Chapter 48
Clop, clop.
Twilight descended as the steady hoofbeats of a knight’s steed reverberated through the garden, drawing nearer to the castle.
Passing servants flushed pink at the glimpse of sun-kissed golden hair aglow in the fading light.
Tiern Bierri, captain of the 9th Knight Brigade, cut a striking figure—his handsome visage matched only by his frosty bearing.
This elite unit handled covert operations beyond the standard knightly duties, and Tiern had just wrapped up a winter campaign purging monsters from the rugged peaks.
The castle he’d departed two months prior felt unexpectedly serene, almost tranquil.
He’d braced for strife sparked by the marquis’s vexing daughter, yet none materialized.
“I’ve returned to report.”
“Well done.”
Tiern offered his customary deference to his liege before lifting his gaze. The grand duke’s expression mirrored its usual composure. Indeed, it shone brighter than the spring zephyrs—far removed from the fury that had twisted his features upon receiving that winter marriage decree amid the mountains.
Has the trouble with the Grand Duchess sorted itself out?
Tiern bit back the query hovering on his tongue and pressed on with his briefing.
He detailed the mounting unrest among the beasts, yet his lord betrayed no alarm.
“And the knights?”
“They’ll resume drills at dawn tomorrow.”
“Ease up on them. Grant a day’s respite.”
“…?”
Tiern’s eyes flared wide in astonishment. In all his years with the Blenheim knights, no such indulgence had ever been proposed.
“My thanks. Though…”
Tiern faltered, glancing at his lord, who gave a faint nod—as if granting permission.
“Are you well?” Tiern ventured delicately.
“In what sense?”
His liege arched a brow, genuinely puzzled.
Tiern knew the marquis’s daughter had arrived in the Grand Duchy and taken up residence. Had she been dispatched already, or was the grand duke exacting penance from her?
He stifled the impulse to inquire. His lord’s rare cheer deserved preserving.
“…It’s nothing.”
Curbing his inquisitiveness, Tiern withdrew from the chamber.
“Ora, brother!”
His cousin Meisel breezed into the dining hall, her voice brimming with mischief.
“Meisel!”
Tiern, midway through his belated supper, brightened at the cherished sight.
After his father—the erstwhile Blenheim Knight Commander—had perished, Tiern had grown up in his uncle Count Avoir’s household. Meisel, raised alongside him under Nurse Marzella’s watchful eye, felt more like a little sister, despite her occasional impish streak.
She projected bravado elsewhere but melted into affectionate petulance around him.
Settled face-to-face, Meisel chattered animatedly about recent happenings.
Conversation veered swiftly to the fresh Grand Duchess.
“So, you joined her for tea?”
Tiern set aside his knife, mid-slice through his steak.
“The Grand Duchess’s attendant? Marquis Fasie’s daughter?”
His tone dipped ominously.
Meisel pouted, gaze dropping.
“I wasn’t an attendant—I got sacked.”
Tiern’s stare turned steely.
“Sacked? The nerve!”
As one nursing the fiercest grudge against House Fasie, Tiern’s rage ignited visibly.
His father, the Knight Commander, had fallen in the monster wars.
The emperor’s tardy reinforcements had doomed countless knights, including him. Whispers pinned the blame on Marquis Fasie pulling strings from the shadows of that feeble ruler.
Northern lands still mourned lost kin, and now that marquis’s spawn had the audacity to invade their territory.
“She goes by Cecilia Territo these days.”
“Territo, is it?”
Tiern’s lip curled at the name’s echo.
“I’m mortified—can’t even face anyone.”
Meisel’s features crumpled near tears, her eyes puffy from sleepless frets.
“They’ll assume Territo outshone me.”
Tiern huffed in scorn.
“No call to fret over such ignominy. The Grand Duchess faces divorce imminently.”
“You’re missing the point, brother!”
Meisel stomped, exasperation flaring.
“She’s sly as a vixen! Plays the ingénue while ensnaring hearts. No ordinary deceiver!”
“Ensaring?”
“The butler, knights—all duped! They scorned her at first, now they praise our Grand Duchess to the skies. Absurd.”
“The knights? Who told you?”
Meisel grew cagey, voice trailing.
“Er…”
“Snooping the castle grounds again?”
Tiern’s narrowed gaze prompted frantic hand-waving from Meisel.
“No! Nanny just visited the estate…”
As she stammered, Tiern’s brow furrowed.
He indulged his darling cousin’s harmless infatuation with his grace, but her castle intrusions—badgering head maid Marzella for tidbits—crossed a line.
“I warned you: meddling draws eyes to Marzella. The Grand Duke’s chief servant must tread impeccably.”
Meisel whimpered at his stern visage, teetering on tears.
“Didn’t even quiz the nanny—word’s everywhere! They claim the Grand Duke’s utterly besotted with her!”
Tiern recalled the grand duke from moments ago.
“Besotted? The air felt milder, perhaps, but…”
‘His grace wouldn’t succumb so easily.’
Catching Tiern’s skepticism, Meisel piled on.
“Outwardly poised, but vicious in secret! She wounded the nanny badly!”
“Marzella?”
“Aye—she sought to discipline an errant maid, ended humiliated.”
Tiern’s jaw locked rigid.
Rage surged at the vision of Marquis Freis’s chit berating Marzella, loyal sentinel of the Grand Duke’s halls for nigh a decade.
“How does such a creature claim Grand Duchess? Maddening, watching them all succumb.”
Meisel gnashed her teeth, declaring,
“Brother! Promise you won’t fall for her. You’re with me, yes?”
Tiern offered his desperate cousin a wintry smile.
“Never.”
I vow it—even unto death.
“Spring graces Blenheim at last.”
I inhaled deeply, gazing at the uncommonly vivid azure sky.
My stride to the training fields felt buoyant, unburdened.
“There’s the training ground!”
Cecilia, trailing me, burst out in delight.
Post-tea gathering and private chat, I’d appointed Cecilia as my attendant.
—“Choose freely, so long as she suits you.”
The Grand Duke voiced no qualms.
—“Sir Territo ranks among the Grand Duke’s staunchest retainers. He’ll serve the Grand Duchess devotedly too.”
Count Avoir’s daughter’s snub struck odd, yet the Grand Duke assented warmly.
Only Norton soured.
—“She’s kin, so coax a grin from her.”
—“Doubt she’ll prove useful in Blenheim.”
Norton’s face lingered in memory upon Cecilia’s arrival.
My sole motive in picking her:
‘She’ll amuse.’
No desire to idle in my quarters, swapping salon banalities with a tiresome maid in this staid castle.
We’d share real discourse.
Cecilia exceeded hopes.
An ideal confidante, she bantered from castle entry till departure.
Through her, I spared the Grand Duke my winter interruptions amid his duties.
“Grand Duchess, spring’s truly here.”
Cecilia gaped at the towering knights in lightweight garb, drilling across the field.
