Chapter 267

Chapter 267

The morning sun streamed over her bare back. Deatrice, shielding herself from the light sneaking through her hair, pulled the blanket over her head and instinctively sought out Lucius’s embrace.

She imagined the firmness and smoothness of his body against hers, but he was already up and dressed, the bed beside her empty.

“Get up, Dee.”

Lucius watched Deatrice burrow into the spot he had vacated, a soft smile playing on his lips. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently pulled the blanket down from her face, brushing her hair aside to let the sunlight catch her. Deatrice groaned in protest, but he leaned in and placed a light kiss on her forehead, like a seal of affection.

“I’ve been waiting for hours,” he teased. “You were the one who wanted to go out today, remember? Yet here you are, still fast asleep.”

Ah, so that’s why the curtains had been left open.

Deatrice sighed and pushed his face away with a hand.

“I’m tired,” she mumbled, her voice small and grumbly, almost childlike.

Lucius chuckled, finding her adorable. He leaned down to press kisses along the exposed curve of her pale neck, just as he had the night before, coaxing her to sit up.

“Come on. Let’s get moving. The weather’s perfect,” he said, his voice brimming with boyish excitement.

Even though her body felt heavy, weighed down by lingering fatigue, Deatrice finally opened her eyes. The soft gray of her irises made Lucius pause, and he couldn’t resist stealing another kiss, this time near the corner of her eye.

He buried his face in the nape of her neck, his lips trailing from her throat to her collarbone, and down toward the marks he had left the night before. His hand followed, warm and firm, tracing over her skin.

Deatrice shivered under his touch, her skin prickling with goosebumps, and quickly shifted away, sitting upright to escape.

“Give me a moment,” she murmured.

“To get ready?”

“Of course. What, you thought I’d stay here all day?”

Her tone grew sharp as she raised an eyebrow, and Lucius, as if offended by some unjust accusation, gave her a wounded look.

“I thought you wanted me to stay and tend to you,” he said.

“What, so you can soak my shirtfront again like last time?”

“Well, you’re already naked. The only thing that’ll get soaked now is—”

“Lucius!”

He grinned shamelessly, the rakish gleam in his eyes making her throw a pillow at him. Laughing, he caught it with ease, then lunged forward to wrap his arms around her cocooned form, squeezing her in a mock embrace before finally letting her go.

By the time she came downstairs, dressed and ready, the lighthearted atmosphere had shifted. Lucius was standing a short distance away, speaking with one of his knights, his expression much darker.

Deatrice paused on the stairs, observing him from afar.

Last night had felt like a rare return to their old selves. They had talked freely, laughed together, and for a moment, it was as if the weight of their past and the looming shadows of their current troubles had vanished.

It had been just the two of them.

For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to hope.

Maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to what they once had.

“Have you been waiting long?”

Lucius’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Whatever business he had with the knight seemed to be done, as the man bowed to her and retreated.

Deatrice glanced at the knight’s somber expression before turning to Lucius.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Why would you think that?”

“Your expression just now… It seemed serious.”

Lucius gave her a playful grin, his earlier demeanor vanishing.

“Of course I looked serious. I was stuck listening to reports when I wanted to be with you. Who wouldn’t be upset?”

He extended an arm to her. “Shall we?”

Deatrice hesitated briefly before nodding, resting her hand on his arm as they headed out together.

But even as they walked, something felt off. It wasn’t Lucius—he seemed at ease, as if relishing the rare opportunity to spend time with her.

It was the knights.

Once Deatrice started noticing them, she couldn’t stop. At first, she had brushed it off as routine, but the number of guards subtly tailing them was far from normal. They kept a respectable distance, but their presence was unmistakable.

Whether they strolled along the riverbank or dined at a quiet restaurant, the knights were always nearby, lingering just far enough to avoid drawing overt attention.

The air around them felt heavy with an unspoken tension, a dissonance Deatrice couldn’t ignore.

Lucius, realizing that her gaze had shifted to the knights, prepared the answer he had rehearsed in case Deatrice asked about them. But instead of inquiring about their presence, she turned her head as if nothing was out of the ordinary and gazed beyond the terrace at the setting sun.

“It’s nice to be outside, isn’t it?”

That smile.

Caught off guard by her unexpectedly soft demeanor, Lucius found himself feeling strange.

What’s this? Why isn’t she asking anything? He had prepared his response, but her silence left him unsettled.

A sudden realization struck him—he was missing something.

He studied her face as if doing so might uncover her thoughts, then asked cautiously,

“Why don’t you ask?”

“Hm?”

“About the knights. About why they’re stationed here. Why don’t you ask anything about that?”

Deatrice, taken aback by the accusatory tone in his voice, flushed slightly.

“I didn’t want to make things difficult for you. You might have reasons you can’t share.”

“Reasons? We’re husband and wife,” he replied with a hint of reproach.

“Then can you tell me everything?”

Her challenge was met with a steady gaze, and Lucius, as if daring her, suddenly confessed.

“I lied to you. That day, when I said Ethan Vander stabbed the horse and escaped—that wasn’t true. I let him go. He didn’t run away; I set him free.”

“…Lucius.”

Her quiet utterance of his name carried both sorrow and understanding, as if she wished he hadn’t felt compelled to tell her. Yet her reaction only made him colder.

“Why aren’t you surprised? Did you already know?”

“…”

“Of course. I never thought Ethan wouldn’t tell you. But why didn’t you say anything? The moment you heard, you should’ve come to me for confirmation. Why didn’t you?”

Oddly, it was Lucius who demanded answers now. Deatrice rested her hands lightly on the table, tracing the patterns on the tablecloth as she replied softly, “Because I understood.”