Chapter 119: The Game Beneath the Politeness
Chapter 118: The Game Beneath the Politeness
The chamber was warm, though the air within it felt anything but settled.
A fire burned steadily in the hearth, its glow casting long, shifting shadows against the polished walls, but even that quiet comfort did little to temper the energy that filled the room.
Two men were laughing openly and without restraint.
The sound rang sharp against the otherwise composed atmosphere, breaking entirely from the decorum expected of men of their standing.
At the center of it stood the owner of the chamber—Earl Hawthorne.
And he was not amused.
"You must be jesting," he said, though there was no humor in his voice.
His gaze moved between the two men as though waiting for one of them to admit it—to concede that this was some elaborate joke taken too far.
Neither did.
Instead, one of them leaned back further into his chair, his laughter only just beginning to subside, while the other pressed a hand briefly to his mouth as though attempting—and failing—to regain composure.
Across from them, seated with precise posture and composed stillness, Baron Julian Redwick adjusted his spectacles.
He did not laugh.
He merely shook his head slowly, as though this entire display had already exceeded his patience.
Near the window, another man, blonde-haired, exhaled sharply.
"That is quite enough," he said, his tone edged with irritation. "If you have found your amusement, I suggest you keep the remainder of it to yourselves."
His voice carried the quiet authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed.
The laughter tapered off.
Not entirely—but enough.
The two men exchanged a glance, one of them giving a final chuckle before straightening slightly.
"Very well," one of them said. "We shall behave."
There was a pause.
Then his attention shifted back to Earl Hawthorne.
And his expression sharpened.
"But truly," he added, "how did you not see it?"
Earl Hawthorne stiffened.
"I saw what I was meant to see," he replied, his voice tight. "I was given no reason to doubt it."
The blonde-haired man tilted his head slightly, studying him.
"Trust, then?" he asked.
Earl Hawthorne’s jaw tightened.
"Yes," he said. "Trust."
The blonde man let out a quiet hum.
"I cannot say I know Duke Thorncrest particularly well," he said, almost thoughtfully, "but from what I have observed of Duke Valenridge..."
His gaze flicked briefly toward the man in question.
"...it was rather obvious that it was a lie."
Earl Hawthorne turned sharply toward Duke Valenridge.
"You," he said, pointing directly at him. "Missed a step."
"You looked as though you were about to collapse."
Duke Valenridge only chuckled.
"I did," he admitted easily.
Earl Hawthorne stared at him.
"And you find that amusing?"
Valenridge leaned back in his chair, entirely at ease.
"I find efficiency amusing," he said. "And we were wasting time."
His gaze flicked toward the fire.
"If we had allowed the royal family to continue," he added, "we would still be standing in that hall."
There was no argument to that.
Only a quiet understanding that settled, reluctant though it was.
Baron Julian adjusted his glasses again.
His expression had not changed much, but there was a certain tightness now—a sign that his thoughts had shifted elsewhere.
"To that end," he began, his voice measured, "is it truly acceptable?"
The room stilled slightly.
Julian’s gaze lifted.
"For the princess," he clarified. "Princess Lyria."
If one listened closely, they would notice how he said the name softly.
"As matters stand," he continued, "she did not appear willing."
That drew attention.
"She did not look as though she wished to be part of what unfolded in the hall," Julian added.
"True," Duke Thorncrest said. "That much was obvious."
"Indeed," Lucian said calmly. "Which begs the question—why did you drag Lyria out?"
All eyes turned to Thorncrest.
He tilted his head slightly.
As though considering the question.
As though the answer were not already waiting.
"The princess," he said slowly, "is a princess."
Lucian’s expression did not change.
"I am aware," he said.
"Then you would do well to address her as such," Duke Thorncrest told him, his voice firm.
The atmosphere in the room shifted. It was subtle, but noticeable.
Lucian’s gaze sharpened as he stared at the duke.
For a moment, they just stared at each other without saying anything. The others watched them.
Then someone cleared their throat, and every gaze turned to Duke Valenridge.
"That will do," he said lightly.
The tension did not vanish, but it loosened slightly.
"I believe," he continued, "this is where I intervene."
Valenridge leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
"Thorncrest and I planned it," he said.
Lucian blinked in shock.
"...What?"
Valenridge did not repeat himself immediately.
Instead, he studied the reactions around the room.
"I said," he continued, "we planned it."
Lucian straightened.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I expect you to listen," Duke Valenridge replied calmly.
"I am sure," he said, "that each of us has noticed something peculiar."
His gaze moved across the room.
"One does not attend such gatherings without observing patterns."
No one interrupted.
"That scent," he went on, "sweet and distinct—it always follows Princess Jacinta, but we all know it does not belong to her."
No one questioned him because they knew the scent belonged to someone else.
"And after the competition," he continued, a smile on his face as he locked eyes with Lucian, "Lucian and I spoke with her. It was a rather enjoyable conversation too."
Lucian glared at Duke Valenridge, who only smiled in reply—that lazy smirk on his face.
"Anyways, someone else saw her that day too, just when she was leaving. He had gone in search of something he forgot, when he found her."
"And from that," Lucian said slowly, "you decided to... what? Expose her?"
"Expose her?" Duke Valenridge asked. "Lucian, you should get your facts straight. We did not plan to expose her. The ones who exposed her were the royal family. All we did was confirm suspicion."
Thorncrest nodded. "And what happened provided the perfect opportunity for us to confirm our suspicions. While everyone else was distracted, I used the opportunity to drag her out of the shadows."
