Dorian's footsteps echoed against the marble floor as he entered the grand hall, the dull thud of his boots commanding the room's attention. Conversations faltered, gazes turned, and a thin air of disapproval drifted among the nobles seated in stiff rows. But none of it interested him. His sharp eyes were fixed solely on Duke Evernight.
Their gazes met like flint against steel steady, challenging, unreadable. Then, a slow, one-sided smile curved on Dorian's face, as though the duke's barely contained anger amused him more than it offended him.
"Could you, for once, be early?"Marquee Evander's harp tone cut through the silence, his distaste for Dorian as clear as daylight.
"Not again," Dorian muttered under his breath, though the corners of his mouth still lifted in faint mockery. He brushed an invisible speck off his coat and took a seat far from the others, as always.
The hall was filled with the distant relatives of the late Duke William, though none of them were close by blood or affection. Greed hung in the air thicker than perfume.
"Before we get to the main reason we're gathered here," Lord Herbert began, his deep voice commanding the hall's attention, "I would like to make something clear. The tragic and mysterious death of Duke William will not be swept under the carpet. An investigation has been ordered, and the culprit if there is one will be brought to justice."
"Permit me to speak," came a voice from the left. It was Mark, the late duke's cousin. Lord Herbert gave a short nod.
"You said the culprit will be brought to justice," Mark continued, his eyes narrowing. "But what if the duke wasn't killed? What if he simply… died?"
A low murmur swept through the nobles. Some nodded in agreement, others frowned.
"That, too," Lord Herbert replied evenly, "will be determined by the investigation, whether his death was natural or otherwise."
He cleared his throat before continuing. "Now, to the main reason for this gathering. There is a dispute regarding the late duke's province."
At once, the air shifted. A spark of greed ignited in the eyes of those gathered. Whispers rippled through the room of land, wealth, and inheritance.
Lord Herbert's tone grew firm. "No decision shall be made until the investigation is complete."
The words struck like a slap. Some nobles exchanged displeased glances, their impatience barely veiled.
"And when," Marquess Evander asked coldly, "will that be?"
"That," Lord Herbert said, his voice like steel, "is not in my power to decide."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
After a pause, Lord Herbert continued, "The last announcement for today this mansion must be vacated immediately. Every servant, every noble, everyone within these walls."
A collective gasp broke out. They didn't need to ask why. The reason was obvious the duke's death had occurred right here. Evidence, perhaps, still lingered.
"Is that all?" Dorian's voice rang out suddenly, carrying a tone too casual for the occasion.
"If you never intend to stay, why bother coming at all?" Marquess Evander snapped, his glare sharp enough to cut glass.
He was angry at Dorian. It was because of him that the duke's death was being investigated, if not so, by now the owner of the Duke's province would have been decided.
Dorian laughed, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "You were hoping the duke's death would make you richer, weren't you?"
The marquess stiffened, his face reddening with suppressed fury.
Lord Herbert's warning tone came next, "Gentlemen—"
But Dorian was already speaking again, his voice smooth and commanding. "Tell me, Lord Herbert," he said, leaning forward slightly, "what of the ruins of the local market?"
At the mention of the market, Duke Evernight's expression faltered, just for a second, but it didn't miss the eyes of Dorian.
"Unfortunate," Lord Herbert said, cautious now. "We will be informed soon of what caused that disaster."
"Why wait," Duke Evernight interrupted, his voice low but sharp, "when Lord Dorian seems to know so much already?"
Heads turned as the the hall erupted in whispers.
"Lord Dorian?" someone repeated in disbelief. "He frequents the local market?"
"Apparently," the duke said, feigning innocence, though his smile was thin. "He's often seen there, is he not? Perhaps he was present yesterday when the chaos broke out."
Dorian's smirk widened. "Yes," he said smoothly. "I was there."
The hall fell dead silent.
"But that doesn't mean I witnessed anything." He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "And tell me, Duke Evernight how did you know I was there? Unless…" He tilted his head slightly, his smile deepening. "You were also present?"
The duke stiffened. "There's no chance I'd set foot in such a filthy place," he said sharply. "One of my servants saw you."
Dorian chuckled. "Am I that popular now? Even your lowly servants know me by sight."
"You—"
But before the duke could finish, Dorian abruptly stood. The chair screeched across the marble floor, the sound sharp and grating in the quiet room.
"I'll take my leave," he said curtly, already turning for the door.
He walked through the grand corridor, his coat brushing softly against his sides, a shadow of a smile on his face. The same corridor. The same night. The same scent of candle wax and wilted lilies.
The night Duke William died.
And as Dorian's boots clicked down the empty hallway, his smirk lingered, cold and knowing.