Capítulo 8: 'That wasn't necessary'

When Amelia parted her lips and let out a short moan, Alexander almost lost it. The kiss deepened as he prodded further. He felt the duchess tremble beneath him and shifted her weight to his arms as her remaining strength seemed to leave her.

"Haa~" Amelia was out of breath when the duke finally released her and yanked her hand that the duke was holding to support her.

"Something to seal our engagement," he said, breathily, through half-opened eyes.

"Tha-that wasn't necessary," Amelia tried to push him, but she didn't have the strength to do so.

Alexander felt something tickled from inside him—he wasn't happy that the duchess was poisoned, but he couldn't deny it in him that he was delighted she was leaning on him for support.

After enjoying the moment—even though the duchess glared at him—he guided her to a nearby chair. As much as he wanted to put her to bed to rest, it was the last place he wanted to see her resting. Just thinking about her light dress and undone hair—not to mention the passionate kiss they just shared—sent a turmoil that came from below his waist.

He shook away the unwanted thoughts.

"You should sit down and rest," he said, but the duchess didn't listen as Alexander watched her back, distancing from him. Instead, Amelia went back to where she sat earlier.

The taste of her lips still lingering on Alexander's, he watched her keenly like a hawk. He wondered if she'll be able to do as he says even for once. But at the same time, the duke knew it was something far-fetched. Amelia's a proud rose; she'll never truly bow down to anyone.

"As I said, I'll get even sicker if I stayed idle," she simply said again as she rummaged through some paper piled at one side of her desk.

A sigh left the duke's mouth—a sigh loud enough so Amelia could hear, but she didn't even lift her gaze. Alexander didn't want to argue, so he went to the bookshelves to scan the books. He was impressed at all the lengthy academic titles, and he knew that verbose titles meant harder-to-understand books. He's had a full of those kinds.

He hoped to see a copy of House Florence's ancestral book since it's the duchess' private chamber; she should have one close by. But as he was scanning almost to the last shelf, something fairly loud sounded, and the shelf moved. Astounded, the duke was in a defensive stance.

"What are you staring at?" Arabella's scorned face came to light. She was holding a picnic basket while her brother followed behind her. Ancel just shrugged his shoulders and walked past his sister.

The female assassin followed her brother. As soon as she saw her beloved duchess sitting by her table, something clanked inside the basket that she forcefully shoved into her unsuspecting sibling.

"Duchess, you're up!" she hurriedly went over to Amelia and dramatically fell on the ground by her feet. She whined and laid her head on the duchess' lap.

Ancel laid the basket at the table and fished out the contents—bread, cheese, fruits, a bottle of water, and small glasses.

"These are my biggest pair. I hope it will fit you, your grace," the knight said as he tossed his satchel over to Alexander. "And I also got this, you know, so you could relax a little," a small smile ran across Ancel's face as he presented the small decanter of liquor.

Yes, something to take Alexander's thoughts occupied.

"If only I was beside you that time, duchess, nothing would've happened to you. Instead, you're surrounded by some bastards who couldn't even do anything!" Arabella whimpered.

"Arabella Whitt!" Ancel slammed his hand on the table, and Alexander arched his brow in disbelief. He wasn't expecting the timid-looking knight to have such a commanding voice. But his sister wasn't one to back down.

"Pl-please forgive my sister, your grace. She gre-grew up with boys, so her m-mouth's a bit—"

"Look at him stuttering, duchess. Please make me your knight instead."

Alexander looked over at Amelia to tell her to make her lady-in-waiting stop, but the duchess only continued to pat the assassin's head as she shrugged her shoulders.

The men's shoulders slumped as they kept their mouths shut and took a seat. Not long after, Arabella went over to get her duchess some bread slices, and cheese.

Alexander realized he was famished too. He hadn't had a proper meal since he left Thuenia at the break of dawn, but he was hesitant to eat anything because it was still unclear who the poison was really directed to. With siblings from an assassin family in the room, the duke questioned if it was really safe for him to accept anything from them.

As if the knight read his mind, Ancel leaned forward a little and whispered, "It's not poisoned. If Bella saw that you were reluctant, she'd start badmouthing again." Alexander's eyes darted past the knight and onto the back of Amelia's lady-in-waiting, who was busy looking after the duchess.

He smiled awkwardly and popped the slice of bread in his mouth.

"So, do you think that the poison was directed at the duchess?" Alexander asked. And depending on the knight's answer, he'd decide if he should really be comfortable leaving the duchess in Osmea after the matter's been resolved.

"I think it's aimed at either of you." Ancel answered after he swallowed the piece of fruit he bit off, "But the real question is, how they knew that you were coming? If they plainly wanted to harm our duchess, they could've done it sooner. Then why does it have to be today of all days? It's too much of a coincidence, don't you think? Who else knew that you were coming?" there was a hint of sarcasm and threat in the knight's voice that irked Alexander.

It was as if the knight's linking his arrival to what happened to their duchess, as much as he doubted their loyalty.

"That bugged me earlier too," Alexander nodded, twirling the decanter that the knight gave him, and didn't mention anything further.

The duke observed Ancel as he and his sister bickered from time to time. He came to a decision to trust the siblings for now and have Jyver look into them later.

After they had their fill and rested for a bit, Amelia said they should head back to prevent the others from worrying too much. The knight nodded and quickly cleared the table and placed everything where it came from. Arabella, on the other hand, still clung to the duchess.

At the last bookshelf at the end of the room, Ancel grabbed a small silver décor, and something clunked on the other side. He pushed the shelf inward and stepped aside, letting Amelia and his sister enter first. The duke walked beside Ancel, who lighted a candle.

It was dark, and the light from the candle barely reached their feet. Alexander struggled to adjust his sight but noticed that his fiancé had no trouble navigating through the winding passageway—well, of course, it's her home. She could at least run without being lost.

"From what branch of the main family are you two from?" Alexander couldn't help but ask. He's aware that the assassins spread throughout the empire were highly organized aside from the rouge ones. He learned about it from Jyver, who came from one of those branch families—they're not really blood-related, but more of an affiliation.

Since the knight took his time to answer, Alexander heard a scoff from one of the ladies in front of them, who later continued, saying, "We are the main family, Duke Clement."

Alexander stopped in his tracks. He looked at his guide, whose face was faintly illuminated by the candle he was holding.

"Uhm… we're not supposed to just announce it out like that, but my sister seems to not be in a good mood," Ancel said with an awkward smile.

Never in his life did the duke think he'd meet someone from the assassin clan's main family as they're highly elusive. He's heard stories from his father about their branch families, but to think that the duchess has two beside her just added even more things for Alexander to wonder about.

"Is this, uh, passageway part of the renovation too or—" the duke tried to stray from the deafening silence and the awkwardness.

"As far as I know, it's part of the original structure of the palace. Only the Eastern Wing was devastated by the fire, so the Western Wing received minimal renovations."

Alexander lightly nodded, and as he pondered more on some things, he didn't hear it when the knight warned him of a minor fracture on the ground, so the duke stumbled and almost fell; fortunately, enough, he managed to hook his hand on Ancel's arm.

Alexander felt his cheeks warm up to his ears. Arabella's sarcastic expression immediately registered in his mind when he heard a small chuckle from the ladies' direction. But he also couldn't believe how sturdy the knight's arm was.

Ancel Whitt was nothing out of the ordinary. He wasn't as tall as Alexander, and he wasn't muscular as the other knights he's seen in the duchess' palace—he was quite slender. The duchess' knight could easily be mistaken as a scholar or a secretary if it were not for his uniform. His wavy hair made him look scrawny, and the longsword that hung on his hips looked a little out of place. But his sister also didn't stand out that much either. Arabella had the same auburn wavy hair that fell just above her shoulders. Petite. Anyone who would see her would think how fragile she looked even though she's way far from it.

'It must be an assassin thing. I can't even hear their footsteps,' Alexander settled his questions and concentrated on not stumbling anytime soon.

Time froze in the passageway as the duke felt like he stumbled and bumped into something far too much. He's heard enough insults from Arabella, and the restrained laughter of his guide beside him was not helping either.

After a while, Alexander pulled Ancel far enough from the ladies to hear. It's enough dilly-dallying and time for the duke to continue investigating.

"It seems like there's a rat somewhere," he said as softly as possible since sounds bounced off the walls quite easily. He's not sure if the man were also a member of the Order, but Alexander would know from his answer.

Regular members of the Order were not required to introduce themselves to the rest unless they reveal themselves. Meetings were also held only for crucial discussions and were only attended by people involved in whatever plan would be discussed. The main form of communication was through messenger birds and letters; letters were sometimes written in codes.

Ancel halted and cleared his throat discreetly, but as he was about to answer, the duchess beat him to it.

"A rat? There's a rat?" she said, sounding more confused than scared.

"Ah, well…" Arabella stammered, and Alexander would bet the lady-in-waiting was glaring at him right now. "You know how bright and wealthy Osmea is. I'm sure the duke's not comfortable with rats."

"I…" the duke tried to overwrite his embarrassment, but he couldn't when he felt the knight's hand on his shoulders.

"It's alright, duchess. I'll look out for the duke. Also, I believe the rat's been contained already." Alexander turned to face Ancel as the knight gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "The root has him," Ancel whispered.

"Is the Root, Vance Thomson?"

Alexander had only seen the Root once a few years ago. He wore a half mask and a hooded cape when Duke Mulford brought him to one council meeting, so Alexander was unsure. But Amelia's knight answered with his silence, and it was enough. The people behind the duchess weren't exactly as meek as the duke thought they were.

Not long after the conversation, Arabella called for her brother, who excused himself from the duke. His light illuminated a short lever that he pulled to loosen the lock of the hidden door in front of them. When it opened, Alexander couldn't help but squint his eyes from the blinding light—and just when he finally got used to the darkness.

"Duchess!" Constance and Laila rose from their seats as soon as they saw Amelia. They were teary-eyed and helped Arabella guide the duchess to the bed. There were unending questions, but she smiled warmly at them and told them that she'd tell them everything when she's well-rested.

The room was surprisingly minimal. The floor-to-ceiling windows were covered by thick drapes in a deeper shade than the House's color—red—with golden tassels that hung underneath. It popped from the white walls. The large yet simple chandelier made the space sparkle. Amelia's canopy bed was wide with a mountain of pillows and a red velvet headboard with the House Florence's crest at the center of it. The only paintings that adorned the duchess' room were two of her portraits and a large landscape painting of her duchy as seen from a high point of view, maybe from one of the mountains around Osmea.

As Alexander tried to bear in mind the duchess' room, Ancel came up and excuse himself.

"If you would allow, your grace, I will take Duke Clement to his room so he could also freshen up and rest."

"Tell the maids to bring some change of clothes and a proper meal for the duke," she waved her hand, but her eyes lingered on Alexander.

While her knight bowed his head and went ahead, the duke remained for a second longer as he returned her gaze back. After a short while, he also bowed his head and turned his back, where he found Ancel waiting for him at the adjoining room's entrance.

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