Chapter 368: The North Appeal

The marble corridor leading away from the sunken gardens was cool, shaded by grand stone arches that cut through the lingering heat of the late afternoon.

Iryna walked with a light, rhythmic bounce in her step, the heavy silk of her skirts sweeping across the polished floor with a soft, confident rustle. Her chin was held high, a faint, lingering smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she replayed the sight of Marielle’s flushed, furious face in her mind.

"You look far too pleased with yourself for someone who just spent almost an hour standing in the scorching heat," a familiar voice called out from behind a stone pillar.

Iryna didn’t startle. She simply slowed her stride, turning her head as Gillian stepped out from the shadow of the archway to join her. He fell into step beside his sister, his hands loosely clasped behind his back, his sharp eyes scrutinizing her giddy expression.

"It was a very productive conversation, Brother," Iryna replied smoothly, her eyes sparkling with unhidden amusement.

Gillian offered a small, dry chuckle, though his brow remained faintly furrowed as they turned the corner toward his private wing. "I can see that. You’re practically floating. So tell me... are you actually serious about this betrothal to Marielle?"

Iryna didn’t hesitate. She gave an eager, emphatic nod, her silk skirts swishing as she picked up her pace. "Entirely."

Gillian let out a long, quiet breath, rubbing the back of his neck as they walked. "Who knows if you’re really serious about these things, Iryna. This isn’t picking out a new hunting hound or ordering a custom set of armor. We are talking about your marriage here." He glanced down at her, his tone dropping into a softer, more grounded register. "Isn’t there anyone else in the capital you’d rather choose? A proper noble house from the southern courts? Or capital? Or west? East?"

Iryna shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she kept her gaze fixed on the hallway ahead. "Not a single one. They’re boring, Gillian. They nod when I speak, they bow when I enter the room, and they spend half their lives trying to figure out which way the wind blows in court."

They reached the double wooden doors of Gillian’s private quarters. He pushed one open, stepping aside to let her pass before following her into the airy, sunlit room. The scent of old paper and dried lavender filled the space, a quiet sanctuary away from the whispering servants and lingering guards.

Iryna turned around, leaning against the edge of a the table, her arms loosely crossed over her chest as she studied her brother’s face.

"Are you against it?" she asked softly, tilting her head.

Gillian stopped near the window, letting out a heavy, conflicted sigh. "Yes... no."

Iryna let out a musical laugh, raising an eyebrow at him. "And what kind of an answer is that?"

"A realistic one," Gillian said, turning to face her with genuine worry etched into his feature. He didn’t look like a Crown Prince right now, he just looked like an anxious older brother. "Think about it, Iryna. Is Marielle even going to agree to this? She’s a warrior. She’s an Omega who commands soldiers and wields raw magic, raised in a territory that doesn’t bow easily to capital customs. What if she flat-out refuses?"

He took a step closer, his voice dropping into a low, protective murmur. "And even if she says yes... what if she treats you badly during the marriage? What if her temper gets the better of her? You’re setting yourself up to live in the freezing North with a spouse who might resent you for trapping her in a political marriage."

Iryna’s expression softened, the playful smirk fading into something quieter and surprisingly warm. "Please, Gillian. Do you really think I’d let anyone treat me badly? Least of all her?"

"I’m serious, Iryna..."

"So am I," Iryna interrupted gently, her tone completely even. She straightened up from the table, stepping toward the window to look out over the sprawling estate grounds below. "Look at what’s happening around us. The capital court is a nest of snakes. The lords there smile at us while sliding poison into wine cups. But the North? House Valtrane?"

She turned back to Gillian, her eyes bright and clear. "We have a better relationship with the North right now than we do with half the grand council in the palace. They were the ones who actually stepped up and saved us when the crisis hit. They didn’t play political games with our lives, they fought. I can trust them."

Gillian stared at her for a long moment, a fond, weary smile briefly touching his lips before he shook his head. "Oh, my beautiful sister... don’t be too trusting. Politics changes people fast."

"Don’t you feel the same way I do?" Iryna countered softly, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Admit it. You feel safer around the Duke and his men than you do around our father’s advisors or the rest in the Auzelian palace. I will have far more freedom with her than I ever would with some spineless lord in the capital. And as for the North being cold..." She offered him a mischievous, playful grin. "...I think I’ll quite like the chill."

Gillian let out a quiet, defeated chuckle, though the concern in his eyes didn’t entirely vanish. He squeezed her fingers back, his expression turning stern once more. "Still... if Marielle doesn’t want this, Iryna, you cannot force her. A forced union with the North will blow up in our faces faster than a border skirmish."

Iryna smiled, pulling her hand back and smoothing down the front of her dark green dress with absolute grace.

"I won’t have to force her," Iryna said smoothly, her voice dropping into that quiet, velvety confidence that made Gillian narrow his eyes in suspicion. "I have a feeling Marielle will give me a very satisfying answer in due time."

She walked toward the private chamber door, pausing with her hand resting lightly on the polished iron handle. She glanced back over her shoulder, a teasing, dangerous glint in her eyes.

"Though, while you’re worrying about my future," Iryna added casually, tossing the words over her shoulder like a stray feather, "you might want to prepare yourself. You’re going to need to have a very good talk with Zarius about all of this."

Gillian blinked, his posture instantly stiffening. "Ah, right."

Before he could finish his sentence, Iryna slipped out the door with a soft, melodic laugh, letting the door click firmly shut behind her.

Gillian stood alone in the quiet room, staring at the closed door as her final words echoed in his mind. The image of Duke Zarius Valtrane, tall, formidable, and fiercely protective of his family, flashed through his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose, dragging a long breath into his lungs as the sheer scale of the diplomatic headache ahead finally settled onto his shoulders.