Chapter 235: Is Law Enough?

Over the next few days, Aveline stayed close to Lydia, refusing to leave her alone for long.

Lucien moved quickly in the background. He formally transferred the case to the judicial branch, secured the testimony of the physicians who had treated Lydia, and ordered the Arcanum’s records to be sealed so no one could alter or destroy evidence.

He also had the tower placed under guard and quietly instructed several trusted officials to preserve every piece of evidence before the noble families could make it disappear.

It was not enough.

The investigation soon uncovered something worse.

One of the four boys was the son of Lord Bolfrar, the Minister of Justice himself. Another belonged to the family of the Chancellor’s wife, House Valcrest, a powerful noble house with deep connections throughout the court. The remaining two came from influential noble families as well.

The Chancellor was furious when he learned that the investigation was proceeding.

He tried to influence. His allies questioned the jurisdiction. Lawyers arrived with demands that the boys be released into their families’ custody. Certain officials suddenly discovered procedural irregularities that supposedly required the case to be delayed.

None of it worked.

Lucien Caelvaris personally crushed every attempt.

He replaced the officials assigned to handle the evidence when he suspected interference, summoned witnesses before they could be intimidated, and made it clear that anyone who tampered with the investigation would answer directly to him.

He even ordered the four families’ estates to be placed under temporary scrutiny, ensuring that none of them could quietly move money or influence people to make the evidence disappear.

For once, Archduke Lucien did not care whose name appeared on the door.

He would see the case through.

Aveline, meanwhile, remained with Lydia.

Lydia’s body slowly recovered. The bruises faded. Her wounds began to close. She could sit up for longer periods, eat without help, and eventually walk a few steps on her own.

Her soul was another matter.

She startled at sudden movements. Sometimes even an innocent touch made her flinch. There were moments when she would stare at nothing for several minutes, as though some part of her was still trapped in that abandoned tower.

Aveline wanted to ask her why she had not come to her sooner.

She wanted to know what Lydia had seen, what she had been afraid of, and whether Aveline could have prevented any of this if she had only noticed sooner.

But she never asked.

This was not about satisfying her own guilt.

It was about Lydia.

So Aveline stayed beside her, talked when Lydia wanted company, remained silent when she didn’t, and helped her take each small step toward feeling safe again.

She still blamed herself.

But instead of endlessly asking what she could have done differently, she began asking herself what she could do now.

And there was one thing she wanted more than anything.

Justice.

She had been told that, under the existing law, the four boys could receive sentences of up to seven years.

Seven years.

Aveline stared at the number when she first heard it, unable to believe it.

Seven years for breaking a girl’s body. Seven years for terrorizing her. Seven years for leaving wounds that might remain long after their prison sentences ended.

And then what?

They would walk out of prison, return to their families, inherit their titles and fortunes, and continue their lives. Perhaps they would even convince themselves that they had done nothing truly wrong.

Aveline looked through the window toward the city beyond.

Her hands slowly tightened.

Seven years was not justice.

Not for what they had done to Lydia.

And if the law truly could do no more than that, then perhaps the law itself needed to change.

-----

Aveline sat beneath the tree beside Lydia’s window, keeping her distance. She understood that Lydia wanted to be alone. The girl had curled herself beneath the sheets, quietly crying, and although it was painful to watch, Aveline knew that sometimes even comfort could feel like an intrusion. She considered leaving her for a while.

But she could not go far.

There had already been several attempts on Lydia’s life before the case could even reach the courts. Someone had tried to silence her before she could speak, and only Lucien’s vigilance had stopped them. He had intercepted every attempt before anyone managed to reach her.

Aveline had seen enough to understand how much effort the Archduke was putting into protecting Lydia.

And, strangely, it made forgiving him a little easier.

He had not needed to go this far. He could have handed the case to the authorities and washed his hands of it. Instead, he had personally involved himself, using both his authority and his power as a fire-bender to make sure Lydia remained alive long enough to see justice.

And he did it without once asking Aveline to forgive him.

Lucien was powerful in ways she was only beginning to understand. His abilities alone made him formidable, but his political influence was just as frightening. He could move officials, silence interference, protect witnesses, and command the Arcanum almost single-handedly.

No wonder he was the Archduke.

No wonder the Arcanum had remained under his control for so long.

Still, Aveline could not afford to become careless. If someone was determined enough to kill Lydia, she had to be prepared for the possibility that someone might slip past even Lucien’s defenses.

Her thoughts drifted to Theron.

She had heard that the party traveling with the cotton had encountered some trouble on the road, although she did not know the details. She was not particularly worried. If anyone could handle whatever had happened, it was Theron.

Still, knowing that did little to ease the ache in her chest.

At times like this, she missed him terribly.

She would much rather spend her nights with her head resting against his shoulder than sit awake beside an injured friend, wondering who might come for her next. But Theron was the Crown Prince. His position demanded things of him that neither of them could simply wish away.

If only she could sleep.

Then perhaps she could see him in her dreams.

Lately, however, sleep refused to come.

Theron... be safe.

She closed her eyes and drew in a slow breath.

And come back to me soon.

A faint rustle broke through her thoughts. Aveline’s eyes opened immediately. Dry leaves shifted somewhere behind her. Her body tensed.

She turned toward the sound, already gathering her power instinctively, expecting an intruder.

Instead, she froze.

A woman stood a short distance away beneath the trees.

Leone Caelvaris. Lucien’s wife.

And perhaps... the woman responsible for her parents’ deaths.

Aveline’s expression hardened instantly. The softness she had shown only moments ago disappeared, replaced by suspicion and barely contained anger. Her hands curled into fists as she rose slowly to her feet.

Leone seemed equally stunned.

Perhaps she had expected to find a grieving young girl. Instead, she found Aveline staring at her as though she were facing an enemy.

"What are you doing here?" Aveline asked.

There was no courtesy in her voice.