Chapter 8: The Law of Negotiation

“Duke, may I have a word?”

As the banquet reached its peak, Ethan approached Carlisle’s side.

At the discreet summons, Carlisle paused his conversation and turned to look at Ethan.

Whatever he was about to say, a trace of anxiety was written all over Ethan’s face as he glanced around.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Ethan picked up his wine glass from the table and stepped back.

When Carlisle gave a slight nod of his chin, Ethan leaned in and whispered what he had prepared, barely above a murmur.

“She smashed the statue?”

At once, Carlisle let out a dry chuckle at what he heard.

Heads turned at the sound, but Ethan simply nodded instead of answering aloud.

Then, with a quick, deliberate glance around, he reminded Carlisle they were in the middle of the ballroom.

“I can’t tell if she’s actually insane or just pretending.”

Carlisle said, swirling the wine in his glass with a lazy tone.

The deep red wine trembled on the edge of spilling, releasing its tangy aroma as his large hand turned the glass.

“She claims it was an accident. The lady seemed quite startled as well…”

“That’s hardly important.”

Carlisle murmured, raising his eyes slowly.

Their gazes met, and Ethan hesitated, unsure how to continue.

The duke’s dark red eyes floated in the air, reminiscent of wilted flower petals or a crimson sea parted by blood.

“Any witnesses?”

“Fortunately, Marie was nearby. Other than the maid the lady brought with her, there were no other witnesses. I’ve already taken care of things.”

“I’ll make sure to keep everyone’s mouths shut, so just get another one that looks exactly the same. I don’t want any unnecessary rumors.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“So, was this all you called me out here for? You could’ve handled something like this on your own.”

“Well, it’s just that…”

“I must have overestimated you, Ethan.”

At Carlisle’s cold remark, Ethan hesitated before answering, clearly struggling to find his words.

The normally relaxed curve of Carlisle’s lips flattened with growing impatience.

“There was something inside the statue.”

Ethan took a slow breath, then opened his clenched fist.

Upon seeing the contents, the Duke of Liston’s brow furrowed instantly.

***

A teapot was set on the large table.

The shards still glittered menacingly on the round carpet, evidence of the recent commotion, and the once-white wool was now stained here and there with dark red.

“Jasmine tea. It’s calming—it should help.”

Marie said, her wrinkled hand filling the empty cups.

Unlike the trembling maid, the duchess’s face was utterly unchanged, as if she’d expected it all along.

The composure in her demeanor sent a chill down Marie’s spine.

“I’ll clean up the broken pieces right away. If you could just step out for a moment—”

“That’s not necessary. Just leave them.”

“You might get hurt, madam.”

“It’ll be fine after a few days of sweeping and scrubbing. I’m used to a little chaos.”

“But, madam—”

“I don’t want to be disturbed anymore. It’s not as if this is a shared space with the Duke, right? He’s using the room opposite. Unless it’s a place we share, I’d rather not have anyone else touch it.”

With that, Leilia drew a firm line, taking a sip of her tea.

She set her cup down with a sharp clink, the thin porcelain ringing as her finger let go.

Marie glanced at the table, chastened by the cold dismissal.

“I doubt the Duke would care much, either. I’ll handle it from here, so see to your duties. It’s a rare banquet, so do your best.”

“If you need anything, please call. The damaged carpet will be replaced as soon as possible.”

Bowing, Marie quietly excused herself from the room.

As her footsteps faded, Leilia took a deep breath and turned her gaze away.

Timo was still shaking all over, despite the warmth in the air.

After a moment, Leilia filled another cup and slid it across the table.

“Drink.”

“Th-thank you, miss.”

Pale as a ghost, Timo reached for the cup with trembling hands, unable to decide whether to drink or put it down.

Leilia frowned at the sight.

“Either drink it or put it down.”

She murmured, settling back in her seat.

The table was now pervaded by an indescribable stench.

Sticky with blood, it was littered with small animal bones and blue feathers, glued together with g*re.

Timo spoke up.

“How can people do something like this? Of all things, a gift from the Empress—how could anyone play such a disgusting trick?”

Once, Leilia had thought much the same.

In her previous life, when she’d accidentally broken the statue the woman had sent, she’d seen these same horrors for the first time.

She remembered clutching her swollen belly, sobbing uncontrollably with terror.

She had told herself it was just some vicious prank.

That it must be someone trying to stir up trouble between the House of Liston and the imperial family.

But, seeing it again, she finally understood.

The real “gift” from that woman wasn’t the statue at all, but the curse she’d hidden inside.

“So this is why I keep repeating hell.”

She muttered to herself.

Maybe she’d grown numb—she couldn’t even feel anger or fear toward that woman anymore.

Instead, she felt a strange sort of pity.

Just how desperate and jealous must you be to do something like this?

That’s when Timo, cutting through the silence, spoke up.

“You’re not going to hell just for smashing that thing!”

“What?”

“You did break it on purpose, but if you just say it was an accident, nobody will know. I won’t breathe a word, I promise.”

Unlike Timo, chattering on, Leilia’s face showed not a flicker of emotion.

She looked so much like a wax doll that Timo briefly wondered if that’s what it must feel like to talk to one.

“It’s just as well you smashed it. Who would’ve imagined something so horrific was hidden inside?”

“Shaking in your boots earlier, but I guess you’re over it now?”

“Ahem, that’s only because I’d never seen something like that before… Anyway! Who the hell would have the guts to pull such a stunt, and with something meant for the duchess, no less? You’d have to be insane. It’s a challenge to authority, a challenge!”

“With the way you’re talking, people might think the gift was meant for you.”

“If it were, I’d have yanked out someone’s hair on the spot. Do you really think I’d have acted all dignified, like you? Do you have any idea who it could be?”

“I’d say the one who sent the gift. Like you said, who else would stoop that low?”

“Hey, careful! What if someone overhears? There’s no way the Empress would do something like that. She sent such a precious statue to congratulate you, and now you’re not just breaking it but accusing her of something this vile? Even the worst back alleys don’t pull this kind of trash.”

“I suppose they’re even worse than that.”

Leilia let out a quiet scoff, opening the glass jar on the table.

With a practiced hand, she dropped a lump of sugar into her tea.

Timo, swirling her own cup, continued.

“It just doesn’t make sense. Lady Claudia’s good deeds are known all over the empire. There’s hardly anyone who hasn’t been touched by her kindness. She’s friendly, thoughtful, beautiful—everyone says she’s the perfect empress, practically since the dawn of time.”

“I suppose you’ve met her?”

“Well, of course… Actually, no. But you don’t have to meet someone to know about them. I hear things! In any case, the Duke won’t let this go. The duchess being humiliated on her wedding day? He has to find out who did it. He has to catch them, no matter what!”

Timo clenched her fists, voice rising just as a knock sounded at the door.

***

A cold silence settled between the two.

Sensing the tension, Timo quickly excused herself to fetch more tea, leaving Carlisle to quietly inspect the wrecked room.

The blood-stained carpet, those hideous clumps of flesh, gouged and scratched marble floor—Leilia could feel her discomfort and displeasure rising with every second of silence.

“I doubt you came just for tea. The banquet is still in full swing. What brings you here?”

“Maybe I’ve fallen for the new bride. Happens all the time, doesn’t it? Love at first sight, bells ringing in your head, that kind of nonsense.”

Carlisle’s mouth curled up at the corner as he shrugged.

There was a time when he’d smiled at her just like that—a time when her heart would skip at the sight.

Now, she felt nothing at all.

“I didn’t know you believed in things like that. Getting a little too deep into your role? Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have the energy to play along tonight.”

Leilia took a sip of tea and sat up straight.

Her golden eyes fixed on Carlisle, slender legs crossed at a sharp angle—her entire posture screamed for him to leave, but he didn’t so much as flinch.

“Just one question—was it an act of defiance?”

“I said it was an accident, but you don’t seem to believe me.”

“You’re a bit too calm to sell that story.”

“Well… in that case, let’s call it resistance. Defiance is for small minds.”

“If word of this gets out, it’ll be trouble for both of us.”

He pinned her with a businesslike smile.

She hadn’t expected concern, but the oddity of it struck her.

All he could see was a broken statue, not the curse that lay inside.

Maybe that’s why—for the first time in a long while, her heart stirred, just a little.

“We’re married now. The more danger I’m in, the more you’re in danger, too. If you want to keep me in line, just give me what I want.”

“You’ve got a cute side after all.”

His snake-like gaze brushed over her skin, and then he stood.

Without warning, his large frame stooped down in front of her and he knelt at her feet.

“What are you doing?”

His broad hand gently took her slender wrist.

At some point she’d been cut, and a bead of red welled up on her pale skin.

Carlisle took a handkerchief from his chest and tied it around the wound.

“You want Gridana, do you?”

With a deceptively gentle question, those sharp, upturned eyes turned toward Leilia.

The slanted, almost lazy gaze and that crooked smirk made Carlisle’s signature vulgar arrogance crystal clear.

As she slowly nodded, his stained hand slid along her cheek, leaving a sticky, lingering touch.

“Seems you’ve forgotten your husband’s a merchant at heart.”

Carlisle murmured, licking his lower lip, the air around him crackling with danger.

And then, in one sudden motion, he seized her slender waist, pulling her close, pressing his weight down over her.

“My cards are always played last. That’s the first rule of negotiation.”

His breath poured over her chest, his rough palm gliding languidly along the sensitive line of her nape.

A shiver flickered through the tranquil gold of Leilia’s eyes, their calm broken as she stared up at him.

“It means you won’t get a thing—until you give me a child.”