Chapter 9
My Wife Did What?
Caspian was reviewing the morning border patrol reports when Sterling knocked and entered his study.
"Your Grace," the older man said, his expression carefully neutral in that way that meant something unusual had happened.
"What is it?" Caspian set down the report he'd been reading. Again. Without absorbing a single word. He'd been distracted all morning thinking about dinner last night, which was annoying.
"I have several updates regarding the Duchess," Sterling said.
"Go on."
Before Sterling could speak, the door opened again and Edwin strode in, not bothering to knock. He was grinning.
"Oh, this is good," Edwin said, dropping into his usual chair. "Sterling, please continue. Don't let me interrupt."
Sterling gave Edwin a long-suffering look before turning back to Caspian. "Your Grace, the Duchess took a morning walk in the gardens approximately two hours ago."
"That's... good," Caspian said slowly. "Exercise is healthy for pregnant women."
"Indeed. However, during her walk, she encountered the Dreamweaver cub that has been frequenting the estate grounds."
Caspian went very still. "The Dreamweaver."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Dreamweavers. Small, adorable cubs that grew into 400-pound apex predators capable of manipulating shadows and walking through dreams. Extremely dangerous. Extremely deadly. One had killed three of his border patrol soldiers last year before he'd put it down himself.
"Did it attack her?" Caspian demanded, already rising from his chair.
"No, Your Grace. Quite the opposite, actually." Sterling paused. "She bonded with it."
Caspian sat back down slowly. "She... bonded with it."
"Yes, Your Grace. A full familiar bond."
Edwin's grin widened. "She adopted the murder kitten."
"It's not a kitten," Caspian said sharply. "It's a predator. A dangerous one."
"Currently it's a very small, very cute predator," Sterling said. "The kitchen staff estimates it weighs approximately fifteen pounds."
"It will weigh 400 pounds in less than two years," Caspian countered. "With claws that can tear through armor and the ability to become invisible in shadows. What was she thinking?"
"According to the staff who witnessed the event," Sterling continued, reading from his notes, "the Duchess personally visited the kitchen to request dried mackerel, warm honeyed milk, and sweet cream pastries.
She then returned to the garden and spent approximately forty minutes hand-feeding the cub and gaining its trust."
"Hand-feeding," Caspian repeated flatly.
"Yes, Your Grace. She was observed sitting on the garden path, placing food in her palm, and allowing the creature to eat directly from her hand."
Edwin was trying very hard not to laugh. "That's actually kind of brave. Dreamweaver cubs have very sharp teeth."
"They also have very sharp claws and will grow into killing machines," Caspian said. "This is not amusing."
"It's a little amusing," Edwin countered. "Your terrifying villainess wife just adopted a future apex predator and named it Mochi."
"She named it what?"
"Mochi," Sterling confirmed. "After the bonding completed, she carried the cub back to her chambers and, according to her maids, is currently constructing an elaborate bed for it using approximately seventeen pillows."
Caspian pressed his fingers to his temples. "Seventeen pillows."
"The maids were very specific about the count, Your Grace."
For a long moment, Caspian said nothing. His mind was racing through tactical assessments.
Caroline had bonded with a Dreamweaver. A creature that would become lethal in a matter of years. A creature that would be absolutely loyal to her and only her. A creature that could, theoretically, be trained to attack on command.
"Is she planning to raise it as a weapon?" Caspian asked quietly.
Sterling and Edwin exchanged glances.
"Against you, you mean?" Edwin said, his amusement fading slightly. "That's... a long-term plan. Dreamweavers take at least two years to reach full size."
"She tried to poison me three weeks ago," Caspian pointed out. "Clearly she's patient."
"The staff reports suggest otherwise," Sterling said carefully. "They believe she genuinely bonded with the creature out of... affection."
"Affection."
"Yes, Your Grace. Multiple witnesses reported that she spoke to it very gently, called it 'beautiful' and 'perfect,' and appeared genuinely emotional when it accepted the bond." Sterling paused. "She also immediately declared it her 'emotional support dream-weaver.'"
Edwin did laugh at that. "I'm sorry, her what?"
"Emotional support dream-weaver," Sterling repeated, deadpan. "Those were her exact words according to the head gardener, who was attempting to prune roses nearby."
Caspian stared at his advisor. "She bonded with one of the most dangerous creatures in the kingdom for... emotional support."
"It appears so, Your Grace."
"And named it Mochi."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Seventeen pillows."
"Quite."
Caspian stood and walked to the window, looking out over the training grounds. His mind was attempting to reconcile this information with his existing understanding of his wife.
Caroline had trapped him into marriage with a seduction spell meant for another man. She'd been openly hostile, thrown things at servants, attempted poisoning, and spent two months pining for Percival Sinclair.
And now she was apologizing to staff, making pleasant conversation at dinner, and adopting dangerous magical creatures that she apparently wanted to cuddle.
None of it made sense.
"What else?" Caspian asked.
"The Duchess has continued her pattern from yesterday," Sterling reported. "She's apologized to three more servants this morning, asked each of them by name how they're doing, and complimented the head gardener on his roses."
"The staff's current theory?" Edwin asked, still grinning.
Sterling sighed. "Possession by a benevolent spirit leads with 60% of the votes. Changeling replacement is at 25%. Genuine personality reformation is at 10%. And a very creative kitchen maid has suggested she was cursed by a kindness witch."
"A kindness witch," Caspian repeated.
"The kitchen maid reads a lot of romance novels, Your Grace."
Caspian turned from the window. "Any word on Earl Sinclair?"
Sterling flipped through his notes. "Earl Sinclair remains in the capital, Your Grace.
He's currently occupied with preparations for his engagement party to Lady Rosalie Lennox, scheduled for next month.
No attempts to contact the Duchess. No travel plans that would bring him near the northern territories. "
"Good." Caspian wanted no complications in his domain. The last thing he needed was Caroline's former obsession showing up and creating drama. "Keep monitoring him. I want to know immediately if he makes any move toward this estate."
"Of course, Your Grace."
"Does the Duchess know about his engagement?" Caspian asked, trying to sound casual.
Sterling's expression shifted slightly. "We have no indication she's been informed, though the news is spreading throughout the nobility. It's possible she's heard through her correspondence with her family."
Caspian nodded slowly. That could explain the sudden change. Perhaps Caroline had finally accepted that Percival was truly lost to her and decided to make the best of her situation here.
Or perhaps she was devastated and planning something worse.
He still didn't know.
"Your Grace," Edwin said, his tone more serious now. "About the Dreamweaver. Do you want me to... handle it?"
"Handle it?"
"Remove it. Before it becomes dangerous. I could do it quietly, make it look like it wandered off—"
"No," Caspian said immediately. The word came out sharper than he'd intended.
Edwin raised his eyebrows. "No?"
Caspian wasn't entirely sure why he'd said no. The tactical decision would be to eliminate the potential threat before it grew into an actual threat.
But something stopped him.
Maybe it was the image Sterling had painted—Caroline sitting on the garden path, hand-feeding a small creature, calling it beautiful. Caroline carrying it back to her chambers, building it a bed with seventeen pillows.
Caroline, who had never shown kindness to anyone since arriving at his estate, being gentle with an orphaned cub.
"Monitor it," Caspian said finally. "Keep watch on both the Duchess and the creature. If it shows any signs of aggression or if she attempts to train it for combat, then we'll reconsider."
"And if it's genuinely just... a pet?" Edwin asked.
"Then we'll deal with it when it reaches 400 pounds," Caspian said dryly. "I'm sure that will be an interesting conversation."
Sterling made a note. "Very good, Your Grace. Is there anything else?"
"The tea this afternoon," Caspian said. "Is everything prepared?"
"Yes, Your Grace. The eastern garden terrace has been set up as requested. Tea service at three o'clock, with Your Grace's training scheduled for the grounds directly visible from the terrace."
Edwin's grin returned full force. "You're really going through with the 'watch me train' invitation."
"I'm providing my wife with appropriate viewing opportunities," Caspian said stiffly.
"You're showing off."
"I'm being accommodating."
"You're peacocking for your wife who was hiding in bushes yesterday watching you fight."
"Edwin," Caspian said with forced patience. "Don't you have training drills to run?"
"Not until this afternoon. Which I will be running directly in your wife's line of sight. I'm very excited about this."
"Of course you are."
Sterling cleared his throat. "Your Grace, if I may? I recommend you address the Dreamweaver situation directly with the Duchess during tea. Ask her about it. Gauge her intentions."
"That was my plan," Caspian said.
"And perhaps..." Sterling hesitated. "Perhaps approach the conversation with an open mind? The Duchess has been making significant efforts to improve her behavior. It's possible her bonding with the creature was genuinely motivated by compassion rather than strategy."
"Or," Edwin added, "she just really likes cute animals and didn't think through the consequences. Which, to be fair, is very on-brand for someone who just spent two months being dramatically miserable instead of actually trying to make things better."
Caspian had to concede that point.
"I'll speak with her about it," he said finally. "Observe her reactions. Determine if this is part of a larger plan or just... poor judgment."
"Excellent, Your Grace." Sterling bowed. "Will that be all?"
"Yes. Thank you, Sterling."
After Sterling left, Edwin remained in his chair, still looking entirely too amused.
"What?" Caspian asked.
"You're worried about her."
"I'm concerned about a potential security threat—"
"No, no," Edwin interrupted. "You're worried about her. About Caroline. About whether she's safe hand-feeding wild creatures in the garden."
"She's carrying my child," Caspian said. "Of course I'm concerned about her safety."
"And you invited her to watch you train."
"To provide her with appropriate—"
"You made a joke about the viewing terrace," Edwin continued. "You, who I have seen give military briefings without smiling once, made a joke to make your wife laugh."
Caspian said nothing.
"And now you're personally planning to address her pet adoption during a private tea instead of just ordering your men to handle it."
"Your point?"
Edwin's grin softened into something more genuine. "My point is that you're actually trying. With her. With this marriage. Despite everything she's done."
Caspian looked out the window again, at the gardens where Caroline had apparently spent her morning bonding with a future apex predator.
"What's the alternative?" he said quietly. "We're married. She's pregnant with my child. I can either spend the next several decades in a hostile stalemate, or I can..." He paused. "See if there's another option."
"Even though you think she's still in love with Percival Sinclair?"
"I don't know what to think about that," Caspian admitted. "She seemed genuine last night. But people don't change overnight. Not this drastically."
"So you're suspicious."
"Extremely."
"But you're still having tea with her."
"I'm gathering intelligence," Caspian said. "Observing patterns. Conducting reconnaissance."
"You're having tea with your pretty wife after she watches you train," Edwin corrected. "And you're going to ask her about her new pet that she named Mochi."
"When you say it like that—"
"It sounds domestic and almost sweet?" Edwin stood, clapping Caspian on the shoulder. "Because it is, Your Grace. Suspicious, yes. Potentially dangerous, sure. But also... kind of sweet."
"Get out," Caspian said, though without any real heat.
"I'll see you on the training grounds at three," Edwin said, heading for the door. "I promise to make you look very impressive for your wife."
"Edwin—"
"Should we do the spinning sword thing? She seemed to like watching that yesterday."
"I'm going to assign you to the eastern border patrol."
"No you won't. You need me here to mock you appropriately." Edwin paused at the door. "Seriously though, Your Grace. Be careful. But also... don't assume the worst. She might actually be trying to change."
After Edwin left, Caspian returned to his desk and the reports he still hadn't finished reading.
But his mind kept drifting.
To Caroline apologizing to servants.
To Caroline hand-feeding a dangerous creature with patience and gentleness.
To Caroline blushing throughout dinner last night, her amber eyes bright when she looked at him.
To the fact that she'd named the dangerous creature something as absurd as "Mochi."
"Seventeen pillows," Caspian muttered to himself.
He had approximately three hours until tea.
Three hours to review border reports, handle ducal business, and absolutely not think about whether his wife would blush again when she saw him.
Three hours to prepare for whatever game she was playing.
Three hours to decide how to respond to a woman who tried to poison him three weeks ago and was now apparently adopting apex predators for emotional support.
Caspian looked down at his desk and realized he'd been holding the same report for the last twenty minutes without reading a single word.
"Damn it," he said to the empty room.
This woman was going to be the death of him.
Possibly literally, if the Dreamweaver was part of some elaborate assassination plot.
Possibly figuratively, if those amber eyes and that nervous smile kept making his chest do strange things.
Either way, tea at three o'clock was going to be very interesting.