"Wait, Your Grace," Eilika said, stepping forward to meet his gaze. "Rosaline had no knowledge of Roman’s affliction. If any blame is to be assigned, it must fall upon me. I was negligent; I did not examine the contents of the box she brought for him."

"The summons has been dispatched, and the matter is decided," Damian replied coldly. "Moreover, her malice was directed at you earlier. I cannot grant her mercy all the time. Her previous transgression carried my final warning, and she must learn the consequence of showing disrespect to the Duchess."

Eilika stared at him, her countenance shifting to one of profound astonishment.

Damian paused, raising a hand to his jaw. "Why do you look at me like that? Is there something on my face?"

"No," she replied softly, searching his features. "But you called me your wife, and you speak of defending my honor. It is... unexpected."

"It is because I have come to acknowledge your rightful place here," Damian said. "I have been remiss in the past, blind to the burdens forced upon you. I tolerated Rosaline’s insolence only because I believed it was your wish to keep the peace. Yet today, Roman might have turned ill, regardless of her ignorance. Furthermore, she must learn that you are the Duchess of Varos, not a servant bound to endure her whims."

A soft smile touched Eilika’s lips, a reaction that only served to deepen the Duke’s perplexity.

"Did I say something amusing?" he questioned, his brow furrowing.

"No," she replied. "Even with such coldness, you remain remarkably handsome."

A flush rose to Damian’s cheeks at the unexpected compliment, breaking his stern composure. He cleared his throat, turning his gaze aside as he sought to regain his footing. "I must inform my mother regarding Rosaline. I shall ensure she is barred from entering this estate henceforth."

"Calm yourself," Eilika said softly, stepping closer and placing a gentle hand upon his arm. "Your anger far exceeds my own. At this moment, Mother is attending to Roman, and I have no desire for the child to overhear such grim matters. Even earlier, you very nearly broke your composure in his presence. He is but a child; he cannot fathom the complexities of adult malice."

"I understand," Damian conceded. "Yet I have never found myself getting so annoyed. The mere thought of harm befalling Roman... it unsettled me deeply."

"I know," Eilika murmured. She withdrew her hand, letting it fall gently to her side. "Do not allow fury to govern you. You may exact whatever punishment you deem fit upon Rosaline, but you must remain mindful of your own standing. I don’t wish the people to speak ill of you."

"Who cares for that?" Damian chuckled. "Rosaline will not speak wrongfully with you ever and I’ll ensure that once she arrives."

~~~~

August set his brush down, having finished rendering the side profile of Liliana. "The answers you left behind for me are terrible to uncover," he murmured to the empty room. "You never truly loved me, did you?"

Unclamping the thick parchment from his drawing board, he held it over the glowing candles on the candle stand, watching the flame catch the edge.

He dropped the burning page onto the floor, watching in silence as the fire consumed his work until nothing remained but ash.

In the shifting shadows, he recalled Eilika’s words, she was the only soul who truly wished for his well-being.

Stepping out of his quiet chamber, he turned down the grand corridor and headed straight toward the King’s wing.

"Is His Majesty within? I want an audience with him," August stated, addressing the guards posted at the entrance.

The guard offered a low bow and slipped inside to announce the visitor. Within moments, the heavy doors opened once more, and the man gestured for August to enter.

As August stepped into the vast drawing room, his posture stiffened at the sight of the Queen seated beside the King. Suppressing his unease, he offered a deep, reverent bow to them both.

"What brings you to our quarters at this hour?" King Nyxen inquired, setting his wine glass down upon the mahogany table.

"Father, I request permission to depart for Varos. I ask that you appoint me to an official post within the province," August declared.

"By what right should an illegitimate son be granted a royal commission?" the Queen interjected bitterly, her gaze hardening. "You harbor grand ambitions for someone whose past crimes still stain this palace."

"I have paid for my crimes, Your Majesty," August replied, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. "I was banished from the palace for more than fifteen years. Is that penance not sufficient?" His hard gaze turned fully upon the Queen.

"Why do you harbor a desire to go to Varos?" King Nyxen inquired, his brow furrowing as he studied his son. He secretly wondered if the boy still harbored deep-seated resentment toward Damian.

"Father, I wish to assist the Duke in his governance," August answered. "Moreover, Damian has yet to uncover the identity of the person who poisoned him. I believe I can be of service."

The Queen, possessing no interest in his ambitions, looked away and dismissed him from her thoughts entirely.

"Your Majesty," she said, turning her attention back to her husband as if August were no longer in the room, "we must begin the search for a suitable bride for Prince Sylvian."

"A moment, my dear," King Nyxen said, raising a hand to pause his wife’s remarks. He turned his full attention back to August, his eyes narrowing slightly. "How do you presume to be of use in unmasking the culprit? You possess no knowledge of Varos. Furthermore, you caused considerable strife for the Duchess during your time there. How can I justify sending you back to his estate?"

"I desire to aid the Duchess, Father, and to earn her forgiveness for the wrongs I committed against her," August pronounced. "Give me a chance to prove myself. Allow me with some power that make me help the Duke. I plead you."

He bowed in front of the King, hoping his father would listen.