My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 261: More Understanding

Chapter 261: More Understanding

Quinn knew how people perceived the duke. He knew the unfairness he faced each day and even heard a bit of it from Leonor the last time they were together. Yet nothing could have prepared him for the cold silence that followed their arrival at the mage’s quarter.

Students weren’t outwardly respectful, although how else could it be perceived when some were too stunned to speak at the mere sight of him? Most were petrified and froze in place as he walked by.

The silver-haired mage always assumed that it was the nobles who behaved like that and a common person wouldn’t be so shallow, but he was witnessing firsthand that his preconceived notions were incorrect. Even a commoner mage would balk because of his scars.

Quinn’s bruised face went entirely unnoticed despite his pale skin showing the marks easily. Everyone was focused on the man at his side.

As if to prove Quinn’s thoughts correctly, Duke Desmond pulled down his hood as Quinn guided him forward. His single green eye swept the room and nodded at those who were bowing their heads for him.

It was too hot to wear a hood anyway. The mage’s quarter was the warmest building he had been in.

"This way, Your Grace," Quinn said. "The basement is the common learning area while the upstairs are more interesting."

"Lead the way," Desmond spoke quietly, fully aware of everyone’s gazes.

He had to bear his ugly appearance for the student mages. The desire to say much in front of them ceased to exist because he didn’t want to have to bear his ruined voice for them as well.

He realized often that his change in voice was probably a big reason Leonor didn’t recognize him at first. He could still hear her voice even when she wasn’t there but she didn’t have that. At times, he still felt entirely different from Valerio.

Continuing, the two men made it up the staircase to a floor divided into large rooms with labs and lecture halls. There were plenty of shelves along the sides of the hallways to boast magical devices, rare potions, and various other mage achievements that were conceived in that very building.

Quinn walked forward slowly because Desmond genuinely seemed interested in observing the shelves and peering into the labs and lecture halls.

As he spoke, Quinn understood why.

"To think Leonor was engulfed in this life not so long ago," he uttered to himself. "Does she miss it? She won’t tell me in fear that I will think she doesn’t want to be the duchess."

Quinn watched as a green eye peered at him. He thought the question was rhetorical but it was clearly not.

"Based on how she acted when she first saw this place, I do believe she misses being more involved in Castille’s magic society," Quinn admitted. "To not use one’s mana is to not acknowledge a piece of themselves. Someone like Leonor with a large mana pool and talent in accessing it certainly feels her mana every day. She told me before as a child she was constantly seeping mana and exhausted. I experienced that myself when I first met her."

Quinn lightly cleared his throat, realizing he had been rambling. He had convinced Leonor to head the magic division in Montclair, was he trying to convince Duke Desmond as well?

"I did the same, actually," Desmond realized. "Leonor and I shared secrets with one another and her secret was that her mother was a mage. She showed me her mana and fell asleep shortly after. I thought something was horribly wrong with her to be so exhausted. Now I understand more."

"When you first met," Quinn echoed. "How long ago was that, your grace?"

"It’s been seven years," Desmond explained. "Seven years for our lives to drastically change."

He laughed bitterly and Quinn’s silver eyes widened.

"On behalf of the mages downstairs, I apologize–"

Desmond raised his hand to stop the mage from going further. He wasn’t there to be a charity case. Just because someone liked him didn’t mean that everyone did. Even if it was based on appearance enough, he could glean plenty from the way someone reacted to him without giving him a chance.

Leonor was scared of him but she was never outright judgmental and gave him more chances than he deserved. Even when she was away from him, he couldn’t keep himself from considering her and the solace she was to him.

"Don’t apologize," Desmond requested. "I am accustomed to this reality even if you’re not. All I wish is to not be exposed to them any longer. I have nothing to say to them."

"That’s more than fair," Quinn relented. "Shall we keep going?"

Desmond gestured for him to lead the way.

As they got to the end, Quinn started scaling stairs that Desmond wouldn’t have realized were there in the first place if it weren’t for Quinn going up them. They were so narrow, he turned his broad shoulders to the side and held his sword pointing downwards so it wouldn’t scrape against the wall.

Whenever he went into the palace, he wore a sword to keep the nobles in their places. They thought Stephano was volatile for killing his father, but Desmond was the King’s sword despite not being in active duty any longer.

Desmond wondered if it would be that small and closed in going forward, but he was relieved when they made it to a door that Quinn unlocked with a magical pattern and were brought to a room with much natural lighting and wide open spaces. Despite the size of the room, every bit of space was accounted for with more magical devices, plants, and potions.

He was unaccustomed to the mage world. This view into it was extremely eye-opening.

Immediately, Desmond stalked forward to the shelves in front of the windows with a multitude of plants lining them.

Quinn rushed behind him.

"Not to say I would accuse you of such a thing, but please take care not to touch the plants," Quinn said. "Some are very poisonous. Most mages know which ones but I don’t expect you to be equipped with that sort of knowledge."

"Leonor knows as well?" he asked.

"She’s one of Magia’s most talented," Quinn admitted. "She knows that and much more."

Desmond turned away from the window.

"You know, I’m envious of you," he admitted.

Quinn’s heart raced with anxiety. He felt pinned to the floor by the duke’s gaze.

"For what reason?" Quinn asked.

"You were able to see my wife grow up," Desmond admitted one of the things he couldn’t let go of. "I wish I could have seen it for myself. I was supposed to."

"Admittedly, it was quite a few years but you will have much longer than that, your grace," Quinn explained. "It’s almost as if you were there in every moment anyway. Leonor never let go of you. Not once."

"Did she tell you that?" the duke wondered.

"Not at all, your grace," Quinn admitted. "Through her behavior, I could tell she was burdened by something. In fact, she would have been a better mage if she had no ties but it was impossible for her. It was only when we went to the homecoming march that I caught an inkling of what was in her heart. I should have realized how obvious it was whenever she would swiftly reject the advances of men."

Desmond’s eye bore into Quinn and he realized he may have said too much. It turned out the duke was a jealous husband.

"Were you one of the ones swiftly rejected?" Desmond asked sardonically.

Quinn could understand why people feared him, but it was the few words he said and not his appearance that the mage found absolutely terrifying.

"Never," Quinn said. "I see Leonor as a sister. She treated me like a brother."

Desmond seemed satisfied enough and Quinn felt like he could breathe again.

"In the meantime, would you like tea?" Quinn asked.

"Yes, please," Desmond responded.

However, he was again on the outskirts of the room and looking through the bookshelves. The collection Quinn had was truly interesting.

"You can pick up any book you’d like," Quinn said as he prepared the hot water and teapot. "They’re old but they’ve been preserved through enchantment magic."

Desmond ran his gloved finger over the edge of some of the books as he read the titles. He found a book about mana pathways and opened it to see diagrams and ways to override it.

He put the book back and reached for another.

"I feel I have come here to pry about my wife," Desmond admitted. "I think that’s true. I am a jealous bastard."

Quinn brought tea to the only table in the room that wasn’t covered with books or magical devices. It was near the bookshelves and armchairs.

"Your grace, I’ve never heard a nobleman speak about themselves in such a self-deprecating manner."

That comment caused Desmond to smile genuinely.

"It seems you and I will become closer while these war talks are ongoing," Desmond admitted. "You are going to have to get used to it."

That in itself caused Quinn to smile. Speaking to the duke was more lighthearted than he would imagine. It felt like they had a deeper understanding.

Even if Leonor was their only common ground at that moment, they could go from there.