The manor of Lord Grevan faded behind them, its crooked silhouette swallowed by mist. No one spoke as the carriage rolled down the uneven road, wheels creaking with every turn. The air inside was thick, almost suffocating with the weight of what they had just heard.
Alex sat stiffly, his thoughts spinning. The image of the old lord's trembling hands, his wild yet lucid eyes, clung to him like smoke. The Duke's husband will come for revenge… The words echoed again and again, hollowing his chest.
Riven shifted beside him, sensing the tension. Without asking, he tugged Alex gently into his lap—ostensibly to make more room, but his arms stayed firm around him, refusing to let go. Alex didn't protest. His body leaned into the warmth, almost instinctively.
"You're trembling, Cupcake," Riven murmured, low enough that only Alex could hear. His lips brushed against Alex's ear, then trailed down to his neck in feather-light pecks that made his skin burn. "Don't let a half-crazed old man shake you. You're stronger than that."
Alex exhaled shakily, but his fingers curled into Riven's sleeve, clinging. The comfort worked, even if he wouldn't admit it.
Across the carriage, Kael raised a brow while Saphira smirked knowingly. Edrin glanced between them, face flushed as though he wasn't sure if he should look away or tease. Only Lady Marriane remained unbothered, as if she had already filed the display away as typical Riven.
It was Edrin who broke the silence. "So… we're all thinking the same thing, right? That the official history is a lie."
Kael's expression hardened. "More than that. If the Duke's husband survived exile and still seeks vengeance, then someone has been erasing the truth deliberately. That kind of tampering isn't small—it's dangerous."
Saphira tapped a finger against her knee, eyes sharp. "And if he's truly out there, someone might be sheltering him. Supporting him. No man survives that kind of loss without allies."
Alex straightened in Riven's lap, voice steady despite the storm inside him. "Either way, we can't ignore this. The academy, Professor Dareth's assignment, even our exams—it all ties back to Veymore. That was no coincidence. He wanted us to notice."
Lady Marriane inclined her head, studying Alex with something like approval. "So what do you intend to do?"
"We gather what we can," Alex said firmly. "Quietly. Discreetly. If the seven Dukedoms buried this, then digging too loudly will only paint targets on our backs. But if there's a chance to uncover the truth… we need to take it."
The carriage fell silent again, but this time it was not the silence of fear. It was the silence of agreement, of unspoken resolve.
By the time they reached Alex's estate, the night sky stretched vast and unfeeling above them. Cecilia waited at the gates with a lantern, her eyes softening at the sight of her young master's tired face. Alex gave her a faint smile, brushing past without a word.
Later, as the others retired, Alex lingered in the garden alone. His gaze lifted to the stars, silver light catching the hard line of his jaw.
"Veymore…" he whispered, a vow threading through his voice. "What really happened to you?"
The wind stirred, cool against his skin. For the briefest heartbeat, he thought he heard it carry a voice—ragged, broken, and yet full of rage. The sound was gone as quickly as it came, swallowed by the night, leaving Alex standing frozen beneath the stars.
He told himself it was nothing.
But deep down, a shiver worked its way through him.