Chapter 40
Johansson pressed himself nervously against the wall.
From the narrow gap where the door was cracked open, barely the width of a fingernail, he could hear muffled voices. It seemed others were seated inside as well.
‘Your Excellency, this is the promised shipment of fodder. Your generosity is…’
‘Best repaid by results, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘Thank you, truly.’
‘The iron supply also appears favourable, Your Excellency.’
‘“Favourable” isn’t good enough this time. I trust you understand that.’
‘Of course. You needn’t worry.’
Compliments passed back and forth in oily tones.
‘Iron ore?’
Iron was among the resources the Emperor was particularly sensitive about, essential for weapons and military logistics.
That alone was enough to make Johansson’s ears prick up.
‘Iron, of all things… and from someone like the Grand Duke, whose life revolves around war…’
The moment the thought struck him, a weighty word fell, hitting the floor like a thunderclap.
‘There will be no impediment to the operation.’
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
In a corner of the ballroom, Kyrie and Veron stood locked in tense silence.
The stillness stretched on, longer and longer, until the mounting tension had guests practically gagging on the atmosphere.
Finally, like a pulled thread snapping, Kyrie broke the silence.
‘Viscount Ehrenberg.’
She looked down at the wrist he’d seized and curved her lips into a smile.
‘Has this man ever laid hands on me before?’
Only when trying to subdue her.
Even now, the sensation of his grip crawled across her skin like insects. It was nauseating.
‘What is it you want?’
‘That’s the Lady of House Ehrenberg…’
The room’s attention shifted even more intensely than before. Kyrie felt the Empress’s glare from across the hall and let out a dry, amused breath.
‘She probably didn’t want me here in the first place.’
There could be a number of reasons for the Empress to send an invitation, but it certainly wasn’t out of any desire to see her. Most likely, the request had come from Lexion or Elise.
‘Or Lexion, at Elise’s behest.’
With the Empress now at the centre of a gathering of noblewomen, the glares directed at Kyrie sharpened even further, so sharp, in fact, that they eclipsed any lingering curiosity or feigned goodwill.
‘Let’s speak somewhere else.’
Veron finally spoke, his face pale. But Kyrie turned to him with a sweet smile.
‘Why bother? We can talk here, can’t we?’
His sudden attempt at consideration felt laughably disingenuous. Still, Veron continued his efforts to persuade her.
‘Kyrie.’
When he finally dared to speak her name, as if nothing had ever passed between them,
‘Show some respect, Viscount.’
Her voice came cold, sharp as ice.
‘I believe I’ve been quite respectful thus far.’
‘…’
‘I’m no longer a daughter of House Ehrenberg, and I believe you’ve forgotten that I am now the Grand Duchess of House Haswell.’
‘That’s, ’
Veron flinched as though just realising a glaring truth.
‘Proper etiquette would require an appointment to seek audience with me, wouldn’t it, Viscount?’
With that, Kyrie tensed her arm and forcibly freed her wrist from his grasp. Her lips held a smile, but her eyes remained unyielding.
The murmuring resumed, no longer hushed. The whispers were now pointed, loud enough for her to hear every poisoned word.
‘A mad dog is still a mad dog. Isn’t he her brother?’
‘And yet she had the gall to seduce a Grand Duke with her body…’
‘Wasn’t she practically clinging to the Crown Prince before?’
‘That kind of woman, no wonder the Viscount’s worried.’
Worried?
As if Veron would be acting out of concern. If anything, perhaps he regretted not being the one to send her off to a convent.
He moved his lips silently before replying in a composed tone.
‘…My apologies, Your Grace.’
‘And your business?’
‘I must repeat, this is hardly the place for such a conversation, ’
‘No. Let me repeat myself as well.’
Kyrie felt the need to make herself perfectly clear. Whatever nonsense he was about to spew,
‘There is nothing between us that warrants a private conversation, Viscount.’
That possibility had long since passed. There was no topic, no shared history left between her and the people of Ehrenberg. Only a chasm remained.
‘…’
Her firm rejection drained the remaining colour from Veron’s face. Tick. Somewhere, a clock’s second hand clicked loudly. He kept glancing toward the ballroom entrance.
Kyrie paid him no mind and drew a cold line in the sand.
‘His Grace will return shortly. I suggest you leave before then.’
‘Could I not have just a moment longer?’
His voice took her by surprise, it sounded almost like a plea.
‘What nonsense is he about to spout now?’
That was as far as her thoughts went before they were cut off by a herald’s booming announcement.
‘His Highness Crown Prince Lexion Roman Kallach, accompanied by Lady Elise Ehrenberg of House Ehrenberg, arrives!’
The deliberately loud voice drew a wave of excited murmurs. All eyes turned to the entrance.
The beautiful, gentle younger sister of Kyrie Ehrenberg, the very woman the Crown Prince had chosen over the one who’d pursued him for years.
The woman who became a Grand Duchess instead of a Crown Princess.
And now, the gossip that had simmered beneath the surface was about to explode.
People bowed in feigned courtesy while sneaking glances at the arriving party.
Kyrie turned her head, her face stone cold,
And froze.
‘Your Grace.’
‘…’
‘I’m truly glad you could make it.’
Elise smiled sweetly, her gown glittering under the chandelier light.
The dress, an updated rendition of an old-fashioned style, had clearly been remade by the finest designers in the capital.
Its elegant shoulder line was adorned with intricate gold and silver embroidery. The hem of the snow-white gown shimmered against the marble floor, evoking the image of a wedding ceremony.
And in truth, it had been worn at one.
Kyrie bit the inside of her cheek without realising. Something hot and bitter surged up her throat.
That gown was too painfully familiar.
‘Mother…’
The same wedding gown her mother had worn in the portrait once painted to commemorate her marriage to the Duke, a portrait later burned, unable to bear its existence.
Elise had refashioned that very dress.
But that wasn’t all.
Clink.
A pendant swayed from Elise’s neck, her mother’s.
Veron stared at them, his face drained of blood. Johansson, who had trailed behind, came to a stiff halt, equally frozen.
Then his eyes met Kyrie’s, and he paled. His lips moved, as though searching for the right words, but nothing came out.
Kyrie felt as if she might explode at any moment.
And then,
‘Apologies for leaving you alone, my Ma’am.’
That voice, warm, steady, pulled her back from the brink like gravity reclaiming a falling star.
As if he had never left her side, the Grand Duke strode over swiftly and extended his hand. He pulled her gently close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and turned to face Lexion and Elise.
‘Your Highness. Lady Elise. Welcome.’
Then, with practiced grace, the Grand Duke offered the proper greeting to the Crown Prince and his intended, before pressing a light kiss to Kyrie’s temple.
‘Ah!’
Gasps scattered through the crowd. Fans rose to hide parted lips. Even Kyrie turned to look at him in surprise.
Amid the crashing tide of whispers, only his warmth remained, a buoy in the storm, anchoring all of her senses.
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
‘Thank you for your efforts, Your Grace.’
‘Until next time, then.’
‘Delma shall always stand by your side, Your Grace.’
Today’s negotiation with Delma was of no small importance to Dominique.
‘I’d originally planned to meet them after returning to the duchy.’
The Emperor had assumed Dominique would return to his territory after the wedding. Yet, he had shown no intention of letting him leave.
Nor was he sending him back to the battlefield. It was clear he viewed Dominique’s rising military prestige with wary eyes.
Whenever Dominique entered the palace and hinted at the subject, the reply was always the same:
‘The Crown Prince will be formally betrothed soon. You must stay at least until then, mustn’t you?’
It was the perfect excuse to keep him close.
And so Dominique remained tied to the capital.
Since being kept there, he had begun, rather blatantly, to take his wife out and about on what could only be described as public dates.
What had begun on impulse turned out not to be so unpleasant. In fact, it became a useful excuse to make contact with people of influence in the capital.
As the wait dragged on, Dominique found himself wishing the banquet would just begin already.
‘This isn’t just any old duchy wedding, it’s the Crown Prince’s engagement.’
A banquet of that scale would surely last much longer, and far more people would be coming and going. Dignitaries, foreign envoys, and those with vested interests in the Empire.
It would be the perfect chance to make contact with key players from abroad, perhaps even more naturally than if he were to summon them to his estate.
‘And if the Crown Prince’s wedding is handled swiftly… finally, I’ll be able to return to the duchy.’
Once the engagement was sealed, there’d be no more reason to keep him here.
Yes, the sooner the banquet commenced, the better.
Only, the Empress was proving far more obstinate than expected.
In truth, the Empress wasn’t particularly fond of Elise Ehrenberg either. She would have rather cancelled the banquet altogether, along with the engagement announcement meant to be made at it.
All because the bride came from the same family as Dominique’s wife.
‘How could you possibly consider a marriage alliance from that household, Your Highness?’
‘…’
‘And besides, if you look closely, she’s of common birth, is she not?’
That had been the same day the Emperor summoned Dominique only to leave him waiting before disappearing without a word.
Before Elise Ehrenberg, the Empress could not have been more demure, but once Elise was out of sight, she never ceased grumbling to Lexion.
