Chapter 64: Her Superior Duke.

Chapter 64

The grand carriage pulled to a smooth halt before the magnificent marble facade of the imperial palace, its vast courtyard glittering with the light of a thousand torches and crystal lanterns. A crowd of dressed-up nobles, foreign dignitaries, and palace guards filled the grounds, their voices coalescing into a loud hum of excitement that echoed off the high stone arches. Duke Soren stepped out first, his majestic form cutting an imposing figure against the night air.

He extended his gloved hand to guide Sigrid down the folding steps. Sigrid offered him a radiant, serene smile, smoothing down the folds of her midnight-black and silver gown as her gaze swept across the sprawling, gilded estate. The sheer scale of the palace was familiar to her, yet looking upon it now as the Duchess of Aethermor sparked a quiet, predatory thrill in her chest.

As they approached the massive double doors of the grand ballroom, the bustling chatter of the courtyard gave way to the soaring melodies of a royal orchestra. The moment the high herald caught sight of the ducal couple, he struck his gilded staff three times against the polished floor, his voice reverberating through the cavernous hall with absolute authority. "Presenting His Grace, Duke Soren Aethermor, and Her Grace, Duchess Sigrid Aethermor!"

In an instant, the grand ballroom fell into a sudden, suffocating silence. The music seemed to falter as hundreds of eyes pivoted toward the entrance. Whispers erupted immediately, highborn ladies raising their jeweled fans to hide their moving lips as they stared at the unexpected sight of the terrifying Northern warlord walking arm-in-arm with his sharp, striking bride.

With unyielding grace, Sigrid held Soren’s arm firmly as they glided down the wide central carpet toward the raised dais where the royal family held court. Under the rigid protocol of the realm, even the most powerful dukes were obligated to pay formal homage to the crown, a grand public spectacle designed to remind every lord that they remained beneath the sovereign’s footstool. Reaching the base of the dais, Soren and Sigrid offered a deep, synchronized bow to the monarch and his queen. "May the royal couple reign forever in light and prosperity," Soren intoned smoothly, his deep voice cutting through the heavy silence.

Sigrid kept her eyes lowered just long enough to satisfy court etiquette, but internally, she scoffed at the archaic display of forced submission. In her past life as queen, she had kept Soren on a tight leash precisely to prevent his overwhelming martial strength from eclipsing her throne. Now, standing beside him as his equal, she felt no desire for such petty posturing.

Rising from her curtsy, Sigrid’s gaze shifted toward the center of the dais, where Crown Prince Ragnar and Lady Maria stood side-by-side, playing the part of the perfect, golden couple for the swooning audience. Maria wore an ethereal gown of white silk and pearl lace, casting coy, shy smiles at the surrounding crowd that practically made the young nobles swoon with adoration.

Beside her, Ragnar stood tall and arrogant, wearing the practiced mask of a devoted, noble husband-to-be. Soren leaned down slightly toward Sigrid, his icy blue eyes fixed on her calm face as he spoke in a low, quiet rumble. "Your reaction is far different than I anticipated, Sigrid."

Sigrid tilted her head, her crimson eyes gleaming with light curiosity. "What do you mean, my Lord?"

Soren kept his voice hushed beneath the ambient noise of the room. "Is seeing your step-sister—whom you despise—marrying the Crown Prince not enraging to you? Such a match is the ultimate dream for every maiden in the realm. Does it not make you seethe with jealousy or feel unsatisfied with your standing?"

Sigrid let out a soft, musical laugh, her fingers tightening affectionately around his arm. "You amuse me, Duke. Why in the heavens would I feel anger or jealousy over her union with the prince?"

Soren’s brow furrowed slightly. "Is it not the grandest wish of every highborn lady to sit beside the future king? To see her achieve such honor while you stand here... do you feel no resentment?"

Sigrid shook her head slowly, a serene, knowing smile touching her lips. "No, my Lord. In truth, I am exceptionally happy. I am thrilled beyond measure for their formal engagement." Internally, her mind raced with dark, lethal clarity. I am happy because their union binds them together for the slaughter, she thought with icy satisfaction. Maria will suffer a slow, suffocating life tied to a selfish fool, while I ensure Ragnar experiences total loss, public humiliation, and ruin before I break him with my own hands. They truly deserve each other.

Turning her gaze back to Soren, she spoke aloud with utter sincerity. "Besides, why should I harbor envy toward her when my husband is a far superior man in every conceivable metric? You are vastly wealthier, immensely more powerful, higher in true honor, exceptionally handsome, and surprisingly kind."

Soren blinked, caught off-guard by her direct praise. "Surprisingly kind?" he repeated softly.

Sigrid nodded, her smile softening into genuine warmth. "Yes, my Duke. You possess a far kinder heart than anyone I have ever encountered in these treacherous courts, and that is the absolute truth."

Before Soren could respond, the King stepped to the front of the dais, raising a golden goblet to draw the full attention of the hall. The room fell silent as the monarch delivered a grand, booming speech celebrating the formal union of Prince Ragnar and Lady Maria, praising their beauty and devotion. When the King finished, the entire hall erupted into cheers, with Sigrid applauding politely alongside the rest of the nobility. Ragnar then stepped forward, wrapping a possessive arm around Maria’s waist as he declared, "I pledge my life and sword to guide this realm toward unprecedented greatness, supported by my lovely fiancee!" Maria leaned into his chest, playing the timid, blushing maiden to perfection as the crowd cheered even louder.

The King raised his hands, declaring the feast officially open, and the hall burst into a flurry of dancing, drinking, and lively chatter.

Sigrid stepped toward the edge of the ballroom to execute her strategic plans for the evening, but before she could make her way through the crowds, three young noblewomen blocked her path. Holding their painted silk fans high to conceal their sneering lips, they offered exaggerated, shallow curtsies. "Duchess Aethermor... if we might borrow a moment of your precious time?" one lady purred smoothly, her eyes scanning Sigrid’s gown with undisguised jealousy. "You look remarkably radiant tonight."

Sigrid maintained her flawless, posture, offering a polite bow of her head. "I thank you, ladies."

However, the second lady stepped forward, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp, mocking whisper. "We are simply astonished to see you alive, Your Grace. We truly believed you would have met a tragic end by now." The third lady chimed in with a malicious giggle. "Indeed! He is a ruthless, bloodthirsty barbarian, after all. Though, considering how wild and unrefined your own behavior has been, perhaps you suit each other. Imagine... a lady boldly proposing marriage to a man! And to a terrifying monster like the Duke, no less. Such disgrace."

Sigrid listened in total silence, her expression unreadable as the three women giggled behind their fans, waiting for her to break or cower. Once they finished their condescending display, Sigrid quietly sighed, her crimson eyes locking onto them with a freezing, dangerous intensity. "Are you quite finished, ladies?" she asked calmly, her voice carrying a heavy authority that made their smiles instantly falter. "Being born of noble blood, one would assume you were taught to keep a tight lock on your traps. To speak with such blatant disrespect to a Duchess—one who holds enough political leverage to request the immediate seizure of your fathers’ trade permits and strip you of your comfortable status—is astonishingly foolish. Learn to practice basic restraint before your mouth ruins your families." The three ladies gasped, their faces turning pale as Sigrid stepped closer, her voice smooth yet utterly lethal. "Furthermore, my supposed ’barbaric’ husband is infinitely more handsome, infinitely wealthier, far kinder, and extraordinarily more superb in bed than any pathetic man you could ever dream of securing. So do yourselves a massive favor and remove yourselves from my sight."

The three noblewomen stood frozen in sheer shock, their eyes wide at Sigrid’s unapologetic, crude retaliation. Tears of frustration and humiliation welled in their eyes as they gasped at her shameless counterattack. "How... how could you say such scandalous things!" one stammered, her voice trembling.

Sigrid let out a weary sigh, waving her hand dismissively. "Do not weep now, you absolute hypocrites. You initiated this pathetic game, so either stand your ground or run along."

Unable to handle the weight of her aura, the three women turned around and quickly fled into the surrounding crowd. Sigrid sighed softly to herself, knowing full well that her sharp tongue would likely worsen her already scandalous reputation among the highborn ladies. Yet she cared very little; there was no saving a reputation that had already been dragged through the mud, and she had far greater ambitions than pleasing hypocritical noblewomen.

Taking a glass of dark wine from a passing waiter’s tray, Sigrid stood near a tall stone pillar, watching Soren converse with several high-ranking military commanders near the center hearth. Suddenly, a deep, raspy baritone voice echoed from directly behind her, sounding like rough sandpaper against her smooth skin. The mere vibration of it sent a violent shiver of disgust straight down her spine. "My fair maiden..."

Sigrid turned slowly, coming face-to-face with Crown Prince Ragnar. He stood before her with his golden hair artfully styled, his handsome face contorted into a subtle, arrogant frown. Sigrid offered a stiff, formal curtsy, keeping her head slightly bowed. When she looked back up, she caught him staring directly down at the low neckline of her dress, his gaze lingering with shameless, possessive intent. Sigrid felt a surge of deep revulsion, though a sharp, mocking smirk touched her lips.

Ragnar took a step closer, his brow furrowing as he spoke in a low, displeased tone. "You deliberately ignored my royal invitation to share the opening dance, choosing instead to chase after and remain attached to Duke Soren’s side."

Sigrid straightened her posture, her crimson eyes meeting his without fear. "Indeed I did, Your Highness."

Ragnar’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with sudden anger. "Do you truly not comprehend who I am? I am the Crown Prince of this empire! By standing at my side, I could grant you desires unimaginable. I could have made you my Queen!"

Sigrid let out a quiet, mocking hum, tilting her head slightly. "Your Highness, I had no intention of wasting my golden opportunity with Duke Soren. As you can clearly see, I chose to marry the Duke because he is immensely powerful, unmatched in strength, and entirely without equal in this realm."

Ragnar’s handsome features twisted into a ugly display of jealousy and rage, his chest heaving as Sigrid continued to mercilessly taunt him. Raising her left hand, she deliberately flashed the brilliant crimson ring resting upon her finger, stepping dangerously close to the prince as her voice dropped into an intoxicating whisper. "Plus, he is a exceptionally fine husband... far better than any other man in this entire kingdom."

Ragnar shuddered, his eyes tracing the line of her throat and lips, torn between intense fury and an overwhelming, obsessive desire. "You have no right to disobey a direct royal command!" he hissed, his hand reaching out as if to grab her wrist. "My word in this palace is absolute!"

Before his fingers could touch her skin, a large, warm hand clasped securely over Sigrid’s shoulder, pulling her firmly back against a solid chest. Sigrid looked up to find Soren standing towering beside her, his icy blue eyes fixed onto the Crown Prince with a dark, suffocating intensity that filled the surrounding space. Before Ragnar could speak, a high-pitched, frantic voice broke through the silence. "Ragnar! What is happening here?" Maria rushed forward from the crowd, her delicate face flushed with dramatic concern as she immediately wrapped her arms around Ragnar’s elbow. Fluttering her long eyelashes, she looked up at Sigrid with an expression of sickly sweet pity. "Sister... why are you harassing the Prince?"

Sigrid looked down at her step-sister, her gaze entirely indifferent but wondering whether her ears are fancy. Does she never listen or does she know being addressed as her sister enrages me. "Congratulations on your formal engagement, Lady Maria."

Maria cut her off immediately, lowering her head as if fighting back tears while tightening her grip on Ragnar’s arm. "I deeply apologize if seeing us together causes you such profound agony, Sigrid! But please, do not resent us! It was you who abandoned him first!" Maria turned toward Ragnar, offering a deeply exaggerated, sorrowful bow. "Please forgive my sister’s shameless insolence, Your Highness... she is clearly suffering immensely from the harsh, miserable conditions of the Aethermor household that she had to pester you."

The moment those pitying, condescending words left Maria’s mouth, the temperature in the immediate area seemed to drop to absolute zero, as Duke Soren’s terrifying, suffocating aura exploded outward, smothering the royal couple in pure, unadulterated menace.