The Dragon Warlord's Silent Bride

RAIGORO’S POV

Raigoro left Command after sunset with Northline Provisioning Exchange still occupying too much of his mind.

The same commercial intermediary appeared in all three false shipment chains.

That was suspicious.

It was not proof.

Northline handled legitimate military-linked trade across Blackharrow, which meant finding its name three times had given them a place to investigate rather than someone to arrest.

Daric had called that progress.

Raigoro had considered throwing something at him.

The Inner Keep was quieter, with only a servant carrying a covered lamp, two household guards changing position near the family stair, and the distant sound of a door closing somewhere below.

Raigoro was halfway toward his rooms when he heard the violin.

He stopped. The first phrase broke off and began again with a different ending. On the third attempt, the music continued.

The music came from the Duchess’s household rooms.

He followed it as far as the outer passage and found one of his wife’s Household Guards standing beside the half-open sitting-room door.

The guard straightened.

”Your Grace.”

Raigoro looked toward the sound.

”Is the Duchess receiving anyone?”

”No, Your Grace.”

Another phrase reached the corridor, quick at first, then slower before the same sequence returned with a different ending.

The guard glanced toward the door.

”Would you like me to announce you?”

”No.”

The man had enough discipline not to look surprised.

Raigoro remained where he was.

His wife was not playing for anyone. She stopped when she disliked a phrase, repeated sections, and changed them.

Once she began a passage cleanly, reached the final notes, and started over only to roughen the ending deliberately.

Raigoro knew enough music to understand she was changing the piece because she preferred it another way.

That seemed familiar.

He leaned one shoulder against the stone beside the doorway.

For most of the day, his thoughts had moved through the same questions.

Who had access to Northline records?

Who could copy receiving marks?

How many false shipments had they not found?

What happened if the contractor itself was innocent and somebody was simply hiding inside its network?

The questions remained, but somewhere during the music Raigoro had stopped rearranging them. Sleep had failed to quiet his mind the previous night. The violin managed it for a while simply by asking nothing of him.

The final phrase faded.

Silence followed.

Raigoro stayed where he was.

The sitting-room door opened wider.

His wife stood inside with the violin in one hand and the bow in the other.

She stopped when she saw him and turned toward the guard.

The guard developed a sudden interest in the opposite wall.

Raigoro said, ”He did not betray you.”

Her eyes narrowed.

His wife set the violin carefully against her side and reached for the slate on the nearby table.

HOW LONG?

”Long enough.”

His wife looked distinctly unimpressed. Raigoro kept his amusement to himself.

She wrote: THAT IS NOT A TIME.

”Long enough to hear you change the ending twice.”

His wife glanced from the violin to him before writing: THE FIRST ENDING WAS BORING.

”I thought so.”

She looked suspicious of the answer.

Raigoro glanced at the worn case resting open near the window.

Until tonight, Raigoro had not known she played at all.

There were still pieces of his wife that existed entirely outside the questions he had spent months asking about Valence.

He could have asked when she learned.

Who taught her.

How old she had been.

Whether Selena Valence had ever been known to play.

The questions came easily.

Raigoro let them go.

Instead he said, ”Again.”

His wife’s eyebrows rose.

Raigoro realized how the word had sounded.

”Please.”

That made her look even more surprised.

Good.

He needed more practice.

His wife looked down at the instrument.

She remained quiet before putting the slate aside.

Raigoro entered only when she pointed toward the ordinary chair beside the wall.

He sat.

His wife lifted the violin.

The piece began again.

Raigoro did not try to identify it.

Her left hand moved with the confidence of something learned long ago, quicker through one passage and more deliberate through the next. When a note dissatisfied her, she adjusted it without hesitation.

Raigoro found himself watching her fingers at first. She played without checking whether he approved.

He liked that.

After a while, he looked at her instead.

His wife was not looking at him.

She seemed to have forgotten he was there. Her brows drew together when she changed a phrase, then eased once she found the sound she wanted. Nothing in her attention wandered beyond the violin.

Raigoro had seen his wife intent before.

He had rarely seen her simply enjoying something.

Near the end, the passage he had heard from the corridor returned.

Raigoro expected the same ending.

The Duchess changed it again.

This time she did not stop afterward or begin from the top. The last phrase settled into something quieter than either version he had heard outside, and her bow continued cleanly through the final note.

So that was the one she wanted.

She had not played the same piece for him simply because he asked. She had changed what still dissatisfied her and stopped only when she had an ending she wanted.

Raigoro liked that better than perfection.

His wife finished.

The bow lowered.

The final note faded, and the room remained quiet.

Raigoro said, ”Thank you.”

She reached for the slate.

FOR WHAT?

”Playing again.”

His wife studied him.

He meant it.

Apparently she decided that was the problem, because her eyes dropped to the violin.

Raigoro stood.

He had already stayed longer than he intends.

At the doorway, he stopped.

”I would like to hear you again.”

His wife gave him no immediate answer or dry correction about whether the piece had been worth hearing. Raigoro waited while her chalk moved.

I WILL CONSIDER IT.

”Good.”

He left before the answer could become heavier than it needed to be.

The corridor had nearly emptied.

Daric stood near the turn toward Command with a foreign packet in his hand.

Raigoro stopped.

The seal was Belland.

Whatever quiet the violin had given him ended when Daric said, ”Something arrived.”

Raigoro looked at the packet.

The old investigation.