Chapter 20 : The Duke’s Proposal - Part 1

I slowly made my way through the crowd, following the sound of applause. Wherever I looked, laughter, raised glasses and contemptuous glances brushed against my skin.

In the centre of that golden circle of nobles full of falsehood, my eyes stopped on him: the Marquis Velkan Riesenhart, my father... and the host of this "show".

He sat cross-legged with an impassive face, as if nothing in this world could affect him. His indifference was so palpable that some nobles moved away from him. But soon my attention shifted to his side, where the sound was louder.

There, a man clapped with a sharp, satisfied smile.

It was Duke Vaelgrand.

August Vaelgrand.

A noble of imposing stature, straight red hair slicked back, and an unshakable presence that seemed to stir the very atmosphere. His gaze alone radiated authority and command.

And at that moment, his eyes were fixed on me.

Then, with a simple—almost lazy—gesture of his hand, it was as if the order to proceed had finally been given...

The crowd burst into applause.

Not out of respect.

Not out of excitement.

Simply to demonstrate one thing: hierarchy.

A shiver ran down my spine. It was truly disgusting.

«I'm not a damn jester.»

I took half a step back. I was going to leave. Let them applaud someone else. Let them put on their theater without me.

But then…

—Daven.

The Marquess's voice cut my step short.

I closed my eyes for a moment and cursed in silence:

"Damn it."

I approached. My steps were steady, my back straight, my face neutral. When I stood before them, the marquess barely looked at me. He simply turned a hand toward the duke, as if presenting me on a silver platter.

—Allow me to introduce you —he said with the same coldness as always—. This is my second son.

I turned to face the man. Hair like flame, dark eyes, upright shoulders. He dressed with extravagance, yet it didn't come off as ostentatious. Every fold of his clothing showed character—someone who didn't care about being seen or judged.

I gave a slight bow, not allowing a single emotion to slip through my expression.

—Daven von Riesenhart offers his greetings to Duke Vaelgrand…

The duke didn't respond immediately. He studied me for a few seconds, as if evaluating something. Then he nodded, satisfied.

—You've raised your son well, Velkan —he said with a faint smile.

"Raised? —I thought—. Is that what they call raising a child here? Locking him up, treating him like trash, and then pretending he doesn't exist…?"

A flood of emotions surged within me. I bit my lower lip to hold them back… and swallowed the words.

...

The marquess did not respond. He simply took a sip from his glass, as if what was happening before him didn't concern him in the slightest.

Then something happened that I didn't expect.

Soft but firm footsteps approached, breaking the tense air with a deadly elegance.

—Father, you're being disrespectful to the marquess —said a feminine voice, melodic and firm.

I turned my head at the sound of that voice.

A young woman with fine features, pale skin, and fiery red hair looked at me with a half-smile on her lips. Her deep green eyes seemed to measure every reaction in silence.

Clarisse Vaelgrand.

She didn't need an introduction—everyone in that room knew who she was.

The duke's smile widened, clearly pleased.

—You're here, Clarisse. Good, that saves me the trouble of calling you.

And then, without preamble or filter, the duke addressed me directly:

—Daven, what do you think of my daughter?

The question fell like a bucket of cold water in the middle of winter. Several conversations ceased. All eyes turned toward me.

What do I think? I barely know her. I've hardly exchanged a glance with her. What am I supposed to say...?

—She's… a charming young woman —I finally replied, choosing my words carefully.

Clarisse tilted her head slightly, as if enjoying the show.

—See? —the duke said, openly pleased—. Velkan, about the engagement we discussed… I want it to be with your second son.

A low hum invaded my ears.

I felt my blood freeze.

His words echoed like an execution bell. The murmuring rose again, like a current about to overflow.

The marquess finally spoke.

—You know that's not possible —he said with the same indifference as before—. He's already engaged to the third princess.

Engaged...? When!?

My mind went blank. I searched my memories desperately but found nothing... In my memories there was only confinement, absence, rejection. Never a name, never a conversation. No one had ever mentioned a fiancée to me.