The Crow Targeting Me - Chapter 3

As Mary tended to Elena, she suddenly exclaimed, “My lady, you must be especially wary of the ravens.”

“Ravens? Why?” Elena tilted her head curiously. The other maids exchanged sly smiles.

“Those wicked creatures have an eye for shiny things,” Mary explained.

“They don’t just admire them—they’ll steal them and take them back to their nests if you’re not careful,” another maid added, laughing.

Elena glanced at her jewelry and began to understand. “Do they roam freely even within the castle?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Mary replied.

Though the maids’ smiles seemed mischievous, Elena decided to let it go. She still had much to learn about the north, and it was better to absorb the atmosphere than take offense.

That evening, Elena arrived at the banquet hall where the wedding ceremony was to take place. It was then that she fully understood the maids’ earlier jest. The guests, cloaked in black fur, clustered in groups, resembling a murder of ravens.

As soon as the doorman spotted Elena, he called out loudly, “The lady of the House of Selum enters!”

This would be the last time she was announced as the lady of Selum. The once-lively banquet hall fell silent, all eyes turning to her.

The Grand Duke of Barsian rose from his seat to greet her. Elena, dressed in a blood-red velvet gown, met his gaze.

It was tradition in the north for brides to wear red for their weddings. Compared to the white dress she had worn earlier in the day, this gown covered more of her skin and offered better warmth. However, the added weight of the thick fabric felt cumbersome and unfamiliar, leaving her uneasy.

As she approached, the Grand Duke extended his hand. Elena placed hers in his and stood beside him. A steward stepped forward, carrying a tray that held a mistletoe crown and a pair of golden rings.

“His Majesty, the Emperor, has sent these fine gifts to honor the hardships of the north,” the Grand Duke declared.

The gathered retainers cheered, pounding their goblets against the tables in celebration. Startled by the sudden noise, Elena flinched. The Grand Duke glanced at her as their hands rested together.

“And the finest gift of all,” he added, his voice carrying through the hall, “is none other than the jewel of the continent, the lady of Selum herself.”

Though his words were laced with praise, Elena couldn’t shake the feeling that he was mocking her. She was certain of it, so much so that she could swear upon her own name.

“I, Theodore, gladly accept the Emperor’s decree and take the lady of Selum as my wife. Prosperity to Barsian, and loyalty to the Empire!”

“Prosperity to Barsian, and loyalty to the Empire!” the retainers echoed in unison.

The Grand Duke released Elena’s hand and picked up the mistletoe crown. Slowly and deliberately, he placed it atop her head.

Next, he slid the golden ring onto the ring finger of her left hand. The ring was too loose, and it didn’t fit properly. Elena picked up the remaining ring and slid it onto the Grand Duke’s left hand.

The sound of goblets pounding against tables grew louder and louder, until it seemed to thunder in her ears. The raucous celebration surrounded her, yet Elena felt as if she were standing in the eye of the storm, quiet and still amidst the chaos.

The thunderous applause and pounding of goblets ceased only after Elena took her seat beside the Grand Duke of Barsian in the newly prepared chair. Finally, she could take a discreet breath. Yet, she knew the most daunting challenge still lay ahead.

Now, she found herself alone with the Grand Duke in her bedroom for their first night together. Wearing the mistletoe crown, Elena looked up at him as if she were a prisoner awaiting her sentence. Perhaps that was what marriage truly was.

“There’s no need to be so tense,” the Grand Duke said, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of command.

Despite his reassurance, Elena’s body stiffened further. The Grand Duke picked up a bottle of wine left by the servants and poured himself a glass. Elena watched silently as he drank.

“Did you know Barsian suffered a devastating famine three years ago?” he asked suddenly.

His question had nothing to do with the wedding night, catching Elena off guard.

“I didn’t know,” she replied, shaking her head.

The Grand Duke’s lips curled into a crooked smirk.

“I thought as much. We appealed to His Majesty for aid, but all we received was silence. I thought the Sun of the Continent had forgotten about the north entirely. Then, out of nowhere, he sends you with a command to marry me.”

Elena instinctively covered her mouth with her hand. Though she had lived in the palace as the princess’s handmaiden, this was news to her.

“I almost marched an army to the capital, thinking His Majesty had entirely forsaken us,” the Grand Duke continued casually, as if threatening rebellion were nothing remarkable.

“You can’t mean…”

Her voice faltered as the Grand Duke met her stunned gaze with a shameless expression, as though daring her to question him further.

“Tell me,” he said abruptly, changing the topic, “is it true that in the South, men and women freely indulge with each other regardless of marital status?”

The abrupt shift in conversation made Elena’s head spin. What could be his intention in asking such a crude question?

“I don’t understand what answer you’re hoping for with such a question,” she replied carefully.

“Was my question too complicated? Let me rephrase.”

Setting down his wine glass, the Grand Duke strode toward her until he was standing uncomfortably close. Despite the oppressive tension, Elena stood her ground, refusing to flinch or step back.

“Did the Emperor send you to me in such haste because you’re carrying his child?” he asked bluntly.

Elena was so stunned by the outrageous accusation that she couldn’t speak.

“Or perhaps it’s the Crown Prince’s child?” he continued. “It doesn’t really matter whose.”

“You’ve gone too far with your imagination,” Elena said firmly, her voice trembling slightly with indignation.

“I know the rotten minds of you Southerners far too well,” he retorted without missing a beat.

And then came the command: “Take off your clothes. All of them.”

“What?” Elena’s voice rose in disbelief.

“I have no intention of being caught up in your imperial power struggles or raising a child that isn’t mine. So, I’ll confirm it for myself.”

His suspicion wasn’t entirely unreasonable. For a southern noblewoman to be abruptly sent away to the north, disregarded and discarded, raised too many questions. Given the south’s more liberal attitudes toward relationships, it wasn’t far-fetched to suspect a young, unmarried noblewoman might have been a mistress bearing the Emperor or Crown Prince’s child. Sending her to the far-off, disregarded north might have been a way to ensure such a child would not interfere in the succession disputes.

The one most wronged by this baseless suspicion, however, was Elena herself.

“If it’s all just slander, then you have nothing to hide,” the Grand Duke said provocatively, folding his arms as he watched her.

Trembling with humiliation and fury, Elena glared at him before slowly removing her clothes, layer by layer. By the time she discarded her undergarments, she was trembling, not from the cold but from the sheer indignity of it all. Tears threatened to fall, but she refused to cry.

The Grand Duke’s gaze roamed over her body from head to toe, slow and unrelenting, like a predator inspecting its prey. His scrutiny felt like a physical touch, making her shiver. It’s just the cold, she told herself stubbornly.

But when his hand reached out to graze her shoulder, she startled and let out an involuntary gasp.

“Ah…!”

Elena’s sharp gasp escaped before she could suppress it. The Grand Duke smirked coldly, his mocking eyes fixed on her. His hand, which had lingered on her shoulder, now slid deliberately down past her chest to her flat stomach. His touch was hot, far too hot against her skin.

“Is this enough for you?” Elena asked, her voice trembling as she tried to hold her composure.

Instead of answering, the Grand Duke pressed firmly against her stomach with his hand.

“A woman who’s newly pregnant doesn’t show it yet,” he said.

The implication made her blood boil. He was treating her like livestock, nothing more than a cow to be inspected. Unable to endure the humiliation any longer, she shoved him away. He stepped back without resistance, watching her with a bemused expression as she picked up her discarded clothing and hastily wrapped it around herself like a cloak.

“If you’re so intent on verifying things, why don’t you call for a physician?” Elena snapped.

“And let another man see my wife’s body before we’ve even consummated the marriage?” he retorted, lifting his wineglass again.

“My wife truly knows no shame. Even if you are a Southerner, you are now the mistress of Barsian. You would do well to forget the vulgar ways you might have been accustomed to before.”

His words, sharp and cutting, struck Elena like a blade. Her body, already trembling from the cold and humiliation, now quaked with rage.

“Let us postpone the consummation until one month from now,” he continued, his tone as dismissive as if he were issuing an order to a servant. “By then, we’ll see if your stomach swells.”

It was clear what he meant: he would wait to see if her cycle confirmed she wasn’t pregnant before fulfilling his marital duties. His words left no room for argument. He finished his wine and left the room without another glance at her.

Left alone, Elena collapsed onto the bed. Everything had become painfully clear—his words, his actions. This wasn’t about suspicion or caution. This was his way of repaying the humiliation he believed the imperial family had inflicted upon the North. She was nothing more than a pawn in his game of vengeance.

She had escaped one predator, only to walk willingly into a den of ravens.

Mary, alarmed by the unexpectedly early end to the night, hesitantly entered the room to check on her mistress. Elena had no desire to speak and sent her away. The maid lingered awkwardly before reluctantly leaving.

Once alone again, Elena ripped the mistletoe crown from her head and threw it onto the floor. She took the golden comb from her hair, clutching it tightly against her chest, and lay down on the bed. Her first night in the north was cold, lonely, and utterly miserable.

In the days that followed, Elena continued to wear her hair in the style of an unmarried woman. In the north, it was customary for women to tie their hair up after their wedding night to signify they had become adults. However, nearly a month had passed, and her hair remained unbound.

It didn’t take long for everyone in the castle to notice. The maids, servants, and even the guards whispered amongst themselves, speculating about why the Grand Duke had not consummated his marriage with his beautiful wife.

Humiliated by the rumors, Elena rarely left her room. All she could do was wait for the month to pass, praying for the ordeal to end quickly.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying your meal.”

The Grand Duke’s voice startled her. She had been absentmindedly poking at the cream stew in front of her, filled with fermented cod and potatoes. He had unexpectedly decided to dine with her that evening, a rare occurrence.

Elena glanced at him, masking her unease. She doubted his presence was born of concern for her well-being. Most likely, Mary had informed him that her cycle had begun, dispelling his suspicions.

“It’s not the food,” Elena replied evenly. “I just don’t feel well.”

“Nausea, perhaps?” he said, his tone laced with insinuation.

Elena’s grip on her spoon tightened. She bit back her anger, knowing full well he was baiting her. It wasn’t nausea—she simply preferred meat to seafood.

Without replying, she scooped up a piece of cod and deliberately put it in her mouth. The pungent, fishy taste was nearly unbearable, but she forced herself to chew and swallow without flinching.

The Grand Duke watched her closely. When her plate was nearly empty, he picked up a serving of smoked meat from his own plate and placed it on hers.

Elena hesitated, hoping it might taste similar to southern ham, but the first bite disabused her of that notion. The flavor was acrid, almost bitter, and made her stomach churn.

It was clear the Grand Duke had no intention of leaving until she finished her meal. Resolving not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter, Elena forced herself to eat every bite, no matter how unpleasant.