Chapter 118 : Where Shadows Stir, and Roses Do Not Fade
✦❖ Chapter 118 ❖✦
“Where Shadows Stir, and Roses Do Not Fade”
I gazed into Johannes’ ocean-blue eyes, my own wide with disbelief. There was not a single tremor in his stare—only a quiet, resolute fire that confirmed he meant every word.
“…Very well,” I finally whispered, my voice barely audible beneath the golden chandeliers.
And just like that, Johannes took a step back, as if signaling that his role was complete—for now.
The noble ladies, gathered in idle conversation moments ago, now turned their sharp eyes toward us. Their curiosity shimmered like sharpened glass in the air. Johannes, aware of the gazes, kept his distance. He wouldn’t risk more—though the tension that lingered between us was unmistakable.
If I faltered here, even for a moment, everything I had built—every thread of dignity and poise I had sewn into my name—would unravel.
So I straightened my back, a queen in her rightful court, and offered him a serene smile.
“As you command, Duke. I shall act with discretion, and ensure no troubles arise.”
Then, with elegant ease, I lifted myself on tiptoe and pressed a soft kiss to his left cheek—
A silent homage to his efforts, and mine, to keep this farce intact.
As I turned, I met the cautious gaze of the Marquis of Hatzfeld’s daughter. Her lashes fluttered with hesitation before she approached, her steps small and unsure. She reached out and clasped my hand with forced gentleness.
“I… I must apologize, Duchess. My actions were the result of naïve admiration. I fear I’ve expressed it poorly.”
Spare me.
For a woman of her age and rank, such an excuse was almost laughable.
“And I owe the Duke an apology as well,” she added, glancing swiftly at Johannes—who offered nothing in return.
So I answered in his stead, my voice calm but glacial.
“It’s fine. One learns little without mistakes.”
There was no reason to make an enemy of Edward Windsor’s chosen companion—especially not in his exhibition.
But that did not mean I would bow.
“Sometimes… attention becomes a burden too great to carry. Especially when it is undeserved.”
My words hung like frost between us.
Her lips trembled, but she offered no reply.
Good. I had no patience left for petty drama.
I was about to move past the gathering when a smooth, calculated voice slid into the space like silk across marble.
“Ah, yes. About that. According to the investigation, there was no evidence the dress straps were cut intentionally. Did you ever consider that you might have accused the wrong person? Poor thing even collapsed, I hear.”
Edward.
Having exchanged the necessary pleasantries with the nobles, he now joined us effortlessly, a serpent among butterflies.
“I’ve longed for a moment to clarify the matter. Isn’t that right, my lady?”
He turned to the Marquis’s daughter, who seized the moment.
“Yes. I acted out of admiration, not malice. Please allow me to extend a heartfelt apology to both the Duke and Duchess.”
Her voice rang loud, intentionally. The nobles nearby perked up, ears twitching like hounds.
Edward had orchestrated this play well. If I refused her apology now, I would be painted as cruel, unreasonable. After all, there was no evidence. He knew exactly how to force my hand.
I was about to reply when—
“So there are victims, but no perpetrators?”
Johannes.
His voice was quiet, but laced with mockery so sharp it cut through the shallow civility like a dagger through silk.
“Pardon?” Edward feigned confusion.
“That’s what they all say in the interrogation room,” Johannes said coolly. “But of course, a Windsor doesn’t dirty his hands with actual investigations, does he?”
I glanced at him, startled.
He was watching Edward with the precision of a blade poised to strike—calm, poised, unshakably lethal.
He continued.
“The only reason I stayed silent back then… was because my wife was shaken. I don’t accommodate cowardice. I protect her.”
A ripple moved through the nobles like the stir of wind before a storm.
Edward shrugged, his smile a touch too tight.
“You always did have a flair for dramatics, Duke.”
But I saw it. The nervous twitch in his temple. He hadn’t expected this much resistance.
Then he leaned in, lowering his voice just enough for Johannes—and me—to hear:
“The Swabian Count was clearly guilty. I couldn’t interfere, even if I wanted to. A shame, but such is duty.”
His voice dripped with mock regret, but every syllable was a blade.
“Hoping I’ll be shocked by your filth?” Johannes replied, unbothered. “You’re not that special.”
Edward’s gaze darkened, and then… shifted to me.
“I believe the Duchess has matters to discuss with me. Privately.”
He was setting the stage.
I tilted my head, unimpressed.
“Oh? So soon?”
He grinned. “Follow me. I know a place… quieter.”
Outside the museum, the Schultz family’s carriage stood idle, its horses twitching under the weight of noble elegance.
Sir Fret Gunner dismounted from the second carriage and entered through a side entrance, ready to support Johannes as needed.
Left behind in the bustling crowd of reporters and servants, Ahin waited among the lesser ranks—just another face in the sea of quiet loyalty.
That was when it happened.
“Lady?”
A low voice, unfamiliar and sudden, emerged from her side. She flinched, startled by the imposing shadow that had crept up beside her.
Among the press and noble commotion, no one noticed the man’s approach. Even the Schultz house staff were preoccupied with chatter.
Ahin’s eyes darted up—suspicion blooming in her chest—only to falter in confusion.
“You…?”
The man’s lips curved into a gentle smile beneath his shaded hat.
It was him.
Theodore.
One of the elusive Giltheons.
His appearance was softened, youthful, and unassuming. He tipped his hat back with theatrical sorrow.
“You remember me. The last time, I asked you to deliver a note to the Duchess.”
Ahin nodded slowly. But unease coiled in her gut.
“Are you… delivering something again?”
Theodore shook his head.
“No. This time, it’s different. The Duchess sent me. She asks for you.”
His tone was too casual—too rehearsed.
Ahin narrowed her eyes.
“That’s strange. I am not permitted to leave without orders from Her Grace or the Duke. If this is urgent, perhaps someone else—”
She paused. Her mind raced.
This wasn’t right.
No matter how much she thought, she couldn’t find a reason Edith would send for her now. Something about this felt too… arranged.
But then—
“She noticed your stocking was torn,” Theodore said lightly.
“She said to fetch a spare. I couldn’t very well handle a lady’s personal garments myself, could I? It makes sense her own maid would tend to it.”
Ahin froze.
It was… a believable excuse.
Too believable.
And that was precisely what made it dangerous.
