A Touch of Shadow: The Duke's Obsession

Chapter 90: The Same Name

Isabella raised her head. Though her eyes were still rimmed with red, the light within them had changed to a sharp sting.

"And if I fail?" she asked softly.

Rhaegar stared right into her eyes. Then, without a word, he reached to his waist and drew forth a short blade.

The edge gleamed cold beneath the moonlight.

With a swift turn of his wrist... The dagger drove deep into the stone table, sinking with such force that its hilt quivered.

Isabella recoiled in fear, her face paling instantly.

Rhaegar bent slightly, leaning closer, stealing all the air between them. His eyes were now but a breath away from hers—dark, turbulent, filled with something that stirred dread in the marrow.

He spoke, each word soft as a lover’s whisper—yet it made her tremble.

"She is someone I would guard with my life. Touch her once... and I shall remember it for the rest of yours. This time, I spare you—for your father’s sake. But should there be a next—"

He paused.

"I make no promise you will still be seated here."

Straightening, he turned and left.

His footsteps faded into the night, until even their echo was swallowed by silence.

Isabella remained seated in the pavilion, her gaze lingering upon the dagger embedded in stone.

For a long while, she could not move.

Then, slowly, she reached out and grasped its hilt.

And pulled.

It did not budge.

She tried again.

Still, it remained unmoved.

At last, she released it.

Her eyes rested upon the blade, where a sliver of moonlight shimmered faintly.

And then, her lips curved.

A faint smile, yet cold enough to chill the soul.

"Rhaegar..." she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath. "The more you are like this... the less I can let you go."

She rose and stepped from the pavilion.

Moonlight stretched her slender shadow long across the ground, trailing behind her like something inescapable.

***

By the time Caelith returned to the old residence, night had fully deepened into darkness.

She pushed open the gate.

The courtyard lay in darkness—no lamp lit, no welcoming glow.

Her brow furrowed as she stepped inside.

At this hour, Yvaine would always have a lamp burning in the main hall, waiting for her return.

Tonight, there was none.

Her steps quickened.

She pushed open the door.

A single oil lamp flickered within, its dim light illuminating only a small corner of the room.

Yvaine was huddled against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her whole body trembling.

"Yvaine?"

At the sound of her voice, the girl jolted, lifting her head.

Her face was streaked with tears. A harsh red mark cut across her cheek, running from cheekbone to chin, as though struck or scraped by force.

"Caelith!" she cried, rushing forward and clutching at her legs. "You’ve finally come back!"

Caelith dropped to her knees at once, steadying her by the shoulders.

"What happened?"

Yvaine sobbed, her words breaking between breaths.

"This afternoon... someone knocked at the door. I thought it was you, so I opened it. But... it was several men. They asked if you lived here. I said no—but they didn’t believe me..."

Caelith’s hands tightened.

"And then?"

"They said you were a seductress... that you bewitched Lord Rhaegar, bringing unrest to both the Thorne and Tanmin houses. They said they would teach you a lesson—so you’d learn your place..."

Yvaine wiped at her tears, her voice shaking. "I told them you weren’t here, but they wouldn’t listen. They tried to force their way in. I blocked them—and they shoved me. I fell... and my face was cut."

Caelith’s breathing grew heavier, each breath edged with rising fury.

"And after that?"

"After that... someone suddenly shouted, ’Men from Lord Rhaegar have arrived!’—and they fled at once." Yvaine clutched tightly at Caelith’s sleeve, her voice trembling. "Sister... I was so afraid. I’m still afraid."

Caelith looked at her, brows furrowing.

Moonlight slipped through the window lattice, falling across Yvaine’s face. It revealed nothing but fear—eyes reddened, trembling like a startled hare with nowhere left to run.

And in that moment, an old memory stirred.

There had been a time, long ago, when the House of Emberlyn still stood in its former glory. Yvaine had then been a pampered young lady of the household, adorned in silk and gold, her bearing proud and sharp. Whenever she saw Caelith, she would roll her eyes and speak in veiled mockery—

"Oh? The elder daughter graces us with her presence."

Then came the fall of the house.

Yvaine’s parents fled, abandoning her without a backward glance. With no refuge left, she had come to Caelith.

And Caelith had taken her in.

Not out of forgiveness, but because she, too, bore the name Emberlyn.

Yet now...

Seeing the wound upon her face, seeing the naked fear in her eyes... Something within Caelith softened, ever so slightly.

"Do not be afraid," she said quietly, her voice gentler than she herself had expected. "I am here."

Yvaine looked at her—and tears welled up anew.

***

That night, Yvaine dared not sleep alone. She brought her bedding and laid it beside Caelith’s bed.

Caelith did not refuse.

The night deepened.

Yvaine lay restless upon her pallet, turning again and again, unable to find sleep. After a long while, she spoke, her voice muffled in the dark.

"Sister."

"...Mm?"

"I am sorry."

Caelith said nothing.

"For everything before... I am truly sorry." Yvaine’s voice trembled with quiet sobs. "I was cruel. You showed me kindness, and still I treated you so poorly."

Silence lingered.

Long moments passed before Caelith spoke at last.

"Sleep."

Yvaine said no more.

But Caelith knew—she was still weeping.

***

At dawn, when Caelith awoke, the bedding beside her was already empty. Yvaine had risen at some unknown hour.

Caelith sat up slowly, pressing her fingers to her temples. Her sleep had been shallow, her thoughts tangled and unrested.

From the courtyard came the murmur of voices.

She rose, draped a robe over her shoulders, and pushed open the door.

Yvaine stood at the entrance, her back rigid, her whole body tense.

Before her stood Isabella.