One by one, the Dukes rose, their robes sweeping across the polished floors as they prepared to leave. Ashcroft remained seated a moment longer, his chest heavy with the burden of the secret he carried. Finally, he stood, each step toward the doorway feeling heavier than the last.
The other Dukes were already ahead of him, murmuring among themselves as they walked, debating the potential ramifications of the King's decision.
Only Duke Veltorin lingered behind, his sharp eyes glinting as he fell into step beside Ashcroft. His voice was low, casual, yet carried an unmistakable edge.
"You know," Veltorin said, glancing sideways, "this changes everything. If I were in your shoes…" His words trailed, but his meaning was clear. "Tell the King. Don't wait any longer. Or… I may do it for you."
Ashcroft looked at him, absorbing the weight behind the words. "What do you mean?" he asked, curiosity and wariness mingling in his tone.
Veltorin studied him for a moment, then said bluntly, "Acacia. I know her identity. I believe you knew as well."
Ashcroft's jaw tightened. "I didn't. Not until yesterday."
"Whatever it may be," Veltorin said coldly, "inform the King."
Ashcroft's voice dropped, edged with concern. "But… how did you know?"
Veltorin's gaze hardened slightly. "My daughter was attacked. Did you think I would just sit back and relax? It was sheer luck we caught one of the survivors and made them speak." His eyes flickered, steel beneath his calm.
Ashcroft frowned. "What did they say? Why did they attack?"
Veltorin did not answer directly. Instead, he began to move again, his robes sweeping across the polished floor. But his steps faltered once more and he glanced over his shoulder. "When you are done here… come to the manor," he added, voice low but firm.
Ashcroft gave a slow, knowing nod, the corners of his lips curving faintly. What a sly fox.
Ashcroft lingered in the corridor a moment longer, the weight of Veltorin's words pressing harder than the silence that followed him. He drew a steadying breath, squared his shoulders and turned back towards the council chamber.
The great doors loomed before him. He paused outside the chamber door, hand lingering on the ornate handle. His mind spun with every possible consequence: the empire's stability, the King's trust, Valeriath's reaction, and, most of all, Acacia's safety. After a long, measured breath, he pushed the door open.
King Lucien remained seated at the head of the long table, the chamber now emptied of the other dukes. His sharp gaze lifted as Ashcroft stepped inside. "You've returned," the King said, his voice calm but tinged with curiosity. "Is there something more, Ashcroft?"
Ashcroft's hand tightened around the edge of the table. Every word carried immense risk, yet every moment of silence only deepened that risk.
Ashcroft swallowed, then met his gaze. "Sire, do you remember the girl we took in a few months ago?"
"The girl from the forest?"
"Yes. She had lost her memories when we found her. But yesterday… they returned. She revealed that she is the daughter of Auren Grey. Chrysanthia Grey."
Lucien's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. He slammed his palms on the table, the sound reverberating through the chamber. "What?! This changes everything! When were you planning to reveal this, Nathenial?!"
Ashcroft bowed his head. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I hesitated to bring it to you because I feared the consequences, political, diplomatic… and most of all, for her safety. But I couldn't remain silent. It is my duty to tell you."
Lucien exhaled sharply, then leaned back in his chair, the weight of the revelation pressing heavily upon him. "You have done well to bring this to me, Ashcroft. Soleriath's duty is to protect the empire."
Ashcroft glanced at him, concern and perhaps a flicker of regret in his eyes but Lucien's voice grew firmer. "We will protect the girl… but now we must also consider the message it sends, both to Valeriath and to the wider realm."
Ashcroft bowed his head, feeling a measure of relief ease the tightness in his chest. "I will follow your orders, Sire. My duty is to you and to the realm. To ensure she remains safe… and to preserve Soleriath's stability."
The King's gaze softened slightly, though the sharp edge of authority remained. "Then we will proceed with utmost care. And Ashcroft…"
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Prepare yourself. The decisions we make now may shape Soleriath's future for decades to come."
Ashcroft inclined his head, feeling the immense responsibility settle firmly on his shoulders. The secret he had borne alone was now shared with the King, the course of action uncertain but the first step toward safeguarding both Acacia and the empire had been taken.
King Lucien sighed, his fingers steepling beneath his chin. His gaze was steady, thoughtful.
"Now what should we do, Nathaniel? Any idea how we can reveal this fact to the Greys? Do you think they will believe us?"
Ashcroft drew a sharp breath, the question weighing heavily. "That is what troubles me, Your Majesty. Proof is scarce. And the Greys… they are proud and wary. To hear such a truth from foreign lips, they may take it as mockery or worse, manipulation. Or worse still… they may think we had played a role in kidnapped their daughter."
The King's eyes narrowed at that, a shadow passing over his expression. He did not dismiss it. "You are right," he said slowly. "Such an accusation would bring fire to both empires before truth has the chance to take root. We tread on a blade's edge, Ashcroft, one wrong step and war will answer."
"I understand, sire," Ashcroft murmured.
Silence stretched, broken only by the crackle of the hearth.
At length, Lucien's eyes softened, though his tone remained firm. "Then perhaps words are not enough. Perhaps…" He paused, voice dropping with intent. "Bring the girl tomorrow to the palace, Nathaniel. I would like to meet her myself."
Ashcroft stiffened, caught between duty and dread. After a moment, he bowed deeply. "As you command, sire."
He turned and left, the chamber sinking into quiet once more.
The Ashcroft went straight to the Veltorin manor. Nathaniel was led into the duke's office, where Cedric sat at his desk, skimming documents. At the sight of his guest, Cedric put them aside and motioned him to the couch. He soon joined him there.
Nathaniel asked at once, "How did you know Irene was attacked? When I came to your house, Seren said you were away on business."
Cedric leaned back, his eyes glinting. "I was away, yes. But unlike most, I don't return blind. I have eyes everywhere, Nathaniel. While you sat and wondered, my men tracked the filth who dared strike. They dragged their trail to the rats' den."
His jaw tightened, a flicker of rage burning through. "I was a breath away from killing them where they stood, by the gods, they deserved worse." He paused, a sharp breath forcing down the fury.
Then his mouth curved into a hard smile. His eyes gleamed with a cruel satisfaction. "But I didn't. I held my blade. Because I wanted answers. And I got them." He leaned forward, voice thick with pride, each word a deliberate cut. "Your precious little secret".
Nathaniel's jaw tightening as he stared at Cedric. Hate flared in his eyes, tangled with disbelief. "Which was not a secret," he said coldly, voice sharp with restrained fury, "and is not anymore."
Cedric smirked, then pushed a large envelope across the table. "I called you here to give you this."
Nathaniel opened it. Inside lay information records of the guild that had struck at both Chrysanthia and Irene. The documents bore the seal of shadowed dealings, names inked in code, routes and exchanges traced with ruthless precision. His brow furrowed as he read, the truth slamming against him with brutal clarity.
"They were no ordinary band of cutthroats," Cedric said, watching the shift in his expression with wolfish satisfaction. "A guild, well-trained, well-paid. And their employer?" His smile turned razor-sharp. "Valeriath. Someone from their side paid for her blood. Their goal was simple, kill Chrysanthia Grey before she could so much as breathe in this world again."
Nathaniel's grip on the parchment tightened, his knuckles white. For a long moment, the silence between them was suffocating. His jaw clenched, his chest rising with restrained breath.
"And you're certain of this?" His voice was low, edged with steel.
Cedric's gaze hardened. "My certainty is the only reason you sit here with those papers instead of staring at the bodies of your family. I don't deal in shadows without proof, Ashcroft. Whoever pulled those strings sits in Valeriath and they will not stop until she is gone."
Nathaniel closed the envelope with deliberate calm, though his hand trembled faintly before he stilled it against his thigh. Fury seared behind his eyes but he forced it into the iron cage of his composure.
"We have to stay cautious," Cedric said, his tone measured now. "Whoever hired them isn't some petty noble. This reeks of someone with power."
Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. "And you didn't find who hired them?"
Cedric leaned back, his expression grim. "Couldn't. The survivor mentioned they were sent an envelope, money, instructions, the girl's details. Nothing more. They were paid to kill her, nothing else was spoken."
The words hung between them. Neither man flinched, neither shifted. Silence pressed into the space, taut as a drawn bow, both of them holding the weight of it without release.