<h4>Chapter 91 - Some Old Records</h4>


    Being the lord of arge territory isn''t too different from being a ruler; with the small difference that you don''t get to form international alliances and the like. At most, you can coborate with the lords of the fiefs nearby.


    It''s an easier job than ruling a whole kingdom, but it isn''t as easy as one could imagine.


    Regardless, my Duke has been doing his part excellently. I don''t need much time to understand what''s going on, and I do the calctions first.


    I''m very fast, usually, but I keep a slow pace not to alert the sleeping man a few metres from me. It''s better if he understates my capabilities, in case he''s suspicious of my intentions.


    In the end, I don''t find anything interesting. My Duke already did most of the work, so I have just to finish reviewing the tax reports and read the correspondence from the other nobles.


    At first, I hoped to find something valuable in thetter task. However, it exactly was the same as in Polis: useless people asking for favours. And writing pages and pages of a letter for that simple purpose, at that. They wasted my time, and potentially my Duke''s health!


    I write down a short report of the social correspondence so that Alexander can decide when he feels better. For now, I''ve done everything that was nned so I''m free all of a sudden.


    I walk to the bed and notice that my husband is sleeping. He''s still turned towards the sofa, where I was sat up to a few moments ago.


    I reach out to his forehead and sense that he''s still burning. I''m worried, as colds are a hell of an illness. They''re unpredictable, and they could strain a person for days or weeks. I had one severe flu when I was little, and I couldn''t fulfil my duties for almost a month.


    Not just that, but the whole city held public prayers for my health, and my mother called doctors from all over the world.


    After that time, I''ve never copsed again. I had a few headaches, once every couple of months, but nothing more than that. I can''t remember who the doctor that cured me back then was, nor if he''s still working. I would send a couple of soldiers to look for him if only I knew where he is.


    ?Sorry for being this useless,? I whisper, and Alexander turns at the sound of my voice.


    I caress his hair, trying to calm him down. He looks at me with a red face, and my heart aches for him.


    ?Have you already finished all the work?? he asks with a smirk. As if he already knows the answer.


    ?No, I haven''t,? I say while shaking my head. ?I will continueter.?


    After all, I need an excuse to get my hands on his documents.


    ?Have you stared at me for the whole time, then?? he inquires.


    Ah, he''s already suspicious!


    ?I haven''t,? I say coldly. ?You''re not even such a spectacle, right now.?


    ?And what about when I''m not bedridden??


    ?Certainly better than now. Do you feel pain anywhere??


    He shakes his head like a spoiled child that wants to go ying regardless of the fever.


    I bow over and leave a peck on his forehead.


    Suddenly, he finds inspiration for being obedient and lies in bed like a patient should do. He looks at me, waiting for some praise he''s not going to receive.


    ?Will you take care of me until I recover?? he asks, happy and content.


    ?Only until it bes boring,? I spit out.


    Alexander won''t recover ever if I cuddle him too much. However, I can''t bring myself to leave.


    He took care of me when I didn''t feel all right. He kept me warm during the nights, and he also worried that I didn''t feel too lonely and brought Kate to me.


    The least I can do is stay by his side while he doesn''t feel well.


    I touch the bowl on the bedside table and sense the cold ceramics.


    ?Have you eaten?? I inquire, and my Duke shakes his head in denial. ?Why? You need energies to recuperate.?


    ?I wasn''t hungry,? he shrugs.


    I walk to the door and order to the maid waiting outside to bring some hot soup since the one they delivered for lunch is already cold.


    The nanny, for once, isn''t knitting. She''s just staring at the fire with a worried expression. I bet my nanny looked like this too when I was ill.


    ?Alexander will get better,? I reassure her.


    She nods, but her lips still form a thin line.


    When the soup arrives, I don''t let anyone inside but bring it by myself. I bet my Duke doesn''t want anyone to see him that weak.


    Except for me, but his reasons aren''t sound.


    I sit on the bed and ponder for a while. I stir with a spoon, and I eventually ept that I have to feed the Duke.


    I bring some soup to his lips after blowing on it so that he doesn''t burn his tongue. He seems content for my attention. I just focus on not spilling food on the nket.


    ?I feel already better thanks to my Duchess''s care,? he exims once the bowl is empty. ?I''m sure tomorrow I will be like new.?


    ?Good, but now you need to rest. I''ll just finish the urgent matter ande back, all right??


    He nods, and his smile is nostalgic. As if he witnessed his wife taking on his work many times. I''m still bad at reading my husband''s mind and face expressions.


    I leave the room hoping he will listen, for once.


    While I read anything that seems interesting in the study, I make sure to finish some tasks here and there. This way, I won''t be discovered that easily.


    The first surprisees when I open a book with old ounts.


    At first nce, I can tell that someone has been embezzling money. The year on the document appears to be the one when Alexander''s father was executed, so the culprits must be those in charge of helping him administer Kyre.


    I turn a couple of pages until my eyes stop on a single word.


    It''s a name, and next to it there are some numbers. It''s probably the man responsible for the theft.


    What surprises me, though, is the alphabet used to write it down. Both the numbers and the name are in my own, personal cypher.


    Someone knew, ten years ago, about it.


    I scratch my head, trying to remember when I first used it... Was I six or seven? However, the notes are quite old.


    Might it be a coincidence? Maybe, I''m not reading it in the right way.


    However, my brain is tired of all those details always out of ce.


    Could it be that Alexander wrote this after we came back from the Pce? He liked my code and decided to use it to point out his people''s misdeeds? But, why using it now on old documents?


    Maybe, not to make me notice.


    Oh, it''s so damn tiring. I''d prefer a dumb husband, at this point. A smart one is too much to handle. He gives me headaches continuously, and I try to crack a mountain of riddles every time he does something weird.


    I look at the rest of the old budgets. Most of them are in order, but those that aren''t correct have their coded notes in the corner of some pages. There aren''t just names, but sometimes also dates.


    However, my Duke did a hell of a job to get back his power and clean Kyre''s business. The people in charge, I guess from the capital, were all thieves and swindlers. It certainly wasn''t simple, for a teenager, to get his fief back.


    It''s easy to be proud of someone like Alexander. I''m sure that his parents would agree if they were here to witness.


    When I nce at the hour, I realise howte it is.


    I put back everything where I found it, leaving some disorder among the documents I was supposed to be reading for the whole time.


    I got lost in my thoughts and took more time than what is eptable. I have to convince Alexander that I''m messy enough to leave traces, so he won''t suspect that I actually read anything more than the daily reports. I''ve aligned the papers meticulously, so he won''t be able to tell what I''ve touched.


    I walk back to the room. I push the door after asking the servants to bring dinner.


    I walk to the bed and realise that Alexander is sleeping. He is trembling for the fever, and drops of sweat are flowing from his forehead. He''s clenching the sheets and murmuring something I can''t distinguish.


    ?Alexander,? I call him, starting to worry for real.


    I kneel next to the bed and shake his shoulder, but he doesn''t react.


    In the end, I don''t have a choice but to call for the doctor. In the meantime, I soak a small towel in cold water and squeeze with all my strength. Then, I start wiping the sweat away.