I Died on My Wedding Day

V: Sick

Alaric gripped the back of his chair so tightly that the mahogany wood let out a faint creak. The image of Eloise disappearing into the dark corridor haunted his mind.

He could not sit still. To hell with etiquette, to hell with alliances.

“Excuse me,” Alaric said as he rose, ignoring the confused looks from Rosieta and Theodore.

“I have urgent business.”

His strides were long and quick as he headed for the exit of the hall. But before his hand could reach the cold bronze door handle, a solid figure blocked his way.

It was Sir Baldr.

The old knight stood firm like a fortress wall, his right hand raised—polite, yet unyielding—against Alaric’s chest.

“Step aside, Sir Baldr,” Alaric growled, his eyes burning with anger.

“I am sorry, Young Lord. Lord Isolde has given an absolute order,” Baldr said calmly, steel hidden in his voice.

“You are not permitted to leave this banquet before it ends. This is a night of honor for Lady Rosieta and House Caelthrone.”

Alaric clicked his tongue sharply, the sound harsh in noble ears.

“Ridiculous. My father detains his own heir for the sake of courtesy while his daughter is ill?”

“Lord Isolde is thinking of House Hildebrand’s image before our new allies,” Baldr replied, though his eyes revealed he did not fully agree.

Alaric locked gazes with his mentor.

“Eloise said something is wrong, Sir. Her premonitions are never mistaken. I cannot leave her alone.”

At the sound of Eloise’s name and the desperation in his student’s voice, Baldr’s resolve wavered. He sighed, then leaned closer and whispered,

“You are right, Lady Eloise always has her reasons. You need not worry—I will check on her myself, Young Lord. Nurse Griselda is already with her. You must remain here and keep the situation from drawing suspicion. If something truly dire happens, I will come and get you myself.”

Alaric considered the offer. He trusted Sir Baldr more than anyone in this castle besides his family.

“You need not protect me,” Alaric said quietly. “Just protect my sister.”

“Make sure she is safe,” he pressed.

“Eloise said… danger is following her.”

Baldr nodded solemnly, then turned and vanished into the shadows of the corridor with the silent steps of a war veteran.

Alaric returned to the table, forcing his face into a neutral mask.

“Is your business settled, Alaric?” Rosieta asked, her wide eyes filled with concern.

He only nodded and sat down.

Rosieta placed her hand over his clenched fist on the table.

“You look pale. Are you ill? Is it because you gave me your cloak earlier? Oh my, now I feel terrible.”

“No, Lady Rosieta,” Alaric replied coldly, slowly withdrawing his hand under the pretense of reaching for his drink.

“I have lived among blizzards for seventeen years. Tonight’s air is nothing to me.”

Across the table, Theodore merely smiled faintly as he sipped his wine, watching as the once-warm atmosphere subtly changed.

Two hours later, the banquet finally ended.

The moment Lord Isolde raised the closing toast, Alaric stood. He did not wait for farewells. His steps were swift as he left the hall, his cloak billowing behind him.

“Brother! Wait!”

Small running footsteps chased after him. Elodie, her face unusually anxious, struggled to keep up, lifting her troublesome gown.

“Why are you in such a hurry? Is Eloise really that bad?” she asked between breaths.

Alaric did not answer. He only quickened his pace toward the east wing, where his sisters’ chambers lay.

When he reached Eloise’s heavy oak door, he stopped short.

Sir Baldr stood before it like a grave sentinel. His face was grim, the lines on his brow deeper than ever.

“Sir Baldr,” Alaric demanded. “What happened? Move aside—I need to go in.”

Baldr shifted slightly, yet his hand remained on the handle, keeping the door closed.

“I am sorry, Young Lord,” he said heavily.

“The physician is inside. He has forbidden anyone to enter, even family. He says… Eloise requires complete rest. Nurse Griselda is assisting him.”

Alaric’s heart seemed to stop.

“A physician? Forbidden to enter? Since when does a simple fever require isolation?”

Baldr fell silent. He glanced at Elodie trembling behind Alaric, then gave Alaric a subtle shake of the head—a silent warning: not here.

“I cannot explain the details in this open corridor, my lord,” Baldr said meaningfully.

Alaric understood. His jaw tightened. Something terrible—truly terrible—had happened.

Elodie tugged at Alaric’s sleeve, her eyes filling with tears.

“Brother… what’s wrong with Eloise? She’s fine, right? She only said she felt dizzy.”

Alaric turned and knelt so they were at eye level. He wiped the tears forming on her cheeks with his thumb.

“Listen, El,” he said gently but firmly.

“Eloise only needs complete rest. I promise you, everything will be fine.”

“I want to sleep with Eloise…” Elodie whimpered.

“Not tonight,” Alaric cut in softly.

“Tonight, you’ll sleep in my chamber. It’s warmer, and the bed is bigger. You know I have my sword collection there—you once said you wanted to stay there.”

Elodie sniffled but nodded. Alaric’s room had always been their safest fortress.

He led her upstairs to his chamber.

“Go in. Lock the door from inside. Do not come out until either Sir Baldr or I knock.”

After kissing the top of Elodie’s head and making sure the door was locked, the gentleness vanished from Alaric’s face.

He turned to Sir Baldr waiting at the end of the corridor. Alaric’s ruby-red eyes now burned with lethal intensity.

“Come with me, Sir Baldr,” Alaric commanded coldly.

“Tell me everything. And by the gods, do not hide a single word.”

They walked in silence toward the study, their footsteps echoing like the ticking of a death clock.