Chapter 244: The Impromptu Meeting In The Storage Closet
Chapter 243: The Impromptu Meeting in the Storage Closet
Duke Valenridge had no idea how this woman—within minutes of leaving the Princess’s chambers—had already managed to make it nearly halfway out of the palace.
She moved quickly, her worn shoes silent against the stone floors, her white hair slipping further from its bun with every hurried step. She did not look back. She did not slow. She moved with purpose, like someone who had spent years navigating these corridors.
The Duke lengthened his stride.
He knew Baron Redwick was following behind him. And he could only hope the scholar knew exactly why he was doing this and was perhaps willing to help too.
They rounded another corner.
The corridor grew narrower here, the walls older, the sconces spaced farther apart. The shadows pooled thicker between the circles of light, and the air smelled of dust and disuse. They had entered a part of the palace that few servants frequented and fewer nobles ever saw.
The Duke was grateful that there were no guards posted in this section. Actually, the path leading to the Princess’s chambers had almost nonexistent guards and maids, which was not supposed to be the case for someone of her standing.
The woman turned left, her hand reaching for a door set deep into the wall. It was plain and unadorned, blending into the stonework so thoroughly that one would not notice it unless they knew where it was and what to look for.
The Duke closed the distance in three quick strides and placed his hand on the door, holding it shut.
"Forgive me," he said, his voice calm and unhurried. "But I wonder if you might spare a moment for myself and my companion."
Baron Redwick reached them then, his chest rising and falling more than usual, his spectacles slightly askew from the pace he had set. He adjusted them quickly.
"Preferably," the Duke added, "in private."
Kathryn turned to face them.
Her expression was guarded, her eyes moving from the Duke’s face to the Baron’s and back again. Her wolf senses had already told her they were following; she had known from the moment they left the chamber. There was no surprise in her gaze, no confusion. Only a quiet wariness.
She frowned.
Then she bowed.
"Your Grace," she said. "My Lord."
Baron Redwick glanced around the corridor. The walls were close here, the ceiling lower than in the main halls. Though unoccupied, anyone could walk past at any given moment.
"This place is too open," he said. "Do you know somewhere private where we might speak?"
Kathryn studied him for a moment.
Then she turned to the door she had been about to open and pushed it inward.
It swung open on creaking hinges, revealing a small room beyond. It was cramped, dusty, and filled with old furniture pushed against the walls and boxes stacked in precarious towers. A storage closet, by the look of it, abandoned and forgotten.
"After you," she said.
The Duke stepped inside.
Baron Redwick followed.
Kathryn came last, pulling the door shut behind her. The latch clicked into place, and the three of them stood in the dim light that filtered through a single grimy window high on the far wall.
"No one uses this wing," Kathryn said. "We should be able to speak freely here."
The Duke looked around the room. Dust coated every surface. A broken chair leaned against one wall. Cobwebs hung in the corners like old lace. He turned back to Kathryn.
"You knew we were following you," he said.
It was not a question.
Kathryn met his gaze.
"Yes," she said.
The Duke nodded slowly.
"Then you also know why."
Kathryn said nothing.
"Baron Redwick made a request earlier," the Duke continued. "That you become the Princess’s private physician. I am curious what you think of that."
Kathryn’s expression did not change.
"I want nothing to do with court," she said. "I would rather not be involved."
"Yes," Baron Redwick said. "We noticed your reluctance to become involved already."
Kathryn’s lips pressed together.
"But this is a necessity," the Baron continued. "Surely you saw the injuries the Princess sustained. I suspect they were not accidental. I suspect someone inflicted them deliberately."
Kathryn was silent.
She thought of the scars on the Princess’s back—the whip marks, old and new, crossing her shoulders like a map of suffering. She thought of the infected wounds on her feet, the calluses on her palms from years of labour no princess should ever have performed.
She thought of the mark on her face, the one the cosmetics had concealed—poorly healed, possibly from being struck.
But she spoke nothing of the injuries.
"I do not involve myself in courtly matters," she said again.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Baron Redwick looked at Duke Valenridge.
The Duke had been quiet throughout the exchange, his pale green eyes fixed on Kathryn’s face, studying her the way one might study a lock before attempting to pick it.
"What was done to you?" he asked her softly.
Kathryn blinked.
"I beg your pardon?"
"What was done to you," the Duke repeated, "to make you remove yourself from courtly matters? Something happened. Something that made you decide that involving yourself in matters of the court was more dangerous than beneficial to you."
Kathryn’s face went still.
The difference was subtle but unmistakable. Composure was a choice, a mask one put on for others. Stillness could be something else.
The body’s response to a wound that had never fully healed.
And it was what Kathryn felt right now.
"How did you—" she began.
Then she stopped.
She pressed her lips together and looked away.
The Duke waited.
"That is not something I discuss," she said at last, regaining her composure.
"No," the Duke agreed. "I imagine it is not."
Kathryn turned back to him, her expression guarded once more.
"My matters are my own," she said.
The Duke inclined his head.
"That is true," he said. "They are."
He paused.
"But what if I promised to help you? Would you help us in return?"
Kathryn stared at him, her eyes wide with shock.
"I beg your pardon?" she said.
