A Touch of Shadow: The Duke's Obsession

Chapter 82: Thoughts Of You

Before William could even react, a shocking force struck him from behind, and he was sent flying with a brutal kick, crashing hard onto the ground and overturning the table laden with food.

Bowls shattered. Broth splashed across the floor.

Caelith lifted her head in bewilderment.

A tall, dark figure stood at the doorway.

Backlit by the fading light, his face lay in shadow—only the sharp outline of his form, and those eyes, cold as tempered ice, could be seen, glistening with malice.

Rhaegar was back.

He strode inside without a glance at the groaning man on the ground, walking straight to her.

He stopped just a breath away.

His face was pale, shadows beneath his eyes betraying sleepless nights, a faint stubble along his jaw. Yet when he looked at her, the intensity in his gaze burned, fierce and unyielding.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

Caelith shook her head, steadying her breath. Without another word, he pulled her into his arms, relieved to finally feel her warmth against him.

William struggled to his feet. At the sight of them, his face turned green with fury and shame. He opened his mouth to curse, but when Rhaegar’s gaze swept toward him, the words died in his throat.

That look... It was the look one gave the dead.

"Leave while I’m still letting you," Rhaegar commanded sharply.

Just a few words, but William stumbled backward, then turned and fled in utter panic.

Silence fell.

"How... how are you back already?" Caelith asked softly, her voice muffled against his uniform.

"The case is closed," he replied. "I rode through the night just so I could finally see you."

He lowered his gaze to her—taking in the worn, faded clothes, the thinness of her face, the lingering shadows beneath her eyes. His thumb brushed lightly across the corner of her eye.

"I told you," he said quietly, "when you were free, I would marry you. Did you think I spoke in jest—only to find you here sharing wine with another?"

Caelith struck his chest lightly in protest, though her eyes had already begun to sting.

At that moment, hurried, guilty footsteps sounded outside.

Yvaine emerged from somewhere in the courtyard, forcing an awkward smile.

"Lord Rhaegar, you’ve returned? What a coincidence—I just stepped out to buy a few things."

Rhaegar did not even look at her.

His gaze remained on Caelith.

"Come," he said. "You are coming with me."

Caelith hesitated. "But—"

"There is no ’but.’" His voice was quiet, yet absolute. "You will not stay in this place. From now on, you live with me."

Yvaine froze, the smile on her face stiffening. She still clutched the two heavy purses in her hands.

Seeing them turn to leave, panic rose within her. She hurried after them.

"Wait! Lord Rhaegar!" she called. "I’m coming too!"

Rhaegar paused.

He did not even turn.

"Where do you think you are going?" His voice was colder than winter wind.

"With you, of course," Yvaine said quickly, forcing a smile as she moved in front of them. "Caelith is my sister. We are family. Wherever she goes, I go."

At last, Rhaegar lifted his eyes.

The look he gave her sent a chill down her spine.

"Family?" he repeated, emotionless. "When she called for you just now—where were you?"

Yvaine’s face went pale. "I... I went out to buy things. Truly! I didn’t know William would—"

"Enough."

He cut her off, then turned back to Caelith. "Come."

But she did not move. She just stood there, head lowered, as though weighing something carefully.

A frown cut between his eyebrows. "What is it?"

After a few seconds, she looked up. "Rhaegar."

"Yes?"

"I cannot go with you."

He stilled. "Why?"

Her gaze flickered briefly—to Yvaine, to the broken house, then back to him.

"I am..." she paused, choosing her words carefully, "without name or standing. It’s not possible now."

His frown deepened. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she said steadily, "I am nothing now. The Emberlyn family is gone. I received no title, no reward. I am still known as the wife of a traitor. If you take me in—what would that make me? What would that make... you?"

Rhaegar said nothing, his pulse drumming in his ears.

"You come from a noble house," she continued. "You are tied to the royal line. The court watches you closely. If you bring home a woman of uncertain standing, what will they say? What of your reputation? Right now, you are the most honored man in the Empire, second only to the Emperor. You will lose all that honor and respect."

His eyes darkened, something stirring beneath the surface. "You are worried about that?"

"Of course I am," she said. "I will not become your burden."

Rhaegar suddenly laughed—a low, incredulous sound.

"Caelith," he said, "do you truly think I care for such things?"

"You may not," she replied, unwavering, "but I do."

She held his gaze.

"You have already done more for me than I can ever repay. In the prison. Today. Everything before that." Her voice softened, but did not yield. "And because of that, I cannot follow you without thought."

Rhaegar looked at her for a long time.

He knew she was right.

Though he cared nothing for idle gossip, he would not allow her to be slandered, diminished, or spoken of lightly. His honor would not suffer, but Caelith... No noble would ever accept her in their circles again.

At last, he spoke.

"...Very well. I understand," he said quietly. "And I respect your choice."

A pause.

"I will come for you soon."

Caelith nodded.

Rhaegar turned.

His gaze fell upon William, now held by two guards not far away. The man’s face was ashen, his body trembling uncontrollably.

"Take him," Rhaegar ordered. "To the imperial prison. I don’t want him lingering around here anymore."

William collapsed to his knees.

"My lord! Mercy! I did nothing—I only drank too much—spoke foolishly—"

Rhaegar ignored him.

The guards dragged the man away.

Caelith watched, a trace of unease flickering within her.

She had known William Laurel for years. Though rough, he had never been truly wicked.

"Rhaegar," she said gently.

He turned right away.

She hesitated, choosing her words. "I have known him long. He is not a bad man. Today... was likely drunken folly."

Rhaegar said nothing.

"Could you... show him some leniency?"

Silence lingered.

Then he stepped closer, lowering his voice near her ear, "Any man who harbors thoughts of you..." His tone was quiet, cold, "...deserves to die."