Chapter 77: Forgotten Suspicion.

Chapter 77

Sigrid’s pulse hammered against her ribs, her chest tightening as she stared into the pristine, serene depths of Soren’s eyes. "Do not play jokes with me, my lord," she warned, her voice dropping into a dangerous, razor-thin murmur that cut through the still afternoon air.

Soren’s brows knit together in a genuine, quiet frown, his hand loosening slightly around hers. "To joke is not an endeavor I am fond of, Duchess," he replied, his low baritone entirely calm, steady, and devoid of performative humor. "I truly cannot remember the exchange you speak of."

Sigrid’s crimson eyes staggered as she searched every subtle shift in his features. He was speaking the absolute truth. Inwardly, she knew Soren was a master of strategy, warfare, and unyielding silence, but she had come to realize early in their union that lying was not among his talents. He possessed no inclination for grand deceptions or petty falsehoods; he either spoke the brutal truth or offered no answer at all. Sensing no deceit beneath his measured tone, a cold chill settled over her skin.

Years of surviving in an imperial court swarming with vultures ready to tear her throat out at the slightest sign of vulnerability had honed her ability to discern lies from reality, and Soren was completely transparent. He had actually forgotten. But how could a man like him simply erase such a pivotal moment from his mind?

"That... that is simply not possible," Sigrid murmured, taking a deliberate step back as her breath caught in her throat. "It transpired a mere two days ago. How could a matter of such weight escape your memory?" Inwardly, her mind reeled in mounting frantic disbelief. How could he have forgotten the very night he had backed her into a corner inside the ducal carriage, leveling a gaze of suffocating, lethal suspicion upon her, demanding to know her true motives?

Soren observed her shaken state, his blue eyes softening with a flicker of silent concern. "Sigrid... can you please explain to me what it is I have forgotten?"

Sigrid quickly closed her eyes, drawing in a sharp, quiet breath to steady her tumbling emotions before opening them again with a hardened mask of indifference. "Do not worry yourself, my Duke. It was a matter of little consequence."

Soren’s frown deepened, his piercing gaze sweeping over her pale face. "Your reaction tells me otherwise, Duchess."

Before Sigrid could offer another deflection, the heavy, rhythmic crunch of gravel revealed the approach of a high-ranking knight. Orion stepped up into the courtyard, bowing deeply to both of his rulers. "My lord," Orion interjected, his voice stern and professional. "There is a pressing matter regarding the northern patrol reports that requires your immediate attention."

Soren glanced at his knight before turning his gaze back to Sigrid, his thumb brushing over her knuckles one last time before relinquishing her hand. "I shall return shortly, Duchess," he murmured smoothly. With a final, searching look, Soren turned on his heel and strode toward the main keep, Orion trailing dutifully behind his lord’s broad frame.

The moment his imposing figure vanished around the stone archway, Lilith hurried up to Sigrid’s side, her eyes wide with worry as she kept her voice strictly hushed. "Milady... are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

Sigrid gave a stiff, imperceptible nod, keeping her shoulders squared. "I am unharmed, Lilith. Let us return to my chambers."

Gliding swiftly through the fortress, Sigrid paid no mind to the bowing servants, her mind spinning in a chaotic tempest. Once inside her private bedchamber, with Chester taking his guard post firmly outside the closed double doors, Sigrid began to pace the length of the silk rug. Her thoughts were a tangled mess. Ever since that harrowing ride back from the lower districts, her mind had been consumed with anxiety over how to handle Soren’s dark suspicions. To suddenly learn that he possessed no memory of the encounter at all did not bring relief—it infuriated her and deepened the suffocating web of secrets enveloping him. Coupled with Hildegard’s terrified warnings from the dark dungeon below, Sigrid felt as though she were walking blindfolded through a minefield.

Yet, as she paused near the window, gazing out at the vast, harsh mountains of the northern estate, a bitter realization struck her. She was already far too deeply entangled in this web to ever turn back, not that she held any desire to flee. Every headache, every dangerous mystery, and every agonizing puzzle in her current life seemed to stem from a single, enigmatic man. Picturing Soren’s calm, handsome face in her mind, Sigrid let out a soft, frustrated groan, dropping her head into her hands. But as she lowered her fingers, a faint, wry smile touched her lips. Despite the terrifying shadows lurking around her husband, she would choose this labyrinth of danger a thousand times over staying trapped in the clutches of Prince Ragnar or enduring the toxic torment of her former home under Duke Vesper.

A sudden, jarring thought struck Sigrid, causing her crimson eyes to snap wide open in realization. She remembered the blinding, agonizing throb that had struck her head inside the carriage when she had attempted to probe Soren’s mind with her divine sight—the very same backfire she had suffered in the dungeons when peering into Hildegard’s memory of young Soren. Could his sudden memory loss regarding that night be a direct consequence of her magical sight failing against his inner barrier? Was his mind forcing itself to forget the exchange to preserve the barrier, or had her intrusion somehow disrupted his short-term recollections? A knot of dread twisted in her stomach. If her sight was indeed the cause of his sudden amnesia, then this alarming complication was entirely her own fault.

Sigrid turned her face upward toward the ornate ceiling, her crimson eyes glinting like polished rubies in the dim room as a quiet whisper escaped her lips. "Things just keep getting remarkably interesting." Turning swiftly to her maid, who stood hovering nervously near the vanity, Sigrid announced, "Let us go, Lilith."

The maid blinked in surprise, taking a quick step forward. "Milady? Where are we going now?"

Sigrid smoothed her velvet skirts with a decisive flick of her wrists. "To seek a few long-overdue answers."

Leaving her bedchamber, Sigrid walked down the grand stone corridors with purpose. Inwardly, her mind drifted back to her past life. When she had reigned as Queen, she had always assumed Hildegard was Soren’s biological mother, but Soren himself had explicitly denied it. Curiously, in all her time navigating high society, Sigrid had never questioned the origins of Soren’s family or from whom he had actually inherited his prestigious ducal title. Seeing two senior maids carrying armfuls of fresh linen down the hall, Sigrid raised her hand, prompting the servant girls to instantly drop into deep, shivering bows. "I wish to ask you a few questions regarding Lady Hildegard," Sigrid commanded smoothly.

The maids exchanged uncertain, confused glances before nodding obediently. "Do either of you know which noble house or lineage Lady Hildegard originated from?"

The two maids shook their heads timidly. "No, Your Grace. None of us possess such knowledge."

Sigrid’s brow furrowed slightly. "Then fetch me one of the older, senior maids who served this estate before my arrival."

The maids fidgeted nervously, their faces pale. "Forgive us, Your Grace, but... there are no older servants within the fortress. None who served before Lady Hildegard was without her status."

Sigrid paused, her eyes narrowing in sharp suspicion. "What do you mean?"

The more calm maid swallowed hard before explaining, "When we were hired years ago, Master Soren was already of age to manage the ducal estate himself. The oldest employee in the entire castle was the master’s personal butler, but he passed away six years ago. He was the one who raised and instructed us, and he was the only servant who had attended to Master Soren since his youth. There is no other maid who has been in the master’s employ since before he became Duke."

Dismissing the maids with a quiet wave of her hand, Sigrid stood frozen in the quiet corridor, her thoughts swirling. Why had the entire original staff of the ducal house been replaced? Why had Soren never uttered a word about his early upbringing or his former house steward?

Before she could piece the clues together, a calm, familiar voice resonated from the end of the hallway. "Milady." Sigrid turned her head to find Orion standing near the archway, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword as his solemn eyes met hers.