At Falconcrest Manor, Elowen's carriage had just begun to turn toward the side gate when another carriage rolled out from within the estate, clearly on its way out.
The driver spotted the Duskmoor crest at once and pulled the reins, bringing the horses to a controlled stop.
Elowen pushed the carriage door open and looked out.
At the same moment, the curtain across from her was lifted from inside, revealing Sylvia's face, pale and tight with worry. Just behind her, Piers sat angled toward the door, his presence steady even in silence.
"Elowen!"
Sylvia leaned forward, her voice quick and breathless. "We were just about to come find you. We heard what happened to my cousin, and we couldn't sit still another moment."
A flicker of warmth passed through Elowen's chest.
Before she could respond, Piers spoke, his tone calm but firm. "Since you're already here, there's no need for us to go out. This isn't something to discuss at the gate. Let's take it inside."
Sylvia blinked, then gave a quick nod. "Right. Of course. I wasn't thinking straight. Come on, let's go in."
The two carriages passed through the gates one after the other.
With Mira's help, Elowen stepped down, and Sylvia immediately moved to her side, taking her arm as they walked together. Piers led the way without another word, his pace measured.
They reached his study not long after.
He dismissed every servant, shut the door himself, then crossed the room to check the windows before finally turning back to them.
"You don't need to panic just yet, Your Grace," he said, getting straight to the point. "As of now, there's nothing solid that ties the Duke of Duskmoor directly to the Nordian prince's death."
Elowen met his gaze. "Then how did this land on him?"
Piers exhaled slowly before answering. "From what I've gathered through contacts in the court offices, the attack happened in a narrow service lane while the prince was being escorted back to his residence. A night patrol came across it first. By the time they arrived, the place had already been... cleaned."
He chose the word carefully.
"There were bodies, the prince and several of his guards, and a few dropped weapons, but almost no signs of a struggle. Hardly any blood left behind. It didn't look natural. It looked like someone had taken the time to erase what happened."
Elowen's fingers pressed lightly together.
First, a scene wiped so clean it raised suspicion instead of removing it. Then, the perfect person to find the one piece that mattered.
And finally, that same person exposed for trying to bury it.
This wasn't just planned. It was staged, step by step, with every reaction accounted for.
For a fleeting second, she almost respected the mind behind it.
Piers frowned. "That's the problem. There's no witness, no confession, nothing definitive. But every piece of it points in the same direction. The court is already restless, and with a Nordian prince dead, people want answers. His Majesty doesn't have the luxury of waiting. Right now, the duke is in a very difficult position."
Sylvia's expression tightened. "Who would go this far just to drag him down..."
She turned to Elowen, determination breaking through her worry. "We should go to the palace and speak for him. We can't just sit here."
Elowen shook her head, her voice steady. "No. Right now, the last thing he needs is to be pulled out."

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