Chapter 115: The Price Of Resentment.

Chapter 115

Night had long since descended upon the Northern Fortress, burying its stone walls beneath a veil of darkness. Beyond the narrow windows, snow drifted lazily from the skies, gathering upon the battlements and blanketing the courtyard in pale silver beneath the half-moon. Within her bedchamber, Sigrid stood before the tall standing mirror, examining her reflection with the same meticulous attention she afforded every matter concerning her survival. Her dark nightgown fell loosely about her figure, whilst her crimson eyes remained fixed upon the woman staring back at her. There was no trace of apprehension upon her face, only the quiet composure of someone who had already accounted for every possible outcome.

Turning her head slightly, she regarded Lilith, who stood near the dressing table with a lantern resting between her hands. "Have the necessary preparations been made?" Sigrid murmured, her voice scarcely louder than the whisper of the wind beyond the glass.

Lilith inclined her head. "Everything has been arranged precisely as Your Grace commanded."

"Excellent." Sigrid’s lips curved into the faintest smile. She had little patience for uncertainty, particularly when she had already anticipated the shape it would take. The former servants had been dismissed, their resentment left to fester beyond the fortress walls, and Chester’s suspicions had only strengthened her conviction that certain individuals would not accept their dismissal quietly. If they intended to return beneath the cover of darkness, she would afford them the opportunity to do so. After all, a rat was far easier to catch when it believed the household had fallen asleep.

She had scarcely taken two steps towards the chamber door when a knock sounded from the other side. A messenger stood waiting in the corridor, his cloak dusted with snow and a sealed letter held carefully between his gloved fingers. "A missive from His Grace the Duke, Your Grace. It has only just arrived."

Sigrid accepted the letter, recognising the familiar seal before she had even broken the wax. How very diligent of her husband, she thought, unfolding the parchment with an expression of mild amusement. His message concerned the state of affairs at the northern border, the movement of his soldiers, and several matters requiring her attention within the fortress. His words were as precise as ever, devoid of unnecessary sentiment, and yet she found herself smiling as she reached the end. There was something almost endearing about a man who could command hundreds of soldiers without hesitation but apparently considered it necessary to inform his wife of every development in his absence.

Taking up her quill, Sigrid turned the parchment over and began writing her reply. She informed Soren of the dismissal of the entire household, explaining that she intended to select her own staff and ensure that no unwanted eyes lingered within his stronghold. She also mentioned, with considerable satisfaction, that she would be making further use of his considerable treasury to secure the fortress and its inhabitants. Should he take offence at the expense, he was perfectly welcome to return and voice his displeasure before her.

She sealed the letter and returned it to the messenger. "Deliver this to His Grace without delay. I would have it placed directly into his hands, not left to languish upon some careless servant’s desk."

"As Your Grace commands." The messenger bowed and withdrew, leaving Sigrid to regard the empty corridor for a moment before turning back into her chamber.

Her expression changed as she approached the window. Beyond the glass, the snow-covered courtyard appeared deserted, its stillness almost convincing. Almost. Sigrid’s crimson eyes followed the faint disturbance near the outer wall, where a shadow slipped between the stone pillars before disappearing into the darkness. A moment later, she heard the distant crunch of snow beneath hurried footsteps.

Her smile returned.

Everything was proceeding precisely as she had anticipated.

"Lilith," she called softly, never taking her eyes from the courtyard, "extinguish the candles."

Lilith obeyed without question, snuffing out the flames until the chamber sank into darkness. Sigrid crossed the room and settled beneath the heavy duvet, arranging herself upon the mattress as though preparing for an undisturbed night’s rest. She closed her eyes, slowed her breathing, and allowed her body to grow still. Whoever intended to enter her chamber would find a sleeping duchess and, they would undoubtedly believe, an easy target.

She waited.

Minutes passed before the faint creak of the chamber door disturbed the silence. Sigrid did not move. The hinges groaned almost imperceptibly as the door opened a little farther, followed by the soft, uneven patter of footsteps upon the stone floor. Whoever had entered was making a deliberate effort to remain quiet, yet their steps lacked the measured weight of an adult.

A child, then.

Sigrid kept her breathing steady, her fingers resting loosely beneath the blanket. Earlier that afternoon, Chester had informed her that two of the dismissed servants had displayed a particularly troubling degree of resentment. There had been a third individual as well, a child whose anger appeared to stem from something altogether different. At the time, Sigrid had instructed Chester not to prevent any intruder from entering her chamber, provided her guards remained close enough to intervene. Something about the child’s expression had troubled her, and she wished to understand why.

Now, listening to the hesitant footsteps drawing nearer, she wondered whether her instincts had been correct.

"I must do this..." a small voice whispered. "For Rony’s sake, I must. Else, he shall not live to see another dawn."

Sigrid’s brow tightened almost imperceptibly.

Rony? Who was that?

The footsteps stopped beside her bed. For several seconds, the intruder remained motionless, seemingly wrestling with a decision that had brought them this far but had not yet given them the courage to finish what they had begun. Sigrid could almost feel their hesitation hanging in the darkness. Then the mattress dipped ever so slightly as a small hand reached for the edge of her duvet.

She moved.

In one swift motion, Sigrid threw aside the blanket, seized the intruder by the wrist, and pulled them towards her before they could react. A muffled scream escaped the child as Sigrid caught her firmly around the shoulders, preventing her from breaking free. The chamber door flew open almost immediately, and Chester entered with Lilith close behind him. Lilith hurried to light the lantern, illuminating the room and revealing the trembling girl trapped within Sigrid’s grasp.

She appeared to be no older than thirteen, with a round face, dishevelled hair, and eyes wide with terror. She struggled desperately against Sigrid’s hold, twisting her shoulders and attempting to wrench her wrist free, but her efforts accomplished little.

"Chester, take hold of her," Sigrid ordered. "And mind your strength. She is a child, not some hardened criminal to be dragged before the executioner’s block."

Chester stepped forward and assumed control of the girl, keeping his grip firm enough to prevent her escape without causing her unnecessary pain. Sigrid rose from the bed and straightened her nightgown before regarding the girl with a cool, unwavering gaze.

"Now then," she began, her voice carrying the quiet authority of a woman accustomed to obedience, "would you care to explain why you have returned to this fortress with the intention of doing me harm? If my recollection serves me correctly, you and your guardians were among those dismissed this morning. I granted your household a most generous severance, sufficient to spare you the indignity of want. Yet here you stand in my private chambers, beneath the cover of darkness. I trust you possess a compelling explanation for such extraordinary ingratitude."