Chapter 13: Foolish Noblewoman

Chapter 13

Sigrid smiled.

It was not a warm smile, nor one born from amusement. It was the sort of smile that appeared moments before a blade found its target, calm and elegant while carrying absolutely no kindness behind it. The noblewoman either failed to recognize the warning or simply believed herself too important to heed it.

"Are you blind?" she demanded sharply, lifting her chin with all the arrogance of someone accustomed to never being challenged.

Sigrid regarded her quietly for a moment before answering. "I believe that is a question I should be asking you. You are the one who walked directly into me."

The woman’s face twisted immediately with indignation.

"Because you refused to move aside."

For the first time since the collision, genuine surprise crossed Sigrid’s features. She stared at the woman for a long moment, almost fascinated by the reasoning being presented to her. It was remarkable. Somehow this stranger had managed to transform her own carelessness into someone else’s fault without the slightest trace of hesitation or self-awareness.

Finding herself utterly uninterested in entertaining such nonsense, Sigrid simply turned away.

"Come, Lilith."

Lilith immediately followed behind her, eager to leave the matter where it belonged.

Unfortunately, the noblewoman appeared incapable of doing the same.

She hurried forward and planted herself directly in Sigrid’s path, forcing both Sigrid and Lilith to stop. The movement drew even more attention from those nearby, and Sigrid’s expression darkened slightly as she looked at the woman blocking her way.

"Are you ignoring me?" the woman demanded. "Without even apologizing?"

Only then did Sigrid fully notice the gathering audience surrounding them. Noble ladies lingering outside neighboring boutiques had slowed their conversations to watch. Merchants across the street had paused their work. Even passing servants were glancing toward the confrontation with poorly concealed curiosity.

Sigrid released a slow breath.

"Tell me," she said calmly, "are you genuinely lacking in reason, or have you simply chosen to abandon it for the afternoon?" 𝘧𝓇ℯℴ𝓂

The question struck harder than a slap.

Several spectators visibly stiffened.

The woman’s face flushed instantly.

"You bumped into me," Sigrid continued, her voice remaining perfectly level. "Yet you expect me to apologize to you. Is your pride truly so enormous that you invent the most absurd logic imaginable and then force it upon everyone unfortunate enough to hear it?"

The woman opened her mouth, but no words emerged.

Sigrid continued before she could recover.

"I intended to leave quietly and spare you further embarrassment. Instead of using the mind you were born with, however, you discarded it entirely and chose to harass me for an apology that you yourself owe. Had I known you were so determined to humiliate yourself in public, I might have stayed to watch."

A ripple of amusement spread through portions of the crowd.

The noblewoman’s face turned crimson.

The insult was devastating precisely because Sigrid never raised her voice. She had not directly called the woman stupid. Instead, she had calmly described a series of actions that only a fool would take. The distinction made it nearly impossible to defend herself without appearing even more ridiculous.

The woman seemed to realize this.

Her embarrassment quickly transformed into anger.

"Do you know who I am?" she demanded loudly. "I am the daughter of Viscount Evermere. A viscount’s daughter. And you..." Her eyes traveled critically over Sigrid’s appearance. "I do not recognize you at all. Therefore you must be the daughter of a count or some lesser noble attempting to imitate your betters."

Sigrid simply stared.

Then she continued staring.

She was not offended.

She was genuinely speechless.

The woman had somehow constructed an entire conclusion using absolutely no evidence whatsoever. Granted, Sigrid rarely attended social gatherings. Her absence from noble society made it understandable that some people might not recognize her. Yet to assume she belonged to a lesser house and begin insulting her based solely upon that assumption required a level of confidence that bordered on artistry.

A small scoff escaped her.

"Have you no sense of shame whatsoever?" she asked, sounding more exhausted than angry. "You collided with me, demanded an apology for your own mistake, insulted a stranger whose identity you do not know, and somehow still believe yourself the injured party. It is almost impressive."

The simple observation struck with enough force to make the viscount’s daughter visibly recoil.

Around them, whispers had already begun spreading through the crowd. The woman could hear them. She could feel them. Every glance directed toward her seemed to magnify her humiliation. Yet rather than retreat, she stubbornly clung to her pride, gripping it as though it were the only thing preventing her from collapsing beneath the weight of her own embarrassment.

Her mouth opened once more, clearly preparing another argument.

Unfortunately for her or maybe both of them, she never received the opportunity.

"Sister!"

The cheerful voice cut through the tension like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

Heads turned.

The crowd parted instinctively as a familiar young woman approached with graceful urgency.

Maria.

Her golden hair shimmered beneath the afternoon sunlight while a bright smile illuminated her face. Dressed elegantly and accompanied by attendants, she looked every bit the picture of a beloved noble daughter. Her arrival immediately softened the atmosphere surrounding the confrontation. Even the viscount’s daughter appeared relieved by the interruption.

Maria reached them moments later, though her smile faded as she took in the gathered crowd and strained expressions surrounding them. Concern quickly replaced her previous cheerfulness.

"Sister," she said softly, looking toward Sigrid. "What is happening here?"

Sigrid looked at her.

She did not smile.

She did not frown.

She simply stared.

Maria’s worried expression appeared sincere enough to deceive most observers. Perhaps it even deceived herself.

Yet as Sigrid looked upon her step-sister, only one thought surfaced within her mind.

Annoying. Not malicious, not dangerous. Simply annoying. Maria possessed an almost supernatural ability to appear whenever attention gathered. Whether by coincidence or careful instinct, she always arrived at precisely the moment a situation became complicated, wearing that same concerned smile that made everyone around her believe she had come to help. Only God knows how she appeared here at just the right time.

Sigrid had once thought it a talent. When she argued with her father, when she was queen and having troubles with Ragnar. Maria was always there.

Now she merely found it exhausting.

Every time peace seemed within reach, Maria appeared as though summoned by fate itself. Always smiling. Always concerned. Always arriving at exactly the right moment to position herself as the gentle mediator standing between conflict and resolution she believed herself to be and sadly who Sigrid once believed her to be.

The thought nearly made Sigrid laugh.

Instead, she merely regarded her step-sister with calm indifference while the crowd waited eagerly for her answer.