Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 326: Betrothal

Afternoon light filtered through tall windows, casting long shadows across polished wood floors.

Portraits of Duskwood ancestors lined the walls, generations of stern faces watching their descendants navigate circumstances they’d never imagined.

Four people sat in careful arrangement around a low table. Tea service laid out between them.

On the right side of the table sat Baron Varell Duskwood.

Mid-forties in appearance, with black hair showing silver streaks at the temples. Grey eyes that once carried warmth now looked hollow, distant. His formal clothing was impeccable, dark jacket, crisp shirt, everything proper, but he wore it like armor rather than comfort.

He sat rigid. Controlled. Every movement measured, every expression carefully managed.

Beside him was Baroness Mirenna Duskwood.

Golden-brown hair pulled back in elegant style that emphasized features still beautiful despite exhaustion. Blue eyes that carried mother’s grief. She’d cried herself empty in the months since the Academy attack.

Now she just... existed.

Going through motions because stopping meant facing reality she couldn’t bear.

She tried to remain composed. Tried to sit properly, to maintain dignity expected of her station. But her hands trembled slightly where they rested in her lap. Her gaze kept drifting to empty space, to places where memories waited to ambush her.

Across from them sat their guests.

Marquess Gorf Steelwind of Ironhold, a powerfully built man in his late fifties with iron-grey hair and calculating amber eyes.

He wore wealth casually, his clothing expensive but understated. Everything about him suggested the kind of man who saw opportunity in others’ tragedy.

Beside him was his son, Garret Steelwind.

Handsome. Dark brown hair swept back from angular features. Amber eyes like his father’s, but colder.

More arrogant. He wore his noble status like weapon, carrying himself with confidence that bordered on contempt.

The silence stretched for moment longer before Gorf spoke, his voice carrying practiced sympathy.

"Baron Duskwood, please accept my deepest condolences for your loss." His tone was appropriate, respectful, measured.

"Caleb was a fine young man. His death at the Academy was... tragic. Senseless. The kind of loss that diminishes us all."

Varell’s jaw tightened fractionally. "Thank you, Marquess. Your words are... appreciated."

Gorf nodded, then his expression shifted slightly, becoming more businesslike. "However, while we mourn, we must also consider the living. The future. Arrangements that ensure stability during these... uncertain times."

He leaned forward slightly. "The betrothal agreement between our houses, between my son Garret and your daughter Livia, was established months ago. Given recent events, I believe it would be prudent to... accelerate the timeline."

He spread his hands in gesture meant to appear reasonable.

"I’m not suggesting we rush the ceremony itself. Just formalize the engagement publicly. Make it official. Binding. So both our houses can present unified front during these troubled times."

He paused, then added with slight edge, "Of course, if you feel this arrangement no longer serves House Duskwood’s interests, my son has received several other suitable offers. The Thornwell family has a daughter. House Blackmere has expressed interest. We have... options."

Varell’s hands clenched briefly in his lap. His grey eyes found Mirenna’s blue ones. Some wordless communication passed between them.

They’d discussed this. Argued about it. In the weeks since Caleb’s death, since their world had shattered, they’d had this exact conversation a dozen times.

We need the alliance. We’re vulnerable. Exposed.

"No," Varell said finally, his voice firmer. "No, that won’t be necessary. I agree. The sooner we formalize the arrangement, the better for both our houses."

Something flickered across Gorf’s features, quickly masked, but present. "Excellent. I’m pleased we could reach understanding."

He began discussing details, timeline for public announcement, terms of dowry adjustment given changed circumstances, political arrangements that would accompany the formal betrothal.

Varell engaged, his responses automatic.

Garret had been silent throughout the negotiation, letting his father handle business as expected. But now he leaned back in his chair, his amber eyes gleaming with something that might have been satisfaction or might have been anticipation.

"Where is she?" His voice cut through his father’s continued discussion. "My betrothed. May I meet her? Properly?"

The question hung in the air. Not quite appropriate, the formal negotiations weren’t complete, but not inappropriate enough to object to directly.

Mirenna spoke for the first time since the initial greeting, her voice quiet but carrying across the room.

"She’s in the gardens. Outside." She paused, then added with mother’s desperate plea poorly disguised as request, "Please... be gentle with her. She hasn’t taken her brother’s death well."

Garret’s expression flickered, something that might have been understanding or might have been contempt passing too quickly to identify.

"Of course, Baroness," he said, his tone appropriate. Respectful. "I’ll be considerate."

He stood smoothly, nodded to his father and the Baron, then turned toward the doors leading to the manor’s exterior.

Then...

Garret walked through the manor’s corridors with purposeful stride.

Servants stepped aside as he passed, bowing appropriately. He ignored them. They were furniture. Background. Irrelevant.

Eventually, he emerged into the gardens. Flower beds arranged in geometric patterns. Hedge mazes for entertainment. Stone paths winding between cultivated nature.

And there, beneath a willow tree near the rose garden—

A figure sat alone.

Small. Still. Facing away from the manor, staring at... something. The roses, maybe. Or the distant trees. Or nothing at all.

Livia Duskwood.

His betrothed.

Garret’s lips curved into cold smirk. His amber eyes tracked over her form, assessing, cataloguing, claiming.

"So here you’re hiding, little Duskwood," he murmured to himself, too quiet for her to hear.

He approached slowly. Deliberately. Each step measured to avoid startling her, not from kindness, but from desire to observe before she knew she was being watched.

She didn’t turn. Didn’t acknowledge his approach. Just sat beneath the willow, her grey eyes fixed on some distant point, her expression empty.

Garret studied her as he drew closer.

Delicate features that might become beautiful if she ever learned to carry herself with confidence instead of defeat. Black hair falling loose around her shoulders, unkempt, suggesting she hadn’t bothered with proper grooming recently.

She wore simple dress, nothing formal, nothing that suggested she’d been expecting visitors. Just... existence. The minimum required to be presentable.

He stopped perhaps ten feet away. Close enough to speak comfortably. Far enough to maintain propriety.

"Lady Livia," he said. "I hope I’m not disturbing you."

She didn’t respond immediately. Didn’t even seem to hear him.

Just kept staring at nothing, hand clutching the tear shaped pendant at her throat.

Garret’s smirk deepened.

Perfect.