Mrs. Hubry had always been a stern woman, with a voice like a gavel and eyes sharp enough to silence even the rowdiest schoolboys. Yet beneath that exterior lay a woman whose heart beat with genuine warmth. A heart that remembered names, lent books with a secret smile, and tucked sweets into children's pockets when their mothers weren't looking. She was the kind of woman who'd scold you for returning a book late but slip another into your hand "just in case."
That's what made her death so devastating. It wasn't just that she had been murdered. It was how. Buried in her own garden like a discarded secret. A woman who spent her days surrounded by stories deserved a kinder ending than the one she was given.
Evie could still picture her last visit to the library. The quiet hum of the place, the gentle creak of the floorboards, the familiar scent of parchment and lavender oil Mrs. Hubry used to rub into her joints. That memory clashed violently with the reality she'd just been told. The library had been closed for a month. Mrs. Hubry had gone missing. Her body had been found just days ago. The pieces didn't fit. And inside Evie's chest, fury stirred. Whoever had done this, whoever had taken that kind, odd old woman and buried her beneath the daisies she loved, they would pay.
---
Far across the sprawling council estate, in the illustrious east wing of the building, a very different mood lingered.
Here, in a space polished to gleaming perfection, Lucas sat in his private office. It was an oasis of calm authority. Dark mahogany shelves lined the walls, stacked with tomes and scrolls. The grand desk before him was neatly arranged with papers, pens, and files in tidy stacks. The subtle scent of sandalwood clung to the room, blending with the crisp rustle of documents as he flipped through them absentmindedly.
Lucas didn't enjoy working alongside others. His distaste for collaboration was no secret. So when the council had suggested assigning him both a professional partner and personal security detail, they had expected resistance. What they hadn't expected was for Lucas to bypass every elite candidate they presented. Seasoned investigators, battle-hardened warriors, even aristocrats of repute. Instead, he had selected a newly minted councilman, an undergraduate with barely a month's experience.
The choice had raised eyebrows. But Lucas saw something in the young man that others didn't. He molded him, sharpened him, until he was no longer just a fledgling official but a figure of precision and quiet resolve. Now, Henry stood at his side as his assistant, his right hand, and a man trusted above all.
A knock tapped at the door before it opened smoothly. Henry entered with his usual quiet discipline, his posture perfect, his voice calm. "Milord," he said with a bow. "I must inform you that a lady has been detained by the council this morning."
Lucas didn't glance up from his paperwork. "And what was the reason for this inconvenience?" he asked dully, flipping a page. "A case of theft, perhaps?"
"No, milord. She's been brought in under suspicion of murder. The murder of the librarian from Hallthom, Mrs. Hubry."
That caught Lucas's attention. His head rose slowly. "Mrs. Hubry... ? The old Librarian is dead?"
"Regrettably, yes," Henry confirmed, his tone somber. "She was found buried in her own garden. And, interestingly, the young woman in custody also resides in Hallthom."
A beat of silence followed.
Lucas's gaze narrowed. "Do you know her name?"
"I could not obtain formal documentation," Henry admitted, "but I overheard Councilman Jonathan refer to her as 'Miss Alden.' I cannot be certain, but that may be Evelyn Alden."
Lucas was already rising from his chair, slipping into his coat with measured urgency.
"Where is she being held?" he asked, voice low and steady.
---
The west wing of the council building was a cold, grim place. It was designed not for comfort but consequence. The walls were thick stone, the windows small and high, and the air often carried an unpleasant mixture of mildew and old iron. Those brought here rarely left unchanged.
Lucas strode through its halls with purpose, Henry trailing just behind. Guards stationed at the entrance stiffened as they recognized him. He was not just a Lord, but a legend among the council. Their eyes widened slightly. It was rare for Lucas to step foot in this part of the building. He preferred the solitude of his private dungeon when he needed answers. The west wing was for formal accusations and drawn-out hearings. Not his usual method.
"Good day, my Lord," one of the guards greeted, eyes respectfully lowered. "What brings you here today?"
"I'm here for the woman recently brought in," Lucas said. His tone suggested formality, but those who knew him well could detect the urgency beneath it.
The guards exchanged a glance, but one quickly nodded and gestured for him to follow. The stone corridors twisted and turned until they reached a narrow door at the end of the hall.
The guard opened it.
A single shaft of sunlight pierced through a small grated window, falling directly on Evie.
She sat pale and still, her back straight, her eyes vacant, until they landed on him.
"Lucas..." she breathed, so quietly it might have been imagined.
For a moment, neither of them moved. She looked like a ghost, too shocked to cry, too numb to speak. But there was a flicker of hope in her expression, as if seeing him cracked the shell of fear she'd been hiding inside.
The interrogator, startled, stood quickly and bowed. "My Lord. What brings you here?"
Lucas stepped inside, his gaze fixed on Evie. "Why has this woman been detained?"
The interrogator hesitated, sensing a shift in the room's pressure. The air had grown thick, heavy with something unseen. "She is considered a suspect in the death of Mrs. Hubry," he answered cautiously. "Her name appeared in the records. She claimed she borrowed a book two weeks ago… but the library has been closed for nearly a month. No one else saw it open. And the librarian—"
"Is dead," Lucas finished. "I'm aware."
He turned slightly, eyes narrowing. "And how did she respond when you asked about this alleged visit?"
"She claimed complete ignorance," the man said, swallowing. "But..."
"But there is nothing to prove her guilt," Lucas interrupted. "You're suggesting this young woman, barely out of childhood, overpowered an elderly woman, murdered her in cold blood, and buried her in a garden, all without anyone noticing?"
The interrogator faltered. "The records—"
"Records can be forged. People can lie. But a girl like Evelyn cannot dig a grave alone," Lucas said coldly. "Use your brain. This wasn't done by someone like her. You're wasting time interrogating an innocent while the true killer walks free."
The room fell silent. Even the guards looked uneasy.
The interrogator bowed his head, chastised. "You're right, my Lord. I will reopen the investigation immediately and assign my full team to the matter."
He turned to Evie, shame on his face. "Miss, I deeply regret this error. I assure you we will work to clear your name and find the true culprit."
Lucas stepped forward, offering his hand to Evie. "Come," he said gently. "You're not staying here another moment."
The interrogator made a final offer. "Would you allow us to arrange a carriage to escort her home safely?"
Lucas didn't even glance at him. "That won't be necessary," he replied, still holding his hand out to her. "I'll take her back myself."
As she rose on trembling legs and slipped her hand into his, his eyes briefly flicked to the shadow that lingered near the wall behind her. A dark silhouette that hadn't been there before.
His expression hardened.