Chapter 80 – Frida POV
I have served the Duchess for over ten years. I've watched her grow from a sharp-tongued, spoiled noble girl into the immovable pillar of grace and authority she is today.
I pride myself—no, I swear—that I understand her better than anyone else in this world. Better than her husband. Better than her family. Better than she understands herself.
But lately… I'm not so sure anymore.
Today, for instance.
She practically races down the side path, her cloak tugged low over her head, walking faster than she ever does in public, as though her own shadow might betray her.
She didn't wear her usual silk. No corset. No high-collared velvet trimmed in gold.
Instead—gods help me—she's wearing my clothes.
One of my spare servant robes.
Because apparently, "they are convenient."
I had to turn away so she wouldn't see my expression.
The Duchess of Callum, wrapped in my patched brown cloak like a runaway stable girl.
