Chapter 107: To Dine With Enemies.

Chapter 107

The grand carriage rattled along the cobblestone thoroughfares leading into the heart of the capital, enveloped in a suffocating, deafening silence. Sitting across from one another on the plush velvet cushions, neither Soren nor Sigrid uttered a single word, the quiet air heavy with the lingering tension of their earlier encounter in the courtyard.

When the carriage finally ground to a halt before the towering gilded gates of the royal palace, Soren stepped out first, extending a broad, calloused hand to assist Sigrid down. As her slippers touched the polished stone, Sigrid kept her chin raised, not bothering to conceal the utter dread and contempt etched across her pale features.

A royal maid hurried forward, bowing low before guiding the Duke and Duchess of the North through the echoing, gilded corridors toward the formal dining hall, where the monarch and his court awaited.

Upon stepping into the vast dining room, Sigrid found the King and Queen already seated at the head of the long mahogany table. Soren and Sigrid offered a synchronized, formal bow, though Sigrid could feel the Queen’s palpable hatred and disgust oozing across the room like a physical blight. The King, by contrast, maintained an unreadable mask, having rarely interacted with Sigrid directly. "Duke and Duchess Aethermor, welcome," the King announced, gesturing toward the open seats. "It pleases us to host you tonight, considering we shall soon be bound as family."

Sigrid’s brow furrowed, her lips parting to offer a swift correction, but she was abruptly cut off by a high-pitched, melodic voice. Maria came bouncing into the dining hall, her eyes wide with what appeared to be ecstatic affection as she rushed toward them, though Sigrid was far too sharp to fall for such theatrical pretense. "Sister! You have finally arrived!" Maria cried, while Prince Ragnar lingered behind her, casting a brief, dismissive glance at Sigrid before fixing Soren with a bitter scowl.

Before Sigrid could respond, Duke Vesper and Duchess Genevieve made their grand entrance into the hall, their faces immediately twisting into sneers upon spotting their eldest daughter and her formidable husband. Sigrid noted with silent intrigue how her father’s glare burned with a fresh, visceral hatred directed squarely at Soren, making her wonder what her husband could have possibly done to draw even more wrath from the old man than she typically received.

Sensing the rising hostility, the King let out a hollow chuckle to smooth over the room. "Welcome, everyone. Lady Maria, who shall soon wed my son, requested this gathering before the nuptials to unite us all as one extended house."

Sigrid did not hesitate, her sharp voice cutting through the hall with brutal immediacy. "Forgive my bluntness, Your Majesty, but I must respectfully ask that you do not refer to my estranged relatives as my family. They were never a family to me, nor shall they ever be."

A heavy, breathless silence descended upon the room. Maria’s face instantly crumbled, her eyes filling with delicate tears as she gasped softly. "Sister... how could you utter such cruel words?"

Sigrid let out a weary sigh, her crimson eyes locking onto Maria with absolute, terrifying finality. "If you dare to utter that foolish term ’sister’ in my presence once more, I assure you that I shall personally see to it that your tongue is silenced. I have made it abundantly clear time and time that we share no bond or blood."

Duchess Genevieve’s face turned red with rage as she slammed her hand against her skirt. "You insolent, ungrateful girl! How dare you speak to Maria in such a vile manner, after she was gracious enough to forgive your transgressions and welcome you back!"

Sigrid scoffed aloud, turning her cold gaze toward her stepmother. "Forgive me? I attended this evening solely because the Crown issued a direct summons. Had it been up to your household, I would never have set foot near you. Maria is nothing more than a persistent plague upon my existence."

Genevieve gasped dramatically. "You shameless liar! She cares for your well-being in all things!"

Sigrid let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "She cares for nothing concerning me." Where do they get the confidence to utter such blatant and so unbelievable falsehoods.

Duke Vesper stepped forward, his body trembling with anger. "Not only are you prideful and disrespectful, but you stand there telling blatant falsehoods! Name a single instance where Maria failed to show you concern!"

Sigrid tilted her head, her voice dropping into a deadly register. "The day you arranged for a human trafficker to take my hand in marriage. The day I proposed an alliance to Soren. She offered no protest, nor did she attempt to stop you—not that I ever expected or desired her intervention."

Duke Vesper huffed, looking away nervously as his posture shrank under the heavy accusation. "She was entirely unaware of those arrangements, as were the rest of us!"

Sigrid muttered under her breath, "What a pathetic fool."

Vesper turned sharply, his face flushed. "What did you say?!"

Ignoring her father entirely, Sigrid turned back to the monarch. "I apologize for the scene, Your Majesty, but I insist that you refrain from linking my name to theirs."

The King sighed wearily, waving a hand toward the table. "Very well, Duchess. Let us simply sit and dine, seeing as you have traveled a great distance." Sigrid gave a stiff nod, allowing Soren to take her hand and lead her to their designated seats. As course after course of lavish food was served, Soren and Sigrid dined in quiet composure, largely ignoring the rest of the table.

However, Sigrid could constantly feel Duke Vesper’s burning glare locked onto her husband. Leaning close to Soren, she whispered softly, "Why does my father stare at you as though he wishes to flay you alive? What did you do to him?"

Soren took a calm bite of his roasted meat, his low baritone barely audible. "I merely had a brief, candid conversation with him days ago. It appears the old fool lacks the fortitude to move past it."

Sigrid let out a quiet, genuine laugh. "How exceedingly pathetic of him."

From across the table, Prince Ragnar snapped his utensils down, his brow furrowed in irritation. "What could possibly be so amusing over there, Duchess?"

Sigrid turned her gaze upon him, her tone dripping with indifference. "And why should my private conversation concern you, Your Highness?"

Ragnar’s jaw tightened as he glared at her. "Speak up so the entire table might hear, unless you lack the courtesy to engage with the rest of us! You sit there acting as though you are above everyone else!"

Sigrid raised an eyebrow. "Am I obligated to entertain you? The only individual at this table worthy of my words is my husband."

Maria immediately interjected, her voice laced with sweet fake concern. "Sigrid, please! You cannot speak to the Crown Prince and the royals in such a manner!"

Sigrid turned toward the King, offering a polite, practiced smile. "I offer my regrets if my devotion appears rude, Your Majesty, but surely you understand the natural inclinations of a newly wedded couple."

The King offered a mild, neutral nod, while Ragnar scoffed loudly in frustration. Seeking to steer the conversation away from conflict, the King cleared his throat. "Tell us, Duchess Sigrid, how do you find life alongside the Duke of the North?"

Sigrid’s smile softened into something far more genuine, her crimson eyes gleaming as she spoke. "It is truly wonderful, Your Majesty. He is, without a doubt, the finest man in this kingdom." Internally, her heart echoed the sentiment with unexpected fierce conviction. He truly is.

Ragnar sneered across the table. "There is no need to display such nauseating, arrogant pride."

Sigrid turned her gaze back to the prince, her eyes narrowing slightly. "And why should I not take immense pride in my husband? I am wed to a man who is attentive, immensely wealthy, grants me total freedom, wields absolute power, and, to my eyes, effortlessly eclipses every other man in this realm in both stature and appearance. Which wife would not take pride in that."

"Do you speak of me as though I were merely a prized trophy to be displayed?" Soren inquired, his tone devoid of any malice.

"And are you not, my lord?" Sigrid replied, her gaze steady and unwavering.

Soren did not utter another word, but he reached out, lifting her delicate hand to his lips and pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her knuckles. Out of the corner of her eye, Sigrid watched Maria’s triumphant demeanor instantly crumble into bitter jealousy. How pathetic, Sigrid thought darkly. Do you despise seeing me not thoroughly suffering so deeply, Maria?

Unable to contain his wounded pride, Ragnar spat out, "You speak so highly of a man who is nothing more than a ruthless, bloodthirsty bastard brute!"

Sigrid remained completely unfazed, her voice cutting through the hall like ice. "That ’brute,’ Your Highness, is the sole reason this kingdom has not fallen to foreign invaders. He is the reason you sit comfortably on that throne rather than bleeding on the front lines, while the Crown parades him as their ultimate weapon to fight in your stead."

Ragnar’s face contorted in humiliation, while the Queen slammed her hand onto the table, her jewels rattling loudly. "Hold your tongue, Duchess! You shall show proper respect!" Sigrid offered a smooth, dismissive bow, acquiescing to the command, though the damage to Ragnar’s fragile ego was already done.

Maria, witnessing her fiancé’s utter humiliation, leaned forward, her voice dropping into a low, venomous murmur intended only for Sigrid. "Do not bite off more than you can chew, Sigrid. Simply because you managed to catch a Duke does not mean you are immune to ruin, considering how utterly pathetic your existence has always been."

Sigrid felt Soren’s frame tense beside her, his hand moving toward his blade, but she placed a gentle, reassuring palm over his arm, allowing Maria to dig her own grave.

"Do not count your victories so prematurely," Maria continued, her eyes gleaming with a strange, unsettling light of secret knowledge. "We all remember how helpless you were when your mother perished, despite how deeply we tried to love you after all your suffering in this life and even more..."

Sigrid tilted her head, her voice deadly calm. "And what precisely do you mean by that, Maria?"

Maria smiled triumphantly, convinced she had trapped her sister. "There are forces in this world far greater than you comprehend—individuals who possess the power to rewrite your fate, who know your every vulnerability and can destroy you at will. You believe marrying the Duke is your salvation, but it may very well prove to be your absolute undoing."

Sigrid stared at her sister in complete silence for a moment before bursting into a clear, ringing laugh that startled the entire table. Maria’s smile vanished, replaced by sheer confusion. "What could you possibly find funny?!"

Maria was becoming too arrogant.

Sigrid’s laughter faded into a cold, lethal gaze that burned with scorching hatred. "The hilarious absurdity of your belief that my marriage could ever be my hell, when I know with absolute certainty that it is my sanctuary."

Internally, her hatred for Maria burned hotter than ever. Compared to the horrific hell of my past life, this existence is heaven. To think you truly believe you can control my destiny again from the mere glimpse of my past life you saw. Standing up gracefully, Sigrid smoothed her skirts. "We shall take our leave now, Your Majesty."

Soren stood beside her without a moment’s hesitation, giving a brief nod to the King before escorting Sigrid out of the silent dining hall. As they glided down the moonlit marble corridors toward the courtyard, Soren suddenly halted his steps, his deep blue eyes glinting under the pale light.

Sigrid turned to face him, her silver hair shimmering in the cool breeze. "Is something amiss, my lord?"

Soren peered down at her, his baritone heavy with quiet intensity. "What you said back there... was it the truth?"

Sigrid stepped closer, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "Every word."

Soren’s expression remained guarded, a faint scowl forming on his brow. "If that is true, then why do you hesitate to rely on me? Why do you refuse to involve me in your struggles, when I am your husband, meant to serve as your shield?"

Sigrid offered a faint, melancholy smile. "And will you be mine entirely, Soren? Will you involve me in your darkest plans?"

Soren froze, his breath catching as he slowly lowered his head, unable to offer a verbal response. He truly is incapable of deceit, Sigrid thought, a strange mixture of warmth and bitter amusement swirling in her chest. How hypocritical of you, my lord.

Stepping forward, Sigrid wrapped her hands around his collar, pulling his head down and pressing her lips firmly against his in a deep, lingering kiss. Soren stiffened for a fraction of a second before his arms wrapped around her waist, deepening the embrace until she slowly pulled back. "Are you satisfied, Duke?" she whispered softly.

Soren stared down at her, his eyes dark with unspoken emotion, before leaning down to press another firm kiss against her lips. Resting his forehead against hers, his voice rumbled thickly. "Do with me as you please, Sigrid."

Sigrid smiled, placing a soft hand against his cheek as they finally turned toward their awaiting carriage. Internally, her resolve hardened into unbreakable steel. I shall use every resource you offer to see my vengeance fulfilled, Soren. And I shall ensure you pull me into your shadow as well... but first, I must completely obliterate Maria before she can ever touch your future.

Leaning up toward his ear as he opened the carriage door, she whispered softly, "You shall not rid yourself of me so easily, my Duke. Not when you treat me this good."