Amidst the echoes of my turbulent encounter in the dungeon and the unsettling voices that had haunted my reflection, I stood before the Duke, the weight of his unwavering belief in Grant's innocence gnawing at me.
"Duke, do you think I'm lying?" I inquired, my disbelief evident in my voice.
"I don't know what you're doing, Madam. But it seems you've begun to view everyone with suspicion. Please, stop this. Grant is not what you think he is. He is loyal to us, loyal to me. I don't understand why you're accusing him of something he has never done," the Duke responded, his defense of Grant resolute.
I pressed on, determined to unravel the mysteries that surrounded us. "If he is not what I think he is, then why was he here in the middle of the night? He should have been in his room, sound asleep. Yet he was present in the cell of the assassin. Why?"
