Chapter 80: The Marquess’s Miscalculation.

Chapter 80

Sigrid did not flinch as the heavy wooden door clicked shut, sealing the darkened shop from the bustling market street outside. "I was unaware this fine establishment had been cleared of its usual inventory," she observed smoothly, her voice betraying not a sliver of panic.

Marquess Caspian Warwick offered a low, dry chuckle that echoed against the empty stone walls. "Clear of inventory? That is merely your imagination, Duchess. Perceptions are so easily manipulated when one is unprepared."

Sigrid glanced subtly to her flank, noting that the ornate display cases and velvet-draped shelves had indeed been pushed aside, transforming the floor into an open, shadowy trap. Turning her attention toward the front entrance, she calculated the rhythm of her escort outside. In precisely three minutes, Chester and the four remaining Aethermor guards would realize her delay was unnatural and breach the doors.

She let out a soft, measured sigh before fixing Caspian with a cool, sharp look. "What is the meaning of this ambush, Marquess? This is hardly the deference owed to the reigning Duchess of Aethermor."

Caspian’s grip on her arms tightened slightly, his handsome, youthful features carved into a mask of mild amusement. "I am well aware of what title you hold, Sigrid. I simply contend that you are entirely unworthy of bearing it."

Sigrid’s crimson eyes narrowed as she studied the man before her. In her previous life, Caspian Warwick had never been her direct enemy, yet he had remained a constant, dangerous presence at court. Cunning, extraordinarily sharp, and possessing an almost unnatural grasp of the realm’s trade networks, he had secured the status of Marquess at the remarkably young age of twenty-seven while expanding his family’s maritime monopoly across the southern coast. He was a man who acted solely on cold, calculated interest, never emotion.

"Mind your tongue, Marquess, lest you find yourself speaking words you cannot recall," Sigrid warned, her voice dropping into a quiet, dangerous register. "You would do well not to spout such baseless insolence before an ally of the Duke."

Caspian looked at her with a chilling, detached disinterest. "Do not distress yourself with grand political threats, Duchess. I intend to finish you here and now—much like you finished my foolish sister."

Sigrid offered a look of flawless, feigned confusion. "Whatever can you possibly mean by such a bizarre accusation?"

"Do not play the ignorant innocent with me," Caspian spat, though his tone remained strangely devoid of anger. "My network of operatives is far too thorough for such theatrics. I knew full well what transpired between you and Isabel. Given her volatile temperament, I had my spies track her every movement the moment she arrived in the capital. I knew she would seek you out and attempt something foolish, and in truth, she received precisely the end her arrogance invited. She was always a brainless, short-sighted nuisance."

Sigrid raised an eyebrow at his complete lack of grief. "You display remarkable indifference toward the murder of your own blood, Lord Warwick."

Caspian stepped around her, his voice flat as he paced the shadows. "Why should I grieve for a thorn in my side? Isabel was the legitimate daughter of my father’s noble bloodline, while I was merely the offspring of a disgraced daughter and a common merchant, adopted purely to preserve the male line. I was tolerated, never valued. Yet I found a purpose for her existence nonetheless. She was meant to marry into the royal line or serve as a permanent fixture in the future Crown Princess’s retinue. You ended her life before my long-term plans could bear fruit. While I hold no personal malice against you for culling a fool, you have disrupted my ledger, and you must compensate for the inconvenience."

Hearing the faint, synchronized rhythmic thud of heavy bootfalls approaching the exterior threshold, Sigrid tilted her head slightly. "And do you truly believe you can slay the Duchess of Aethermor in broad daylight without facing the Duke’s retribution? Be warned, Lord Warwick—Soren will not rest until your entire line is erased."

Caspian sneered, a fleeting spark of dark curiosity crossing his face. "The ruthless Warlord of the North, slaughtering a Marquess for a political wife he does not love? A fascinating notion, but ultimately irrelevant. My preparations are absolute. No one observed my entry into this building, and the blood spilled here today will never be traced to my house. Now, die quietly."

At his command, a hidden mercenary stepped out from the gloom, drawing a polished steel arming sword to cleave her neck. Sigrid did not wait for the blade to descend. Driving her heel backward with brutal, precise force, she struck the man holding her right arm directly between his legs and straight at his testicles. As he collapsed to the stone floor groaning in agony, she spun on her left heel, delivering a swift, heavy kick to the jaw of the second captor, sending him crashing violently into the stone wall. Before the swordsman could react to the sudden reversal, Sigrid lunged forward, thrusting her palm upward into his chin with an open-handed strike. The force snapped his head back, causing him to drop his weapon.

Sigrid caught the sword mid-air by the leather hilt, spun past his guard, and pressed the cold, razor-sharp edge directly against Caspian Warwick’s exposed throat before he could even reach for his own dagger. "Such a brilliant mind, yet such a hopeless fool," Sigrid whispered directly into his ear, feeling the heavy, frantic gulp ripple through his Adam’s apple against her steel.

The front doors shattered open with a loud bang as Chester and the four Aethermor guards burst into the room, their heavy broadswords drawn and ready for slaughter. They froze in absolute astonishment at the sight before them: two mercenaries lay writhing on the floor, while the Duchess held the Marquess at swordpoint, her posture immaculate and completely unbothered. Caspian attempted to shift his weight, but Sigrid pressed the blade a fraction closer, drawing a bead of crimson blood. "Move again, Marquess, and I shall end your ledger permanently."

Chester closed the distance in a flash, kicking away the mercenaries’ fallen weapons while another guard seized Caspian by the arms, forcing him to his knees. Sigrid exhaled softly, using her free hand to smooth the ruffled velvet of her sleeves. A moment later, Lilith burst through the doorway, breathless and pale. Upon witnessing her mistress standing over the captured nobleman with a drawn sword, the maid gasped softly, looking as though she might faint on the spot.

"Restrain your panic, Lilith, all is well," Sigrid murmured serenely, stepping back as Chester secured Caspian’s wrists with heavy leather restraints. She looked down at the Marquess, whose breath was coming in ragged, humiliated hitches. "Now then, Lord Warwick... whatever happened to your flawless plan?"

Caspian forced his head up, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and sheer disbelief. "How... how did you manage that? My intelligence network reported that you were merely a delicate, frail noblewoman with no martial training!"

Sigrid smiled inwardly, acknowledging the efficiency of his spies. Their reports had been entirely accurate regarding the old Sigrid—the naive girl before her death and rebirth. However, they knew nothing of the brutal survival skills she had been forced to cultivate during her previous life to survive the treacherous court. "Your informants are quite competent, Marquess, but you relied far too heavily on outdated reports. Did you truly believe that because I am a woman, I could be subdued so effortlessly? I allowed your men to corner me simply because I was curious about your motives. Ever since the day I sought compensation from your father, I sensed you were scheming in the dark. Yet to attempt a daylight assassination in the heart of the district... you are far more reckless than I anticipated."

Chester stepped forward, his sword resting near Caspian’s collarbone. "Your Grace, give the word and I shall execute this traitor where he kneels."

Caspian’s eyes widened slightly, his pulse hammering against his throat. "Why hesitate, Duchess? I tried to murder you. Will you torture me in your dungeons as you did my sister?"

Sigrid assumed a look of gentle, innocent surprise. "I have no knowledge of what you mean regarding your sister, my lord. Furthermore, I have no intention of killing you today. You are far more valuable to me alive than dead, and I commend the sheer audacity of your ambition."

Caspian sneered through his teeth, his pride wounded beyond measure. "Do you truly think I will ever serve you? I shall bring this assault to the King himself! You will answer to the King for drawing blood on a Marquess! And for the death of noble blood."

Sigrid leaned down until her crimson eyes were mere inches from his pale face, her voice dropping into a sinister, melodic whisper. "And shall I inform the Imperial Court of your illegal distribution of the Nightshade Derivative? The very same lethal poison you sold to two foolish handmaidens formerly in my employ?"

Caspian froze entirely, the color draining from his face until he resembled a corpse. "How... how could you possibly know of that?" he stammered, his confident facade shattering into dust.

"I know many things, Lord Warwick," Sigrid murmured, straightening up. "What do you suppose the High Council—or your esteemed trade partners—would do if details of your illicit black-market dealings were pinned to the palace gates? Your reputation, your wealth, and your family name would burn to ash overnight."

She gestured toward Chester. "Release him."

As the guards stepped back, Caspian remained on his knees, staring at the floor in utter ruin. Sigrid looked down at him with cold detachment. "I shall leave you here to ponder your choices, Marquess. Should you regain your senses, you will present yourself at the Northern Fortress in one week’s time to offer your formal allegiance. Consider that my final grace. If you fail to appear, I shall ensure your head rolls across the cobblestones alongside your ruined reputation."

Without waiting for a response, Sigrid turned on her heel and swept out of the darkened shop, her guards falling into formation behind her aftrr telling one of her guards to monitor the Marquess. As she boarded the ducal carriage, Lilith immediately settled beside her, her hands still trembling. "Your Grace... why did you spare his life after he attempted such a terrible crime?"

Sigrid settled into the velvet cushions as the carriage lurched forward, beginning its journey back toward the Northern Fortress. She looked out the window, watching the shadows of the capital retreat in the distance. "Because a man who possesses such an extensive web of spies and trade routes is far too useful a tool to destroy out of petty spite. Caspian Warwick thinks he is a master weaver of plots, Lilith, but he has simply become another piece upon my board."