Investing in My Crippled Wife: My Duchess Makes me Overpowered

The invitation arrived on cream parchment sealed with gold wax, the royal crest of the Magenta dynasty. A stylized figure of a dragon, wings spread wide and breathing fire.

Emeric turned it over in his hands, reading the formal script for the third time.

”His Majesty King Aldric Magenta and Her Majesty Queen Sylvia Magenta request the honor of your presence...”

”Sylvia Magenta,” Isolde said dryly from her chair by the window. ”I know she’s the queen, but every time I see her, I just want to....”

She trailed off but Emeric could deduce just what she wanted to do to the queen.

”No love lost.” Emeric said, his eyes set on Isolde.

”A woman who has been running the kingdom for four years while her husband slowly fades into a husk of himself.” She didn’t say it like a compliment.

”It’s a political event, Emeric. Not a celebration. We’re being summoned to be seen. To be evaluated. To be used.”

”Then we’ll be seen.” He set the invitation down. ”We’ll be evaluated. We’ll refuse to be used.”

”That’s a bold claim for a man who’s never attended a royal function in his life.”

”Then I’ll learn.” He crossed to her, kneeling beside her chair. ”I’ll learn everything I need to know. And I’ll make sure no one looks down on you—not the Queen, not the court, not anyone.”

She reached out, touching his face. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, the sharpening of his features that had come with weeks of training. He looked different now. Stronger. More certain.

”Ouch!” He said, wincing a little bit.

”Sorry, I...”

”It’s not safe to use your magic.” Emeric told her, his eyes taking on a serious expression.

”Yes, I know. I just...” she trained off. ”Sometimes it just happens.”

”Your core ... ” He began. ”You need to be careful, Isolde.” He said her name with gritted teeth.

”You’ve changed,” she said quietly.

”For the better?”

”Mostly.” A small smile. ”You’re still terrible at cooking eggs.”

”I’ve improved.”

”You’ve improved from ’inedible’ to ’barely edible.’ I stand by my assessment.”

He laughed, but something was shifting in his chest.

He wasn’t sure he could do without this woman who was slowly becoming a more integral part of his life.

Two Days Later — The Royal Palace

The Palace of Magenta rose from the center of the capital like a mountain carved by gods. White marble pillars. Gilded spires that stood as a cast from the sun and turned it molten gold. Windows that stretched three stories high, catching the light and throwing it back in a hundred colors.

Emeric had seen it from a distance before, the way everyone had. Up close, it was something else entirely. Something that made you feel small.

He pushed Isolde’s chair up the wide marble steps, two servants flanking them, their footsteps echoing in the vast entryway. She was dressed in deep blue tonight—the color of storm clouds, the color of the sky before lightning. Her hair was swept up in an elegant twist, exposing the graceful line of her neck. She had a brooch pinned to her gown, silver and sapphire, a gift from him that she’d accepted with a raised eyebrow and a quiet, ”You’re going to spoil me.”

He was in formal black, tailored to fit him perfectly.

Isolde had seen to it; had sent her own measurements and his to a seamstress she trusted, had paid for it herself from the small allowance her family still grudgingly provided. The coat was cut close to his shoulders, emphasizing the breadth his training had built. The boots were polished to a mirror shine. The cravat was tied with precision that had taken him three attempts to master.

He looked like he belonged.

He still felt like an imposter.

”Relax,” Isolde murmured, reading him the way she always did. ”You look like you’re about to throw up or something.”

”Maybe I am.” He said it lightly, but there was truth beneath it.

”Emeric.” Her hand found his on the back of her chair. ”We’re here to make an appearance. Not to start a war.”

”Of course.” He smiled, and she didn’t believe him for a second.

The ballroom was a vast opening that spread into a sea of marble and gold, chandeliers dripping with crystal, a ceiling painted with scenes of the kingdom’s founding. Hundreds of nobles clustered in small groups, wine glasses in hand, laughter and music creating a pleasant hum that washed over everything.

And then they entered.

The hum didn’t stop, exactly. But it changed, shifting into a mix of whispers that was undoubtedly about them.

People turned to them, casting looks of recognition, pity, disdain, curiosity.

Isolde was still recognized in high society and through hearsay, it appeared he was also known by extension.

The one without magic that was married off to the crippled

”The Unblessed Halden,” someone whispered, not quite quietly enough. ”And the crippled Mage. What a pair.”

Emeric’s jaw tightened. But he kept walking, kept his face composed, kept his hand steady on the back of her chair.

”We expected as much,” Isolde said quietly. ”You need to—”

”Let them talk.” He said it firmly, gently. ”Their words can’t touch us.”

They made their way through the crowd, accepting formal greetings that ranged from cold to condescending. A viscount who pretended not to see them. A countess who offered Isolde ”sympathy” that was clearly meant to wound. A baron who asked Emeric if he’d ”finally Awakened” or if he was still ”waiting for a miracle.”

Through it all, Emeric maintained his composure. His face was calm, his responses polite, his eyes cold.

[SOCIAL FORTITUDE — PASSIVE ACTIVE]

[SOCIAL PRESSURE RESISTANCE: 85% EFFECTIVE]

The window flickered and faded. He ignored it.

Then Lady Selene Lacona appeared, a glass of wine in her hand, her smile sharp as glass.

”Isolde, darling.” She kissed the air near Isolde’s cheek. ”How lovely to see you out. I was so worried you’d hide yourself away forever. But you’ve always been so brave.”

Isolde’s smile was a blade. ”Selene. You look well. The years have been kind to you.”

”I’m sure you’d know all about the years.” Selene’s eyes flicked to Emeric, assessing him like she was appraising livestock. ”And this must be the famous Unblessed Halden. You’re... taller than I expected. I suppose that’s something.”