The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

"Is there something wrong with my face?" Eilika asked, her fingers lightly brushing her cheeks as if searching for a flaw he might have spotted.

"No," Damian replied. "But the place we are heading to is filled with every conceivable wrong. Brace yourself. We are to be a merchant couple in search of a domestic helper. Remember, we cannot rescue everyone in a single day. Our priority is to dismantle the operation from within, which means we must first study the structure of the market."

Eilika listened intently, nodding.

"I never imagined a high-ranking noble like you would engage in such field work," she murmured, her gaze lingering on his rugged disguise. "In Varos, the whispers are quite different. People believe you’ve either drowned yourself in spirits or that you’re sequestered away with a mistress. They think you’ve entirely overlooked your duties. But the truth is something else entirely, isn’t it?"

Damian kept his gaze fixed on her. "How do you think Varos survives while our borders are locked in a deadly conflict with the neighboring kingdom?"

"You mean... The resources," Eilika whispered, the realization dawning on her. "The wealth and attention of the crown are being bled dry at the front lines."

"Exactly," Damian said. "While Varos indulges in gossip, someone has to ensure the interior doesn’t rot. If the people want to believe I am a drunkard, let them. You also believed that I had a mistress."

"Because you didn’t show up at the altar," Eilika said, her voice small against the rattling of the carriage, "and some of the servants were gossiping that you retreated to your private residence, barring everyone from entry. They still believe you have a mistress hidden away, that it’s the reason you refuse to even look at me."

"Is that so?" Damian remarked. "It seems I’ll have to purge the mansion of those servants when we return. Idle tongues are a luxury I don’t permit in my household."

The carriage suddenly swerved into a sharp curve, the wheels skidding against the uneven cobblestones of the lower district. Eilika gasped as she began to slide from her seat. Damian reacted with predatory speed, reaching out to steady her, but a second later, the carriage hit a deep rut with a violent jolt.

The force threw Eilika forward. She let out a soft cry as she landed squarely on his lap, her hands instinctively flying up to press against his broad shoulders to steady herself. The air left her lungs as she found herself pinned against him.

Their eyes locked for longer than a moment. "I am sorry. I will—"

"Stay still. The road seems rough here," Damian said, averting his gaze now. Meanwhile, her heart kept thumping against her chest. This was the feeling to be held by your man. She shook her head, not wanting to think of ever having a relationship that every couple had.

’I should put some effort into this marriage. Maybe just once,’ she thought.

’She is so lightweight.’ His eyes moved to her face once before he looked out of the window.

Only when the carriage halted, the awkward silence ended between them. Eilika quickly sat back on her seat when Maurice opened the door from outside. Damian was quick to step out. He turned and extended his hand for Eilika, helping her get down.

"You can go in the other direction from here," said Damian to his personal bodyguard.

Eilika tried to pull her hand from his grip, her chin tilted up with a sudden spark of defiance. "I can walk by myself. You need not hold my hand."

Damian’s brow furrowed into a deep, sharp frown. "What is this attitude? We have already discussed this that we need to stay close."

"I know," she murmured as she pulled away and began walking ahead of him. "But I don’t like it when you hold my hand out of necessity, only to discard me the moment it’s convenient. It’s... exhausting."

Damian stood still for a second, watching her retreat toward the crowded alleyway. He shook his head, a flash of frustration crossing his face.

With a few long strides, he caught up and grabbed her arm, forcing her to halt so abruptly that she nearly stumbled back against him.

"Do not throw tantrums here," he muttered as he reclaimed her hand, his fingers lacing through hers with unyielding strength. "We aren’t in the mansion’s gardens, and I don’t have the time to entertain your grievances. You will stay by my side, or you will return to the carriage. Choose now."

Eilika looked at their joined hands, then up at his stern gaze. Not arguing further, she walked along with him quietly.

After walking for over twenty minutes, they were finally at the slave market. The atmosphere was oppressive and heart wrenching.

Tucked away in a hollow between derelict warehouses, the area was shrouded in a grey, clinging mist that smelled of rot and rusted iron.

Line after line of people stretched across the muddy ground, their faces hollowed by hunger and despair. Eilika’s breath hitched, her heart clenching painfully as her gaze fell upon the children.

They were huddled together for warmth, their small frames draped in nothing but tattered rags that barely clung to their thin shoulders. Some were too weak to do more than whimper, their tear-streaked faces turned toward anyone who passed in a silent, desperate plea for food.

"Eyes down," Damian’s voice hissed in her ear, his grip on her hand tightening until it was almost painful. He felt her trembling and pulled her closer to his side, shielding her with the bulk of his overcoat.

Suddenly a man with a jagged scar across his throat and a heavy leather whip coiled at his belt stepped into their path, his yellowed eyes scanning their modest merchant attire.

"Looking for stock, don’t you?" the man rasped, spitting on the ground. "We’ve got fresh labor in the back, and the small ones..." He leaned closer and whisper, "Well, they’re cheap today. Easy to train."