The carriage rolled to a stop before the Bureau of Investigation's stone building. Lord Rhaegal stepped down, Alfred close behind. They had barely taken a few steps when another carriage pulled into the courtyard.
Rhaegal paused. "Take the documents to the office," he said to Alfred, eyes fixed on the approaching vehicle.
The door of the ornate carriage opened, and out stepped a woman dressed in silk and fur, a practiced smile gracing her lips. Princess Avaline glided toward him, every step deliberate.
"Good morning, Lord Rhaegal," she greeted, curtseying.
Rhaegal offered a curt bow. "Your Highness."
"I thought I'd pay you a visit," she said, adjusting the fur draped over her shoulders. "Our last meeting was far too brief—and inconclusive."
Rhaegal's jaw tightened. Visits like these were distractions he had little patience for. "You've chosen an unfortunate time. I've only just arrived and will soon be departing on an assignment from His Majesty."
The princess's smile wavered, just slightly. "Not even a cup of tea for someone who came all the way from the palace?"
"This is the Bureau of Investigation, Your Highness," he replied flatly. "We don't serve tea. I suggest you return to the palace."
The softness in her eyes dimmed. Her pride tried to hold its shape, but the rejection bruised her all the same. "I see," she said, turning. "Forgive the intrusion. I'll take my leave."
She walked back to her carriage with practiced grace, though Rhaegal didn't miss the stiffness in her spine.
As her carriage disappeared down the road, a low voice spoke from the entrance of the building.
"I see the princess has taken a liking to you," said Duke Cassian, watching Rhaegal with a knowing smirk.
Rhaegal sighed. "Her liking will bring me nothing but unnecessary trouble, Your Grace."
Cassian chuckled. "Indeed." He motioned with a gloved hand. "Come. We've got things to discuss."
Rhaegal followed in silence, his steps steady but contemplative. He held a rare respect for the Duke of Ravenwood—one of the few nobles not blinded by politics or pride. Cassian was cunning, yes, but pragmatic. Fair. Trustworthy.
Inside the Duke's office, lined with ancient scrolls and towering bookshelves, Cassian gestured toward a chair.
"How have you been, Rhaegal?" he asked, his gaze lingering a moment too long before shifting away.
Rhaegal offered a faint smirk. "Surviving."
Cassian gave a slow nod. "I hear His Majesty has tasked you with tracking the cult."
Rhaegal responded with a noncommittal hum.
"A dangerous assignment," Cassian mused, pouring a dark amber liquid into two crystal glasses. "They could be anyone… anywhere."
He handed one glass to Rhaegal, who accepted it silently but didn't drink.
"A lot of unrest is stirring, especially among the lower classes," the Duke went on as he took his seat. "People are questioning the hierarchy. Eliminating one cult won't stop the wave—it might even inspire more. Be cautious with whom you share your findings."
Rhaegal's gaze didn't waver. "I never share more than I must."
Cassian gave a dry smile. "I know. That's what makes you effective… and maddening to your enemies."
A brief silence settled between them, broken only by the soft crackle of the fireplace. The Duke studied Rhaegal closely, his sharp gaze scanning him with quiet precision.
"Your breathing is uneven. Your core is off-balance. And…" Cassian's voice lowered, "I sense hunger."
Rhaegal's fingers tightened around the glass. "Just an encounter with a few rogues. Nothing serious."
Cassian leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk, eyes not buying the lie. "You're not invincible, Rhaegal. Feed. Rest. Don't wait until your body forces you."
Rhaegal gave a small nod, the kind that didn't promise compliance.
But Cassian wasn't finished.
"How about you take a break? I'll grant you two weeks' leave. Go somewhere quiet. Breathe. And if I may—settling down wouldn't be the worst thing. You need a companion, Rhaegal. Someone to ground you."
Rhaegal raised an eyebrow. "What's this? Are you trying to get rid of me, Your Grace?"
Cassian chuckled. "I'm trying to keep you alive. You've been putting the kingdom first for too long. Put yourself first for once. The King's hound can afford to rest—just for a little while."
Rhaegal exhaled slowly through his nose. "I appreciate the concern. But I knew what I was signing up for."
Cassian's smile faded. "I know I won't change your mind. But know this—I worry for you, Rhaegal."
Rhaegal stood, offering a bow. "Thank you. For the drink… and the reminder."
Cassian rose as well, his expression unreadable. "Just—be careful. The enemies you see aren't the only ones who threaten you."
He stopped himself there. The words hovered unsaid, but heavy.
Rhaegal didn't press. He nodded once and turned to leave, the Duke's final words echoing quietly behind him. They clung to him like a shadow.
Rhaegal made his way to his office, his steps echoing faintly in the silent corridor. Inside, Alfred and Mac Hayles were already waiting. Both men straightened and bowed respectfully as he entered.
He took his seat in the polished leather chair behind his desk, its familiar creak grounding him. Mac stepped forward and placed a file in front of him.
"This is the report you requested, my lord," he said.
Rhaegal flipped open the file, his eyes scanning the contents with practiced ease.
"The woman was killed by a precise stab to the spine," Mac explained. "She was the daughter of Earl Lockwood. We were unable to trace the killer—no prints, no witnesses."
At that, Rhaegal and Alfred exchanged a glance—grim, knowing.
"Wrap it up as inconclusive," Rhaegal said, his voice low but firm. "Send the body back to her family. Let them mourn in peace."
"Yes, my lord," Mac replied, bowing slightly before leaving the room.
The moment the door clicked shut, Alfred spoke, his tone edged with concern. "It's exactly the same as Sir Erix's murder, my lord. Whoever did this is trying to bait you. If you'd shown up personally, it would have confirmed your interest—and exposed you."
Rhaegal's eyes darkened. "Then whoever orchestrated this knows about my relationship with Erix."
Alfred frowned. "But you never made it public. Not even within the Bureau. You and Sir Erix didn't officially work together."
Rhaegal's jaw tightened, his hand curling into a fist on the desk. "Then they must have learned it from Erix himself… or perhaps intercepted something private."
He shifted gears abruptly. "What about Elias? Any progress on the Light Tree investigation?"
Alfred shook his head. "No word from him yet, my lord."
Rhaegal turned away, staring out the tall window, his expression unreadable. The pieces were falling into place—Erix's murder, Duke Cassian's warning. All of it pointed to an enemy who operated from the shadows, pulling strings without ever showing their face.
And Rhaegal knew then—he would have to force them into the light.