The morning began with restless clouds hanging over the city. Seagulls circled above the rooftops, their cries echoing faintly through the mist. Evelyn stood near the carriage gate, adjusting her sword belt for the fourth time.
The Duke was already there, inspecting a map that Captain Wren held open. His long coat caught the sea breeze and his hair, as usual, refused to be anything less than perfectly neat. Evelyn suspected he might secretly iron it.
She cleared her throat. "Reporting for duty, Your Grace."
He looked up from the map. "You are early."
"Excitement keeps me punctual," she said with a grin. "Where are we going exactly?"
"The harbor," he replied. "The smuggling routes begin there. The merchant company that supplied Lord Harven has a warehouse near the old pier."
Evelyn's grin faded slightly. "The same pier where you found the stolen weapons?"
"Yes," he said. "We may find more than weapons this time."
Captain Wren climbed onto his horse and saluted. "I will take the men ahead to secure the perimeter."
The Duke nodded, then opened the carriage door for Evelyn. She blinked in surprise.
"You first, Guard Ash," he said simply.
She smiled awkwardly and climbed in. "You know, you are very polite for someone who terrifies half the city."
"Courtesy and fear are not the same thing," he said, sitting across from her.
"They feel similar when you stare at people," she replied.
He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
The road to the harbor wound through narrow streets that smelled of salt, fish, and freshly baked bread. Children chased one another near the market, and sailors shouted greetings from wooden decks. Evelyn watched the scenery with wide eyes.
"I used to come here when I was little," she said. "My mother sold sweet buns to sailors. I loved the noise. Everything here feels alive."
The Duke glanced at her. "You miss it."
"Sometimes," she admitted. "But now I work in a mansion with real carpets. My mother would say I have done well."
"You have," he said quietly.
The words made her chest feel strangely warm. She looked out the window quickly to hide her smile.
When they reached the pier, the air grew cooler. The sea stretched wide and gray beneath the sky. Ships swayed gently, ropes creaking, waves breaking softly against the wooden posts. The smell of salt and iron filled the air.
The Duke stepped out first. "Stay close," he said. "We will enter as merchants inspecting goods."
Evelyn nodded. "Understood. I am very good at pretending to know what I am doing."
"That much I have observed," he said.
The warehouse stood near the edge of the pier. Its wooden walls were weathered and its roof sagged slightly under years of wind and salt. Two men guarded the door, pretending to be workers moving crates. The Duke handed them a sealed letter bearing his insignia. They let him pass without question.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of oil and metal. Crates lined the walls, some marked with the familiar hawk symbol. Evelyn ran her fingers lightly over one and frowned. "They are still shipping under this name even after Harven's arrest. That is bold."
"Or desperate," the Duke said. He moved toward the back of the warehouse where a section of floor looked newer than the rest. "Here," he murmured. "Lift this plank."
Evelyn crouched and pried at the edge. The board came loose, revealing a hollow space filled with scrolls wrapped in waxed cloth. She pulled one out carefully and unrolled it.
"These are maps," she said softly. "Of the royal ports."
"And the fort supply routes," the Duke added. His expression darkened. "This information could cripple the kingdom if it reached the wrong hands."
Evelyn looked up at him. "We have to move them before anyone notices we are here."
Before he could respond, footsteps echoed from the far end of the hall.
The Duke motioned for silence. He drew his sword slowly. Evelyn did the same, her heart thudding in her chest.
A group of men entered, dressed as dockhands but walking with practiced precision. The one in front carried a small dagger and a grin that did not reach his eyes.
"Well, well," he said. "What a surprise. The Duke himself inspecting our humble trade."
Evelyn whispered under her breath, "Why do they always talk before fighting?"
The Duke heard her and gave a faint smirk. "It is tradition, apparently."
The man stepped closer. "You should have stayed in your mansion, Your Grace. You are far from your guards now."
"Far," the Duke said calmly, "but not alone."
Evelyn swung first.
Her blade struck the man's wrist before he could lunge. He cursed and stumbled back. The other dockhands rushed forward. The Duke moved like a quiet storm, his sword flashing in clean arcs. Evelyn fought beside him, clumsy but determined. She ducked, swung, and kicked one man into a barrel, which promptly broke apart and rolled across the floor.
"Sorry," she called. "I will pay for that barrel later."
The Duke blocked another strike and replied evenly, "Add it to your growing list."
The fight ended as quickly as it began. The smugglers fled through the back door, leaving behind scattered crates and a few broken weapons.
Evelyn leaned against a wall, panting. "Why do these things always happen when I am around?"
"Because you attract chaos," the Duke said.
She smiled weakly. "I like to think chaos just likes my company."
He sheathed his sword. "We will bring these maps to the palace. They prove that the smuggling network reaches beyond Harven's circle."
She nodded. "Do you think they have spies in the palace?"
"Almost certainly," he said.
"That explains the assassin," she murmured.
"Yes," he said. "And it means we must be careful with what we reveal next."
They stepped outside. The rain had stopped, leaving the air fresh and cool. The sea glimmered faintly under the gray sky. Evelyn watched a ship sail out into the horizon.
"I never thought I would do something like this," she said quietly. "Chasing smugglers with a Duke."
"You are handling it well," he said.
She laughed softly. "If by well you mean falling twice and almost hitting myself with a sword, then yes, very well."
The Duke's lips curved faintly. "At least you are honest."
They walked back toward the carriage together. The wind tugged at her cloak and carried the faint sound of gulls calling over the waves. For a long while, neither of them spoke.
When they reached the carriage, Evelyn climbed in first. The Duke followed, setting the map case beside him.
"You have a strange habit, Your Grace," she said suddenly.
He looked up from the documents. "And what habit is that?"
"You keep trusting me even when I keep getting into trouble."
He met her gaze, his expression unreadable but softer than before. "You cause trouble for the right reasons. That is rare."
Evelyn blinked, surprised by the warmth in his voice. "That almost sounded like a compliment."
"It was," he said quietly.
She smiled to herself and turned to look out the window. The sea faded behind them as the carriage rolled away, but her heart stayed restless. Something between gratitude and affection stirred quietly inside her.
Maybe it was the thrill of the chase, or maybe it was the way his words lingered like sunlight after rain.
Whatever it was, she knew one thing. Her life as a guard had never been this complicated, or this wonderful.