Chapter 94 The Interrogation
The clinking of silver cutlery against porcelain plates rang out sharply in the dining room. Claus cut his steak with military precision, though his appetite had vanished since the very first bite. Across from him, his mother sipped red wine with effortless elegance.
"You haven't touched your wine," his mother said without looking up from her plate. "Usually, you need something strong after returning from the border."
"I'm not thirsty," Claus replied flatly. He set down his knife and fixed his mother with a cold stare. "If there is nothing urgent, I shall return to my residence, Mother."
"Sit a while longer, Claus. We aren't finished eating," his mother interrupted. She set down her glass with an air of absolute authority. "You are of age. You lead armies and conquer territories, yet your home remains empty. There is no woman's voice, no heir for the d'Alen?on name."
Claus let out a long breath, trying to suppress the emotions churning in his chest. "The wars at the border and imperial affairs are enough to fill my time. I have no room for such things."
His mother chuckled. "A classic excuse for a man unwilling to face his responsibilities. I have already gathered several names. Daughters of high nobles, Duke families, Viscounts, Barons, even noblewomen from other countries. They possess perfect lineages, and perhaps there is one you might fancy.
I have already arranged meetings for next week."
Claus slammed his napkin onto the table. The sound wasn't loud, but it was enough to make the servant in the corner bow even lower. "Cancel them."
"Claus..."
"I said cancel them," Claus cut in, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. "Never arrange any meetings on my behalf again. I do not need a wife, and I do not need marriages based on boring political papers, Mother."
His mother leaned back, observing her son with a sharp, probing gaze. "You aren't refusing because you don't want to marry, are you?"
Claus fell silent. He returned to cutting his meat, as if it were the only important thing in the world. "Don't be ridiculous."
"I know you, Claus," his mother said, leaning forward, looking at Claus as if she were dissecting his soul.
"Usually, you would remain silent, ignore the topic, and disappear to the battlefield to avoid it. But this time? You refuse with irrational anger. You look like a man hiding something behind a mask."
Claus's mind flashed to Ilse. Ridiculous Ilse. Ilse, who called him a boring man. Ilse, who made his heart race when he gripped her waist in the carriage.
"There is no one," Claus replied, his voice slightly more unsteady.
His mother narrowed her eyes. She rose, walking around the table with the slow, deliberate pace of a predator.
She stopped right beside Claus, then touched her son's shoulder—a touch that felt like shackles.
"Who is she? Is she from a noble house? Or..."
his mother paused, her face turning suspicious, "...is she someone you shouldn't be touching?"
Claus recoiled, brushing his mother's hand away roughly. He couldn't take it anymore. "Stop, Mother."
"If she isn't suitable, tell me. I can 'remove' her so you can focus back on your duties," his mother continued in a terrifyingly calm tone.
Claus stood, his chair clattering to the floor. He stared at his mother with pure hatred. "Do not ever dare to interfere in my affairs, Mother; if you do, don't blame me if I never set foot in this residence again."
"Claus!" his mother called out, but Claus didn't care.
He strode out of the dining room, leaving his mother standing pensive in the middle of the room. Claus exited the residence, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His anger was enough to suffocate him.
He had to leave. To Ilse de Varannes' house. Perhaps he just needed to ensure the girl truly thought him "boring" so his feelings could die. Yes, that was it. He would go there to be sure. Not because he missed her, but because he needed the certainty that he could hate her.
He mounted his horse, pulled the reins, and galloped hard. Fleeing from the demands, fleeing from his mother, and racing toward the one thing that was driving his rigid brain insane: Ilse.
The world could crumble. The empire could fall. But for today, only that existed in his mind. Only her. And that was the most terrifying thing he had ever felt in his entire life.