Fated Eclipse: The Illegitimate Princess And Her Alpha Suitors

Chapter 71: The Shack and Its Secrets

Lyria’s POV

Baron Redwick winning had not surprised me in the least.

His work had been extraordinary. Even if I had not spent three hours watching every brushstroke of every candidate’s painting from my narrow window, even if I had arrived at the competition with fresh eyes and no prior observation, I would have known immediately upon seeing his completed work that it was the finest thing produced in that courtyard today.

Lucian was a deserving second.

I could admit that without particular discomfort.

The two of them together had produced work that stood in a different category from everything else presented. Technical accomplishment was one thing—several of the candidates had demonstrated genuine skill. But skill and resonance were not the same thing, and the two were rarely found together in equal measure.

Baron Redwick and Lucian had managed both.

The others had done well enough in their own ways.

Earl Hawthorne, whose painting had consisted entirely of blue and yellow drops and had prompted the Queen to ask three separate questions before anyone fully understood what they were looking at, had produced something that worked—not because of the execution but because the thought behind it was genuine and unperformed, and the Queen had said herself she could not argue with it.

Duke Thorncrest, whose theatrics during the process had been considerably more impressive than the finished product, had delivered an explanation that the crowd had responded to warmly, even though to me it was just word vomit.

The Duke of Blackmere, who had produced a stick figure with a W-shaped crown and two circles in its outstretched hands... honestly, his explanation had been the most daring out of all the candidates, and his work was lackluster.

The point was that most of them had put in genuine effort, and their explanations had been the real competition in many ways—the paintings had told us what they could do, but the words had told us how they thought. And thinking, it turned out, was not equally distributed.

There had been one additional highlight, beyond the paintings and the explanations and the extraordinary thirty minutes of waiting for results.

Corvin’s face when the results were announced.

I had watched it from the gatehouse window with the detached attention I brought to most things, and I had felt, briefly and without particular guilt, something that was not quite satisfaction but existed in that general territory.

He was shocked by the results and was also a bit disappointed.

The expression did not suit his face. It made him look suffocated.

I wondered how I had ever found this particular man handsome when he was so... well, him.

Anyways, that wasn’t a particular concern of mine now. Instead, I was more focused on how to get out of this shack without anyone noticing.

I shifted my weight slightly, careful to keep the movement small and quiet, and assessed the courtyard’s current state of occupancy.

The royal family had already gone.

The nobles were dispersing in the gradual, sociable way of people who had been at an event and were not quite ready to stop discussing it. Several clusters had formed near the edges of the courtyard. The suitor candidates themselves were scattered—some speaking with nobles, some with each other.

It was going to take a while.

I was preparing myself for the wait when footsteps approached the gatehouse.

I thought they would pass, but instead they stopped right next to it, making me go completely still. They stood directly outside the window I was standing at.

I recognized both voices immediately.

The first was the Duke of Blackmere.

The second was Lucian.

I held my breath, hoping they would not discover I was in the shack.

”Must we do this here?” the Duke asked.

Lucian’s response was tight.

”You have been avoiding the conversation all afternoon.”

”I have been occupied all afternoon,” the Duke replied. ”There is a distinction.”

”We were with the same group, and when I asked you for a private conversation, you refused,” Lucian said.

”And that is because I was occupied,” the Duke replied. ”But like I said, do you really wish to have this conversation here?”

”I was under the impression,” the Duke continued, ”that you preferred to conduct certain matters with a degree of discretion, especially one regarding your affections?”

”I wasn’t planning to keep it quiet forever,” Lucian replied.

I was so confused about what it was they were talking about.

The Duke hummed softly.

”How very bold of you.”

”It is not bold,” Lucian replied. ”It is simply not concealed.”

”Mm.”

The Duke sounded unconvinced.

”Even so,” he said after a moment, ”I would suggest that this particular discussion might benefit from... relocation.”

”Unless, of course, you have developed a preference for audiences,” he added.

Those words made the hairs on my skin stand on end. The Duke knew I was in the shack. Maybe he didn’t know it was me exactly, but he was aware that there was someone in the shack.

I knew he was a wolf, but I didn’t think it would be that easy. I held my breath after all, and my scent had been masked, so how was he able to detect that I was there?

Lucian didn’t say anything.

The Duke tilted his head at him. ”Do tell, I’m not the only one who knows there’s someone else likely hearing our conversation, right?”

”I don’t see how it’s any of my—”

”It may not be yours, but it is mine,” the Duke said calmly. ”You see, I don’t like to have conversations in places where I can get eavesdropped on. But since it’s a cute, curious wolf you seem to be acquainted with, it would do well to just let her come out and join us, don’t you think?”

Lucian swallowed nervously. ”Valenridge,” he called in warning.

The Duke smiled, then knocked on the shack. ”Curious wolf, you may come out. You are invited to have this conversation.”