Chapter 71: A Vow Not To Ignore.

Chapter 71

Sigrid glanced backward into the lingering shadows of the entryway, her crimson eyes searching the towering silhouette of her husband. She wondered silently what could have drawn the Duke of the North to such an ignoble tavern in the lower districts.

Soren stepped forward, the heavy timber beneath his boots groaning under his weight, his presence utterly dominating the room. His icy blue gaze locked onto the cowering nobleman with an intensity that seemed to freeze the very air. "How dare you lay your filthy hands on my Duchess?" Soren said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying rumble that vibrated through the floorboards. "Do you not value your life, parasite?"

Sigrid shifted her gaze toward the doorway and caught sight of Chester standing nervously beside the frame. The Soldier immediately lowered his head, studiously avoiding her eyes, and in that instant, she understood. Chester had reported her destination to the Duke the moment she stepped inside alone.

Behind Soren, Commander Orion moved with practiced, terrifying speed, disarming and binding the three bandits before they could even draw their blades. Orion stepped back, offering a sharp nod to his lord. "I have them all secured, Master. They appear to be human traffickers, and they were treating the Count’s offering as mere merchandise."

Soren gave a single, rigid nod, his focus never leaving the terrified Count. "Good." He took another step forward, his immense shadow swallowing Varenne entirely. "You dare to strike the Duchess of Aethermor. My Duchess."

A sudden shift in Soren’s posture made Sigrid gasp softly. When he turned his head to look at her, the dark, burning anger in his eyes was so fierce that her breath caught in her throat, leaving her bewildered as to why his wrath seemed directed at her as well. He stared at her for a long, heavy moment, his jaw tightly clenched, before his harsh expression softened by a fraction. "Did he hit you anywhere else?" he asked, the rough edge in his voice betraying a strange, suppressed tremor.

Sigrid swallowed her pride, keeping her posture straight as she replied, "No."

Soren reached out, his broad, calloused hand still surprisingly gentle as his fingers hovered over her bruised cheek. The moment his warm skin made contact with her burning face, Sigrid winced retroactively from the sharp tenderness. That subtle flinch shattered whatever restraint Soren possessed; his suffocating aura surged made the temperature in the room seem like it had decreased tremendously. In a single fluid motion, Soren drew his heavy broadsword and brought it down in a brutal, blinding arc.

The heavy blade sliced cleanly through flesh and bone, severing Count Varenne’s left arm at the wrist before the man could even register the movement and blood gushed everywhere. Varenne collapsed onto the dirt floor, clutching his bleeding arm and uttering a high-pitched, agonized scream that echoed off the damp walls. He squirmed in the dust, tears and sweat streaking his bruised face as he glared up at Soren with terror, before turning his tear-filled eyes toward Sigrid with an even deeper, venomous hatred. "How could you do this to me?" Varenne sobbed hysterically, his voice cracking with pain and betrayal. "You promised you would help me! I was told you were a pathetic fool, unloved and cast aside, that the Duke held no affection for you whatsoever!"

Such a fool, the duke has no such feelings towards me but I am still his wife and as such in his protection.

Sigrid slowly knelt down beside him, her crimson eyes glowing with a dark, deliberate malice as a cold smile touched her lips. She looked down at the bleeding stump, wondering if she could pass punishment when there is a blow already dealt.

"Rupture," she murmured under her breath. Instantly, the severed blood vessels ruptured violently, spraying a fresh crimson wave outward. Making the Count scream in agony once more. Soren immediately shifted his massive frame, placing his cloak between her and the fountain of blood to shield her gown from being ruined.

Sigrid looked past his shoulder at the writhing Count, her face completely devoid of pity. "Next time, do not be such an utter fool as to believe every idle rumor you hear," she said softly, before raising her boot and landing a sharp kick against his temple, instantly knocking the nobleman unconscious.

Orion dragged the limp body of the Count over to the bound bandits, tying them all together in a heavy iron chain, while Sigrid turned toward the tavern exit. She stepped out into the cool evening air of the alleyway, hearing the heavy, steady thud of Soren’s boots following closely behind her. The crisp night air felt refreshing against her hot cheek, and as she turned to address him, Soren spoke first, his tone laced with a heavy, accusation-laden weight. "Why did you not tell me?"

Sigrid blinked, taken aback by the sudden confrontation. "I beg your pardon?"

Soren stepped closer, his tall frame blocking out the faint moonlight, his face contorted in a mixture of anger and hidden pain. "Why did you not inform me of where you were going? Why did you forbid Chester from accompanying you inside? Why did you stand there and allow that filth to slap you? Now you are hurt."

A sharp pang went through Sigrid’s chest at the genuine sadness echoing beneath his harsh words, but the frustration that had been festering within her all day quickly roared back to life. "Do not dare lecture me!" Sigrid countered, her voice rising sharply as she stepped into his space. "Since early this morning, you have deliberately ignored my presence and refused to even look me in the eye! When I attempted to be the mature one and sought you out in your study to inform you, you did not even bother to raise your head from your parchment! How could you possibly expect me to confide in you when you so desperately avoided me over such a foolish, trivial matter?" Sigrid caught her breath, suddenly realizing that she was shouting at the feared Duke of the North in the middle of a dirty alleyway. She pressed a hand to her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs. She had never lost her composure like this before. In her previous life, she was thoroughly accustomed to being ignored by Ragnar and discarded by her family, yet she had accepted their coldness with silent endurance. Why did it hurt so acutely now? Why did the simple thought of Soren looking away from her cause such an unbearable ache in her chest? She looked up at his silent, impassive face, a sudden wave of dread washing over her as she wondered if her heated outburst had finally made him despise her.

Before she could retreat, Soren unexpectedly sank to his knees right there on the rough cobblestones, bowing his head before her. Sigrid’s eyes widened in sheer astonishment as she stared down at the formidable warlord kneeling at her feet. "I have truly been a fool," Soren admitted quietly, his dark voice filled with genuine remorse as he looked up into her shocked eyes. "I allowed my own cowardice to dictate my actions, ignoring you all day, only to turn around and demand accountability from you when it was entirely my own fault. Sigrid... I offer you my humblest apology."

Sigrid stood frozen, her chest still heaving as the fire of her anger dissolved into a bewildered warmth. She looked away, clearing her throat to regain her composure. "Well... you are forgiven," she murmured in a subdued tone. "Though I suppose I must also apologize for bringing up a subject earlier that caused you distress, knowing how deeply you view the matter of our future."

Soren reached up, taking her firmly by the waist and lifting her effortlessly until she was standing at eye level with him once more. He held her gaze with unwavering intensity, his expression deadly serious. "I give you my word, Sigrid. I will never ignore you again."

Sigrid let out a soft, genuine chuckle, a faint smile breaking through her cold exterior. "You had better not, you brooding fool."

Soren gently set her back down on the cobblestones, his brow furrowing slightly as he recalled the situation. "Regardless, why did you come to such a treacherous place in the first place?"

Sigrid smoothed down her dark skirts, returning to her usual haughty demeanor. "I was merely playing along with a transparent trap to see who—" Her sentence was abruptly cut short by the sudden, heavy thunder of marching boots echoing down the narrow street, accompanied by the loud grinding of iron wheels.

A grand imperial carriage bearing the crest of the royal family screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alleyway, surrounded by a dozen armed royal guards. The carriage door slammed open, and Prince Ragnar stepped out onto the dirt, his face twisted in righteous fury. The moment his eyes locked onto Sigrid standing beside the Northern Duke, his features contorted into pure hatred. "You treacherous fiend!" Ragnar roared, drawing his sword as he marched toward them.