Chapter 102: A List Of Rivals

Chapter 102

Two days had passed since Sigrid’s long afternoon in the dusty archives, and the air within the northern fortress had grown distinctly colder, smelling of fresh snowfall and distant pine. Sigrid walked the length of the grand living chamber, her skirts rustling softly against the polished stone floor. The day prior, a private missive had arrived bearing the seal of House Warwick, informing her that the Marquess was traveling north to deliver the specific intelligence she had requested. Sigrid paused near the high windows, her crimson eyes scanning the frost-covered courtyard. A sudden heavy thud reverberated through the hall, followed by the deep groan of the fortress gates and the iron-shod creak of the massive outer doors swinging inward.

A moment later, Marquess Caspian Warwick stepped into the grand chamber, removing his travel-worn gloves. Spotting the Duchess, he immediately dropped into a crisp, respectful bow. Sigrid turned toward him, a subtle smile touching her lips as she offered a polite nod of greeting. Caspian raised his head, his tone polished yet brimming with quiet satisfaction. "Your Grace. I have brought precisely what you asked of me."

Sigrid’s smile broadened slightly, but before inviting the nobleman to sit, she paused and rested her hand thoughtfully against her chin. Her gaze swept over the open expanse of the living chamber and the guards stationed along the perimeter. She recognized that bringing a high-ranking nobleman who was not part of her personal guard into her private sleeping quarters would be highly improper, spawning endless gossip among the servants and nobility alike. Turning back to Caspian, her decision was made. "It would be best if we conducted our conversation in a more private setting, Marquess. The winter air is crisp today; let us step onto the terrace."

Caspian inclined his head in agreement. "As you command, Duchess." Sigrid turned to her head maid, who stood dutifully near the doorway. "Lilith, pray prepare a warm pot of tea and bring it to the terrace." Lilith bowed deeply and hurried off toward the kitchens, while Sigrid motioned toward the broad glass doors leading outside. Before stepping onto the balcony, Sigrid turned her attention to the guards lining the corridor. "The rest of you may step back to your posts. Chester, remain near the entrance of the terrace and ensure we are not disturbed by any watchful eyes or wandering ears."

Chester offered a firm, resolute nod, adjusting his hand on the hilt of his sword as he took his post by the threshold. "Understood, Your Grace. None shall pass."

Out on the stone terrace, the cool northern breeze swept over the balustrade, though the braziers placed around the seating area offered a pleasant, radiating warmth. Caspian waited for Sigrid to take her seat before bowing slightly. Sigrid leaned back in her chair, resting her hands neatly in her lap. "Now then, Marquess. I await."

Caspian took a slow, deliberate breath and swallowed hard, a visible gulp catching in his throat before he reached into his fine leather coat. He drew out a folded parchment detailing intricate names and personal backgrounds, presenting it to her with both hands. Sigrid accepted the document, her sharp eyes immediately flicking over the neatly inked text. The document contained a carefully curated list of high-ranking noblewomen, accompanied by extensive notes on their lineages, temperaments, and current social standing within the empire.

1. Countess Celestine Everhart

2. Lady Elowen Ravencourt

3. Lady Isolde de Montclair

3. Lady Vivienne Blackmere

5. Lady Genevieve Ashbourne

6. Lady Adelaide von Falken

7. Lady Celestine Everhart

8. Lady Beatrice Varenne

9. Lady Rosaline D’Arcy

10. Countess Evelina Whitmore

11. Lady Arabella Rosenthal

Sigrid read through every entry with meticulous care, her crimson eyes absorbing every minor detail, secret alliance, and family ties noted beside each name. When she finally reached the bottom of the page, she folded the parchment neatly and offered Caspian a nod of approval. "You have done remarkably well, Marquess. You have my sincere gratitude."

Caspian inclined his head, though a faint look of hesitation crossed his features. "You are most welcome, Duchess. However... if I may be so bold as to inquire, what do you intend to accomplish with such detailed information?"

Sigrid offered a serene, almost innocent smile as she smoothed the folds of her dress. "Well, if you must know, my lord, I simply intend to study my rivals more thoroughly."

At that exact moment, Caspian raised a freshly poured cup of tea to his lips and took a sip. Upon hearing her declaration, he choked abruptly, coughing severely into his fist. Sigrid calmly gestured toward her maid, who had just stepped onto the terrace with a fresh tray. "Lilith, pray fetch the Marquess a glass of cool water and a clean linen napkin."

While Lilith hurried to assist him, Sigrid watched the flustered nobleman with mild amusement. "Why such a violent outburst, Marquess? Did I say something to startle you?"

Caspian quickly dabbed at his mouth with the napkin, his eyes wide as he stared at her in utter disbelief. "Duchess... did I hear you correctly?"

"Precisely as I spoke it," Sigrid replied smoothly.

The Marquess looked at her as though she had completely lost her senses. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but do you not harbor a deep disdain for the future crown princess, Maria? You are hardly on good terms with her, and the public embarrassment you inflicted upon the Crown Prince for rejecting his offer at the last 2 banquet is still the primary topic of conversation across the entire capital. I highly doubt you will be warmly welcomed into her inner circle. Do you truly believe you will be chosen as one of the crown princess’s retinue?"

Sigrid lifted her porcelain teacup, taking a small, elegant sip before settling it back onto its saucer. "Do not take me for a simple fool, Marquess. You raise valid concerns, but you misunderstand my purpose entirely. I have no desire to become a member of Maria’s retinue, nor do I hold any expectation of being selected for such a pathetic role."

Caspian frowned, entirely baffled by her words. "Then what could you possibly mean by referring to these noblewomen as your rivals?"

Internally, Sigrid’s thoughts raced with cold, calculating precision. Every single lady listed upon that parchment was a woman of impeccable character, noble heritage, flawless upbringing, and immense family influence. They were the absolute pride of the empire’s high society—especially Countess Celestine Everhart, a woman who had once plotted Sigrid’s absolute ruin. They were universally praised, while Maria, despite her impending marriage to the Crown Prince, remained nothing more than a commoner elevated far above her true station. Maria possessed no strategic intellect, no political acumen, and no emotional fortitude. Positioned beside women of such immaculate grace and education, Maria would inevitably be subjected to constant, suffocating comparisons. The pressure would fracture her weak mind, slowly driving her into absolute madness. This was merely one piece of Sigrid’s grand design for vengeance—she would elevate her own reputation to a height that would utterly eclipse Maria, tormenting her from the shadows and watching her unravel piece by piece. She was going to enjoy every bit of it.

"I intend to establish a permanent presence within the royal court," Sigrid stated aloud, her voice light yet carrying an undeniable authority.

Caspian leaned back in his chair, staring at her with renewed intrigue and quiet admiration. "You truly are unlike any noblewoman I have ever encountered, Duchess."

Sigrid allowed a sharp, confident smirk to touch her lips. "And that, my lord, is precisely why you ought not to place your trust in mindless gossip and mere appearances."

The Marquess took another sip of his tea, a small, knowing smile spreading across his face. "That is the very principle by which I have operated for years, Your Grace. I believe I shall continue to adhere to it."

"Do as you see fit, Marquess," Sigrid murmured pleasantly.

Caspian paused, tapping his fingers against his teacup as a sudden thought struck him. "Ah, forgive me. I neglected to mention one critical detail regarding that document. Lady Celestine Everhart is the sole woman on that list who was previously betrothed, yet she chose to dissolve the agreement entirely."

Sigrid tilted her head slightly, her interest caught. "To whom was she engaged?"

"Lord Roderic Warwick," Caspian answered plainly. "They were betrothed for quite some time, but she abruptly broke off the arrangement upon reaching her twenty-fourth year. The true reasons behind her decision remain entirely undisclosed to the public, though many assume it was due to his notorious scandals and questionable reputation across the capital."

Sigrid took a quiet sip of her tea, her mind immediately picking apart the explanation. "Hmm..." That wretched name again.

"On another note," Sigrid continued smoothly, changing the subject slightly, "have you utilized the funds I provided to restore your family estate?"

Caspian offered a subtle, grateful bow. "In a manner of speaking, yes, Your Grace. The restorations are progressing remarkably well."

Sigrid nodded gently, though her thoughts remained fixed to the mystery of Lady Celestine’s broken engagement. She refused to believe a woman as calculating and proud as Celestine would sever a powerful political alliance simply over Roderic’s frivolous reputation. Roderic had been a reckless, scandal-ridden womanizer for years and gambler; if his behavior had truly bothered her, she would have dissolved the betrothal long before reaching twenty-four. There had to be a deeper, far more dangerous secret hidden beneath the surface of that broken contract. And it was before Caspian became heir so she there was no reason to break it of.

Her silent speculation was abruptly shattered by the sharp clatter of armored boots echoing against the stone balcony steps. A commanding, low baritone cut through the quiet air of the terrace.

"Sigrid."

At the sound of the voice, Marquess Caspian immediately stood up from his chair, dropping into a deep, formal bow of respect. Sigrid remained seated, turning her head toward her husband with a serene, unbothered expression. "My lord."

Soren marched onto the terrace, his imposing, broad frame casting a long shadow over the table. He offered Caspian a sharp, unreadable glance so intense that she could not decipher —before bringing his dark gaze back to his wife. "What transpires here?"

"The Marquess and I were merely enjoying a warm cup of tea," Sigrid replied smoothly, her voice cool and composed.

Soren continued to study Caspian for a brief moment before turning his full attention back to Sigrid. His expression hardened slightly as he asked, "Have you questioned him regarding the matter?"

Sigrid blinked, looking up at him with genuine confusion. "Questioned him about what, my lord?"

"Regarding the foreign artifact you were researching so intently in the archives," Soren answered quietly, his piercing gaze locking onto hers.

Sigrid’s crimson eyes widened in sudden, profound realization. The strange circlet, the unknown crests, and the rare jewels—she had been so consumed by her political schemes that she had momentarily forgotten the Marquess’s extensive connections to foreign merchants and rare antiquities. She rose from her seat immediately, her voice brimming with sudden realization. "Yes!"