Chapter 23 The Masterplan Fails Horribly
The air in this dusty-ass market felt non existent. I was standing there sweating through my clothes while Julian Vance looked down at me in his blindingly clean uniform, looking like a cop trying to catch a thief.
"Lady Ilse," he said, his voice dropping an octave. It was a threat, plain and simple. "I don't like repeating myself. Why does a classified military file have your family's seal stamped on it? Give me a reason right now, or your next stop is a military court."
Gisella was digging her fingernails into my arm so hard it bruised. I forced my face to stay completely blank, even though my heart was doing frantic gymnastics inside my ribs.
"Viscount Vance," I said, trying to sound bored instead of terrified. "My family doesn't even have clearance for those files. If our stamp is on it, someone framed us. Maybe you should go find who stole our seal instead of harassing me in the middle of a smelly fish market."
Julian didn't blink. He just stared, probably trying to calculate if I was lying. I knew one wrong word, and I'd be thrown into some damp dungeon or worse, handed over to Claus d'Alen?on, who just got back to town.
"Framed?" Julian let out a dry, mocking sound. "To the military, a found document is enough to lock you up."
"Oh, shut up!"
A screeching voice cut through the tension.
Gisella practically shoved me aside, stepping right into Julian's personal space.
Her face wasn't excited anymore; she was absolutely furious.
She didn't give a damn that this guy was the high-ranking commander.
Her friend was being attacked, and her bratty brain just exploded.
"What is your freaking problem, Viscount?" Gisella barked, looking straight up into his face. "You come down to this dump of a market just to call Ilse a spy? Have you lost your mind sitting in those boring barracks for too long?!"
Julian actually froze. His eyes went wide for a split second. I bet in his entire life, no noble girl had ever screamed in his face like a maniac.
"Lady Gisella, this doesn't concern you," Julian said, his voice getting incredibly stiff.
"Like hell it doesn't!" Gisella yelled back. "Ilse is my friend! You're insulting her family, which means you're insulting mine! Who do you think you are? Just because you're some big shot Western Viscount doesn't mean you can treat us like garbage!"
"Gisella, stop," I whispered, tugging at her sleeve, but she was completely unhinged now. She kept demanding an apology, calling him a rigid idiot who didn't know how to talk to real human beings.
I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.
My entire matchmaking plan, the elegant first impression I wanted her to make?
Dead. Ruined. Slut dropped straight into the mud.
Instead of feeling bad for her, Julian looked at her like she was a piece of trash stuck to his boot.
His hand slowly dropped to the hilt of his sword.
"The rumors about your mouth are true," Julian said, his voice deadly quiet. "I don't have time for this low class drama. And you know what, Lady Gisella, your eyes annoy me"
He turned on his heel, completely ignoring her screaming his name, hopped onto his stallion, and trotted away.
Leaving us there while the entire market crowd started whispering and pointing at us.
The carriage ride back was a nightmare. Gisella wouldn't stop whining about how rude he was, and I just sat in the corner with a throbbing headache.
The second we hit the Varannes estate, I bolted to my room, locked the door, and slumped in front of my vanity mirror.
I looked a mess. My hair was flat, my face was pale, and when I touched my neck, my fingers were shaking.
I didn't just fail the plan. I basically fast-tracked my own death warrant.
Claus was in the city, and thanks to whatever document Julian found, the military now had a perfect excuse to chop my head off.