Benet confirmed that she was indeed dead.

He ran a hand through his hair.

First Lord Bronan, then his Steward, then Lord Malrick, now her?

Who else was going to die?

Claire?

Him?

Andon?

Were they eliminating people who knew things they wanted no one to know?

Yeren bowed his head and remained in that position for a long time.

It was almost as if the knave had known he was coming all along. If only he had been a few minutes earlier, he would have been able to save her.

He clenched his fists.

The person - whoever it was - was going to suffer a much worse death.

And he would make sure of it.

"Take her body and have it burned. Keep it quiet and try as much as possible to let as few people as you can know that she is dead. Everything has to be contained for now."

Then he turned and left.

He didn’t plan on staying in Glenwood, but he couldn’t bring himself to return back to the castle.

Nowhere felt like home. It was as if he was always under someone’s watchful gaze.

There was a secret behind every closed door. He didn’t even know his own family’s secrets.

And the thought hurt deeper than he wanted to admit.

He had a twin brother.

It sounded like someone was trying to tell him that his mother was still alive.

After growing up for most of his life as an only child... the news was very unsettling.

So one had been killed for the other to rule.

The threat letter he had woken up to see on his table suddenly began to make more sense.

It must have been his... twin that had written it.

But how had he gotten the letter to his room?

Was the evidence he hid behind the wall of the hearth even safe?

Things were more complicated than he thought.

He returned to the house in Glenwood and stole in through the side entrance once again.

The shock of the servants hadn’t dulled. They kept staring, following him with their eyes as he crossed the hall and went up the grand stairway.

Arian usually waited at the door for him and followed him around, blabbering about accounts and such.

Now there was no Arian. There was no Andon.

Who else did he have left?

When he actually thought about it, did Garelle frame Andon in order to have him sent away?

Because it was very suspicious that Andon was banished just before everything began to spiral.

He remembered how his council members feared Andon, because he had always adhered to his counsel.

Andon was never wrong. Or impulsive... no matter how angry he was or how much wine he had drunk.

He had to navigate everything by himself now.

An hour later, Maurius and Benet arrived. They must have cleaned themselves before returning because he could not spot a single trace of blood on their armour.

Maurius gave him the report while Benet stood back and nodded every few seconds.

They had handled it just as he had instructed them to.

"Do you plan on staying, Your Grace? It is growing late."

He did not, he knew as much.

Yet he didn’t want to return to the castle so quickly.

Perhaps he would arrive the morning of the morrow.

"We should set out." Was all he said.

Olenna showed up at the door, her face full of motherly concern.

"Your Grace, have something to eat, please. I already have it prepared."

He shook his head, averting his gaze to the polished stone floor of the grand hallway.

"Thank you, Olenna. But I have no appetite as it is."

She nodded even though they both knew she wanted to protest his decision.

Then he went out the doorway and down the grand staircase.

The clouds were covering the bland sky quickly.

It was more likely going to rain than not, he mused.

Since it was an outdoor masquerade ball, the rain was bound to ruin the preparations. But for some reason, he could not care.

He welcomed it even.

The rain had a cleansing effect he appreciated - as if it was constantly trying to wash the world clean.

But from the recent events he had witnessed, nothing could ever wash the world clean.

There would always be men like Jarren and Redmare that loved to plague the life of others.

Not far into the road, the rain he predicted began to fall.

It started off as a drizzle, but it became a full blown storm before he knew it.

The last thing he needed was an accident, and he couldn’t let his men ride their horses under such a weather.

On more than one occasion, thunder struck the ground close to the carriage.

"We have to find shelter!" One of his guards called out to him through the window.

There was no inn in sight and it was growing dark.

Then he spotted the road that led to Penbrook on their way.

"Take us to Penbrook, then." He said before he could think better of it. "The lady of the house should be able to house us for a night."

The carriage driver swerved hastily, throwing Yeren to the side as if he was so eager to get to shelter.

Yeren could hardly blame the man. It was getting dark quicker than he could spell out the letters of his own name.

But as the famous Penbrook came into view, he began to regret his decision.

Even if she didn’t turn him away at the door, he knew she would not be very happy to see him.

And he wasn’t exactly glad to see her for entirely different reasons.

The house was dark when he arrived, only a few fire sconces had been lit at the entrance.

An old man who stood very straight for his age opened the door to admit him.

The man recognised him immediately and lowered himself in a bow.

"Your Grace. Please, do come in."

Yeren crossed the threshold hesitantly.

He expected her to be waiting in the receiving room or to be descending the stairs.

But after being shown to a cushioned stool and being served a steaming cup of tea, there was still no sign of her.

The house was eerily quiet save a few scraping sounds that seemed to be coming from what he thought to be the kitchen.

Her steward hovered at the doorway, waiting to attend to any need he may have had.

His men who were drenched from head to toe had been taken to somewhere at the back of the house to change into dry garments before they would be allowed to come inside the house.

But Maurius insisted on remaining at the doorway.

After all, the King was never to be left alone.

After finishing his tea and the lady of the house had still not come down to greet him, he finally decided to ask for her.

His question wasn’t out of place because it was basic etiquette to greet your guests in person.

"Where is the lady of the house?"