MTLNOVEL Chapter 131: [131] News from the North
The morning sun filtered through stained glass windows, casting jewel-toned patterns across Lady Selene's bedchamber. Calypso sat at her vanity, staring at her reflection while three handmaidens bustled around her like industrious bees.
"The blue silk or the crimson velvet for lunch with Duke Haverford, my lady?" Lissa, the youngest maid, held up two exquisite gowns.
Calypso examined both. Xavier would love the red on her… "The blue."
"An excellent choice," Agna said from the doorway, making Calypso jump. The chamberlain had a disconcerting habit of appearing without warning. "Duke Haverford appreciates modesty in a potential bride."
"How fortunate for him," Calypso muttered, turning back to the mirror.
She studied her—no, Lady Selene's—face. The woman was undeniably beautiful, with high cheekbones, full lips, and deep purple eyes framed by thick lashes. Her wine-red hair fell in loose waves past her shoulders, rich and glossy in the morning light. The body Calypso now inhabited was just as impressive as her own form—perhaps even more so in certain areas.
Not bad for a mortal, she thought, running her hands down her sides. Though I do miss my pink eyes and silver hair.
Selene's wardrobe was extensive, filled with gowns made from fabrics that would bankrupt small kingdoms. The blue silk dress Lissa selected was embroidered with silver thread that formed intricate snowflake patterns along the bodice and sleeves.
"Where is Margot?" Calypso asked as Agna supervised the maids' work.
"I sent her to collect herbs from the southern greenhouse," Agna replied, inspecting the dress for wrinkles. "The healers require fresh winterbloom for their remedies."
Calypso's stomach dropped. "The southern greenhouse? That's… on the other side of the city."
"Indeed. She won't return until this evening."
A flicker of triumph flashed in Agna's eyes before vanishing. It was all Calypso needed to see. The old bat heard us.
"How thoughtful of you to arrange that," Calypso said, forcing a smile.
"I live to serve, Lady Selene." Agna's lips curved into what might generously be called a smile. "The High Burner has made his expectations quite clear. This lunch with Duke Haverford is not merely social—it is a matter of state importance."
Fuck, Calypso thought. Now what?
With Margot gone, her escape plan had vanished. She'd have to endure the entire lunch with Duke Haverford and his pickled-herring breath. The thought made her want to scream, but she kept her expression neutral as the maids helped her into the blue silk gown.
"Your hair, my lady?" asked Tessa, the middle maid, holding up a silver brush.
"A simple style," Calypso said.
Agna cleared her throat. "Perhaps the cascade of braids you wore at the Midwinter Council? It was most becoming."
"I was thinking more of a knot at the nape of my neck," Calypso countered.
"Lady Selene." Agna's voice carried a warning note. "Your uncle—"
"Fine." Calypso sighed dramatically. "The braids. But no flowers. Not a single blossom."
As Tessa's fingers wove the braids, Calypso's mind raced through her remaining strategies.
Okay, escape plan is shot. What's plan B?
Fainting?
No, Agna would probably just check my pulse and prop me up in the chair.
Being a rude bitch?
Tempting, but Uncle Torval would lock me in this room until I turned to dust. Useless.
"All finished, my lady," Tessa said, stepping back to admire her work.
Calypso examined her reflection. The braids were indeed beautiful, woven into an intricate pattern that framed her face before cascading down her back. Combined with the blue silk gown, the effect was stunning but modest—exactly what a potential bride should look like.
"You look magnificent," Agna said with satisfaction. "Duke Haverford will be most pleased."
"How thrilling," Calypso said dryly.
A sharp knock echoed through the chamber, followed by a servant's voice. "Lady Selene, the Duke has arrived. The High Burner requests your presence in the east solar."
"Already?" Calypso glanced at the ornate clock on the mantel. "He's early."
"Eagerness is a good sign in a suitor," Agna said, gesturing for Calypso to stand. "Remember your courtesies, my lady. And do try to smile."
I'll smile when Xavier gets here and we can leave this frozen nightmare, Calypso thought, but she nodded obediently.
If she could just delay any formal betrothal until he arrived...
The east solar was one of the warmest rooms in Hearthome, situated directly above a volcanic vent. Large windows overlooked the snow-covered city, while tapestries depicting the Eternal Flame adorned the walls. In the center of the room, a table had been set for an intimate lunch, complete with crystal goblets and silver place settings.
Two men stood near the windows, turning as she entered. The first was her "uncle," High Burner Torval, a broad-shouldered man with a flame-red beard streaked with gray. Beside him stood a tall, lean figure dressed in midnight blue and silver—Duke Haverford.
Calypso paused in the doorway, scanning the Duke from head to toe as if assessing a new character roll.
Okay, so the stats aren't garbage. He's like… five Xavi's out of ten.
"Ah, here she is," Torval boomed. "Niece, allow me to present Duke Cedric Haverford of the Northern Reaches."
The Duke stepped forward, taking Calypso's hand and bowing over it. "Lady Selene. Your beauty outshines even the legends that precede it."
His breath, Calypso noted with surprise, smelled of mint, not pickled herring. Either Selene's memories were outdated, or the Duke had made a special effort today.
"You honor me with your presence, Duke Haverford," Calypso replied, dipping into a curtsy. "I hope your journey to Hearthome was not too arduous."
"The passes grow more treacherous each year," the Duke said, straightening. "But the promise of meeting you made every hardship worthwhile."
Smooth talker.
"Please, let us sit," Torval said, gesturing to the table. "The cook has prepared a special meal for this occasion."
As they took their seats, Calypso's gaze fell on a fourth place setting. "Are we expecting another guest, Uncle?"
"Indeed." Torval's eyes twinkled. "I've invited Lord Commander Alaric to join us. He brings news from the southern border that may interest the Duke."
A cold knot formed in Calypso's stomach. Alaric. The High Burner's attack dog. This lunch was transforming from a diplomatic cage into a full-blown interrogation.
Servants appeared, pouring wine and laying out the first course—a delicate soup of winter root vegetables. As they ate, Duke Haverford kept the conversation flowing with tales of his lands and questions about Hearthome.
"I understand you suffered a spell of illness recently, Lady Selene," he said, his blue eyes sharp with interest. "I hope you've fully recovered?"
"Mostly," Calypso replied, seizing the opportunity. "The healers say I must still be careful. Too much excitement could trigger a relapse."
"What sort of illness was it?" the Duke asked.
Calypso hesitated. What had Selene actually suffered from? Her memories of the event were fragmentary at best, consisting mostly of fever dreams and disjointed images.
"A fever of unknown origin," she said finally. "The healers were quite perplexed."
"It began during the Midwinter Council," Torval added. "Selene collapsed in the middle of Lord Fennick's speech about grain tariffs. Gave us all quite a fright."
"How fortunate that you recovered," the Duke said. "Some say it was a sign from the Flame itself."
Calypso raised an eyebrow. "A sign? Of what?"
"Change," the Duke said simply. "The old ways giving way to new possibilities."
His tone was light, but an unnerving current ran beneath it. Calypso studied him more closely. Does he know something? About me? The gate? It seemed impossible, and yet...
"Do you often interpret illnesses as divine messages, Duke Haverford?" she asked.
He smiled, revealing a dimple in his left cheek. "Only when they happen to beautiful women during discussions of grain tariffs."
The door opened, admitting a tall, armored figure with a grim expression. Lord Commander Alaric was a hard-faced man with close-cropped gray hair and a scar that ran from his temple to his jaw.
"Forgive my tardiness," he said, bowing to Torval. "Urgent matters required my attention."
"What matters?" Torval asked, frowning.
Alaric glanced at Calypso and the Duke. "Perhaps we should discuss this privately, High Burner."
"Nonsense," Torval waved a hand. "The Duke is a trusted ally, and Selene is family. Speak freely."
The Lord Commander took his seat, his armor creaking slightly. "We've received reports of unusual activity in the northern passes. Another caravan was attacked three days ago by Thornbeasts."
"Regrettable, but hardly unusual," Torval said, returning to his soup.
"What is unusual," Alaric continued, "is that Dalen claims one man killed three Thornbeasts single-handedly. With a dagger."
Calypso's spoon clattered against her bowl. "A man? What man?"
Alaric's hard eyes fixed on her. "A stranger. Tall, Dark-haired, blue-eyed. The survivor called him 'Thornslayer.'"
Xavier, Calypso thought, her heart racing. It has to be.
"One man against three Thornbeasts?" Duke Haverford shook his head. "That's impossible. Even my best hunters work in teams of four to bring down a single beast."
"Hence my concern," Alaric said. "This man is either blessed by the Flame... or something else entirely."
"Where is this caravan now?" Calypso asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"They reached the third waypoint yesterday," Alaric replied. "If they continue at their current pace, they'll arrive in Hearthome a little over a week from now."