"What...?" Liam blurted, his head snapping up, shock flooding his face.
Colton let out a heavy, irritated breath, his cane striking lightly against the floor as his temper rose. "Josh's father, Patrick, served under Clement for years. He wasn't just another officer, he was one of the most trusted men in that command. When the army had to withdraw, he stayed behind with barely a hundred men to hold the line. He bought time with his life."
His voice hardened as he continued, each word carrying weight. "His name was entered into the rolls of honor. His Majesty personally ordered compensation for his family. He is remembered as one of Avenlor's war dead."
The more he spoke, the angrier he became. "And right now, with fighting tightening in the Southwestern Marches, the court is doing everything it can to honor men like him, to keep the army steady. And what do you do?"
He fixed Liam with a sharp glare. "You go after his son, and you let the Duchess catch you in the act. Do you have any idea what that looks like? You handed her the perfect reason to make an example out of you."
Liam's strength drained out of him. He shifted awkwardly where he sat, then lost what little composure he had left and dropped heavily back, no longer able to hold himself upright.
Colton looked at him, the disappointment in his eyes only deepening. After a moment, he waved his hand in dismissal, like he didn't even want to look at him anymore. "Go home. Think about what I said. Keep your brother inside and make sure he stays there until he heals and learns something from this. If I see either of you causing trouble again, don't expect anyone to clean up after you."
At Rayne Manor, later that evening, the inner residence was quiet.
Archer Rayne had just returned when a servant hurried in to report that his favored concubine was unwell again, clutching her chest. He didn't even stop to rest before heading straight to her rooms.
Inside, she was already reclining against a cushioned daybed, dressed in a soft rose-colored gown that draped lightly over her figure. Her hair had been loosened just enough to frame her face, giving her that carefully crafted, fragile look that always drew him in.
The moment she saw him, she leaned forward and slipped into his arms, her body soft against his, her hands sliding up around his neck.
The warmth of her, the faint scent of perfume, the way she pressed close without hesitation, it stirred something immediate and familiar. His hand settled at her waist, pulling her closer as he lowered his head, ready to kiss her when fast and urgent footsteps broke the moment.
"My lord! My lord, something's wrong! It's serious!"
Archer's expression darkened instantly, irritation flaring. His grip tightened slightly as he snapped without even turning. "Get out. Whatever it is can wait."
The servant didn't move.
"My lord, it can't. It's the Lady of Grace and Virtue. She's sent for you by name. You're to go at once."
That title cut straight through everything.
Archer went still.
Lady of Grace and Virtue. Elowen.
Cassian's wife. The daughter of Clement Hale.
Cassian had lost his title after the Nordian prince's death, and Duskmoor Manor had been renamed. But her rank had not only remained, it had been reinforced.
That told him everything he needed to know.
The woman in his arms shifted, her tone turning soft and coaxing. "Why are you worrying about her? Look at me. I'm not even wearing anything under this gown..."


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