Chapter 322: The Night Before

For nearly half an hour, Patricia and Christine took turns discussing the intricate arts of the bouche, their voices rising and falling in a measured cadence. Given the topic's private nature, all four women in the room blushed deeply. To Isolde, this was the most excruciating conversation of the night. Not because she was shy—she had long since abandoned such notions—but because Christine simply wouldn't stop.

After Patricia finished, Christine seized her hand and pressed on earnestly, “Now, Oliver already has a concubine. Cristina is no ordinary woman—she comes from a distinguished bureaucratic family, and her brother is a high-ranking minister. She was even once Oliver’s fiancée. If she wins his favor, she could become a threat to your position. That’s why, in the bedroom, you must make Oliver so enthralled with you that he has neither the time nor the energy to visit Cristina.”

Patricia nodded in firm agreement. “Exactly. Especially since Oliver is a warrior, full of youthful vigor. You must keep a tight hold on him.”

Isolde blinked, stunned. “Keep a tight hold? You mean, watch him closely?”

Patricia shot her a withering look. “Oh, you foolish child. After all this talk, and you still don’t understand? If he is completely captivated by you, where would he find the strength to seek out another woman? Argentum is a place where taking concubines is common practice. Fortunately, the Sharp family’s men are not known for such indulgences. But Allan, I hear, is a stickler for tradition. If he follows protocol to the letter, Oliver will have no choice but to visit Cristina’s chambers. You’d better act fast and give him an heir—otherwise, who knows how many concubines he’ll end up taking?”

Isolde scoffed. “Oliver won’t be taking concubines anytime soon.”

“That’s what you think. But he already has one.”

Isolde’s lips thinned. “Cristina wouldn’t accept being a mere concubine. Once I marry in, I’ll make sure she’s sent away.”

“Oh, if only it were that simple! You think she’ll just leave of her own accord? There are two types of concubines: those bought and those formally accepted into the household. The former can be dismissed at will, but the latter—once brought in through proper rites—cannot be sold or expelled without cause. Besides, Cristina is from a prestigious family. If you recklessly drive her out, it’ll be seen as a disgraceful move.”

Isolde hadn’t thought about it in such detail. In her previous life, she paid little attention to household matters. If William doted on Eleanor, so be it—wasn’t that just the way of men? But now? The mere thought of Oliver lying with Cristina made her blood boil. Rage and jealousy clawed at her insides, and for the first time, she truly understood what Oliver meant when he said he minded such things.

“I’ll deal with her after the wedding,” she said, though deep down, she wasn’t sure of Cristina’s intentions. Cristina was proud and ambitious—surely she wouldn’t settle for being a concubine. If anything, she was the type of woman destined to sit at the head of a household, ruling with an iron fist.

The conversation finally ended. As they stepped outside, the cold night air greeted them, along with the muffled giggles of eavesdroppers who had clearly been listening at the door. When the door swung open, the onlookers feigned innocence, laughing as if nothing had happened. A round of cake followed, but sleep was fleeting.

Even if Isolde wanted to rest, she could only spare an hour and a half before she had to rise again. Natasha, though older, was in high spirits and full of energy, chatting away with the younger women instead of retiring. Isolde felt reluctant to leave as well. How could she go to bed when everyone else was awake?

But Natasha insisted. “You have a long day ahead of you. If you don’t rest now, no amount of powder will hide your exhaustion. I want to see the most radiant snowball tomorrow.”

Esme chuckled. “Snowball? More like a lump of coal by morning.”

Isolde grinned. “Fine, fine. I’ll be a lump of coal then. I take my leave.”

With a bow to the elders, she withdrew. Esme stayed behind to arrange accommodations, but Natasha waved dismissively. “It’s fine. They’re all young. Staying up one night won’t hurt. In just a couple of hours, we’ll be busy again anyway.”

Esme shook her head. “The others can go without sleep, but you need to rest. Tomorrow, you’re just as important as the princess—do you really want to show up with dark circles under your eyes?”

Natasha waved her off with a laugh. “Nonsense. I feel fantastic.”

Patricia smirked. “Don’t worry, Esme. I’ll keep an eye on her. The moment she so much as yawns, I’ll have her escorted to bed.” Then, with a sly glance, she added, “You should be more concerned about someone else—I doubt she’ll be getting much sleep after that conversation.”

Laughter filled the room. Natasha, shaking her head, scolded, “You shameless woman!”

Back in her chambers, Isolde lay in bed, wide awake. She was used to sleepless nights. In her past life, she had endured far worse on the battlefield. Compared to war, what was a wedding eve? Still, she didn’t mind lying in the quiet, letting her thoughts drift. Tonight, for once, she wasn’t burdened by bad memories. Instead, she found herself looking forward to the future.

She was unbelievably lucky—so lucky it almost felt unreal. Her journey had been treacherous, filled with hardships, but the outcome had always been in her favor. If life could continue this smoothly, how wonderful would that be?

What was Oliver thinking right now? Was he thinking the same things I was? I shouldn’t have argued with him. Would he think I was still upset? Life had too many challenges to waste time dwelling on petty quarrels. They had, at most, five years together. Such a short time. But to be with him—even for just five years—was enough. Even if I were to die in a few days… No. That wouldn’t do. A few days aren’t enough.

There was one thing she wanted to accomplish first—one thing she hoped for with all her heart. A child. The thought lingered as time slipped away.

When Esme finally came to wake her, Isolde sat up immediately. Esme eyed her knowingly. “Didn’t sleep, did you?”

“I did,” Isolde said breezily, slipping her feet into her shoes. The floor was cold. “Has it snowed again?”

“Yes. Quite heavily. Hopefully, it stops by morning.”

Her attendants—Noelle, Britney, Helena, Hattie, and Hazel—filed in, ready to assist.

“First, a bath,” Esme instructed. “Your hair must be washed—it needs to be arranged properly for the ceremonial headdress.”

The bath had been prepared long before she awoke. The water was warm, fragrant with dried petals. The scent filled the room before she even stepped in.

“Go on, soak for a while. It’ll warm you up.”

Noelle approached, ready to help her undress, but Isolde laughed. “No need—I can do it myself.”

“Not today,” Esme cut in sharply. “On any other day, sure. But today, you’re to be waited on. Understand?”

Esme was usually easygoing, but ever since the wedding arrangements began, she had been insistent on every detail. Isolde dared not disobey—lest she be nagged until dawn.

As she stepped into the bath, the door opened again. Princess Aveline entered, accompanied by Sadie and Nicole.

“Sadie found someone special for you,” Aveline said with a smile. “Isolde—the best hand in all of Argentum. Many noble brides seek her out for their wedding day.”

The preparations had begun.