Chapter 4

I mean, why? Why was he here personally?

He has generals. Advisors. A literal butler army.

But no, the Ice Duke himself came walking into my chamber like he owned the dramatic entrance rights. His cloak swished. His boots echoed. His presence screamed, “I have emotional damage and I drink tea with disappointment.”

Tall. Brooding. Eyes like frozen oceans and a jawline that could file diamonds.

“Nice of you to drop in,” I muttered, smoothing the silk blanket like I wasn’t still slightly fried from the lightning slap incident.

He said nothing at first. Just stood there, arms behind his back like some ancient portrait.

“You shouldn’t be standing,” he finally said, voice like velvet wrapped around steel.

“And yet,” I replied, tilting my chin, “here I am. Defying expectations and physics. Again.”

He blinked once, slow. Like he was evaluating a wild animal that might bite or start monologuing.

“I assume you’re aware something’s… changed in you.”

“Is it the glowing palms? Or the minor skyquake? Hard to tell these days.”

The air crackled between us.

He stepped forward. “You shouldn’t have that kind of power. Not as a MacMayer. Not as a—”

“Powerless nobody?” I finished for him with a smile so fake it glittered. “Yes, yes. I’ve read the family reviews.”

I stood, despite the maid frantically whispering “Please, my lady, sit down, you’re still unstable!”

Honestly, who wasn’t?

He watched me rise like he was waiting for me to collapse. When I didn’t, his eyebrow twitched.

Score: Me – 1, Broody Duke – 0.

“Let’s cut to the point,” I said, stepping closer, arms folded. “You’re not here to check on my health. You’re here because I did something that scared you.”

“Impressed,” he corrected, flatly.

“Scared,” I said, sassier. “Let’s not pretend the High Duke of the North makes house calls because he’s charmed by my glowing hands and mild head trauma.”

His lips curled into the ghost of a smirk. “You’re sharper than they say.”

“I’m full of surprises,” I said sweetly. “And apparently full of lightning too.”

A flicker of something passed behind his eyes. Calculation. Interest. Danger.

He wasn’t here to pity me.

He was studying me.

Then he turned, cloak flipping with unnecessary drama. Rude, but effective.

As he walked toward the door, he dropped one last gem over his shoulder:

“Your father’s summoned the High Council. They’ll want answers. About the knight. About your powers. About your... survival.”

“Oh, how festive,” I said. “Will there be snacks? Trial snacks?”

He paused. Just a moment. And then—

"You were considered disposable," he said without turning back. "But now? You’ve become… interesting."

Then he disappeared like a storm vanishing over a mountain ridge.

I stood there, fingers still tingling, the room suddenly cold.

North Kingdom.

The most powerful, mana-rich, dungeon-filled, gold-bloated territory in the realm.

And I had just gone from background embarrassment to unstable magical anomaly in less than 48 hours.

They didn’t know what I was anymore.

And to be honest?

Neither did I.

But I did know one thing:

No one slaps lightning into the sky and then fades back into the background.

Let’s be clear—I had questions. So. Many. Questions. But my number one question—the one clawing at the back of my mind like a caffeinated squirrel—was still:

Why the hell was he breathing the same air as me?

Duke Alaric. Powerful. Widowed. Brooding.

The kind of man who walks into a room and drops the temperature by ten degrees just by existing. The kind of man whose reputation is carved into stone and whispered by terrified nobles and swooning widows.

And yet here he was. Personally showing up in my chamber like I was suddenly the main character.

Don’t get me wrong—I appreciate a good, dramatic entrance. Especially when it involves tailored cloaks and dangerous jawlines. But really?

Why. Was. He. Here.

He wasn’t Abby’s cousin. He wasn’t my doctor. And he definitely wasn’t my therapist.

So unless he was looking to be slapped with lightning too, he had no business casually checking on the formerly “useless” Abby MacMayer. Unless…

Unless I wasn’t so useless anymore. Unless the moment I slapped that knight into next week, I also slapped open some deeply buried ancient power no one expected me to have.

Unless I was now… politically interesting.

And that made me dangerous. Not just to the staff. Not just to the maids I was ready to fire with sass. But to men like him. Because I had been reading. Oh yes. Ever since my rebirth, I’d been living in the library like a rat with trust issues and a highlighter.

I knew now—this kingdom, the North, wasn’t just powerful. It was practically the beating heart of the continent.

The North Kingdom:

My accidental new home. Cold winters. Sunny summers. Six months of icicles, six months of wild crops.

It had everything:

Fertile lands.

Deep forests.

Massive oceans teeming with life and sea monsters.

Magical dungeons—plural! With monsters, rare items, and the kind of arcane secrets that kingdoms would kill for.

Basically, it was the fantasy equivalent of a billionaire’s private island with bonus dragons. This was the only kingdom that didn’t just survive—it thrived. It fed the rest of the continent. It controlled the flow of mana, the most valuable resource in this realm.

And guess who were the elite families ruling pieces of this glittering pie?

Us.

The MacMayers And Duke Alaric

Of course, no one cared about me, because apparently, before my reincarnation, I was a soggy toast of a noble girl with the magical presence of a damp rag. But now?

Now I had lightning in my veins. I had sent a knight flying. I had blown out the sky. That kind of spectacle doesn’t go unnoticed. So of course Duke Alaric came sniffing around.

Not because he liked me. But because he couldn’t afford not to. He wanted to know if I was a threat. If I could be used. If I was going to explode again and ruin someone’s wine festival.

Because in this world?

Mana = Power.

Power = Fear.

Fear = Control.