Chapter 97 The Generals Laughter
The cards changed hands with a rhythmic sound on the table. The scrape of cards against wood was the only thing Ilse could hear besides her own thumping heart.
She played Whist with the last shreds of concentration she had. In her head, she was still picturing Julian and Gisella, probably holding their breath behind that library door.
Claus played calmly. Too calm for a guy who usually dealt in war strategies. He didn't rush. He looked at his cards, then at Ilse, like he was trying to read what she was hiding behind that thin smile of hers.
"You have bad tactics," Claus commented when Ilse threw down the wrong card. He took the trick easily.
"It's not bad tactics. It's baiting," Ilse defended herself, though she knew she was just throwing cards randomly. She couldn't focus. "Letting you think you're ahead, then I strike back."
Claus laughed.
Ilse almost dropped her hand. That wasn't a mocking laugh, not a cold one, or the diplomatic chuckle heard at ballroom parties. It was real. Deep, low, and somehow... warm. Ilse hadn't heard Claus laugh like that since she entered this novel. She froze, forgetting it was her turn to draw.
"Daydreaming?" Claus still smiled. The echo of that laugh lingered on his lips.
"No," Ilse hurriedly pulled a card from the deck. She needed a distraction. "Just thinking. Your soldiers, Duke. Are they all as stiff as you? Or have they ever done stupid stuff like falling off a horse while training?"
Claus put a card on the table. "Most are stiffer than rock. But one lieutenant tried to ride while dead drunk. Ended up in a ditch."
Ilse laughed, freer this time, imagining the scene. "A ditch? In front of his troops?"
"In front of the whole battalion," Claus added, and he laughed again.
Ilse stared at him. Out there, in the palace, this man might be feared as a cold-blooded monster. But here, he was just a guy sitting on a sofa, playing cards, sharing stories about clumsy soldiers. Ilse felt strange.
A weird tug in her stomach. A pang of guilt hit her when she realized that behind all the fear, the guy in front of her was actually... interesting. Really interesting.
"That's embarrassing," Ilse said, trying to steady her voice. She threw a card, wanting the game to be over. She didn't care who won or lost anymore.
"Maybe," Claus drew another card. He didn't play it yet. He looked at Ilse intently. "You know, Ilse. People don't usually joke like this with me. They're afraid. They keep their distance. But you..."
"But what?" Ilse asked, pretending not to get it.
"You don't seem to have any fear," Claus continued. He dropped the card on the table slowly. "Or maybe you're just really good at hiding it?"
Ilse met his gaze. She couldn't falter. If she faltered, it was over. She took a deep breath, trying to hold back the mess of emotions starting to clutter her head. She just wanted Julian and Gisella out safely, then she could crawl into her room and sleep for three days.
"I'm just bored with formalities," Ilse replied.
Claus nodded, not fully convinced. He picked up his next card. "Good then. Because I'm tired of formalities, too."
The conversation kept flowing. Ilse forced herself to keep talking, even though her brain stayed glued to the library door upstairs.
She talked about books, weather, and pointless stuff that wouldn't hurt anyone.
Every joke she threw, Claus caught. Sometimes with a short laugh, sometimes with a smile that made Ilse feel trapped in her own bait.
The game went on too long. Ilse's feet were aching. She couldn't take it. She needed him gone. Now.
"It's late," Ilse said mid-game abruptly. She stood, packing up the cards messily. "Game over. You won. Congrats."
Claus stared at the pile Ilse had collected. He didn't move from his chair; he just leaned back, watching Ilse fussing over the table.
"Can I collect your promise?" Claus's voice was heavy, calm, but piercing.
Ilse glared. The promise. She'd forgotten that ridiculous bet. "Fine, go ahead," she cut in fast. She reached for the deck, trying not to look shaky, but her fingertips accidentally brushed against his hand on the table.
He pulled his hand back slowly, but didn't leave. Instead, he leaned in, closing the gap between them. Ilse could smell his masculine scent something that made her breath hitch.
"You said I was firm," Claus started, his voice lowering to a whisper. "You also said I was charismatic, that my aura was too strong, and that you couldn't ignore me."
Ilse frowned, trying to stay professional. "That was just stroking your ego. Don't take it to heart."
Claus smirked. He stood slowly, but instead of walking to the door, he walked around the table, stopping right beside Ilse. She was trapped between the chair and the heavy wooden table.
"I wasn't talking about ego," Claus said. He leaned down, his face so close Ilse could see herself in his pupils. "When you complimented me earlier, your hand was shaking. Your pulse... racing. You said that was because I was interrogating you."
Ilse held her breath. He noticed everything?
"My question," Claus continued, fingers tapping the table edge, hemming her in. "Was that all part of your strategy to trick me, or was there a part of you that actually felt... interested?"
Blood rushed to her face. Burning hot, all the way to her ears. This was ridiculous. Unprofessional. She should've snapped back with sarcasm, but her tongue felt tied. She was trapped in an honest question designed to corner her.
Ilse tried to look him in the eye, but her vision blurred with panic. "It... it was just acting, Duke."
Claus laughed softly, that low sound vibrating near her ear. He didn't buy it.
"Good acting, then." Claus pulled back, smoothing his coat calmly, like he hadn't just dropped a time bomb in Ilse's head.
Ilse stood stiff, face still burning, trying to calm her frantic heart. She didn't dare turn around. Felt like she'd been stripped bare by that question.
Claus walked casually to the door. Calm, unhurried. Ilse followed, barely breathing, wishing the floorboards would just swallow her whole. She'd lost, and the question was deadlier than any card game bet.
At the front door, he stopped. Turned to Ilse.
"The tea was good," Claus said.
Then he left. Just like that.
Ilse stood at the closed door. Listened to the sound of Claus's horse fading away, until silence. Then her knees gave out. Slumped to the floor, panting like she'd run a marathon.
In the hallway, the library door opened. Soft footsteps headed her way. Ilse couldn't stand. She just stared at the floor, waiting for Julian and Gisella to crawl out of their hideout.