A Touch of Shadow: The Duke's Obsession

After that single resounding slap, Yvaine grew quiet—for a time.

In the days that followed, she caused no further trouble for Caelith. Not only did she refrain from provocation, but even in her daily visits to Lady Valehart, she conducted herself with perfect propriety.

"My lady, you did not see it," Dolly said as she stood beside Caelith. "These past few days, Lady Yvaine has been courteous to everyone she meets—like an entirely different person. The servants whisper that your slap truly frightened her."

Seated by the window, Caelith held a newly embroidered handkerchief in her hands. "She is not afraid of me," she said calmly. "She is waiting."

"Waiting?" Dolly echoed, puzzled.

"I know her nature better than anyone." Caelith lowered her gaze and continued stitching the delicate form of peony petals. "Let us simply wait and see."

At that moment, a servant came to announce that Yvaine had arrived to pay her respects.

A faint, knowing smile touched Caelith’s lips. She concealed the handkerchief in her sleeve before stepping out into the courtyard.

"What brings you here, Sister?" she asked lightly.

Yvaine’s eyes were already rimmed red. Without warning, she dropped to her knees before Caelith. Dolly quickly gestured for the surrounding servants to withdraw.

"Sister..." Yvaine began, her voice trembling.

"I was foolish before. I wronged you. After that day... after your slap, I returned and thought on it for many nights. Sleep would not come. Only now do I understand—in this household, I can rely on no one. Only you have ever truly meant me well."

Caelith watched her performance, finding it almost laughable. Yet her expression remained composed, betraying nothing.

"What are you doing?" she said gently. "If you have something to say, rise and speak. There is no need for such formality."

"No." Yvaine shook her head stubbornly. "I came today to beg your forgiveness. Before, I was consumed by jealousy. I believed you overshadowed me in all things, and so I targeted you at every turn..."

"You speak too harshly of yourself," Caelith replied evenly.

"I know I was wrong." Yvaine lowered her gaze. "In this household, the heir has no place for me in his heart, and our mother holds no fondness for me either. I live here with less standing than even a servant. Now... you are all I have left to rely upon."

A cold laugh echoed silently within Caelith’s mind.

Rely on her?

Had those words come from another, she might have believed them, if only a little. But from Yvaine’s lips—they rang hollow, absurd.

She knew well that this was but an act—a carefully staged performance meant to lower her guard, to draw something from her in return.

Very well.

If Yvaine wished to act, then she would indulge her.

"Sister, do not speak so," Caelith said with quiet grace. "What lies in the past is already gone. We both serve at the heir’s side; harmony between us is only natural. Why let matters grow distant?"

"You truly do not blame me?" Yvaine asked, searching her face.

"I do not," Caelith answered, giving a slight shake of her head.

Yvaine rose slowly. "Your heart is generous. It is I who was narrow-minded."

Caelith turned slightly. "Dolly, bring a seat for my sister."

"Yes, my lady."

Dolly complied, though her eyes lingered with faint suspicion.

Yvaine took her seat, pressing her lips together as she regarded Caelith, her gaze layered with unspoken calculation—as though waiting for Caelith to speak first.

But Caelith did not.

She remained silent, composed, as though entirely unhurried.

And just as she had expected, it was Yvaine who lost patience first.

After only a short while, she spoke again.

"In truth... I did not come only to apologize today. There is something else I wished to tell you..."

Caelith inclined her head slightly, her tone gentle. "Speak freely, Sister."

Yvaine leaned closer, lowering her voice as though confiding a secret. "Though I am not favored at the lord’s side, I still remain near him. I hear things... see things. There are matters you cannot conveniently handle yourself—I could act on your behalf."

A flicker passed through Caelith’s eyes. "What do you mean by this?"

Yvaine moved nearer still, her voice barely above a whisper. "From this day forward, I am willing to be your eyes and ears. The heir has been acting rather mysteriously of late—I cannot tell what he is plotting. I will watch him for you. Whatever movements he makes, I shall report them to you at once."

Within her heart, Caelith let out a cold laugh.

So, after all the circling, the true purpose had finally revealed itself.

Apologies, submission—mere pretense. Yvaine’s true aim was to pose as an informant, only to extract information in return. Did she truly take her for a fool?

"And you would truly do this?" Caelith asked, feigning hesitation. "The heir is, after all, your husband."

"Husband?" Yvaine gave a bitter smile. "Has he ever regarded me as his spouse? In his eyes, I am no more than an ornament. I must now think for myself." She clasped Caelith’s hand earnestly. "Sister, I truly wish for us to reconcile."

Caelith let a pause linger—just long enough.

"Very well," she said at last, as though persuaded. "Since you speak so sincerely, I shall trust you this once. If there is anything unusual on the heir’s side, you must take care to inform me quietly."

Relief and triumph flashed through Yvaine’s eyes. "You need not worry—I will not disappoint you."

Caelith gently withdrew her hand and lifted her teacup, her expression unreadable. "Ah, that reminds me... I have recently heard something regarding the lord."

Yvaine’s attention snapped to her at once. "What have you heard?"

"It is nothing certain," Caelith said lightly, as though the matter held no weight. "Merely a rumor—that the heir has lately been in contact with salt merchants from the Kingdom of Miaelin. It seems... there may be some great enterprise underway."

At once, Yvaine’s expression changed. Alarm flickered through her eyes.

"Where did you hear such a thing?" she demanded.

Caelith waved it off with indifference. "Idle gossip, nothing more. I mention it only in passing. Sister need not take it to heart."

But how could Yvaine remain calm?

All thoughts of continuing her performance vanished. Her only desire now was to rush to Dorian and deliver these words without delay.

"Sister, I have just remembered something I must attend to. I shall not disturb you further."

"As you wish."

Caelith watched as Yvaine hurried away, her retreating figure almost frantic.

The moment she was gone, the faint warmth on Caelith’s face faded entirely. In its place, a chill settled deep within her eyes—sharp, unyielding, edged with killing intent.

Yvaine hurried straight toward Dorian’s study.

Her visit to Caelith that day had, in truth, been arranged at Dorian’s secret instruction. After the slap she had suffered days before, not only had he offered her no comfort—he had instead reprimanded her coldly for her lack of propriety.

Thus, eager to regain his favor, Yvaine had resolved to win Caelith’s trust and act as Dorian’s instrument against her.

Before long, she reached the study doors. A trusted attendant stepped forward at once to block her path.

"Lady Yvaine, the lord is occupied with official matters. You may not enter."

"I have urgent business—I must see him at once!" she insisted, her voice sharp with urgency. "It concerns something of great importance—there is no time to delay!"

Without waiting for permission, she pushed the doors open and rushed inside.

Dorian looked up, irritation flashing across his features at the intrusion. "Who permitted you to barge in?" he said coldly.