, he spoke again.

"Send someone to verify the condition of his mother. If his account proves true, arrange for a physician to treat her properly."

Lance bowed deeply. "Understood."

He knew all too well—though his master bore the face of iron, his heart was not devoid of compassion. Only... such softness was never permitted to be seen.

"And one more thing," Rhaegar added, his tone measured.

"Reduce the sentence. Twenty strokes, and one year of penal labor. The punishment is to be carried out only after his mother recovers."

"Yes, my lord."

Lance withdrew.

Rhaegar stood in silence for a moment after.

He was not born cold.

But within the Shadow Guard—where life and death were weighed with a single word—mercy, if shown too freely, would erode authority itself.

Still...

The man was from Dolly’s homeland.

And for Caelith’s sake—he could afford to grant a measure of leniency.

Before long, Lance returned.

"My lord, the herbs have been delivered, and a physician has been dispatched to the household. The mother is now under proper care."

Rhaegar gave a faint nod, his expression once more unreadable.

Yet beneath that calm exterior, the matter had already been quietly settled.

Within the dim confines of his cell, the young man received word at last.

His mother had been saved.

A physician had come. The precious medicines had been delivered. Her life, which had hung by a thread, had been pulled back from the abyss.

At once, he fell to his knees upon the cold stone floor. Facing the distant direction of the Shadow Guard’s command, he struck his head heavily against the ground—once, twice, thrice.

"Such grace... I shall never forget it," he whispered hoarsely. "In this lifetime, I will repay Lord Rhaegar’s mercy, even at the cost of my life."

***

Meanwhile, within the Valehart estate...

Supported by Dolly, Caelith returned at last to the main hall.

Dorian merely inclined his head upon seeing her, offering no further word, as though her presence bore little weight upon his thoughts.

Instead, before all assembled, he reached out and clasped Yvaine’s hand.

"From this day forth, Yvaine is formally received into my household as a concubine," he declared. "She shall be known as Second Lady of the Valehart estate. Let all within these walls treat her with due propriety."

Voices rose at once in polite agreement.

Yvaine’s lips curved upward, unable to conceal her satisfaction.

The ceremony itself was simple—customary, almost perfunctory.

Yvaine first offered tea to Dorian, then turned toward Caelith, lowering herself in a graceful bow as she presented the cup.

"My Lady, please accept this tea."

There was a deliberate sweetness in her tone.

Caelith accepted the cup with steady composure, her movements unhurried, her expression unreadable.

After a pause, she turned slightly toward Dorian.

"My lord husband, as my elder sister has newly entered the household, it would be fitting to arrange a residence for her."

Dorian nodded. "You are the principal wife. The matter shall be left to your discretion."

It was as though she had anticipated this moment long before it arrived.

"The Garden Courtyard in the eastern wing is most suitable," Caelith said calmly. "It lies close to your study. Should my sister reside there, it will be convenient for her to attend upon you."

A murmur stirred among the onlookers.

The Garden Courtyard—no more than a hundred paces from Dorian’s study—was among the finest residences in the estate, second only to the main quarters.

To think that Caelith, as the lawful wife, would yield such a place to a newly arrived concubine was... unexpected.