My Bratty Wife
Chapter 46 - Forty Six

Chapter 46: Chapter Forty Six

As they walked down the hallway, Esme, a girl with a bright smile and friendly demeanor, cast Suzy a curious glance. "You must be tired, Duchess," she said politely. "The journey from your Duchy must have been long."

Suzy managed a weak smile. "Indeed, Esme," she replied. "But the palace is... magnificent. I can see why they call it a royal residence."

Esme beamed. "Oh, it is, Duchess! These walls hold many stories, wouldn’t you agree?" She continued to chatter as they walked, pointing out interesting features of the palace and sharing amusing short stories about its past inhabitants.

Suzy, despite her initial reservations, found herself drawn into Esme’s warmth and enthusiasm. The unexpected turn of events – the shared room, the King’s invitation to Ryan – had left her feeling bewildered and slightly apprehensive. But Esme’s friendly presence offered a welcome distraction, a small sense of normalcy amidst the grand opulence of the palace.

As they finally reached a set of elaborately carved doors, Esme stopped and curtsied. "Here we are, Duchess. This will be your chamber for the night." She opened the door, revealing a room that could only be described as luxurious.

Suzy stepped inside, her breath catching in her throat. A plush velvet bed dominated the room, draped in fine silks and adorned with fluffy pillows. A crackling fire danced in the hearth, casting a warm glow on the polished wood furniture and rich tapestries. This was a room fit for a queen, not a weary traveler.

"I trust you will find everything to your liking, Duchess," Esme said, her voice barely a whisper in the vast space. "If there’s anything you require, please do not hesitate to ring this bell." She pointed to a small silver bell on a nearby table.

Suzy managed a tired smile. "Thank you, Esme. You’ve been most helpful."

Esme curtsied once more before exiting the room, closing the door softly behind her. Suzy, alone in the chamber, sank onto a plush armchair by the fireplace. The fire crackled, casting long shadows on the walls, and she couldn’t help but wonder what the night held for her.

———————————-

The King’s study was a haven of leather-bound books and well-worn maps. A roaring fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls lined with portraits of past monarchs. The King gestured towards a plush armchair opposite his desk.

"Sit, Ryan," he commanded, his voice a warm rumble. "Tell me everything. What have you uncovered about this... conspiracy?"

Ryan sank into the chair, his face grim as he began to recount his findings. He spoke of the alphabetical list of the deceased, the death of viscount Conrad and death of the only witness, and the main mastermind who is presumably " A Noble" who seemed to be pulling the strings.

The King listened intently, his brow furrowed in concern. He interjected occasionally with sharp questions, probing deeper into the details of Ryan’s investigation. They discussed potential motives, possible collaborators, and the best course of action to take.

"It’s more extensive than we initially thought, Your Majesty," Ryan concluded, his voice laced with frustration. "This might not be a disgruntled noble or a petty power struggle. It might be a well-coordinated attempt to destabilize the kingdom."

The King nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the crackling flames. "Indeed. And the Duchess? Do you know why I invited her here?"

Ryan hesitated for a moment, his fingers unconsciously tapping against the armrest. "Truth be told, Your Majesty, I’m not entirely sure."

The King steepled his fingers, his eyes twinkling with an amusement that surprised Ryan. "The Duchess. A woman of sharp wit and unexpected courage, wouldn’t you agree?"

Ryan remained silent, unsure how to respond. The King’s words held an underlying meaning, a subtle hint that he knew more than he was letting on.

"Don’t be so uptight, Ryan," the King chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder with surprising force. "I simply thought it prudent for the Duchess to accompany you on this venture. A fresh perspective, so to speak."

Ryan raised an eyebrow, a flicker of suspicion crossing his features. "A fresh perspective, or a convenient... chaperone?"

The King’s smile widened. "Perhaps both, Ryan. Perhaps both. But trust me, she’ll prove to be more of an asset than you might think." He leaned back in his chair, a sly glint in his eyes. "Now, enough of these conspiracies and murders for tonight. Get some rest, Ryan. We’ll convene a full council meeting tomorrow at noon. We have much to discuss, and even more to strategize."

Ryan stood up, a hint of grudging respect in his eyes. "Thank you, Your Majesty. For the audience and... the hospitality."

The King waved his hand dismissively. "Think nothing of it. Now, shoo! Your wife must be exhausted from the journey. Go keep her company."

Ryan’s lips twitched at the word "wife," a strange feeling bubbling in his chest. He knew the King was teasing, but the thought of Suzy waiting for him, alone in their assigned room, sent a jolt through him. "Of course, Your Majesty. Good night." With that, he left the King’s study, his mind swirling with thoughts.

The silence in the corridor stretched on as he made his way back to the room. The weight of the conversation with the King hung heavy on him, but a sliver of curiosity about Suzy tempered his usual stoicism.

He pushed open the bedroom door, expecting to find Suzy asleep, already succumbed to the exhaustion of the journey. Instead, the scene that greeted him was far more disarming.

The luxurious bed, adorned with rich linens, was still neatly made. Across the room, his eyes immediately fell upon Suzy’s ruby red gown, abandoned on an armchair like a discarded butterfly wing. The sight of her dress, coupled with the disarray of his own unpacked luggage, sent a jolt of annoyance through him.

He was a man of order, and this disarray grated on his nerves. Just as he was about to call out for Suzy, he heard the soft sound of splashing water coming from the bathroom.

He stood frozen for a moment, then decided to wait for her to emerge before voicing his displeasure with the state of the room. As the sound of the water ceased, he heard the rustle of fabric and the creak of the bathroom door opening.

Suzy stepped out, her face flushed and a damp towel wrapped around her head in a makeshift turban. But what immediately drew his attention was the garment she was wearing – his white linen shirt. It hung loosely on her slender frame, the sleeves pooling at her wrists, and the fabric barely reaching mid-thigh.

She looked... vulnerable, different to the Duchess he was used to seeing. He felt a jolt in his chest, a strange mix of surprise and... something he couldn’t quite define.

Suzy, catching sight of him, flinched as if startled. "Ryan!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with a hint of panic. "You startled me!" She clutched the towel tighter around her head, as if suddenly conscious of her state of undress.

"Duchess" he said, his voice low and controlled. "May I inquire what... exactly... is going on here?"?"

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. "I, uh..." she stammered, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route. "I know you don’t like people touching your things without permission, and I..."

But before she could finish her sentence, her foot caught on the edge of the plush rug, sending her stumbling forward. A shriek escaped her lips as she lost her balance.

Ryan’s reflexes were lightning-fast. With a swift movement, he lunged forward and caught her just as she was about to hit the floor. His arms encircled her waist, pulling her firmly against him. The momentum of her fall, however, caused them to both crash onto the luxurious bed in a tangle of limbs.

Suzy landed with a soft thud, the air knocked out of her lungs. As she lay there, momentarily stunned, she found herself staring up into Ryan’s face, mere inches away. His eyes, usually a stormy brown, were now softened by a hint of concern... and something else she couldn’t quite decipher.

He held her gaze for a moment, his hands instinctively braced at the back of her neck to prevent a harsh fall. Their faces were mere inches apart, his warm breath tickling her cheek. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through her, making her acutely aware of their close proximity.

He could smell the faint scent of lavender that clung to her damp hair. Time seemed to stand still, the only sound the crackling fire and their ragged breaths.