Chapter 67 : The Masked Waltz of Shadows
Chapter 67
Johannes’s voice cut through the air as I lingered at the threshold. I quickly brushed aside the storm of thoughts swirling in my mind and greeted him with a composed smile.
“You came early,” I said softly.
His stern demeanor faded as he replied with a gentle warmth, “It feels like I haven’t seen your face in ages. Shouldn’t a devoted husband arrive first and wait to catch a glimpse of his beautiful wife?”
His words hung in the air like a dangerous perfume—sweet, alluring, and laced with something I couldn’t quite name.
I paused just before taking my seat.
How could he utter such disarming words so effortlessly? In the past, I would have simply chalked it up to Johannes’s impeccable manners or his devotion to appearances. But not anymore.
Not since I learned that everyone within the Duke’s household was part of his shadow—bound by loyalty, bound by silence.
‘No one here will ever speak of what happens within these walls…’
Then why the kindness? Why the carefully painted charm?
Is he preparing for the possibility of a royal spy?
The thought gnawed at me. As I sat, Johannes spoke again, this time with a hint of gravity in his voice.
“There’s a letter from Windsor.”
Just as I was lifting a forkful of food, I paused. “…A letter? Is it about the ball? I thought we’d already sent our RSVP…”
Sir Fret, who had just placed the dish before me, chimed in with a knowing nod. “You might call it a… reminder.”
“A reminder?” I raised an eyebrow.
He smiled faintly. “A gentle nudge. A final inquiry, perhaps.”
“Are both of you still planning to attend? Things in Mussen are… tense. But I’m sure they’ll expect your presence.”
“Windsor has never lacked audacity,” Johannes said with a dry laugh.
A sigh followed, and Lord Fret nodded, sharing in the sentiment.
“He made quite the convincing argument. If you don’t attend, the citizens might panic further.”
I looked between them, curiosity flickering in my gaze.
“What was his reasoning?” I asked.
Johannes met my eyes and offered, “Are you comfortable… meeting Windsor?”
“Yes? Of course.” My answer came quickly.
The truth, however, was more complex. The thought of attending a lavish ball hosted by the man who watched me like prey unsettled me. Yet here I was—sharing meals and bedsheets with a man who may have murdered my father.
How ironic.
As I stabbed a piece of salad, a chilling thought slid into my mind:
‘This is better.’
If I must dance with shadows, then let me do so with purpose.
Perhaps this was the perfect chance to draw closer to Edward Windsor… to discover why he loathes Johannes so fiercely. Why he warned me, again and again.
And if Johannes truly is the killer…
Then Windsor already knows.
The ball, under these dire circumstances, felt like a farce. But Johannes’s explanation offered clarity. It was all to quell public fear—a political performance.
Johannes reluctantly agreed to attend, and no sooner had we confirmed than a headline blared across the city in bold print:
“Duke Schulz and His Wife to Attend the Grand Ball at Heibenstein Castle”
The following morning, Johannes let out a humorless laugh as he read the news.
“Quick coverage,” he muttered over breakfast.
Once again, I couldn’t comprehend the noble world. What must Johannes be feeling, now that he’s forced to stand side by side with the very man accused of framing him?
And if he was guilty… if he truly poisoned my father—what would he think when he looked at me?
Would he see the same reflection I now saw in him?
I shook the thought from my mind and replied dryly, “This will encourage the other nobles. They’ll think the ball is safe. Duke Schultz will bear the brunt of their scrutiny.”
Johannes responded coolly, “They may also be curious—curious to see if the new wife still holds his affection.”
Of course. That was the message I had to project at the ball: the illusion of the perfect marriage. Just as it was during our wedding.
But so much had changed.
When I glanced at him, he was smiling again—soft, almost wistful.
“…I’ll do my best,” he said.
Can I play my part, knowing that the man beside me might be the very one who took my father’s life?
The question echoed like footsteps in an empty hall.
The spirit of spring had finally arrived in Mussen.
Snow had melted into memory, and warm winds breathed life into the sleeping earth. Even Heibenstein Castle, long shrouded in cold and gloom, was undergoing a quiet transformation under its new master.
Frederick, Edward’s gardener, painted the landscape in blooming color. Inside the city, whispers of dread still floated—but among the nobles, a different atmosphere reigned.
The elite believed themselves untouched. No noblewoman had disappeared—only the lowly, the unremarkable. So they awaited the ball with excitement, their minds far from the sinister undercurrent of reality.
“Who would’ve thought Prince Edward would be stationed in Mussen?”
“Indeed. And paired against Duke Schultz of all people.”
“Perhaps the king is testing his future successor. Watching how he handles this… tension.”
“There’s talk Her Royal Highness might attend as well.”
“Her? As Crown Princess? Impossible. Docilia has never had a ruling queen.”
The idle aristocrats had found their new source of amusement. They had a ballroom once more, and with it came the delicious thrill of gossip.
“Still, why do they say the Duke and Duchess are happy?”
“There have been a few reports, but who really knows what goes on behind closed doors?”
One woman laughed coyly, her eyes gleaming with veiled mischief.
“Think about it. Attending the ball of the man who allegedly killed his father? The Duke must be desperate. Surely he regrets not marrying into power.”
“The Marquis of Hatzfeld’s daughter would have been the obvious choice. She had royal backing.”
“All the more reason he may be regretting it now.”
Their eyes drifted to Laura Hatzfeld.
By tradition, unmarried noblewomen were shunned in gatherings like these. But Laura remained—because it had always been assumed she would marry Duke Schultz.
Though that path had ended, her family’s deep ties to the crown kept her close to power.
And Laura? She adored mingling with noble ladies.
After all, when you’re born into privilege, the world bends to your will.
She smiled demurely and whispered, “There’s no way the Duchess would even notice someone like me. She’s far too beautiful.”
“Don’t say that. Duke Schultz surely knows your worth.”
“And yet the royal family insists on marrying you off to the Lesser Count of Swabia? A pity.”
The comment was veiled, but Laura’s eyes welled with tears.
“I’m willing to wait,” she said, voice trembling, “Until the Duke gets divorced…”
The room fell silent.
“Divorce?” one woman gasped. “That requires royal approval. And the support of the nobility.”
“I only worry the Duchess, a commoner, won’t adjust to our world. If she brings disgrace… she may long to return to the life she left behind.”
Laura blinked, eyes wide with crafted innocence.
But everyone in that room understood her true intent.
Laura didn’t want Johannes. She simply wanted revenge against the commoner who dared outshine her.
Noblewomen craved drama, and Laura had handed them a feast.
Duke Schultz, as a man, would not interfere in a woman’s war.
And the ladies? They exchanged delighted glances before reaching out to clasp Laura’s hand.
“Don’t worry, dear. If divorce is what you desire, we shall do everything in our power to help you… persuade your husband.”
