Chapter 157: A Truth That Refuses Ornament
Chapter 156: A Truth That Refuses Ornament
Lyria’s POV
Duke Valenridge stepped forward when his name was called.
There was no hesitation in the movement. No adjustment born of nerves. No outward acknowledgment of the fact that he had arrived late enough to draw attention.
He simply moved.
And when he reached the seat, he took it with the same composed ease that seemed to follow him wherever he went.
As though the room had adjusted itself for him rather than the other way around.
Lady Mirelle inclined her head, though there was a tightness at the edge of her composure that had not been present before.
"State your name and title for the record," she said.
"Duke Evander Valenridge of Blackmere," he replied.
His voice was calm and deep.
Lady Mirelle nodded once.
"And your intentions," she continued, "in presenting yourself as a suitor candidate?"
He tilted his head slightly.
And then he asked,
"Was I given a choice?"
Lady Mirelle blinked in shock, and I had to admit I was also surprised by that.
From the corner of my vision, I saw Lucian lift a hand to his temple, his expression tightening just enough to suggest exasperation.
"Pardon?" Lady Mirelle asked.
Duke Valenridge leaned back in his seat, the movement unhurried.
"I could provide an answer more in line with what has already been said," he continued, his tone even. "Something elaborate. Something refined."
He paused.
"As others have done."
There was no mockery in the words.
But neither was there any attempt to soften what followed.
"I could speak of the prophecy," he said. "Of duty. Of intention."
His gaze rested on Lady Mirelle.
"And it would be a lie. I did not enter this selection because of the prophecy," he said plainly. "Nor because of any particular desire to stand here."
"I am here," he continued, "because I was required to be. Each suitor candidate was brought here for the same reason."
"We are of suitable age," he said. "Of appropriate standing. And, most importantly, unmarried. We are, therefore, convenient."
Duke Thorncrest and Baron Redwick were not wrong when they said Duke Valenridge was quite daring.
"I am speaking plainly," the duke added, as though the thought required acknowledgment.
Lady Mirelle inhaled slowly.
The movement was subtle.
"For the sake of formality," she said, her voice returning to its measured steadiness, "now that you are here, what are your intentions?"
"I do not have one," he said.
Then, after the briefest pause,
"Beyond what has already been stated."
He tilted his head again slightly.
"As the Earl expressed," he continued, "the role of the Sun is to stand beside the Moon."
His tone remained even.
"To be a suitable spouse," he said. "To provide support where it is required."
There was a quiet steadiness beneath the words now.
"The Moon represents the people," he went on. "She works alongside the Crown. She guides. She observes. She listens."
He paused.
"And the Sun," he added, "is meant to ensure that she does not do so alone."
His gaze did not waver.
"If I am to stand in that position," he said, "then I will ensure that she shines, in whatever capacity is required."
The duke may be quite daring, but he knew what he was saying, and honestly, he was the only one who had said those exact words, and I have no idea why I was even impressed by his words.
Lady Mirelle adjusted her posture almost imperceptibly.
Then she cleared her throat.
"Very well," she said.
She paused and then spoke up.
"This is a hypothetical question."
There it was again.
The same question that she had asked all of them.
"If," she continued, "you were to find yourself inclined toward someone who is not a Moon candidate, what would be your response?"
He gave a quiet, short chuckle, and I noticed he was the second one who had let her complete the question.
"Given the circumstances," he said, "that is unlikely."
Lady Mirelle regarded him for a moment. "Is that all, Your Grace?"
"What more is there to say?" he asked her.
Lady Mirelle swallowed, then nodded.
"The next question," she said, "has been submitted by the public."
He nodded once.
"Proceed."
There was the faintest tightening at the corners of her mouth. It was barely visible, but it was present.
"The people wish to know," she said, "who you are."
"I am Duke Evander Valenridge," he replied.
Lady Mirelle held his gaze.
"That," she said carefully, "is known to all, Your Grace, but that is not quite what is being asked."
"Not enough is known about you, though people know the previous Duke, but not you."
She paused as if letting that sink in first.
"And if not for this selection," she continued, "many would not have had the opportunity to see you at all."
He regarded her quietly.
Then said,
"If they wished to see me, they could have crossed the sea, though I would have to admit it is quite expensive to get there, but one just has to cross and get to Blackmere. I am quite known there."
A sound escaped Lady Mirelle before she could quite stop it.
From the other side of the hall, I saw Lucian lift his gaze briefly toward the ceiling.
As though appealing to the goddess for patience.
Lady Mirelle composed herself.
"What is known of your territory," she said, "is largely based on rumour."
There was a quiet firmness in her tone now.
"The people wish for clarity."
He did not respond immediately.
Not this time.
He considered.
Or perhaps he simply allowed the moment to stretch.
"Most of the rumours are accurate," he said at last.
"Blackmere is... accommodating," he continued. "Provided one does not give reason for it not to be."
His gaze remained steady.
"It does not concern itself with what others might consider... irregular."
There was something deliberate in that word.
"As long as one is not a criminal," he added.
Lady Mirelle studied him.
Then nodded once.
"I see. Perhaps, then, you may speak about yourself."
The duke tilted his head, pale green orbs staring at her.
Lady Mirelle swallowed. "Anything at all, Your Grace."
