"I do not know what the hell has gotten into you Edward, but I will not sit here and watch you treat my baby girl in such a way. Enjoy your dinner."
Duchess Julianna rose sharply, her voice a low hiss of indignation. Her steely grey eyes glared daggers at Elspeth—a final, chilling condemnation—before she gave a sharp huff and swept out of the dining hall, presumably to track the trail of her daughter's fury.
Duke Edward Montgomery sighed, leaning back heavily in his oversized chair. He ran a hand through his neatly kept red hair, now heavily streaked with grey at the temples. The stress of ruling his vast dukedom and managing his tempestuous family seemed to have finally weighted his shoulders.
Elspeth remained seated, quiet and submissive, her soft green eyes fixed on a point on the tablecloth. Conflict made her deeply uncomfortable; her best course of action was always to remain silent and still until the danger passed or she was directly addressed.
"I'm sorry, Elspeth. This wasn't my intention for how the news would be delivered." The Duke's tone had grown soft, tired, almost deflated, when he finally addressed his oldest daughter.
Elspeth looked up. The only feature she shared with her father were those distinct green eyes, a genetic gift he'd passed to both his daughters. Otherwise, Elspeth was the spitting image of her late mother, Rebecca: petite, graceful, with platinum blonde hair that earned her many compliments—a beauty both delicate and undeniable, though one the Duchess would never acknowledge.
"I understand, Father," Elspeth replied simply, her voice low and steady. "An Imperial Decree leaves little room for discussion."
The Duke's face softened with gratitude. "You handle this with far more decorum than… well. You are your mother's daughter, in spirit as well as form." He paused, his gaze drifting toward the door Isla had slammed through. "This marriage is necessary, Elspeth. The Emperor sees fit to connect the strongest houses, and Grand Duke De Cristo is vital to the stability of Northova. He requires a solid Duchess, a pillar of tradition."
A duty, not a choice, Elspeth thought, but did not voice. "I will do my duty, Father. I will be a Duchess of whom the Montgomery name can be proud."
Meanwhile, in the depths of the stable yard, Isla was already a force of nature.
Tears of frustration had dried, replaced by the burning heat of outrage. She found her personal groom, a small, nervous boy named Gareth, cowering slightly by the tack room.
"Gareth! Flame, now!" Isla's command cut through the evening air like a whip. "Saddle him. I ride tonight."
Gareth wrung his hands.
"My Lady Isla, the hour is late. It's too dark for a hard ride, and his temper is high tonight"
Flame was Isla's magnificent destrier bred stallion, a creature as willful, arrogant, and brilliant-red as she was. Raised for the battlefield, Isla had demanded him the moment he was brought to the manor, refusing every other calm palfrey bred steed.
The Duke had, predictably, capitulated.
Isla stalked up to the groom, her expensive shoes grinding pebbles underfoot. "Are you telling me no, Gareth?" She leaned in, her eyes wide, the epitome of a pampered noblewoman whose demands were absolute law.
Gareth stuttered "Of course not my Lady, however his Grace will be furious if he learns you have taken to ride at this hour.."
Isla only glared harder "This is not an answer you are permitted to give me. Saddle. Him. Now."
Gareth paled, scurrying away. He knew that when Lady Isla was in this mood—a mood usually brought on by a rejected suitor or a stained gown—only a frantic, reckless gallop across the fields would quell her storm.
Within ten minutes, Flame was saddled, chomping at the bit. Isla swung herself onto his back with practiced grace. She didn't wait for a lamp only putting on a cloak, the cool night air hitting her face.
"If anyone asks," she hissed down at the terrified groom, "I went to take Flame for a breeze . Tell my parents I required distance to meditate on their cruelty."
She wrenched the reins, turning the stallion's head toward the sprawling, bustling market town that lay half a day's ride away. She wanted noise. She wanted freedom. She wanted distraction from the sickening realization that her father had dared to choose her sister, dared to choose duty over his favorite daughter's desires.
The Montgomery estate walls soon blurred into the darkness behind her. The horse's powerful stride ate up the dusk lit road, carrying a tempestuous young woman away from the gilded cage where she was always granted her wishes, and straight toward a world that promised to grant her nothing.