Semua Bab Reborn: The Duke’s Unbothered Villainess: Bab 31 - Bab 40

Alaric followed me toward our tent. Quiet steps. Heavy air. The moon glowed silver above us. When we reached the flap, I paused.“I’m not sharing a blanket,” I said flatly.“Didn’t ask you to.”“But you will end up on my side.”He smirked. “That’s your assumption.”“I’ve seen you sleep. You cling.”He held open the flap, lowering his voice like temptation dipped in velvet. “Maybe I cling to warmth.”I stepped in.He followed.And the night… was far from cold.The tent was warm—too warm.Alaric was already on one side, lounging like he paid rent in charm and dark magic, stripped to a loose tunic and black trousers. The lantern flickered between us, casting golden shadows over his sharp jaw, tousled midnight hair, and arms that looked like they were sculpted by sin.I plopped onto the other side of the hay bed. One hay bed. One thick, under-fluffed mattress with blankets so soft they probably whispered lies. I yanked the edge of the blanket like it owed me money.He didn’t budge.“Alari

Nobles gathered in clusters like gossiping birds, cloaks rustling like wings, voices low and full of drama. At the far end of the massive golden-tiled chamber sat the king and queen, the most powerful pair in the realm—and gods, they were smirking.The Queen’s eyes were practically twinkling with royal mischief. She didn’t say a word, but she raised her teacup as if to toast me silently.The King gave Alaric a long look that said: I’m watching you, son, and then gave me a wink that said: And I approve.We bowed. With all the grace I could muster in travel-wrinkled silks and post-carriage-kissing glow.The Royal Council was present. Ugh. Political buzzards in velvet robes, most of them older than the chandelier. A few nodded politely. Some pretended I didn’t exist. One Baron—who I recognized as my father's cousin—stood and cleared his throat."Ahem. I still question the… accuracy of this mission report. Lightning that scorched trees? A noble lady flinging combat magic without training?

A night of snow, silk… and scandal served with a splash of betrayal.The moment our heels touched the polished marble at the entrance, the air shifted.Gasps. Stares. Whispers.Dozens of nobles turned like we were fireworks exploding in a library. Dresses swished, goblets froze mid-air, monocles actually fell. And there we were—Duke Alaric and me, dressed like we were about to either rule the kingdom or ruin it.He offered his arm.I took it.Together, we descended the grand staircase beneath a sky of enchanted crystal chandeliers that glowed like stardust. Snowflakes shimmered from the ceiling, suspended mid-air by floating runes. The palace ballroom was decked out in silver and crimson, ice roses blooming from frozen vases, the orchestra playing an eerie waltz that sounded like something forbidden lovers might dance to in a dream.“Oh gods, they’re matching—”“Did you hear what she did on the border? Melted a man—”“They say she slept in his tent. All three nights—”“They look… happ

After a perfectly executed ballroom scene—thunder, lightning, nobles on edge—you’d think people would learn. But no. Gloria Wintermellon wasn’t wired that way.It started exactly twenty minutes after I scorched Algebra’s sleeve.I was mid-sip of some very expensive winterberry champagne when I saw her. Gloria. Marching back into the center of the ballroom like she hadn’t just been verbally set on fire.Her arm linked through someone else’s now.And what an entrance.The man beside her was tall. Broad-shouldered. Wearing a suit so dark it might as well have been made from brooding shadows. His face? Sharp jaw, smirk you couldn’t quite trust, forest-green eyes that said “I collect debts and hearts.”Whispers bloomed like frost across the marble floor.“That’s Lord Evander Vale…” someone murmured behind me.“The War Mage’s heir…”“The Queen’s least favorite cousin…”“Oh, perfect,” I muttered, setting my glass down.Norma wasn’t far off—already popping up beside me, biting into a snowberr

The next morning hit like a thunderbolt.Not because of a hangover. I wasn’t that reckless.No, this was the particular ache that came from dancing too long in heels, kissing too long against balcony walls, and feeling entirely too seen by an entire ballroom full of nobles.The capital’s royal council chamber was all polished stone and silver banners fluttering from tall windows. The Queen sat flanked by her consuls, the King leaning on his sword as if he already knew things would get entertaining.And me? I stood beside Duke Alaric at the long table, officially summoned as Storm Knight Abby.A title that apparently made half the council twitch every time someone said it out loud.I counted four glances toward my new crimson-etched uniform—a tailored coat, black with silver and red accents, my family crest now erased from my shoulder. In its place: the Queen’s sigil and a lightning insignia, shaped like a storm wrapped in a crown.And of course…Norma sat off to the side, pretending t