That afternoon, the Duke's retinue finally returned to the castle grounds.
"Welcome home, Your Grace," came the familiar greeting.
As always, it was Maera who came to receive him.
But the searching look in his eyes told her clearly—there was someone else he wished to see.
"My lord… Her Grace has not left her chambers at all today."
Dorian came to a sudden halt.
"She's unwell?"
Seeing the faint worry in his expression, Maera quickly added in a reassuring tone,
"The physician has seen her… It seems the lady fell ill from exhaustion."
A shadow passed over Dorian's eyes. He looked away for half a beat, like trying to rein in a thought he'd rather not name.
Overthinking again, no doubt.
He didn't say another word. With a curt nod, he turned and walked off, leaving Maera behind, her lips curved in a quiet, knowing smile.
Perhaps only she had the power to unsettle him this way.
