My Bratty Wife
Chapter 49 - Forty Nine

Chapter 49: Chapter Forty Nine

The air in the royal library was thick with the scent of aged parchment and leather-bound tomes. Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting an ethereal glow on the towering shelves overflowing with knowledge. Ryan, his steps heavy with fatigue, entered the chamber, his cloak billowing behind him.

He reached the designated chamber, a room reserved for scholars and those with royal permission. His eyes scanned the room, finally settling on a group of elderly scholars hunched over ancient scrolls. He approached them, his every step echoing in the cavernous silence.

"Greetings, scholars," he said, his voice respectful. "I am Grand Duke Ryan, and I require your assistance."

The scholars looked up, surprise flickering across their wrinkled faces. The head scholar, a man with a long, white beard and spectacles perched precariously on his nose, cleared his throat.

"Your Grace," he said, his voice raspy with age. "What troubles you on this fine day?"

Ryan explained the situation – the recent murders of prominent nobles, the lack of clear motive, and the growing sense of unease within the kingdom. He paused, his gaze expectant.

"Do your records hold any accounts of similar events, of past vendettas between noble families that might offer some insight into these killings?"

The scholars exchanged a worried glance. The head scholar shook his head slowly, a frown creasing his brow.

"No, Your Grace," he replied. "Our records hold no accounts of such targeted killings amongst the nobility. Of course, there have been disputes, arguments over land, titles, and power struggles throughout history. But nothing on the scale of these recent murders."

A flicker of disappointment washed over Ryan. He had hoped the scholars, with their vast knowledge of the kingdom’s history, might offer some clue, some forgotten detail that could shed light on the situation.

"But perhaps," the scholar continued, his voice laced with a hint of hope, "there might be something we’ve overlooked. Our records, while extensive, are not exhaustive. Certain information, deemed unimportant at the time, might not have been documented or may reside in archives outside the palace."

Ryan’s interest piqued. "Outside archives? Where would I find such information?"

"There are smaller libraries, private collections owned by noble families, even hidden repositories in ancient monasteries," the scholar explained. "These places might hold records, personal diaries, or forgotten accounts that could prove valuable in your investigation."

A new course of action began to form in Ryan’s mind. The official records might have yielded nothing, but these unofficial archives, these whispers of the past, might hold the key to unraveling the mystery.

"Thank you, scholars," he said, his voice filled with renewed determination. "Your advice is invaluable. I will explore these alternative avenues of investigation."

He nodded curtly and turned to leave, his heart lighter than it had been in hours.

——————

Exhaustion gnawed at Ryan’s bones as he pushed open the door to his shared chamber. The day’s events – the frustrating council meeting, the fruitless search in the royal library – weighed heavily on him. He longed for a respite, a moment of peace away from the relentless pursuit of answers.

He entered the room, his steps quiet on the plush carpet. The sight that greeted him was unexpected – Suzy, curled up on a plush chaise longue, engrossed in a leather-bound book. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on her face as she diligently turned the pages. Her brow furrowed in concentration, her lips moving silently as she read.

He watched her for a moment, a flicker of warmth softening the harsh edges of his day. She looked so peaceful, so utterly absorbed in her world of words, that he hesitated to disturb her. But the urgent need for a change of clothes, a chance to wash away the day’s frustrations, finally spurred him into action.

"Duchess," he announced softly, his voice barely a whisper.

She looked up, startled. The book in her hands tilted downwards, momentarily obscuring her face. His presence finally registered. "Ryan," she greeted, her voice soft. "How was the meeting?"

He sighed, the sound heavy with weariness. "Exhausting," he admitted, his voice low.

He made his way towards the bathroom, his steps dragging with fatigue. He needed a moment to himself, to wash away the day’s frustrations before facing whatever challenges awaited him next.

As he entered the bathroom, the faint scent of lavender soap filled his senses, a lingering trace of Suzy’s presence in the shared chamber. He splashed cold water on his face, the shock momentarily jolting him awake. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes heavy-lidded, the strain of the investigation etched onto his face.

He emerged from the bathroom a few moments later, his hair damp, a towel draped around his neck. He avoided her gaze, his eyes focused on a spot on the opposite wall.

"So," she finally spoke, her voice breaking the silence. "What did you find out at this... exhausting meeting?"

He looked at her then, a hint of frustration flickering across his face. "Not much," he admitted. "We’re at a dead end. No leads, no suspects, just a lot of speculation."

Suzy felt a pang of sympathy for him. His stoic facade, usually a mask of control, seemed slightly cracked. The weight of the investigation, the lack of progress, was taking its toll.

"I see," she said, her voice softer than usual. "Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually. You always do."

He gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable. The air crackled with unspoken words, with the unspoken attraction that neither of them dared to acknowledge.

Suzy picked up the book again, seeking refuge in its pages. But the words on the page blurred before her eyes, her mind unable to focus. She kept stealing glances at Ryan, who stood awkwardly by the window, a lone figure burdened by responsibility.

His dark hair, still damp from his shower, clung to his forehead in a way that made him look both vulnerable and undeniably attractive. The sunlight streaming through the window cast a warm glow on his face, highlighting the rich brown of his eyes, which seemed to hold a hint of weariness.

He was clad in a simple white linen shirt, the fabric clinging to his broad frame in a way that subtly emphasized his well-built physique. He exuded an aura of quiet competence, a man burdened by responsibility, yet his posture, despite the exhaustion etched on his face, held a quiet strength.

Suzy felt a jolt of something unfamiliar stir within her. What was she doing, ogling him like a lovesick schoolgirl? She quickly averted her gaze. She scolded herself silently, forcing her attention back to the book in her lap.

She doesn’t seem to concentrate on the words, the captivating narrative lost in the sudden chaos of her own thoughts. She stole another glance at Ryan, who remained by the window, his gaze fixed on the garden below. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and thoughts swirling round his head.

Suzy cleared her throat, the sound breaking the silence that stretched between them. Ryan turned towards her, a flicker of surprise crossing his features.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice gruff.

Suzy forced a smile, her voice betraying a nervousness she couldn’t quite control. "Everything’s fine," she replied, a little too quickly. "Just... continuing with my reading."

He nodded curtly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before returning to the window. Suzy plunged back into her book, but the captivating story now held little appeal. Her mind was preoccupied with the man standing across the room, with the unspoken tension that hung heavy in the air.

She was startled out of her daydream by the sound of Ryan’s voice. His tone was devoid of warmth, laced with a professional distance that sent a shiver down her spine.

"We leave for Carleton early tomorrow morning," he announced, his back turned as he stared out the window. "Get a good night’s sleep."

Suzy blinked, momentarily stunned by his abruptness. The man who had stood by the window mere moments ago, burdened by the weight of the investigation, seemed to have vanished, replaced by the stoic Duke she knew all too well.

"Sleep early," he continued, his tone clipped, as if reciting a task from a pre-determined list. "There’s no point in staying up late. You should be well-rested for the journey."

Suzy felt a flicker of irritation rise within her. Was he suggesting she had been wasting time here, curled up with a book? She opened her mouth to retort, but Ryan cut her off.

"And don’t worry about your comfort tonight," he added, his voice cold. "The King has provided me with a study for the night. It wouldn’t be conducive to sleep for both of us."

Suzy’s jaw clenched. The implication was clear – he didn’t want to share the room again.

A wave of hurt washed over her. Was this truly how he viewed her? As an inconvenience, an obstacle to his well-rested efficiency?

"That won’t be necessary, Ryan," she said, her voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil within. "I can manage to sleep on my own."

He turned towards the door, his hand hovering on the knob. For a moment, Suzy thought he might offer some kind of explanation, some apology for his coldness.

He just paused, his gaze flickering across the room before landing on her with a harshness that surprised her. "And," he added, his voice dropping to a low growl, "don’t touch my things."

With those final words, he threw her a look that could have curdled milk and exited the room, leaving Suzy speechless in his wake. The door slammed shut behind him, echoing through the vast chamber with a finality that left her feeling cold and isolated.

Suzy stared at the closed door, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. Hurt, anger, and a touch of defiance all warred for dominance.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Here she was ogling over him while he doesn’t even regard her in anyway. Suzy straightened her back, a newfound resolve hardening her features. she won’t forget their animosity in a haste as she continued her reading.