Chapter CLXXXIII: The Duchess of Dragonspire

After the rushed wedding ceremony, Rya wasted no time in leaving the capital. She didn’t bother with farewells, not to her family, not even to Ian. Mounting Emberlace, she took off alone, leaving Sir Ian to make his way to Dragonspire via the long, winding roads. She could have taken him with her, but the thought didn’t even cross her mind. She didn’t want his company, didn’t want to have him behind her in awkward silence, pretending this marriage meant something it didn’t.  

No, she wanted to arrive alone. To see Dragonspire first. To stand on the highest tower, overlooking the sprawling, jagged cliffs and the roaring sea below, and claim the moment for herself. She was the Duchess of Dragonspire now, a title she had dreamed of her entire life. It had always felt like her destiny, her rightful place.  

But as Emberlace’s wings beat against the wind and the jagged peaks of Dragonspire loomed on the horizon, Rya felt an ache settle deep in her chest. Instead of triumph, there was only emptiness. Instead of joy, a hollow, gnawing resentment.  

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.  

When she finally landed at Dragonspire, the early morning sun was casting its light across the gray stones of the castle and the restless waves below. It was breathtaking, as she always knew it would be. But it didn’t fill the void inside her.  

Her fists clenched as she stood there, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her. If Ian hadn’t said anything to his brother—if he had kept their secret as she had asked—none of this would have happened. No whispers of scandal would have reached her father’s ears. No ultimatum would have been issued.  

She wouldn’t be stuck now, chained to a loveless marriage, forced to play the part of a devoted wife to save Ian’s life and quell her father’s wrath.  

And that thought filled her with rage.  

She was furious with him, deeply, viscerally. How could he have been so careless? So weak? Now, every complicated feeling she had about the situation, every shred of bitterness and despair, coalesced into a sharp, seething anger directed squarely at Ian. She stared out over the cliffs, the wind tugging at her hair, and swallowed the lump in her throat. Dragonspire was hers now, but it felt more like a prison than a triumph.

Ian arrived at Dragonspire amid fanfare, greeted with the full honors befitting the new Duke of the region. The vassals—those whom Rya had worked with for years, who knew her by name and were accustomed to her dealings—paid their tributes, showing respect, some of them even a little fearful of the royal blood she carried. But now, it was to “Lord Ian Kastal” they were bowing to, “Lord Ian Kastal” they were praising. He was in charge now, not her.

Rya watched all of it, standing in the background like an afterthought. She had business with all these men, connections she’d carefully built over the years, but today, she was nothing more than a wife—greeted by their wives, handed useless gifts of silks, compotes, and stupid towels, the kind of trivial things that felt like mockery in her hands. Every gift, every polite gesture, felt like a reminder of how little they now saw her as the Duchess of Dragonspire and how much they saw her as an accessory to Ian’s sudden rise.

The fury inside her simmered to the surface, her hands trembling as she clenched them. Everything she had worked for in this place, everything she had built for herself, felt irrelevant now. It had all been swept away, consumed by the marriage she was forced into. She had imagined, for years, what it would be like to sit at the head of this table, to make the decisions, to control the land and the people. And now, it was Ian who was seated there, commanding the same respect, the same influence she had once thought was her birthright.

Rya felt a deep sense of betrayal. Ian, a knight from a lesser house, had nothing before this. He had risen from nothing to rule over one of the wealthiest lands in the kingdom. And she—she had lost everything. Her dreams, her plans, her power. All of it belonged to him now, thanks to her misguided decisions and the compromise she had made to save him.

The bitterness gnawed at her. She refused to sleep in the same bedroom as him, ignoring his attempts to approach her, to apologize, to explain. She shut herself off completely. He had won everything at her expense. He was living her dream, wearing the title she had always longed for, and it sickened her.

Her anger morphed into something more dangerous, something darker. She wondered—what if she had let him die? What if she had allowed her father to execute him as he had threatened? Would it have been worth it? Could she have lived with the guilt if it meant keeping her land free from a husband, from this marriage?

The thought haunted her, creeping in like a poison she couldn’t shake. She could imagine it, in vivid detail: Ian’s lifeless body, her father’s wrath turned away from her, the title and the land returning to her. No man to answer to, only the Dragon King, her own father, who would be far enough so she could do things her own way.

It was a twisted fantasy, one she couldn’t help but entertain. Would she ever be so cruel? She was her father’s daughter, wasn’t she? Her blood was just as capable of cruelty as his. And yet, as much as she wanted to believe it, as much as she needed to, she wasn’t sure her heart was cold enough. She had grown up with a different kind of love—peaceful, tender. The kind her mother and father had fought for. The king and queen of the kingdom, of the house they built, had never been cruel. They had been united, not just in their marriage, but in their vision for their children. Rya had been sheltered by that. She wasn’t sure her blood was cold enough to let Ian die.

Rya’s plan for Dragonspire had been years in the making, a reflection of everything she had hoped to achieve in her life. Her primary focus was on consolidating power and building lasting relationships with the vassals, especially those whose loyalty could be secured through trade and mutual benefit. She had already begun long-term investments in agriculture, improving the lands surrounding Dragonspire to increase yields and make the region less reliant on external sources of food. Her plans also included the development of the town’s infrastructure: roads to improve trade, better protection through reinforcements of the fortifications, and ensuring that the people saw her as a capable, benevolent ruler who could lead with both wisdom and strength.

Ian, however, had come into the picture in a way she hadn’t planned for. His sudden rise to Duke of Dragonspire wasn’t part of her vision. Having risen from a knight in the Fire Army to the Duke of Dragonspire by marriage, Ian lacked the deep connection Rya had with the land. His background in the military made him more pragmatic and focused on immediate solutions. Upon his arrival, he quickly noticed inefficiencies in the way the land was managed. The guilds were too disjointed, the trade routes too reliant on external factors, and the local population seemed disconnected from the leadership. His experience told him that Dragonspire needed a much firmer hand, a more structured approach to enforce order and discipline.

Ian’s immediate decision to reorganize the local council and place more direct authority in the hands of trusted, loyal vassals was a complete contradiction to Rya’s more inclusive and community-driven vision. Where Rya wanted alliances and equal partnerships, Ian believed in consolidating power to ensure efficiency. He implemented stricter controls on trade, made sweeping changes to the agricultural distribution, and began issuing new mandates that would force the common folk to adhere to his regulations. To him, these were practical steps to increase productivity and security in Dragonspire, but to Rya, they were an affront to everything she had worked for.

He was in the study when Rya stormed in, her presence as sharp and furious as the crackling fire in the hearth behind her.

“You changed it,” she spat, her voice low but vibrating with anger. “You changed my plan.”

Ian turned to face her, his expression unreadable. He had anticipated this. She had been so focused on her vision for Dragonspire, so determined to maintain control, and he knew that his decision would push her to the edge.

“It needed to be done,” Ian said calmly. “You know it was the right move for the land.”

Rya’s eyes blazed with fury, her chest heaving as she stepped closer. “No,” she hissed, voice trembling with both rage and disbelief. “You don’t understand! You think you can just come in here and erase everything I’ve worked for. I built this estate, I built these relationships, and now you’re—”

Ian’s expression softened slightly, and he took a step toward her. “Rya… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m trying to work on and honor the position that was given me, despite the circumstances. I didn’t come here to undermine you. I want to help—.”

Rya’s heart pounded in her chest. She could feel the fire of betrayal burning her from the inside. Every word he spoke was like another slap to her pride, to everything she had ever fought for. It wasn’t about the land anymore—it wasn’t even about the decisions. It was about the feeling of being reduced to nothing.

“You have no right to change anything!” she yelled, her voice rising. “This was supposed to be mine—this land, this title, everything. You’ve taken it all from me.”

Ian’s expression softened slightly, and he took a step toward her. “Rya… I didn’t mean to hurt you. But sometimes we need to make tough choices. I’m doing this because I was suddenly dismissed from the position I worked in my entire life to rule this estate, I—.”

Rya shook her head, her mind racing, fury clouding her judgment. “You’ve taken everything from me. My title. My family. My power. I was this close to having it all, and now I’m stuck with you.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them. She could feel the bitterness in her mouth, the regret already creeping in, but the anger was too strong. “I should’ve let my father kill you when I had the chance.”