My Bratty Wife
Chapter 48 - Forty Eight

Chapter 48: Chapter Forty Eight

Sunlight streamed through the ornate drapes, casting a warm glow across the opulent chamber. Suzy stirred, a yawn escaping her lips. She blinked open her eyes, the events of the previous night replaying in her mind. She stretched luxuriously, feeling surprisingly rested despite the unfamiliar surroundings.

But as she looked around the bed, a frown creased her brow. The space beside her was empty, the crisp sheets undisturbed. "Ryan?" she called out tentatively, her voice echoing in the vast room.

She had the distinct memory of waking up briefly in the middle of the night, of Ryan sleeping in the armchair.

Just then, a soft tapping sound came from the door. She sat up, reaching for the discarded robe lying atop a nearby armchair. "Come in," she called out.

The door creaked open, revealing the friendly face of the young maid, Esme. A bright smile adorned her face. "Good day, Duchess," she greeted, her voice cheerful. "I trust you slept well?"

"Yes, thank you, Esme," Suzy replied, her voice still husky with sleep. "But where is everyone?" She gestured towards the empty space beside her. "And what time is it?"

Esme tilted her head, her smile widening. "It’s noon, Duchess. Almost time for lunch."

Suzy’s eyes widened in surprise. "Noon? But... why didn’t anyone wake me?"

"Well," Esme began, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "your husband instructed us all not to disturb you. He said you haven’t been sleeping soundly for the past two days and were quite exhausted from your journey."

Suzy flushed scarlet. "Husband?" she stammered. "Esme, I..."

But before she could correct the misconception, Esme continued, oblivious to Suzy’s discomfort. "Such a loving Duke you have, Duchess," she gushed. "Making sure you get your rest. He is a caring man."

Suzy processed this information. Husband? She frown deepened. That couldn’t be right, could it?

"And the Duke?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Where is he now?"

"He is currently attending a meeting with the King and his council," Esme explained. "They are discussing... well, matters of state, I believe which will occupy most of his day."

Suzy nodded, a sense of relief washing over her. Perhaps some time apart would be good for both of them. She needed to clear her head, to process the strange turn of events and the unexpected emotions that had her feeling confused.

"Thank you, Esme," she said, offering a small smile. "I appreciate you letting me know. Perhaps I should freshen up before lunch arrives."

"Of course, Duchess," Esme chirped, her smile unwavering. "Would you like me to help you prepare anything?"

Suzy hesitated for a moment. The thought of a bath, of changing out of the linen shirt that still held the faint scent of Ryan’s cologne, was undeniably appealing. But deep down, a part of her felt a strange reluctance to erase the last traces of the previous night.

With a sigh, she looked up at the young maid. "No, thank you, Esme," she said. "I think I can manage on my own. But please, do let me know when lunch arrives."

Esme curtsied politely. "Of course, Duchess. Just let me know if you require anything else."

Suzy watched as the young maid exited the room, a thoughtful expression on her face. Husband? Was it necessary? Esme should have just said The Duke or His Grace but Husband, that was laughable. With that, she got off the bed, strode to the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

——————-

The air in the grand council chamber hung heavy with tension. Hours had bled into each other, the initial optimism of the meeting replaced by a grinding stalemate. Frustration, like a tangible presence, filled the room.

Ryan, seated amongst the King’s advisors, felt a bone-deep weariness settle into his bones. The discussions had circled back on themselves multiple times, each suggestion countered by another, each solution falling prey to a fresh wave of skepticism.

"This is outrageous!" boomed a portly lord with a florid face, slamming his fist on the polished table. "These attacks threaten the very fabric of our kingdom! Who knows we might be next!"

"Indeed," echoed another, an old man with a neatly trimmed beard. "But without concrete evidence, how can we know who our true enemy is?"

"These nobles were pillars of our kingdom!" Another advisor a tad younger, echoed his displeasure." Their deaths cannot go unpunished!"

The jovial mood that had filled the room earlier, spurred by the King’s warm welcome, had evaporated. The King himself, his face now full of concern, rapped his knuckles on the polished oak table.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," he boomed, his voice surprisingly strong considering the length of the discourse. "Let us calm ourselves. Shouting accusations will not solve this crisis, it will only escalate things and drag our meeting making it lengthy and still nothing will be achieved."

A hush fell over the room, the advisors exchanging wary glances. Ryan, ever the observer, noted the subtle shift in power dynamics. The King, despite his earlier jovial demeanor, wielded a quiet authority that demanded respect.

"Duke Ryan," the King continued, his gaze settling on Ryan, "you have been most patient with our... peculiarities. Perhaps you can offer a fresh perspective."

Ryan straightened in his chair, the weight of the King’s attention settling on him. He had deliberately held back, allowing the experienced advisors to voice their opinions first. Now, however, it was time for him to contribute.

"Your Majesty," he began, his voice low and measured, "the attacks share several commonalities. The victims were all wealthy and influential, with no known enemies. There were no signs of forced entry, suggesting the attackers had inside knowledge or assistance."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "The silent brutality of the killings suggests a personal grudge. However, the level of skill and coordination employed points towards an individual with minions. This killer doesn’t like to get their hands dirty."

A collective frown settled on the faces of the council members. The implications were clear – a noble like them was operating within the kingdom, targeting specific individuals. The thought sent a shiver down Ryan’s spine.

"But your report," Lord Rufus, a portly man with a booming voice and a temper to match. His voice laced with frustration, "lacks specifics and evidence. We have no suspects, no motive, no clear path forward. This council meeting has yielded little but heated arguments."

Ryan cleared his throat, his voice steady despite the weariness he felt. "Lord Rufus," he began, "I understand your frustration. But uncovering a well-hidden conspiracy takes time. My scouts are searching for any leads, any evidence that might point us in the right direction."

"And what about these... nobles you mentioned?" a sharp voice interjected. It belonged to Lord Edgar, a man known for his keen intellect and biting wit. "These victims... were they all somehow connected?"

Ryan’s eyes narrowed. Lord Edgar’s question was a good one. He had noticed a pattern in the attacks, a connection he can’t discuss with the council till he is very sure of it. "There is a possibility," he admitted, his voice low. "But without further investigation, it’s difficult to say for certain."

"Do you have any leads on the perpetrator, Duke?" the Queen, a woman of quiet intelligence, inquired.

Ryan shook his head. "Unfortunately, no, Your Majesty. Our only lead is dead. The attackers have taken great care to cover their tracks. There is a master mind pulling the strings from the darkness. That’s who we’re going for."

"A master mind?" scoffed Lord Rufus, his voice dripping with disbelief. "Fairytales, Duke! We need concrete evidence, not fanciful stories!"

Ryan met his gaze unflinchingly. "Perhaps, Lord Rufus," he countered, his voice taking on a steely edge, "but until we have concrete evidence, all possibilities must be considered."

The King cleared his throat, effectively silencing the brewing argument. "This is getting us nowhere," he said, his voice heavy with frustration. "We need a new strategy. Duke Ryan, I suggest you consult with the royal scholars. Perhaps their knowledge of history, of past conspiracies, can shed some light on this situation."

Ryan nodded curtly. "A wise suggestion, Your Majesty. I will pursue that avenue immediately."

The meeting continued for another hour, but no significant progress was made. The frustration in the room was palpable. Ryan, his head pounding from the endless debate, knew they were facing a complex and dangerous situation.

The King, with a weary sigh, rose from his throne. "This council meeting is adjourned," he announced, his voice heavy with disappointment. "Duke Ryan, you will continue your investigation. Report back to me with any new developments, no matter how insignificant they may seem."

As the council finally disbanded, Ryan rose, his body stiff with exhaustion. He needed a clear head, a new approach. He exited the grand hall, the weight of the situation pressing down on him as he strode towards the royal library, the hunt for the truth was far from over.