This had to be Theron’s representative.
His right-hand man.
Then a woman emerged from the carriage behind him, and Kat’s eyes widened.
She was perhaps a few years older than Kat, with a lean, athletic build and dark hair braided tightly against her skull, woven through with thin leather strips and small metal rings that caught the light.
She wore the same armor and furs as the men, but what truly shocked Kat was what she saw beneath the armor—the woman was wearing trousers.
Actual trousers, like a man would wear, fitted and practical, tucked into tall leather boots.
Kat had never seen a woman wear trousers before.
In the South, such a thing would be scandalous, unthinkable.
Ladies wore gowns and skirts, always.
But this northern woman wore her trousers with the same casual confidence as her armor, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
A sword hung at her hip, and Kat could see the hilts of daggers strapped to her thighs.
Her face was striking rather than beautiful—all sharp angles and fierce eyes—and she looked like she could kill a man without breaking a sweat.
The woman said something to the man, who nodded and replied.
Then they both turned toward the manor entrance, where Kat could see her family beginning to gather.
Her father was there—Lord Edmund Ashford, tall and distinguished in his formal coat, his graying hair perfectly styled.
He stood with the bearing of a man accustomed to authority, though Kat knew that authority had never extended to protecting her.
Her mother stood beside him, resplendent as always in a gown of deep burgundy, her blonde hair arranged in an elaborate style.
She had her arm around Celeste, who looked radiant in pale blue silk, her golden hair cascading down her back in perfect ringlets.
Marcus stood slightly apart, looking bored as usual, but at least he’d bothered to dress formally for the occasion.
They looked like the perfect noble family.
Beautiful.
Refined.
United.
No one would ever guess the rot beneath the surface.
Kat took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress one final time, and turned from the window.
It was time.
________________________________________
By the time Kat descended the grand staircase, the northern representatives had been ushered into the entrance hall.
She could hear voices—her father’s deep tones, her mother’s cultured accent, and two unfamiliar voices speaking with the distinctive northern burr she’d only heard in stories.
She paused at the bottom of the stairs, suddenly uncertain.
Her hands trembled as she clutched her skirts, and she had to remind herself to breathe.
This was it.
The moment everything changed.
“Ah, Katriana!” Her father’s voice rang out, warm and welcoming in a way it never was when they were alone.
“Come, my dear.
Come meet our honored guests.”
Kat stepped into the entrance hall; her eyes downcast in the submissive posture she’d perfected over years of trying to avoid notice.
“May I present my daughter, Katriana Ashford,” her father said, and there was something almost like pride in his voice.
A performance for the northerners, of course.
“Katriana, this is Commander Aldric Stormwind, the Archduke’s right hand and most trusted advisor.”
Kat looked up—carefully, cautiously—and found herself meeting the gaze of the dark-haired man from the carriage.
Up close, Commander Stormwind was even more imposing.
He stood well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a warrior’s build.
His face was weathered and scarred—a thin white line across his left cheekbone, another disappearing into his hairline—but his features were strong and handsome in a rough-hewn way. Follow the newest chapters on NovelPing.
His eyes were a striking dark blue, sharp and intelligent, and they studied her with an intensity that made her want to shrink back.
His long hair was adorned with silver beads woven into several braids, and she could see small carved charms—runes, perhaps—threaded through the strands.
But there was no cruelty in that gaze.
No disgust or disappointment.
Just…
assessment.
“Lady Ashford,” Commander Stormwind said, his voice deep and resonant with the northern accent.
He bowed—not the elaborate courtly bow of southern nobility, but a brief, respectful inclination of his head.
“It’s an honor to meet you.
The Archduke has asked me to escort you safely to Blackwoods.”
“The honor is mine, Commander,” Kat said softly, dropping into a curtsy.
Her voice came out steadier than she’d expected, though her hands still trembled in her skirts.
“And this,” Commander Stormwind continued, gesturing to the woman beside him, “is Renna Wolfhart.
She’s been assigned as your personal guard for the journey and beyond.
She’ll be responsible for your safety and wellbeing.”
The dark-haired woman stepped forward and bowed as well—the same brief, northern style.
“Lady Ashford.
I’m at your service.”
Her voice was lower than Kat had expected, with a rough edge that suggested years of shouting orders on training grounds.
But her expression, while serious, wasn’t unkind.
“Thank you, Renna,” Kat managed.
“I’m…
I’m grateful for your protection.”
“We’ll keep you safe, my lady,” Renna said simply.
“You have my word.”
Lord Ashford beamed, playing the role of proud father to perfection.
“Commander Stormwind, Renna, we cannot thank you enough for making this long journey.
We are honored by your presence.”
“The honor is ours, Lord Ashford,” Commander Stormwind said, and Kat was surprised by the genuine warmth in his tone.
“But we should begin our journey as soon as possible.
We have a long road ahead, and the weather in the northern passes can turn quickly this time of year.
The sooner we depart, the better.”
“Of course, of course,” Lord Ashford said.
“We understand completely.
The Archduke’s time is valuable, and we wouldn’t want to delay the meeting of the betrothed.”
Lady Vivienne stepped forward, still with her arm around Celeste.
“Commander, Renna, I hope you’ll convey our deepest gratitude to the Archduke for this alliance.
It’s an honor for our family.”
“The honor is mutual, Lady Ashford,” Commander Stormwind said with another polite bow.
“The Archduke speaks highly of your family’s reputation.”
Lies, of course.
Polite lies, but lies, nonetheless.
The Archduke had chosen Kat because she was convenient and expendable, not because of any great respect for the Ashford name.
But the northerners played their part well, maintaining the fiction with grace and courtesy.
Celeste stepped forward then, her expression the picture of sisterly concern and affection.
She took Kat’s hands in hers, her grip gentle, her blue eyes soft with what looked like genuine emotion.
“Oh, Katriana,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
“I’m going to miss you so much.
Please write to us when you can.
Let us know you’re safe and well.”
She leaned in as if to embrace Kat and whispered so quietly that only Kat could hear: “Good riddance, you cursed thing. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Don’t come back.”
Then she pulled back, her eyes glistening with what the northerners would surely interpret as tears of sisterly love.
“Safe travels, dear sister.”
Kat looked at her sister—beautiful, beloved Celeste, who had perfected the art of cruelty disguised as kindness.
There was no love between them, had never been.
Celeste had learned early that tormenting Kat earned their parents’ approval, and she’d never seen reason to stop.
“Thank you,” Kat said softly, because it was expected.
Lady Vivienne stepped forward and placed both hands-on Kat’s shoulders, her expression one of maternal concern.
To the northerners, it must have looked like a tender moment between mother and daughter.
“We’ll miss you terribly, darling,” Lady Vivienne said, her voice warm and loving.
Then, so quietly that only Kat could hear: “Try not to shame us more than you already have.
Stay hidden.
Stay silent.”
She pulled Kat into a brief embrace and whispered against her ear: “If you embarrass this family, there will be consequences.”
Then she stepped back, dabbing at her eyes as though overcome with emotion.
“Be well, my dear child.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Kat said, because it was expected.
Marcus stepped forward next, and his expression was one of brotherly affection.
He clasped Kat’s shoulder in what looked like a gesture of support and encouragement.
“Take care of yourself, sister,” he said warmly.
Then, his fingers digging into her shoulder hard enough to bruise, he murmured: “Don’t come back.
You’re not wanted here.”
He released her and stepped back, offering her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Safe travels.”
Finally, Lord Ashford approached.
He placed both hands-on Kat’s shoulders and looked down at her with an expression of paternal pride and concern.
“Katriana,” he said gravely, his voice carrying across the hall.
“You carry the Ashford name now into a new land.
Make us proud, my dear.
Be the daughter we’ve raised you to be.”
His fingers tightened on her shoulders, and he leaned in as though to kiss her forehead.
Instead, he whispered harshly: “Be dutiful, be obedient, and stay out of sight as much as possible.
Don’t shame us.”
“I will, Father,” Kat said quietly.
“I’ll do my best.”
“See that you do.” He squeezed her shoulders once—hard enough to hurt—then stepped back, his expression once again warm and fatherly.
“Commander Stormwind, she’s in your capable hands now.
Please give the Archduke our warmest regards.”
“I will, Lord Ashford,” the Commander said.
Then he turned to Kat, his expression softening slightly.
“Lady Ashford, are you ready?
We should depart now if we’re to make good time.”
Kat nodded, not trusting her voice.
Renna stepped forward and offered her arm.
“Come, my lady.
I’ll help you to the carriage.”
Kat took the offered arm, grateful for the support.
Her legs felt weak, her head light.
This was really happening.
She was really leaving.
As they walked toward the door, toward the carriage and the Fjord horses and the northern guards, Kat didn’t look back at her family.
She couldn’t bear to see the relief on their faces, the joy at finally being rid of her—hidden beneath their masks of sorrow and concern.