Chapter 24 : A Vow Amid Snow and Shadows
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“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
Edward tilted his head slightly, his gaze lazy, yet strangely precise.
“It’s strange,” he murmured, then added with a faint smirk, “Your eyes… they’re pretty. Almost look like they’re crying. Is it the cold? Or is that just how you are?”
A wisp of laughter escaped Johannes’ lips, sharp as frost. It wasn’t mirth—it was dismissal incarnate. His breath fogged in the wintry air, like smoke from a long-dead fire.
Edward, unfazed, raised his palms in mock surrender.
“Not that I’m meddling,” he said. “But the red tint around your eyes and the tip of your nose—it’s quite the look.”
He leaned in, dropping his voice as though sharing a secret meant for no one else. Yet, Johannes could hear it all.
“I suppose I’ll take my seat. Can’t have the ceremony held up on account of me.”
“Excuse me—”
“If I say another word, I fear Johannes might strangle me.” Edward chuckled. “So I’ll make myself scarce.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. It was so absurd, so surreal, that the cold seemed to melt away beneath the sheer ridiculousness of it all.
‘What I’ve seen and learned thus far hasn’t exactly been kind. Perhaps this was inevitable,’ I thought bitterly.
Edward offered a crooked, sheepish smile.
“Apologies if I came off a bit harsh. Johannes’ unrelenting hostility does put me in a mood.”
He paused, and when I didn’t respond, he stepped closer. This time, he lowered his voice to a whisper meant for me alone.
“If Johannes ever does anything suspicious… contact me. I may be a royal nuisance, but I’m also the police chief of Baden. That counts for something.”
Suspicious…?
I narrowed my eyes.
“What are you implying?”
He arched a brow and offered an easy grin.
“Just a joke.”
A joke. Of course.
He tilted his head in a final nod and turned, casting one last glance at Johannes before disappearing into the crowd.
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Why had Edward Windsor said that to me?
Perhaps it was truly a joke, another of his glib provocations. But the weight of his words settled over me like a chill that refused to lift.
I held Johannes’ arm a little tighter as the cathedral’s heavy iron doors creaked open, spilling golden light into the dim entryway. Warmth enveloped us at once, gentle and silent.
I lifted my gaze slowly.
A commoner woman, returned at the side of the once-missing Duke Schultz.
What does she truly look like?
Eyes of every shade studied me with stifled intensity. They drank in the veil crowning my hair, the ancestral jewelry adorning my neck and ears, the gown painstakingly revised to perfection.
I fixed my gaze ahead, on the archbishop. But I could feel them, still—every glance like a thousand tiny needles against my skin.
Beside me, Johannes dipped his head.
“Relax,” he whispered. “They’re here for me, not you.”
I exhaled softly. He was right.
They wanted to know what lay behind his calm.
The fall of a house.
The disgrace of a father.
The theft of a fortune.
The vanishing of a son.
My eyes scanned the pews. There, in the front row—Edward Windsor. Watching with a gleam that could curdle milk.
I tightened my grip and nudged Johannes’ arm.
He looked at me briefly, then turned to scan the cathedral.
“Uncomfortable?” he murmured.
I shook my head slowly.
“It’s the wedding of a duke and a commoner. The eyes were inevitable. But it’s time we show them that the Schultz family hasn’t vanished into dust.”
Curiosity and malice—they wear the same face.
‘I’ll know more after the reception,’ I told myself.
With renewed composure, I squared my shoulders.
“I’ll do my part as duchess,” I said.
Johannes met my eyes.
“Just wait,” I whispered, “and see how I adapt.”
He smiled.
“I look forward to it.”
The organ began to play.
Sunlight streamed through stained glass, scattering jewel-toned light across the cathedral floor. I stepped forward onto the long blue carpet, the weight of expectation pressing down like snow on cedar boughs.
Each movement was watched. Every breath measured.
The archbishop’s gaze was stern and unwelcoming.
But as he looked at Johannes, something shifted—his gaze dropped.
“The union of the Schultz family shall now be consecrated,” he proclaimed, his voice low and gravelly.
His speech crawled forward, brittle and begrudging.
He was not pleased to preside over this.
Especially when he spoke of duty. His tone turned acidic.
“If any among you object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
The archbishop scanned the crowd, and his gaze faltered.
“Your Royal Highness…?”
I turned my head.
Edward had raised his hand.
All heads turned to him. He blinked, feigning surprise, and smiled—at me.
The ice in my gut returned.
He wasn’t here for celebration. He was here for sabotage.
“The clothes are just tight,” he said, adjusting his sleeve.
The archbishop cleared his throat.
“Do you object?”
“Quite the opposite,” Edward replied. “I fully support this union.”
His lips curved in satisfaction.
“Please, continue.”
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The ceremony lurched on.
“Johannes Schultz… do you take Edith Prim to be your wife, to honor and cherish her, and to remain ever honest by her side?”
“I do.”
“And Edith Prim… do you take Johannes Schultz to be your husband, and vow to trust and protect him in all things?”
The archbishop’s eyes bored into me.
A message unspoken: You don’t belong here.
I hesitated.
“Do you so swear?”
Silence.
My lips trembled.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I swear.”
