The silence after Elias's departure was unnerving.
One moment, the southern parlor was a battlefield—blood on the floor, splintered wood, breathless shock. The next, it was just… still.
Elias had left, dragging Toby Vaits behind him like the trash he'd declared him to be. The man's boots had left a faint smear on the marble, a streak of red and dust, now drying in the cold air.
Ilya stood where she had been, only just aware that she hadn't moved since Elias let go of Toby's throat.
The soldiers stood uneasily along the walls. No one spoke. Not even Madam Therin, who lingered just behind her like a ghost afraid to touch anything.
The heat in Ilya's chest hadn't cooled. If anything, it was spreading. A slow, dizzying rush of sensation that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with disbelief.
Someone had defended her.
Not just with words, or posture, or politeness.
Elias had stood between her and everything she'd spent years believing she had to survive alone.
And he had not apologized for it.
She turned slightly toward Madam Therin, her voice thinner than she meant it to be. "How long ago did he leave?"
"Just minutes, my lady. He went without escort. Took a carriage with fresh horses. Said nothing, save that he would return tomorrow."
Without even thinking, Ilya's hands clenched. "He shouldn't have gone alone."
Madam Therin raised an eyebrow. "Would you have stopped him?"
Ilya hesitated.
No. No, she wouldn't have.
"I need to see the letter Toby brought." she said.
The older woman crossed the room and retrieved a parchment envelope from the nearby sideboard. "It was addressed to the Archduke, sealed with House Valenpor's crest. I thought it best he not read it yet… Not with his temper—"
"He read it," Ilya murmured, taking the letter. "He read it the moment that man opened his mouth."
Her thumb traced the wax seal.
But she didn't open it.
Instead, she walked to the hearth, dropped it in, and watched it curl and blacken. Her heart raced. Not from rebellion—but relief. Closure.
No more letters.
No more demands.
No more watching her words in case they embarrassed a man who had never deserved to shape her life.
Madam Therin gave a small, tight nod behind her.
Ilya stepped back from the fire. "Tell the stewards I'll be reviewing the inventories for the east wing. And alert the clerks—I want to finalize the provisions ledgers before week's end."
"Yes, Duchess."
But before the headmistress turned, she paused. "If I may, my lady…"
Ilya looked up.
Madam Therin's tone softened just slightly. "Be wary. The Archduke isn't a man accustomed to choosing lightly. And I've seen the ruin left behind when a man like that is given a reason to burn."
"I didn't ask him to fight for me," Ilya replied.
"No," Madam Therin said, "but I think you gave him a reason."
She blinked and slowly sank into the chair.
"Elias won't…kill them, will he?"
The madam knelt next to her, gently rubbing her back.
"I don't think so, my lady. I think he will probably…give them a warning, if anything. You'll see…everything will be alright."
Ilya stood alone as the woman left, the crackling fire behind her and the wide, empty space before her.
He'd dragged her past into her father's house.
And now he was carrying it back—broken, like a message.
She should've been terrified. Instead there was only confusion and concern.
For the first time in years, she felt like someone had reached into the dark and said, you don't have to live there anymore.
And she wasn't sure what to do with that light.
At the same time, she could still see the look in Elias' eyes as he held Toby aloft by the neck. The murder there, familiar to one who had killed before. Just an hour ago, he was harmlessly flirting with her across the table and within moments, was making a meal of the messenger from her family home.
Perhaps there was a monster, inside Elias.
Just not the kind people had expected.