Chapter 257 - Two Hundred And Fifty Seven
(Seven months later ...)
Seven months. A season of healing, of quiet rebuilding, not just for the Duke and his Duchess, but for the entire kingdom. The initial fear cast by Lord Byron’s deeds had receded, replaced by a renewed sense of peace and security. True to his word, the King had appointed Ryan and Thorne to take charge of restoring order to the kingdom. With good planning and efficiency, they had systematically dismantled the bandit clans, put an end to the rampant poaching in the royal forests, and stamped out the smuggling rings that had flourished in the chaos. The kingdom was safe again, its people prosperous, its future bright, all in seven months.
In the grand throne room of the Royal Palace, King Albert sat upon his throne, a benevolent smile on his face as he addressed the assembled court. "For his unwavering courage, his keen intellect, and his selfless service to the crown in rooting out the darkness that plagued our lands," the King declared, his voice resonating through the hall, "it is my distinct pleasure to elevate Commander Thaddeus Thorne to the rank of General of His Majesty’s Royal Army."
Thorne, looking sharp and resolute in his immaculate uniform, stepped forward, knelt before the King, and accepted the honor with a humble bow and a quiet word of thanks. The court erupted in polite, appreciative applause.
"And now," the King continued, turning to his Prime Minister with a ceremonial scroll, "for the Duke of Carleton, whose leadership was instrumental in this great success, a formal commendation and a new ..." He paused, his gaze sweeping the court, looking for Ryan. "Where is the Duke?"
The Prime Minister leaned in, whispering into the King’s ear. "An urgent message reached him not an hour ago, Your Majesty. He offered his sincerest apologies but had to return to Carleton at once. It seems there was... important family news that could not wait." The King’s expression softened with understanding, and he gave a slight, knowing nod.
Meanwhile, at Carleton, a different kind of unrest prevailed. The usual stately quiet of the castle had been replaced by a state of controlled, panicked activity. Maids hurried through the grand corridors, their faces a mixture of concentration and concern, carrying steaming bowls of hot water towards the master bedchamber. Others emerged carrying bowls of water now stained a grim, bloody red.
From behind the closed doors of the chambers, a woman’s scream, raw and powerful, could be heard, echoing down the hall.
Outside that door, Ryan paced back and forth like a caged lion, his fine clothes rumpled, his hair disheveled, his face pale with anxiety. He was no longer the composed Duke he’s known to be ; he was simply a husband, terrified and utterly helpless. Every time he heard Suzy’s cries, a primal, protective urge compelled him to break open the door and rush to her side, to slay whatever beast was causing her such pain.