The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

”It is entirely understandable if you both prefer to stay in a private cottage,” Rodney said to Damian as they walked through the lavish garden in the crisp, cold morning air. ”I understand completely.”

”Thank you,” Damian replied.

”I heard a rumor that Prince Sylvian is soon to be appointed Duke of the Western Province,” Rodney continued, casting a curious glance at his companion. ”How much truth is there to it?”

”It is true,” Damian answered evenly. ”His name is the primary recommendation of the royal court, and the King favors the decision as well.”

”That is good to hear. Though I had hoped Prince Sylvian might join us this year,” Rodney remarked, his brow furrowing slightly. ”I heard recent rumors of minor unrest along the borders adjoining the Southern Kingdom.”

”Is that so? I have not heard any such rumors,” Damian replied, glancing at him with newfound attention.

”I learned of it only yesterday,” Rodney confirmed gravely. ”I believe His Majesty has already been informed of the matter as well.”

Damian’s brow furrowed at the mention of the border. Varos lay in far closer proximity to the Southern Kingdom than the capital or the eastern territories, leaving it particularly exposed to any spillover from regional hostility.

”I doubt the situation will escalate to open war,” Rodney said, bringing his pace to a stop as they reached the central fountain of the garden.

”We are in no position to assume that,” Damian replied, his tone growing sharper. ”Any irregular activity along the frontier requires immediate investigation and reinforcement.”

”That is true,” Rodney acknowledged, looking out over the frost-covered hedges. ”Though our military stockpiles and weaponry have advanced considerably over the past decade. Even so, armed conflict inevitably yields nothing but ruin. I have no desire to see our lands dragged into another war.”

Damian nodded silently, entirely in agreement. He still remembered the years when his father served as the supreme army commander, leading wars across distant borders. Upon his final return, he had fallen gravely ill from his battlefield injuries until his death came.

While time had buried those old scars, they had never truly healed.

Damian hoped with all his heart that history would not repeat itself. It was not the prospect of battle that unnerved him, he had never feared taking up arms, but rather the grave consequences for those left behind.

The thought of his wife, his young son, his aging mother, and his closest friends bearing the emotional and physical ruin of another war weighed heavily upon his conscience.

”What are you thinking?” Rodney inquired.

”Nothing,” Damian replied, not wanting to confine his worries.

~~~~~

August reclined in his seat, his eyes closed in thought, when Samir quietly entered the room and approached him.

”Your Highness, the official report claims the fire originated in the kitchen,” Samir reported in a low voice. ”However, my inspection of the fire altars revealed something far more suspicious.”

August’s eyes snapped open, a gleam of interest cutting through his tired expression.

Samir produced a small cloth pouch from inside his coat and untied the drawstring. Dabbing a pinch of dark, grainy ash onto his fingers, he continued, ”Traces of explosive compound were deliberately concealed inside one of the hearths. Your suspicion was correct, my Lord, a standard kitchen flare-up could never have caused a blast of that magnitude.”

”So the inspector lied,” August muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as the implications took shape.

Before Samir could reply, a light knock sounded against the wooden doorframe. A servant belonging to the rest house spoke loudly from outside the closed doors.

”Your Highness,” the servant announced, ”a young woman by the name of Xenia is outside, requesting an immediate audience with you.”

”Bring her in,” August ordered.

Samir bowed and stepped out, returning a few moments later with Xenia trailing behind him.

She offered a quick, respectful bow before addressing the prince directly with anxiety. ”Your Highness, I spoke with the inspector regarding his report, and he informed me that my brothers are to be summoned for questioning. I do not understand it. They are the victims in this tragedy—why are they being treated as suspects? Forgive me for intruding upon you, my Lord, but you are the only one who can ensure justice is done.”

”I was also present at the rest house during the incident,” August said, his tone remaining impassive. ”The inspector is merely adhering to standard protocol. There is no cause for alarm.”

”But my brothers are completely innocent,” Xenia pleaded, her eyes searching his face for any sign of sympathy.

”The royal court does not base its judgments on bare assertions,” August replied plainly. ”The inspector operates under orders from higher authorities. Let him conduct his inquiry. If your brothers are as innocent as you claim, no harm will come to them.”

Xenia’s expression hardened with frustration. ”Your Highness, how can this be considered just? My brothers—”

”Your brothers will face no punishment unless guilt is formally established,” August interrupted, his voice dropping into a stern tone. ”You ask me to shield them before an official investigation has even commenced. Why should I extend my protection solely on your word?”

Standing quietly behind the prince, Samir felt a flick of confusion at August’s harsh demeanor toward the distressed girl. Yet he knew the prince was bound by political reality; once word of an explosive detonation reached the King, the court would demand a thorough investigation, regardless of who stood in the way.

Xenia lowered her head, curtsying stiffly before turning on her heel toward the door.

”Do not act recklessly and fall into our enemy’s trap,” August advised, his voice following her into the hallway. ”Remain at your residence and allow the investigation to take its course.”

Xenia offered a faint, strained murmur of assent before hurrying out of sight.

Samir secured the heavy wooden doors from within and walked back to the prince’s side. ”Was it necessary to treat her with such severity, Your Highness?”

”She possesses a headstrong disposition and fails to grasp the broader picture,” August replied evenly. ”Premature interference will only compromise our position. As for this residue, we must establish a precise account of every individual who gained access to the kitchen on that day. The task will prove difficult, but it remains our only viable path to uncovering the true perpetrator.”

”I agree, Your Highness.”

”Make sure none of the employees who worked in that rest house leaves this town. You need to do it quick,” August stated.

Samir bowed and walked out to carry the task but left behind the ash with mixed explosives.

~~~~~

By early afternoon, Iliana’s friend had completed her task and taken her leave. Iliana walked her to the courtyard, bidding her farewell before returning to the kitchen to wash her hands at the basin and dry them against her apron.

Setting a plate of freshly baked biscuits onto a tray, she made her way upstairs to check on Sylvian.

She pushed the bedchamber door open with quiet care, expecting to find him resting. Instead, her breath caught in her throat.

The narrow bed sat empty.

”Where did he go?” she panicked, calling out in a low whisper as she set the tray on the small table. ”Prince Sylvian? Prince Sylvian!”

She turned back toward the door to search for him, only to step right into a broad, solid chest. Her breath hitched as she stumbled slightly, her hands instinctually reaching up to brace against him.

”I merely went to wash, Iliana,” Sylvian murmured, looking down at her with calm amused eyes.

Iliana’s gaze froze. Though he had pulled on a fresh linen shirt, the fabric was damp, clinging to his chest and revealing the faint outline of his sun-warmed skin beneath.

”I asked Your Highness to remain inside this room,” Iliana said, her voice strained as she forced her eyes upward to meet his.

”The bath chamber is on this same floor,” Sylvian pointed out reasonably. ”I doubted your friend would wander up here uninvited.”

”Even so, how did Your Highness manage to bathe?” Iliana insisted, her brows knitting together in confusion. ”The tub was entirely empty. It requires hauling water to fill it first. A prince cannot be accustomed to such manual labor. You ought to have waited for me to complete my tasks downstairs.”

”I am capable of lifting a bucket or two,” Sylvian replied, amused.

He raised a coarse linen towel to his wet hair, working it back and forth. A few stray droplets of water flicked from his locks, landing softly against Iliana’s warm cheek. She flinched slightly and took a quick step backward to create distance between them.

”What would Your Highness prefer for the midday meal?” she asked, attempting to regain her composure.

”Whatever you prepare for yourself,” Sylvian answered, lowering the towel. His damp dark hair fell loosely across his forehead, softening his sharp features. ”I am hardly a fastidious eater.”

”My daily fare consists mostly of simple vegetables,” Iliana cautioned him. ”Can a royal guest truly stomach such modest food? If you require fresh meat, I must leave for the market to purchase it first.”

Sylvian took a step towards her and leaned down to meet her gaze. ”Miss, I would like to eat what you eat everyday. Don’t take a pain for this prince. He is accustomed to a commoner’s food too.”

Iliana’s breath hitched as she nodded her head. Not waiting for a second, she rushed past him, which made Sylvian laugh.

”Why does it feel she is shying about something?” Sylvian mumbled to himself before walking inside the room.