Chapter 60: Disturbed On Her Wedding Day

Chapter 60

Morning brought a pale light filtering through the high arched windows of Sigrid’s chambers, casting long silver rays across the polished stone floor. When she had awakened the previous afternoon on the velvet couch within the study, Soren was already gone, leaving only the lingering warmth of his coat draped over her shoulders. Chester had later informed her, with a rigid and formal bow, that ancient northern tradition strictly forbade the bride and groom from laying eyes upon one another in the four-and-twenty hours preceding their sacred vows. Though Sigrid found the obscure custom somewhat tiresome, she offered no protest. She was content to indulge Soren in his domain’s traditions, allowing the quiet solitude of the morning to settle her mind.

Sitting before her elaborate vanity table, she watched in the mirror as Lilith meticulously applied the final touches of subtle makeup powders to her pale skin. Her long, shimmering silver hair had been styled into an elegant, high ponytail, flanked by two intricate, tightly woven braided strands that framed her face. A tranquil smile touched Sigrid’s lips as she admired the reflection, finding a rare moment of peace in the quiet morning.

A soft, polite knocking echoed against the heavy oak door, breaking the silence of the room. Lilith immediately set down her bone-handled brushes and crossed the chamber to pull the door open, revealing Lady Marigold standing in the corridor. The noblewoman held a voluminous, covered garment in her arms, her face lighting up with genuine warmth as she stepped over the threshold. Marigold offered a deep, sweeping curtsy toward the vanity table. "Duchess Sigrid, I bring your wedding gown, crafted according to the finest northern tailoring," Marigold announced, her voice filled with pride.

Sigrid turned gracefully in her chair, her smile widening. "I am deeply glad you could make the journey here for this day, Marigold."

The seamstress rose, setting the heavy silk onto a velvet fainting couch. "I would not have missed it for the world, Your Grace. Now, let us get this magnificent gown onto you before the bells begin to chime."

Together, Marigold and Lilith helped Sigrid dress, carefully pulling the structured garments over her frame. The gown was a breathtaking ballroom design, fashioned from ice-white heavy silk and silver thread, featuring a grand, sweeping train that rippled behind her like a frozen river. Intricate embroidery depicting the frost-blooms of the northern reaches adorned the bodice, catching the ambient light with every subtle movement.

As Sigrid turned back toward the full-length mirror to view the complete ensemble, she noticed a sudden, faint tremble in her hands. A rare sensation fluttered within her chest, and she found herself unable to parse whether it stemmed from lingering apprehension or sheer excitement. All she truly knew was the intense, burning anticipation to see Soren, to stand before him in the sacred hall, and to step into her destiny as his lawful wife.

Adjusting the long silk train behind her, Sigrid prepared to depart her chambers toward the grand carriage awaiting her in the courtyard, which was prepared to carry her to the main cathedral in the northern region. However, before she could cross the threshold, the frantic sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the stone corridor. A young house servant boy came running into the doorway, bowing so low his nose nearly brushed his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

Sigrid halted her steps, her expression cooling as she looked down at the lad. "What is the meaning of this commotion, servant boy? Speak at once."

The boy gasped, clutching his chest. "Forgive me, Your Grace! You have a noble visitor who has just arrived at the front gates. He demands an immediate audience with you before you depart."

Sigrid’s brows knitted together in sharp confusion, as she had explicitly intended for no uninvited guests to interrupt her preparations. "A visitor? Who could possibly demand my attention at such an hour?"

The boy shook his head nervously. "I do not know his name, Milady, but he bears the crest of a high Duke and refuses to speak to anyone beneath your station."

Curiosity tempered by growing annoyance, Sigrid motioned for Marigold and Lilith to follow as she trailed the servant boy down the grand staircase toward the fortress entrance. As she crossed the threshold into the main vestibule, the sight of the figure standing in the foyer ignited a sudden, scorching fury deep within her chest. Standing near the grand archway was Duke Vesper Beaufort, wrapped in an opulent, fur-trimmed mantle, his chin held high with an insufferable air of arrogance. Sigrid’s gaze hardened into absolute ice as she halted a few paces away from him. "What are you doing here, Duke Vesper?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the hall like a winter draft.

Duke Vesper offered a heavy, theatrical sigh, frowning at her as though she were a petulant child who had personally inconvenienced him. "Finally, you show yourself," Vesper scoffed, folding his hands behind his back. "Why was I not informed that your wedding was to take place today? I had to hear of it through common court gossip!"

But how would it be gossip, if she told Noone? Or was it those two maids?

Sigrid let out a cold, sharp laugh. "You were not informed because you had no right or need to know."

Duke Vesper’s face flushed with irritation as he stepped forward, pointing a gloved finger toward her. "Watch your tongue! I am your father, girl!"

Sigrid scoffed loudly, her crimson eyes flashing with utter disdain. "Do not dare utter such a lie in my presence. I cast you out of my life long ago, and you publicly denounced me as your blood before the entire royal court at the palace! What delusion grants you the right to claim me as your child now?"

Duke Vesper cleared his throat, adjusting his stance to recover his pompous demeanor. "Regardless of past grievances, I am still the head of House Beaufort. Who else is to walk you down the aisle of the cathedral? You require my presence to give you away, and furthermore, your barbarian Duke has yet to pay your rightful bride price to my house!"

Sigrid stared at the man with profound disgust, amazed by how he could stand before her on her wedding day and see nothing more than an opportunity for political leverage and monetary gain. "I require no disgraced excuse for a father to walk me anywhere," Sigrid declared, her voice ringing with absolute authority. "I have survived perfectly fine without your guidance my entire life, and I certainly do not need it now. And if it is a bride price you crave from me..."

Sigrid turned her head slightly toward her head maid. "Lilith, go to my private chest and retrieve a purse of fifty gold coins." Lilith hesitated for merely a second before bowing swiftly and disappearing up the stairs, returning moments later with a heavy leather pouch clinking with precious metal.

Sigrid took the purse, turning her piercing gaze back onto Duke Vesper. "Throw it directly at his face, Lilith," Sigrid commanded casually.

Lilith’s eyes widened in brief shock, and Duke Vesper gasped in utter disbelief. "You would not dare, you filthy, common wench!" Vesper snarled at the maid.

But Lilith, fully aware of Sigrid’s terrifying power and unyielding nature, did not hesitate. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she hurled the heavy purse across the small distance. The weighted leather struck Duke Vesper square in the cheek with a loud crack, sending the noble stumbling backward until he collapsed awkwardly onto the cold stone floor, clutching his reddening face in sheer agony.

"Now leave my sight, before I have you thrown into the snow," Sigrid warned coldly.

Duke Vesper scrambled to his feet, his face twisted in a mixture of rage and utter humiliation. "How dare you! You allowed a dirty, wretched servant to assault a Duke of the realm! I will have both of your heads for this insolence! I will see you stripped of your titles!"

Sigrid stepped forward, her aura flaring with such suffocating dominance that Vesper instinctively took a step back. "Careful, Vesper... or shall I publicly recount the exact details of the dirty, common maids you dragged into your bedchambers night after night while hiding behind your pious noble title?"

Duke Vesper froze instantly, the color draining entirely from his face as his darkest secrets were laid bare in the open hall. Sigrid chuckled darkly, enjoying the sudden terror in his eyes. "I would gladly spend the afternoon breaking you into pieces, Duke Vesper, but I have a far more important engagement. I am the Duchess of House Aethermor, betrothed to Duke Soren—the undisputed strongest commander in this entire kingdom. My authority now vastly outranks yours. You will do nothing to my maid, nor will you utter another word. However, do not fret... perhaps one day I shall share the tales of your sordid affairs with your current Duchess, merely to watch the despair take her face."

Panic entirely overriding his pride, Duke Vesper swallowed hard and offered a rigid, trembling nod. "I... I shall take my leave," he rasped out, turning on his heel and practically sprinting out the grand front doors into the freezing air.

Sigrid turned back toward her entourage, smoothing the silver embroidery of her gown as if nothing extraordinary had transpired. Together with Marigold and Lilith, she glided out the doors and stepped into the grand, velvet-lined carriage awaiting her in the courtyard.

As the horses began their steady march toward the northern cathedral, Lilith sat across from her, looking up with a mixture of awe and residual nervousness. "Your Grace... would you truly reveal Duke Vesper’s secret affairs to his wife?"

Sigrid leaned back against the plush cushions, a subtle, sharp smile gracing her lips as she looked out the window at the snow-covered landscape. "No, Lilith. I care very little for the petty squabbles of House Beaufort, after all i am not one of them. Though revealing it might grant me the mild amusement of watching her world crumble, I have far greater ambitions today. Today, I have a wedding to attend."

Maybe when I am plotting House Beaufort’s demise then I shall do so.