The Lord Is a Girl: Share All Pain With the Heir

Christal stood before the library's enormous oak doors, her palms slick with cold sweat.

She adjusted her high-collared shirt one last time, took a deep breath, and had the footman announce her.

"'Master Christian Alston' is here, my lord." The servant opened the door.

Auguste was seated in an armchair by the fireplace, a heavy, leather-bound book in his hands. He looked up, and his deep blue eyes locked onto Christal like a hawk spotting its prey.

Her heart skipped a beat. She forced herself to meet his gaze, bowing slightly as etiquette required. "Lord Auguste."

He didn't immediately bid her to rise. Instead, his eyes raked over her from head to toe, a silent, scrutinizing gaze that felt like it was peeling back her skin.

The pressure made it hard to breathe. She held the bow, a dull ache starting in her back where she'd been bruised.

"Sit," Auguste finally said, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

Christal sat, her body as taut as a bowstring. She saw his gaze linger for a fraction of a second on her too-high collar.

"My mother tells me you've come for my instruction," Auguste said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Who was your tutor? What was your field of study?"

Christal quickly recited the name of her late tutor and his area of expertise—a little-known scholar of ancient imperial law.

Auguste reached for a book on the shelf, a Latin original on Roman law, and tossed it onto the table in front of her. "Page seventy-three. Give me your thoughts on the Maritime Trade Act."

A jolt went through Christal. This was her strongest subject. Pushing down her nerves, she opened the book and began to speak in fluent Latin, her arguments clear and well-supported.

A flicker of surprise, almost imperceptible, crossed Auguste's face. He had expected some useless relative who had gotten in through connections, not a genuine scholar.

He began to fire off sharp questions, probing for loopholes in the code and difficulties in its execution. Christal answered each one flawlessly, even offering a few novel solutions that made him pause.

The academic debate lasted nearly an hour, and the tense atmosphere slowly eased. Auguste’s opinion of “Christian” shifted. This was not just a relative to be tolerated, but an interesting, talented young man.

Just then, Silas knocked and entered, whispering something in Auguste's ear.

Christal saw Auguste's expression darken. It had to be about the investigation.

After Silas left, Auguste's attention returned to her, but the subject had changed. "You look... slender. The physical tests of the Royal Trials will be a challenge for you."

As he spoke, he rose and walked over to her. His hand came to rest on her shoulder, a casual gesture of a senior guiding a junior.

Christal's body went rigid. The memory of his touch, of being overpowered in the grotto, flooded back. She could feel the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of her shirt.

"You'll need to build more strength," Auguste said, his fingers squeezing her thin shoulder blade. He frowned slightly, as if weighing her. The feel of it... it was too delicate, not like a man who trained regularly.

Christal fought the urge to recoil. "I will, my lord. Thank you for your concern," she said, her voice low.

Auguste withdrew his hand and returned to his seat, his expression thoughtful.

The meeting was finally over. Christal all but fled the library. She leaned against the cool stone wall of the corridor, gasping for air as if she had just escaped the gallows.

Inside the library, Silas re-entered. "My lord, we found no suspicious footprints or items near the grotto. The woman vanished as if she were never there."

Silas hesitated, then added, "We did find this." He presented a small velvet tray. On it lay Auguste's signet ring.

Auguste picked up the ring, his eyes turning cold. "She didn't take it? Did she not see it, or did she not care?"

“I have questioned every guest one by one, yet found no soul worthy of suspicion.” Silas bowed and ventured his guess. “Might the intruder not have been among those who dined at the manor yesterday, but a villager from the surrounding hamlets?”

“The entire hill belongs to House Montgomery’s lands. Common folk would never dare stray here unbidden.” Auguste frowned, dismissing the supposition.

“If it was neither a noble maiden among the guests, nor a country villager… then who could it have been?” Silas murmured in bewilderment.

"My lord, if I may be so bold," Silas said quietly, "last night was... strange. An unknown woman in a restricted area only family can access... What if... what if she wasn't human?"

Auguste said nothing, merely rubbing the cool metal of the ring.