My Bratty Wife

The pungent smell of disturbed earth and something vaguely metallic – blood, Ryan knew – hung in the air. He looked down at Evan’s still form, the unnatural pattern of bleeding on his face a different scenario to a death far removed from a simple carriage crash.

Ryan thought back to the initial, brief report that had reached the palace: Lord Evan’s carriage overturned, presumed fatalities. No details on the state of the bodies. "So that’s why the messenger didn’t reveal the real situation of the accident," he mused internally, his jaw tightening. "He probably saw this... this horror... and chose vague words. It’s indeed gory, but not in the way they’d expect from a mere tumble." The official narrative would be one of tragic misfortune, but the truth, Ryan felt, was etched in the gruesome tableau before him.

He turned to Chief Investigator Hemlock, who was overseeing his men as they carefully documented the scene. Hemlock looked grim but resigned.

"What do you make of all this, Hemlock?" Ryan asked, his voice neutral, probing.

Hemlock sighed, wiping his brow with a handkerchief despite the cool air. "A tragic accident, Your Grace. It seems Lord Evan’s driver lost control on the bend. The carriage went over the embankment... a terrible end. We see it too often on these roads, especially when speed is involved." He gestured vaguely at the steep, rocky decline. "No survivors. Lord Evan and his man... didn’t stand a chance."

Ryan’s gaze flickered to Brook’s mangled body, then back to Evan’s. "An accident," Ryan repeated, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. He knew Hemlock was a competent investigator, but perhaps too quick to accept the obvious, especially when a powerful noble was involved and a simple explanation offered itself. Or perhaps, Ryan considered, Hemlock was subtly indicating the official line he was expected to take.

He decided not to press, not here, not now. "He was... a connection to my family, Hemlock," Ryan said, the words carefully chosen. Evan was hardly beloved, more a thorn in his side, but they were nobles of the country, their families intertwined through blood, generations of politics and occasional alliances. Claiming a familial link, however tenuous, was the quickest way to ensure he had a say in the proceedings. "I’ll need the body for his burial arrangements."

Hemlock nodded sympathetically. "Of course, Your Grace. Once we’ve completed our initial examination here, Lord Evan will be transported to your estate at Carleton with all due respect. His man as well, if you wish to make arrangements for him."

"Thank you, Hemlock. See to it," Ryan replied, his mind already working, dissecting the scene, the inconsistencies. He gave a final, lingering look at Evan’s face, committing the details to memory.