"Celeste." Isolde’s voice was steel wrapped in silk. "I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing. Truly. But I have all the help I need. And more importantly, I have the only help that matters—a husband who loves me, who chose me, who sees me as more than a burden or a duty." She smiled, and it was a blade. "I’m sure you can relate to that. After all, your fiancé is a viscount’s heir. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to have a wife who’s still trying to climb the social ladder through his name."
Celeste’s face went white. The jab was perfectly aimed—her engagement was widely known to be a strategic alliance, not a love match, and she’d always been sensitive about it.
"How dare you—" she started.
"That’s enough." Duke Halden’s voice cut through the tension like a physical blow. "Celeste. Your brother and his wife have made their position clear. We will leave them to it."
"Father—"
"I said enough." The Duke’s eyes swept over Emeric one more time.
"We’ll speak again, Emeric." It was not a request. "Try not to sully the Halden name any further."
Emeric inclined his head. "As you wish, Father."
The Halden family withdrew, Kaelen muttering under his breath, Celeste shooting one last venomous glance at Isolde before she followed.
Emeric let out a breath from mental exhaustion. His hands were shaking, just slightly.
"Emeric." Isolde’s voice was soft. "Look at me."
He looked down at her.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"For what?"
"For not letting them break you." She reached up, her fingers brushing his cheek. "For not letting them break us."
He smiled, small and wry. "Let’s get through this ordeal." He said, forming another smile. "Then I can think of a few ways you can thank me."
"Emeric!" She yelled in a soft bashful tone. "We are in public."
"I know." He replied, his mischievous smile remaining in place.
[DEVOTION LOGGED: STANDING FIRM AGAINST FAMILY PRESSURE]
[NATURE OF DEVOTION: REFUSING TO ALLOW FAMILY TO DIMINISH TARGET, MAINTAINING DIGNITY UNDER PROVOCATION, OFFERING STEADFAST SUPPORT]
[DP AWARDED: +6]
[BOND METER: 56 → 58]
The notification flickered at the edge of his vision. Emeric didn’t look at it. He didn’t need to. He knew what it said, and he didn’t care about the numbers, he cared about the woman in front of him.
"Come on," he said, his hand on the back of her chair. "Let’s find somewhere quieter. I need a drink, and I suspect you do too."
Another twenty minutes had passed and Emeric knew trouble was brewing.
Lord Kylian Voss had been watching them all night.
He was handsome in the way that money and breeding could make any man handsome. He had a strong jaw, piercing eyes, an athletic build that his tailored coat emphasized. He’d been a rising star in the military before his career stalled. He’d wanted to court Isolde once, before the Duskmere incident, and she’d rejected him publicly. A decision that earned her family’s disapproval but she had not cared then and he suspect she didn’t care now.
He was approaching them now, flanked by two lesser nobles that Emeric could care less about. But the predatory looks on their faces revealed their plans quite clearly.
"Isolde." His voice was smooth, practiced. "You look... well."
"I am well, Lord Kylian." Her voice was ice. "Thank you for noticing."
"I notice everything about you." He let his gaze travel over her, stopping at her chair, lingering with deliberate meaning. "I notice how much you’ve changed. How much you’ve... diminished."
"And I notice how much you haven’t." Isolde’s smile was a blade. "Still trying to prove yourself, I see. Still failing."
Something flickered in his eyes that resembled anger but he quickly suppressed it. "You always did have a sharp tongue. It’s unfortunate that’s all you have left now."
"Lord Kylian." Emeric stepped forward, placing himself between the man and his wife. "I believe you’ve said enough."
Kylian’s eyes shifted to him and the contempt in them was undisguised.
"The Unblessed Halden. I’d heard you’d finally got a husband." He said, momentarily shifting his gaze to Isolde. "I guess it would only make sense that you were carted off to a failure with no magic."
Emeric didn’t flinch. He didn’t care about being insulted. He had dealt with it all his life and there was no way he would be affected by it now.
Especially not from someone as insignificant as him.
"You’re quite pitiful Lord Kylian. Is there something you’d like to get off your chest?" Emeric said, a calm feeling sweeping over him.
The room went quiet. People were watching now, drawn by the tension, the drama, the promise of violence.
Kylian’s face darkened. "You’re nothing. A nobody. A man who only exists because his family couldn’t be bothered to disown him."
"And yet," Emeric said calmly, "you’re the one whose proposal she rejected. You’re the one who’s been standing in this room for an hour, watching her, hoping she’d look at you. Hoping she’d regret her choice."
He let out a small smile, and it was cold. "She doesn’t. She’s never even thought of you. You’re nothing to her. Nothing to me. Nothing at all."
Kylian’s hand went to his sword. "You dare—"
Emeric leveled him with a stare. "I don’t need to draw steel to prove I’m more of a man than you. You’ve already proven that yourself."
The hall was silent now. The music had stopped. Hundreds of eyes were on them.
That is when Emeric noticed her presence.
She stood at the edge of the circle, in silver and emerald, her face a mask of regal calm. But there was nothing warm in her eyes.
She was a beautiful woman, forty-five but looking thirty, with dark hair and sharp cheekbones.
"Lord Kylian." Her voice was silk over steel. "I believe you’ve had enough."
Kylian bowed hastily. "Your Majesty. I was merely—"
"You were making a spectacle of yourself." The Queen’s eyes moved to Emeric, evaluating him the way a merchant evaluates goods. "And you—you must be the Halden boy. The Unblessed one."