Chapter 70
At the close of spring, Kyle and I finally arrived in Valmoria, the capital of Ivoryspire. The sight of its grand spires and immaculate streets stirred something deep within me, an ache woven from memories.
Baron Fondy had been most generous, providing us with a well-appointed carriage for our journey, as well as a small escort of guards and maids. His kindness, however, was hardly selfless. I had no doubt he sought to curry favor now that my title would surpass his own. Yet his motives were of little concern to me. My mind was elsewhere. Ever since that letter from Millicent, she had not written again. Not a single word. As much as I ought to celebrate our official and irrevocable severance, the hollowness in my chest betrayed me.
The carriage rolled smoothly along the well-maintained roads. The lush and vibrant trees lined the pathways with careful symmetry, and the streets bore not a single blemish.
Kyle, seated across from me, fidgeted in his new attire, a nobleman's suit tailored just for the occasion. The sight of him dressed so finely was an odd one. He reached for the carriage window, sliding it open with eager hands before leaning out, his expression alight with wonder.
"My love! The capital is amazin', more stunnin' than Torvalis, that's for sure!" he exclaimed, his voice brimming with awe.
That is because we lived in the slums, I wished to tell him. But in truth, everywhere in Ivoryspire was far more beautiful than Zalvanica. Millicent had ensured that. She had poured her heart into this land, sculpting it with a meticulousness that left no corner neglected.
Before she had shattered me, when I had been foolishly, desperately in love, she had once told me, "I desire for Ivoryspire to be a realm where people long to reside, a sanctuary where solace may be found. No soul, no matter how destitute, should be condemned to endure a life of squalor and despair."
"Your Ladyship! We are nearing the temple!" the coachman called, his voice pulling me harshly back into the present.
I inhaled deeply, steadying myself. Today was the day I would claim what was rightfully mine.
"Oh, it shall be soon then! So from now on, my title is Marquess, right, love?" Kyle asked excitedly.
I sighed, knowing my response would disappoint him. "Kyle, I am afraid that is not the case. You shall remain Kyle Woodstone, as the law does not permit men to inherit a woman's rank. Only a woman can inherit a man's rank." I offered him a small smile, hoping to soften the blow. "But it is merely a title, nothing more. Do not trouble yourself over it."
For a moment, disappointment flickered across his features, but it was quickly replaced with optimism. "Oh, that's alright! So long as you are still with me, I reckon I've got nothin' to complain about!"
I returned his smile, though it was forced. With him, yet thinking of someone else. I was a disgrace. Through and through.
"Here we are!" the coachman called, and almost immediately, a guard stepped forward to open the carriage door, bowing.
Kyle was the first to step out, turning swiftly to extend his hand to me. Gripping my cane, I accepted his offered hand, and as I descended, I caught the sight before me.
A grand spectacle awaited us. In front of the towering temple, hundreds of nobles had gathered, their expressions varying. Some polite, some curious, others unreadable. A long crimson carpet stretched before me, leading to the entrance where a priest stood, beaming with practiced warmth.
Issac Beltmore approached, clad in a pristine, well-tailored suit. He bowed, his smile seemingly genuine. "Welcome back to Valmoria, Your Ladyship."
Kyle turned to me, eyes narrowing in confusion. "Welcome back? You've been here before, my love?"
My gaze lowered. I had no desire to explain. Not now. Not ever.
Issac swiftly intervened. "Mr. Woodstone, if you would accompany me."
Kyle frowned. "Oh? I ain't supposed to walk with my wife?"
"Her Ladyship is to swear an oath," Issac explained smoothly. "Unfortunately, you may not accompany her during the proceedings."
Kyle's brows furrowed, clearly bewildered by the formalities of nobility.
My mind drifted further, lost in thoughts I should not have entertained. I walked forward as though in a trance, barely aware of my own movements. The priest spoke, but I heard nothing. His words melted into a meaningless hum. A cup was pressed into my hands, I drank absently. I uttered the expected responses, nodding where necessary, murmuring a lifeless "yes" here and there. I thumbprinted a document, knelt when prompted, and endured more droning speeches, one from Issac, though I did not bother to grasp a single word of it. And then, it was done.
Like flies to honey, the nobles swarmed me at once. Their voices overlapped, their congratulations spilling forth with varying degrees of sincerity. I offered them all the same rehearsed grace, a smile when required, a nod when necessary. Their faces blurred together in an endless sea of pleasantries, but my gaze flickered restlessly through the crowd, seeking, hoping.
Against my better judgment, against all reason, my heart pounded in quiet anticipation. Would she be here? Was that too much to hope for? And if she was, what would I even say? Would I thank her for this title, this wealth? Would I scoff at her, remind her of the agony she had left me in? I did not know. I only knew that some foolish, desperate part of me longed to see those crimson eyes.
But she was not here.
As the sun dipped beneath the horizon and the last noble finally departed, Laura approached. "Congratulations, Your Ladyship."
I grasped her hands before I even realized what I was doing. "Laura, where is Issac?"
As if summoned, Issac stepped forward. "Congra-"
"Where is Her Grace?" The words tumbled from my lips, faster than I intended. Even I was startled by my own desperation.
Issac's expression flickered with surprise. "She should be at home," he answered carefully.
"Can you take me to see her?" The question escaped.
Issac's brows lifted, his surprise turning to quiet disbelief. "Truly?" he asked, as though he had misheard me.
Reality crashed down upon me. No. No, I cannot. The realization felt like a slap. I was married. I was Kyle's wife. I was not supposed to think of her, not like this.
Regret clenched at my throat. "No," I amended quickly.
But my heart ached.
Issac studied me with barely concealed confusion. Laura sighed.
I cleared my throat, forcing my mind elsewhere. "Where is my wealth?"
Issac straightened at once, returning to his usual efficiency. "Your father has a residence here in Valmoria. It now belongs to you. I highly recommend staying there for a time, so that you may familiarize yourself with your new assets."
"Then I shall go there. Arrange for someone to take me."
"I shall take you, Your Ladyship," Laura stepped forward without hesitation.
"Laura?"
"I have volunteered to serve as your aide," she said. "You may dismiss me, but I strongly advise against it. You have assets and businesses spread throughout Ivoryspire, Landfox, Dunverra, Baymoon and other places. Navigating them will not be simple, and you will need my guidance."
"My wife has been learning from me how I manage Her Grace's affairs," Issac said. "Please place your faith in her, Your Ladyship."
And so, with Laura, Kyle, and myself packed into the same carriage, we set off toward my new residence. My lips moved, discussing business and wealth, answering Laura's inquiries with detached efficiency. But in the corners of my mind, lingering like an echo I could not silence, a pair of crimson eyes refused to leave me.