(On the day of the hearing…)
Byron stood by the window, gazing out at the manicured gardens below, a frown creasing his brow, worry for being unable to find her. "Where could she be? Where would he be hiding her?" He thought to himself.
A sharp, hurried knock broke the heavy silence. Before Byron could respond, the door opened slightly and a young household servant poked his head in, looking flustered.
"My Lord, my Lord," the servant stammered, clearly agitated.
"What is it, Martin?" Byron asked, turning from the window, his voice laced with an annoyance born more of frustration than impatience with the servant. He'd been hoping for news, perhaps from his aide.
"Someone is here, My Lord," Martin replied, wringing his hands slightly. "In the courtyard."
Byron's heart gave a slight leap. Had Ryan returned unexpectedly? "Is it my brother?" he asked, using the familiar term he often employed for Ryan, despite their lack of blood relation. "Is the Duke back?"
