He saw the flicker again, deep in her eyes. Confusion. That delightful, logic-defying confusion that seemed to be his only effective weapon against her icy composure. Why was he dismissing a Viscount's scheme, backed by witnesses and targeting the Arch Duke's heir, as 'child's play'? It didn't align with the data she had on him – the previously timid, easily intimidated version.
"You seem… confident," she observed, her voice carefully neutral, giving nothing away.
"Shouldn't I be?" Lloyd countered, raising an eyebrow. "The truth is on my side. Facts are stubborn things."
"Witness testimony is also considered fact in legal proceedings," she pointed out coolly. "Five accounts against one."
"Manufactured accounts," Lloyd shot back instantly. "Worthless under scrutiny. Easily dismantled."
"How?" The question was sharp, quick. Genuine curiosity breaking through the frost?
He smirked. "Trade secrets, Rosa. Can't give away the whole game plan." He gestured vaguely. "Suffice it to say, people under duress tend to make mistakes. People motivated by greed leave trails. Rubel's mistake wasn't using witnesses; it was using these witnesses. Sloppy."
She processed this, her expression unreadable. Then, a single, sharp nod. "I see." The shutters came down again. The conversation, apparently, was over. She looked back towards her book, though Lloyd doubted she was actually reading it. The analytical engine behind her eyes was likely still processing the anomaly he presented.
He watched her for another moment, feeling the familiar internal conflict. The urge to retreat to his sofa kingdom warred with the impulse to push further, to crack that icy facade just a little more. But he had work to do. Proving his point to Rosa was a side quest; exonerating himself and undermining Rubel was the main objective.
As he turned towards the wardrobe, needing a fresh tunic free from the lingering miasma of political maneuvering, he felt her gaze follow him again. He imagined her internal monologue, a whirlwind of conflicting data points.
Startled cat one week, laughing predator the next. Mediocre student suddenly dissecting established theory. Dismisses Viscount's plot as trivial. Possesses hidden, lethal power. Acts with unnerving confidence. Data inconsistent. Logic circuits overloaded. Requires further observation. Subject Lloyd Ferrum remains… unpredictable.
A small, almost invisible smile touched Lloyd's lips. Good, he thought. Let her wonder. Let them all wonder. Unpredictability was a weapon in itself. Right now, however, he needed tools more concrete than confusion. He needed information.
Leaving the strained silence of the suite behind felt like stepping into clearer air. Lloyd moved with renewed purpose through the quieter, less opulent corridors leading towards the estate's nerve center – the servant hubs, the stable yards, the places where whispers traveled faster and truths were often less guarded than in the formal halls. He needed Ken Park.
He didn't have to wait long. As he rounded a corner near the entrance to the sprawling kitchens, a section currently quiet as evening duties wound down, a shadow detached itself from a deeper alcove. Ken Park materialized beside him, silent as ever, his presence instantly solid and reassuringly dangerous.
"Ken," Lloyd greeted him without preamble, nodding slightly.
"Young Lord," Ken acknowledged, falling into step instantly. His gaze swept the empty corridor, assessing, ensuring privacy.
"The report to my father?" Lloyd confirmed again, needing absolute clarity. "Every detail of this morning?"
Ken was surprised and thought how did he know that he was reporting to his father. But didn't show it in his face.
"Affirmative, Young Lord," Ken replied, his voice a flat baritone. "The ambush, the aggressors' clear intent, your defensive measures, the nature and extent of the injuries inflicted. A full, factual account."
"My instructions not to intervene?"
"Explicitly included in the report."
"Excellent." Lloyd paused, glancing at the impassive bodyguard. "Then you grasp the current situation? The accusations? The so-called 'witnesses'?"
"I was briefed by the Arch Duke's aide following your departure from the study," Ken confirmed. "Viscount Rubel's narrative has been disseminated."
"His narrative is a lie," Lloyd stated baldly.
"My observations concur with that assessment, Young Lord," Ken replied without hesitation.
"Good," Lloyd nodded again, appreciating the bodyguard's directness. "Now, about tomorrow…"
Ken spoke before Lloyd could continue, his voice still level but carrying that subtle weight Lloyd had noticed earlier. "Young Lord, if I may? Your innocence requires no further proof beyond my testimony. As the Arch Duke's sworn retainer and sole direct witness to the incident in Weaver's Alley, my word carries sufficient authority to invalidate the claims of those five individuals. The matter can be resolved cleanly, efficiently."
Lloyd stopped abruptly, turning to face Ken fully under the flickering light of a wall sconce. He saw the logic, the appeal of the easy path Ken offered. Rely on established authority. Let Ken's unimpeachable reputation settle the matter. Avoid the messy business of public refutation.