A Touch of Shadow: The Duke's Obsession

Rhaegar slowly lifted his head and looked at Caelith.

There was weariness upon her beautiful face, and though the faint red trace upon her brow had all but vanished beneath the daylight, something brighter had taken its place within her eyes—a light that belonged wholly to her. A strength no hardship could extinguish.

Rhaegar kept watching her, and in that moment, something within him stirred beyond restraint.

He reached out suddenly and drew her into his arms, holding her close—firmly, as though unwilling to let her slip beyond his grasp again. As though she might forever disappear if he did.

"Caelith," he murmured at her ear, his voice roughened with emotion, "I am really proud of you."

Resting against him, she let out a soft, quiet laugh.

"For the first time in a long while, I am proud of myself, too."

***

The following day.

As Isabella’s carriage came to a halt before the gates of the Valehart residence, the sun was already leaning westward, its golden light stretching long across the stone-paved street.

Caelith stepped down from the carriage, clad in garments lent to her—a dress of pale moon-white, embroidered with delicate crabapple blossoms. As her feet touched the ground, her hand rose instinctively to her brow.

The wound was gone, all but erased. Isabella’s medicine had done its work well.

Dorian came out to receive them, calm and a bit too serious for the occasion.

His gaze first fell upon Isabella, a sudden smile spreading easily across his face. "Isabella, you have my thanks for escorting my wife back. I apologize for the trouble."

"Think nothing of it," Isabella replied coolly. Then she turned to Caelith, her tone softening just a touch. "Lady Caelith, take care of yourself. We shall meet again soon, I insist."

Caelith inclined her head. "Please accept my gratitude, Your Highness."

The carriage then departed, its wheels rumbling softly over the stone road until it vanished beyond the mouth of the lane.

Only then did Dorian turn his attention to Caelith.

His eyes passed over her face, pausing briefly upon the place where the wound had been—now no more than a whisper of red—before moving on.

"Go inside," he said, his tone flat, as though addressing a servant rather than a wife.

Caelith lowered her gaze. "Yes, my lord."

Dolly nearly burst into tears the moment she saw her mistress return.

"My lady! You are finally back! I was worried sick! Is everything alright?"

Caelith gave her hand a reassuring pat. "It is nothing, I am fine. I merely took a fall and stayed a few days at the Princess’s residence to recover."

Dolly wiped at her eyes, then leaned closer, lowering her voice.

"My lady... while you were gone, Lady Yvaine’s people have been lingering outside our courtyard every day. And the young master..." She hesitated, then whispered even more softly, "he has not asked after you even once."

Caelith smiled faintly—yet there was a chill beneath that smile.

"I know," she replied, "it matters not."

She seated herself by the window, her gaze drifting toward the apple blossoms in the courtyard. Dorian’s indifference was nothing new to her; she had long since grown accustomed to it. Only now, she saw it with greater clarity than ever before.

In his eyes, she had never truly been a wife.

Only an ornament. A convenient piece to preserve appearances.

And perhaps... that was for the best.

She had no need of his affection. What she sought was far more resolute—that he should one day pay the price for all he had done. Had there been any genuine feeling between them, matters would only have grown more complicated.

The following afternoon, in the garden, Caelith encountered Yvaine.

"Sister," Yvaine greeted with a gentle smile as she approached, her apricot-colored dress glowing softly beneath the sunlight. "I hear you spent several days recovering at the Princess’s residence. Are you fully restored?"

"Thank you for your concern. I have recovered."

Yvaine’s smile deepened as she stepped a little closer, lowering her voice.

"It seems you and the Princess have grown rather close. At the banquet, I had thought it was your first meeting."

Caelith regarded her with a steady look, saying nothing.

Yvaine only smiled again, then turned and departed, the hem of her skirt sweeping lightly across the stone path, stirring fallen leaves in her wake.

Caelith remained where she stood, watching her figure disappear at the end of the garden path.

That night, Yvaine sat by her window, her fingers tapping lightly against the table in quiet thought.

Charlotte stood nearby, her voice cautious. "My lady... do you suspect something amiss with Madam?"

"Something amiss?" Yvaine let out a soft, cold laugh. "She stayed at the Princess’s residence for so many days, yet Dorian showed not the slightest concern—and still, she does not seem displeased."

She paused, a calculating gleam passing through her eyes. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

"And more than that... I cannot shake the feeling that there is something between her and the Princess that is being kept from all others."

"What does my lady intend to do?"

Yvaine’s lips curved faintly. "There is no need to rush. Let us first see what game she is playing."

***

Three days later, under the pretext of offering thanks to Lady Tanmin, Caelith quietly made her way once more to Firefly Lane.

Rhaegar was already waiting in the courtyard.

The moment he saw her, he stepped forward. His gaze moved over her face, finally settling upon her brow.

"There is truly no trace left. I’m glad."

Caelith smiled. "Lady Tanmin’s medicine is excellent."

Together, they entered the study.

Rhaegar pushed a stack of documents toward her.

"This is what we have uncovered—records of the Earl Valehart’s dealings over the years, and the movements of several key individuals."

Caelith took them and began to read, turning each page with growing intensity. The light in her eyes sharpened, brightened—until at last she lifted her head to look at him.

"These," she said quietly, yet with unmistakable confidence, "are enough to condemn them beyond redemption!"