Chapter 3
The Hall of Glory, where the banquet was held, was immense. Three months into her new post, Chloe was seeing the Grand Duke’s residence and the inner castle for the first time, and the splendor of it all made her head spin. Music drifted from orchestras tucked into alcoves, and the air shimmered with the light of countless electric bulbs, which she had only ever heard about in stories.
Are all those sparkling things on the chandeliers… magical decorations?
As if to confirm her thought, the hall was blindingly bright despite the sun having fully set. To have so many expensive magical fixtures… everyone knew Ivanes was a wealthy kingdom, but this was a truly staggering display. Feeling out of place, Chloe surreptitiously lifted her sleeve and sniffed it.
I scrubbed myself raw earlier.
The two things the neat-freak Brigadier General Berk despised most were body odor and stray hairs. Terrified of giving him any cause for complaint, Chloe had scoured her entire body in the Royal Guard’s washroom. Still, she couldn’t help but feel small amidst the cloud of expensive perfumes that filled the air.
I should have borrowed some cologne from that bastard Ezra.
This was also her first royal audience. She never imagined she would meet the king for the first time under such bewildering circumstances.
"Grand Duke Berk, you’ve arrived."
While she’d been lost in thought, they had apparently reached the audience chamber. It was more subdued than the banquet hall but possessed a far greater sense of dignity. Servants and high-ranking nobles lined the room, flanking the throne. Most were major figures whose faces even Chloe, a minor noble, recognized. In the center of it all sat the king, who raised a hand with a hearty laugh.
Curtis, just entering the chamber, placed a hand respectfully over his heart and bowed his head. "I, Curtis Sean Berk, greet Your Majesty."
Chloe hastily dropped to one knee, performing the royal etiquette Noel had given her a crash course on. As the king’s brother, the Grand Duke was exempt, but Chloe would be in serious trouble if she failed to show proper deference.
As soon as their greetings were done, the king gestured. "Come, look at this."
Curtis’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly.
In the center of the room was a large table, and spread across it was a portrait of a breathtakingly beautiful woman.
The matchmaking candidate!
Chloe’s dazed expression sharpened with interest. So this was the woman who held a weapon against her damnable superior. Even from a distance, her beauty was undeniable.
The king smiled. "As you’ve no doubt heard, Grand Duke Berk. This is your intended, Duchess Isabelle of Glintland."
What’s this? The king seems a little too excited. Chloe watched him warily. Of course, any brother would be happy about a sibling’s marriage, but the king’s tone was different. It was the gloating tone of someone about to spring a nasty trap. Then again, it wasn’t so strange. The king’s intense dislike of his half-brother, Curtis, was well known throughout the kingdom. She was beginning to understand what Noel had meant about Curtis being caught in a trap.
Do people normally announce this so suddenly, in front of everyone?
Besides, the term "intended" was loaded. As a minor noble herself, Chloe knew that the marriage process for the titled was incredibly complex, involving dozens of documents and lengthy negotiations to confirm mutual benefits. This was especially true for a member of a ruling family like Grand Duke Berk.
A marriage to a foreign noble? As his adjutant, Chloe should have been aware of it long before the king ever mentioned it. It would have been front-page news in every paper in Ivanes. But she’d never heard a whisper of Curtis Sean Berk getting married. To be precise, she’d only heard the possibility of it from Noel earlier today. Therefore, unless a prior agreement had been made, not even the king could so brazenly refer to the Duchess as his "intended."
Just then, Curtis spoke, his voice dangerously calm. "Why is she my intended? I have never heard of this."
His words confirmed Chloe’s suspicions, but she was floored by something else. Is he for real, using that tone with the king?
The king’s face darkened at Curtis’s utter lack of respect. "News of a royal marriage is always the last to reach the one involved."
"My surname is Berk, not Ivanes. My marriage is hardly a royal affair."
Several nobles who had been admiring the portrait narrowed their eyes and discreetly stepped back. It was obvious they were trying to get out of the line of fire before sparks flew between the two notoriously foul-tempered men. Chloe desperately wanted to join them, but it was impossible. She was Curtis Sean Berk’s adjutant. If she retreated now, she’d endure three months of lectures from her superior about the proper duties of an aide.
So, fighting the urge to cry, Chloe stood her ground behind Curtis and silently weathered the storm. One wrong expression and she was done for. Observe nothing. Respond to nothing. Breathe quietly, she chanted internally.
The ensuing conversation, stripped of its courtly language, went something like this:
The king said to look at the marriage proposal, that it was perfect, and to look at the portrait because she was a knockout.
Curtis replied that if she was such a knockout, the king should marry her.
The king retorted that he was already married. Besides, she was coming to the banquet tonight, so Curtis should meet her and get married.
Curtis asked if it was just like that, on the king’s whim, and said no.
The king insisted he would do it because he said so, and told him not to pretend he didn’t know a proposal was coming. Curtis claimed he didn’t. The king said he knew Curtis didn’t have a woman anyway, so he should just do it. Curtis asked what the king knew and said he couldn’t just spring this on him. He questioned if being king meant he could do whatever he wanted. The king said yes, it did, and asked why.
The exchange was conducted with all the pomp and gravity of a state affair, but at its core, it was nothing more than a childish squabble. For Chloe, experiencing her first royal audience, it was both bewildering and deeply disheartening. Is this really the conversation I’m hearing at my first audience? Is the future of Ivanes in good hands?
But as she fretted over the kingdom’s future, she was oblivious to a more immediate threat: the complete and utter ruin of her own.
The argument raged on. "With all due respect, Your Majesty," Curtis began, his voice dripping with false deference, "your unworthy brother has something to say."
"Speak," the king grunted, his voice tight with anger.
Curtis met his gaze, his eyes like chips of ice. "I already have a woman I have promised to marry."
"And you expect me to believe that?" the king scoffed. "Have you forgotten the Crown Prince was just engaged? Every eligible noble lady in Ivanes was vetted. If you had a fiancée, I would have been the first to know."
"We met in secret."
"Grand Duke." The king waved a sheaf of papers, cutting him off. The documents looked vaguely familiar to Chloe. Wait, is that… "I have the Royal Guard’s duty logs right here. It seems you have been serving the kingdom with utmost diligence."
Oh, for heaven’s sake. Chloe almost laughed.
The king’s eyes bored into the Grand Duke. "Leaving at midnight and returning at dawn, every day for a week?" The implication was clear: I know everything, so don’t lie. And he wasn’t wrong.
Chloe nodded internally. She had been forced to match that man’s insane schedule. His name was probably all over those logs, right alongside hers. She wasn’t the only one, either. Half the Royal Guard prayed nightly that the man would find a lover, if only so they could get a break from the endless overtime. Chloe had been the most fervent among them, but after being forsaken by God every single dawn, she was now a staunch atheist.
"I met the Duchess of Glintland before this audience," the king continued. "When I carefully broached the subject of your marriage, she seemed quite receptive."
This was surprising. Chloe’s eyes widened. She didn’t know the details, but Glintland was a smaller, less powerful nation than Ivanes. They couldn’t offer a significant dowry, so there was no reason for them to be so eager. It seemed Glintland had come with marriage as their primary objective. Well, if the king despised the Grand Duke enough to want him gone, it made a certain kind of sense. Chloe could certainly sympathize with the sentiment. And of all places, it had to be Glintland.
But no matter how much he hates him, would he really just… send away the nation’s greatest war hero like this?
As if answering her unspoken question, the king added, "Ivanes is currently in a truce with three neighboring kingdoms. When have we ever known such peace? I believe it is best to celebrate the Grand Duke’s happy occasion during these tranquil times."
Even Chloe, a former Navy nobody, recognized the statement for the blatant falsehood it was. Who had secured that truce in the first place? The Grand Duke, who was standing right beside her. She was losing her mind again. The future of Ivanes… is definitely not okay.
She risked a sideways glance at her superior. He appeared impassive, but after three months as his adjutant, Chloe could read the subtle signs.
He is absolutely furious right now.
Yet, instead of showing his anger, her superior maintained an air of relaxed confidence, as if he held a hidden trump card.
* * *
