novelraw Chapter 27: Calculations
Chapter 27: Calculations
In the past, Caelith had always met Yvaine’s provocations with quiet indifference, as though nothing in the world could stir her. Dorian had long believed his wife overly detached—almost dull in her composure.
It had always unsettled him––how still and calm she was even in the face of great annoyance. He wondered if Caelith was simply heartless.
Yet today, her words struck him like a sudden peal of thunder.
To send Yvaine to a villa beyond the city under the guise of "rest and recovery" appeared, on the surface, considerate.
But in truth, it was a move that cut the root from the tree, for the "villa" in question had long been given to charity and transformed into a convent.
Such a place lay far from the capital. Once sent there, it would be no different from exile. And with Yvaine’s reputation already stained, her removal to a convent would seal her fate entirely—any hope of return to the Valehart household would become all but impossible.
A gentle suggestion... yet ruthless in its consequence.
For the first time, Dorian felt that he had never truly seen his wife clearly.
She was not without calculation—only that her thoughts ran deep, hidden beneath still waters.
And strangely, when such calculation was turned against Yvaine, he found no fault in it. On the contrary, he found himself... inclined to accept it.
He looked at her, a faint note of approval in his voice.
"I see you have considered this thoroughly."
Caelith lowered her gaze. "I merely thought my cousin, having suffered such fright, ought to rest in peace for a time. I meant nothing beyond that. If my lord finds it improper, then pray disregard my words and do as you wish."
"There is nothing improper," Dorian replied, shaking his head. "It shall be done as you suggest. Tomorrow, she will be sent to the Quiet Heart Convent beyond the city."
"As my lord decides." Caelith inclined her head.
"If you have thoughts on matters within the household," he added after a pause, "you may speak them freely to me."
"Yes, my lord."
Dorian lingered a moment longer, watching her. An unfamiliar feeling stirred faintly within him—something he could not quite name.
"You should rest," he said at last.
***
When he had gone, Dolly slipped back into the room, unable to contain her relief.
"At last—Lady Yvaine will be sent away! What a relief!"
Caelith said nothing.
Her gaze lowered to the sachet at her waist.
Sending her away... was only the beginning. What Yvaine had done to her—she would not let it pass unanswered.
"See to the arrangements," she said quietly. "The days ahead will not be peaceful."
"Yes, my lady," Dolly replied at once.
***
Elsewhere
Upon learning that Dorian intended to send her to the Quiet Heart Convent beyond the city, Yvaine flew into a white-hot rage. With a sweep of her arm, she sent the ornaments upon the table crashing to the ground.
"I have done so much for him—and he would cast me off to that desolate place?"
Charlotte spoke carefully, "The steward delivered the message himself. The heir says you are to depart at first light tomorrow..."
"He means to drive me out of the Valehart household entirely!" Yvaine cried, her voice sharp with fury. "It must be that whore Caelith, whispering poison behind my back!"
How could she accept such an end?
All her scheming, all her efforts to draw close to Dorian—were they not for wealth, for standing, for a life of splendor?
How could she resign herself to a lifetime of cold lamps and silent prayers?
"I will see him," she declared suddenly, rising to her feet. "I do not believe he would truly be so heartless!"
Ignoring Charlotte’s attempts to stop her, she staggered from the courtyard, making straight for Dorian’s study.
As dusk gathered and shadows lengthened across the courtyards, Dorian sat alone within his study, a volume open in his hands. The lamplight cast a quiet glow upon his composed features—until the doors were flung open without warning.
Yvaine rushed in.
His brows drew together at once, displeasure flashing coldly across his face.
"Who permitted you to enter?"
But Yvaine paid no heed to decorum. She stumbled forward and fell before him, tears streaming down her face like rain upon pear blossoms.
"My lord, I beg you—have mercy. Do not send me to the convent. I truly know my fault..."
Dorian looked down at her, yet the sight stirred not pity, but a weary distaste.
"And even now," he said, his voice low and edged with frost, "you persist in falsehood, hoping still to deceive me?"
"I have not lied! That day––what happened was truly an accident, I swear! I, too, was a victim..."
"Enough."
His interruption was sharp as steel.
"For the sake of what once lay between us, I have already shown you the utmost leniency in allowing you to withdraw and recover. Do not mistake that for indulgence."
A hollow, bitter laugh escaped Yvaine’s lips.
"You once said you cared for me... Was that false as well?"
At this, Dorian did not answer.