Chapter 26
It meant she'd done something last night embarrassing enough to want to die. She was grateful he'd kindly say to forget it, but...
'No, if you were worried about me being embarrassed, wouldn't it be better to just pretend you didn't know?'
Why wait until she woke up to pointedly remind her? Everything annoyed her because her head throbbed so badly. Even giving the standard reply of "sorry for showing such an unsightly side." Even pretending to shyly look for a hole to crawl into. Her head and stomach churned simultaneously. It felt like dreaming a dizzying dream with her eyes wide open. Her blurred vision wouldn't focus properly. Reaching with both hands for the teacup before her eyes, Frida hesitated, unable to gauge the direction. Daniel kindly placed the teacup directly into her wandering hands, which floated aimlessly like dust motes in the air. Only after confirming her two hands gripped it tightly did he let go.
"According to the head cook, what she gave you yesterday was almost like water. If you get a hangover from that, you should steer clear of alcohol entirely."
She never touched it anyway except for medicinal purposes. Nor did she plan to. Where was Matilda, anyway? Why was the Duke handling this? Frida alternated glances between the teacup in her hands and Daniel, her parched lips fumbling open.
"Wh-Why is the Duke... Ugh, my head."
Intense pain surged in. Why did her head hurt when it was her mouth moving? Frida simply closed her one involuntarily scrunched eye. Every time Daniel's voice sounded from above, her crown prickled as if stabbed by needles.
"The maid in charge of you seemed extremely busy helping in the kitchen."
In Munheim Castle, where servants were sorely lacking, everyone handled multiple tasks. Even Matilda, beyond tending Frida, did kitchen work, cleaning, field labor—nothing was off-limits. But no matter how busy, she wouldn't have passed this onto the liege lord.
"Ugh..."
Dizziness worsened, making her neck wobble. Frida gripped the teacup's handles tightly to steady herself. Figuring out what happened could wait. First, she needed to somehow normalize this head feeling kneaded roughly by hands. Frida gulped down the tea in her hands. Wondering if it would even go down her throat, the sweet, warm honey-infused tea slid straight down, spreading soothingly through her body.
"Ugh..."
Her shoulders trembled at the vivid sensation of it moistening her organs one by one. At the same time, forgotten thirst welled up. Frida lifted her white neck, tendons stiff, draining even the last drop at the cup's bottom. As she emptied it, Daniel took it as if waiting and placed it on the bedside table. Frida immediately leaned her heavy head— liable to thud to the floor—against the bedframe. She knew her disheveled state was obvious with her husband watching, but lacked the energy to tidy up. Her voice requesting him to leave sank heavily, like her overburdened eyelids.
"Your Grace, sorry, but... could you please leave my room? I'll come find you once I'm better, so if you want to question me about last night, do it then."
"I have no intention of interrogating a wife who can't even sit up."
Replying flatly, he didn't leave but stood by the bed. Was it due to embarrassment making her shrink? He looked especially large and sturdy today in his dark shirt matching his hair color, draped with a coat in the same tones. Only after blinking several times did she notice the faint rose embroidery on the cuffs and throughout the outfit. Neat, prim, dignified colors contrasting the shirt revealing his prominent chest cleavage. As Frida tried lowering her gaze, it collided directly with Daniel's as he sat in the chair. Without giving her time to react, he swiftly and lightly touched her forehead with his fingertips, nodding in satisfaction.
"However, there's a clear issue between us that needs addressing. I'd like to discuss that. No fever, so could you spare a moment?"
"Issue?"
Daniel nodded calmly at Frida struggling to focus her half-lidded eyes.
"Yes. You seem to feel excessive responsibility about it. I concluded it's best to clarify our positions beforehand on such matters."
That matter? Excessive responsibility? Such matters? Pondering each phrase was beyond her current state—even repeating the words was burdensome. Somewhat better, but her head still felt afloat, not attached to her neck. Frida simply waited silently for the Duke's next words. Her sane husband would sort this more accurately and quickly than she could in this state.
"I have no need for children. The Rihardt Dukedom ends with me above, or goes to whomever the imperial family designates."
'Ah... so the Duke doesn't need children.'
Her first impression upon hearing her husband's words.
"I don't want you troubling your head over that anymore."
I see. So that's how the Duke feels. Right. That could be. But...
"Why...?"
With reason half-restored, Frida's gaze scanned Daniel's face. Honestly, she couldn't comprehend what he was saying. A healthy nobleman with sound limbs saying he doesn't need children? End it with his generation? Rihardt was one of the Twelve Dukes boasting the most ancient history among Svergen's countless nobles. The family from which the current Emperor hailed. When he could sire dozens and pass the name down generations, why end the line? Dozens of question marks seemed etched on Frida's face as she stared. Daniel inwardly chuckled. Unable to scold her genuine bewilderment that of course it was obvious. Retracting his brief solitary smile, Daniel replied in his usual straightforward tone.
"Why bear a child who won't be welcomed anywhere?"
"..."
Sometimes words resonate without becoming sound. Though steeped in hangover and fatigue, her clear, pale face spoke like bright moonlight guiding the sole path through black night. What nonsense is that? Would this tiny woman even imagine? The grueling days he'd endured just to live one more, meaningless as roadside pebbles to others. The Dowager Empress wouldn't tolerate him siring children anyway—but who would he pass this wretched life to? Before her pink lips could part with itching rebuttals, Daniel spoke first.
"You became Rihardt Duchess precisely because you met that condition."
A fine wrinkle formed on the straight bridge of her nose between transparent purple eyes without a speck of murkiness. *** Among Munheim Castle's buildings, Skadi Hall connected to the main keep bustled daily preparing for new guests. With the Boild Baron couple arriving in ten days, Frida set aside other tasks to decorate Skadi Hall. Straightening a tapestry capturing the refreshing lake view that soothed the eyes just looking at it, Frida paused mid-corridor and whirled around. Tilting her head left after deep thought yielding no answer.
"I just can't figure it out. What about you, Muriel?"
Same question countless times these past days. Muriel shook her head firmly side to side.
"I've told you countless times. I have no idea either."
Disappointed by the perfunctory reply, Frida planted hands on hips and stomped the corridor floor. Stubborn temper showed plainly on her furrowed face.
"Think about it a bit. You have many brothers. Should be better than me."
"My brothers are men utterly devoted to the instinct to produce as many Rosivalts as possible. Completely different breed from the Duke."
Frida's shoulders and arms drooped limply downward in dejection.
"Most men are like that. Even my father, after three daughters in a row, never gave up hope of a son and finally succeeded."
The result being youngest Albert, next Harkbon Count.
'Come to think, our Albert must be fifteen this year.'
The baby brother who escaped the curse afflicting only Harkbon women was born with Svergenian golden hair like Father's. Suddenly, she missed the little rascal swinging a wooden sword, vowing to protect his big sister. And her parents' letters, their worry and love for their daughter unwaning over three years. Frida's eyes stung. Muriel pulled her to the window, dodging busy servants scurrying the corridor. Wind carrying nearby branches and grass scents wafted gently through wide-open windows. Pushing Frida into the shady spot without sunlight, Muriel leaned against the windowsill.
"Actually, my brothers mentioned a few more things."
Frida perked her ears and leaned close to Muriel.
"What? Why tell me now."
"Just remembered."
Muriel crossed arms nonchalantly, pursing lips recalling.
"Hm, my eldest brother studied law at Chelino University with the late previous Rihardt Duke's cousin. He visited the ducal castle occasionally through that connection. Ah, you know Rihardt territory was near Chelino then?"
"I know. It became imperial property when Rihardt Duke ascended as Emperor."
Muriel nodded lightly and continued.
"Back then, the Duke and Dowager Empress were on extremely good terms."
Unable to hide disappointment, Frida shot Muriel a sideways glare, rolling her eyes up and down roguishly repeatedly.
"Who doesn't know that? The Dowager Empress Margaret, adored as benevolent for raising her lover's bastard like her own son, stealing her husband's love. Rumors said she dropped the mask at our wedding."
In truth, cracks in the benevolent mother mask started far earlier. Daniel, her stepbrother, earned the greatest merits for Emperor Leopold II Bolshtark's ascension. Yet granting him a title dragged on despite deserving far more. Rumors spread she opposed it most vehemently. Most were skeptical then. But when he received Utrecht instead of prime Chelino lands near former Rihardt territory, whispers arose everywhere. That she actually disapproved of her stepson. The wedge was his marriage to House Harkbon. Everyone buzzed she was just a woman after all—heartless, stingy. How could she do that to Daniel who risked life fighting for them...
"Not just good—extremely so. My brother said the Duke called her 'Mother'..."
Sensing odd presence, Muriel whirled around mid-sentence.
"What are you doing here?"
Frida yelped in shock at the black head popping through the second-floor window.
"Eek!"
