The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

By midnight, the initial investigation had concluded. The guards had successfully sifted through the debris of the ruined wing, retrieving distinct traces of black gunpowder from the blast point.

"Could the gunpowder have ignited simply from the day’s heat?" August asked, gesturing toward the charred stone of the corridor. "Because according to the blueprints and your sentry logs, it is impossible for an intruder to have slipped into this sector undetected. There are no exterior windows, and those structural cavities were designed strictly as deep storage."

"I concur with Prince August’s assessment, Your Grace," Maurice added.

"Then the question remains: who placed the gunpowder there to begin with?" Damian muttered.

"That is the riddle you must solve, Duke," August said. He turned to face Damian, crossing his arms deliberately across his chest. "But look at the broader picture. This marks the second attempt on your household in rapid succession. It is becoming increasingly evident that someone demands either your demise or Eilika’s. At this point, we cannot afford to rule out any possibility."

"The servant who served the tea to us in the evening, she also used this exact corridor to return to the kitchens. But only Eilika was caught in the blast because she happened to be walking the route at that precise moment," Damian said, the realization hardening his features.

"You suspect the maid had a hand in igniting the gunpowder?" August asked, his brow lifting. "It is a strong possibility. If she timed it, she would know exactly when to start the forest. But remember, Damian, you ordered the entire domestic staff to evacuate to the new residence. If she were indeed behind this explosion, she has likely already used the chaos to slip away."

"There are far too many variables at play," Damian muttered. "But one fact remains: my own household staff can no longer be trusted. We were nearly compromised from within."

A fear settled deep in his chest. The suffocating fear of loss, a weight he had carried once before, gripped him tightly. He had survived that grief once, but today had proven just how close he was to losing everything all over again.

"Your Grace, why do you not return to the residence and take your rest? You have been consumed by this crisis since the early evening," Maurice countered, trying to defuse the tension. "As for the culprit, I shall personally oversee the hunt for that tea server."

"And were you able to uncover who poisoned Damian the first time, Maurice? No," August interjected, a mocking edge to his voice that made the seneschal frown. August smirked, uncrossing his arms. "Let me handle the interrogation. I will find out who did this, and I shall see to it that they are disciplined in my own fashion."

"And by what authority? You are not the magistrate of this province, August," Damian said, his voice flat.

"True, you hold supreme authority here, brother. However, my hands have been itching for a proper interrogation for quite some time," August replied smoothly.

"Focus your efforts strictly on finding the culprit. Interrogate the domestic staff first thing tomorrow morning," Damian commanded. "And as you previously noted, if that tea server was indeed the saboteur, she has likely fled the grounds by now."

"Do not underestimate my reach. I am remarkably efficient at tracking down runners," August clarified, tilting his head with a cold smile. "Besides, do not mistake this for fraternal affection. If I solve this treasonous act, it benefits me. Our father will grant me more leverage and trust within the court, so discard any notion that I am doing you a favor."

"I am well aware of your nature, August. You never render aid without expecting a return," Damian replied, his expression unreadable. "Though you pulled me from the collapse today, and for that life debt, I shall remain grateful."

Damian took a step back from the scorched timbers, adjusting his cloak. "Let us withdraw to the secondary estate. Maurice, ensure the formal inquest begins at dawn."

Without waiting for their replies, Damian strode purposefully toward the courtyard gates, where a lone black carriage stood waiting to carry him to his family.

The carriage door swung open abruptly, and August climbed inside without waiting for an invitation. "I shall share the carriage with you," he stated, settling onto the velvet bench opposite his cousin.

Damian offered no objection, merely watching as August secured the door lock from the inside.

Exhaustion finally pulling at him, Damian leaned his head back against the cushioned headrest and closed his eyes as the carriage lurched forward.

"Damian, how can you remain so entirely composed?" August asked suddenly. "You very nearly lost your second wife tonight."

The words forced Damian’s eyes open. His sharp gaze locked directly onto August’s face.

"Do you still harbor feelings for Liliana? If so, it is time to cease," August affirmed, leaning forward slightly. "You are wasting your sentiment on a woman who never truly desired you, only the ducal title you carry. Eilika is a far more remarkable woman, and believe me, her devotion to you runs deeper than you currently comprehend. She begged me to save you knowing the consequences, yet she was prepared to walk away from this marriage entirely just to ensure you and your family remained protected from harm. Liliana possessed not an ounce of that sacrificing spirit. Had she been capable of such selflessness, she would have chosen a broken man like me."

Damian lowered his eyes for a brief moment, then looked at the ring in his fourth finger. "I am falling in love with Eilika. I’m not neglecting her anymore. Maybe I’m not good at showing love, but I am ready to move on. In fact, the day we officially wedded was the moment when I had decided I would forget Liliana completely for the sake of my peace."

August smiled.

"Why didn’t you stop Liliana from marrying me? You wanted to destroy me, don’t you?"

"I loved that woman. How could I stop her from being happy?" August’s expression turned grim as painful memories came to the surface.