“If you’d just stayed quiet, you could’ve lived in luxury by my side. Why go so far as to defy my orders and obsess over driving out Rant? For my mother, who you claimed died unjustly?”
I paused to steady my breath before continuing.
“No, my mother was never an object of your loyalty. You merely leeched off her.”
“Is that a crime? Your mother was just lucky to be born noble—she was no better than me in any way. I was superior to that fool in every respect! I should’ve been the one born noble!”
Her frenzied eyes gleamed with madness, confirming what I’d suspected: she was addicted to Kayak, just as she’d addicted my mother.
“Where did you get it?”
Her raving stopped abruptly, her lips sealing shut. Despite her madness, she was still calculating, revealing only what served her.
“My mother’s wealth was surprisingly scarce,” I said.
She remained silent.
“I heard my grandfather provided an astronomical dowry when she married Father.”
After the nursemaid left, I took over the household’s finances and noticed a discrepancy. Where had the fortune allocated to the marchioness gone? She’d been a recluse, rarely engaging in social activities, so her expenses should’ve been minimal. Yet, not a single coin remained from her yearly allowance.
“Where did you spend it all?”
Back when I was consumed by extravagance, I cared only for acquiring things, not what happened to them afterward. I never rewore jewelry or dresses, and the nursemaid handled their disposal, along with managing the taxes from my estate and personal funds.
I hadn’t realized it then, but the Pison Guild likely covered my excesses. Evan and Anasha would never have defied my grandfather’s will—they did their best for me.
So where had the nursemaid funneled all that money?
“Why did you need so much?”
Her bloodshot eyes trembled faintly for the first time.
I considered why she’d openly turned against me. As a commoner, defying a noble like me was tantamount to suicide. Even if driven by revenge, we weren’t mortal enemies—at least not outwardly.
That meant something outweighed her life. What could she have bargained with the First Consort for, at the cost of her own neck?
“I heard a certain baron in the west has been spending lavishly lately.”
Her face paled, her eyes darting erratically.
“How did a nearly bankrupt barony come by such wealth?”
“W-What are you…”
Her hands, gripping the bars, began to shake. I leaned closer, smiling.
“They say the baron’s daughter, long absent due to frail health, recently returned. Oddly, no one—not even the baron’s kin—knew he had a daughter. Why do you think that is?”
She chewed her lips, glaring. I dropped my smile.
“What will the baron do to that daughter when the money dries up?”
I paused, watching her closely, hoping to stoke her anxiety.
“As you know, the First Consort will never keep her promise to you. If you die, your daughter will be cast out from that barony.”
“How?!” she screamed, incredulous.
Somehow, she’d borne a daughter in secret. As her daughter grew, so did her ambition—to elevate her from commoner to noble. She struck a deal with a failing barony, funding them to pass her daughter off as their own.
That was why she’d been so desperate to oust Rant. As long as Rant existed, I could never inherit House Eliant’s full legacy.
“She takes after you, I hear.”
Evan had been monitoring the west, primarily watching House Daysha, but his meticulous nature caught the baron’s sudden spending. Investigating, he found jewelry once belonging to the marchioness—items too distinctive for the Pison Guild to miss.
At my request, Sys pressured the baron, uncovering the truth.
“She’s done nothing wrong! Touch her, and I’ll kill you!”
“What can you do from in there?”
“I…”
“You’ll vanish as dew on the gallows tomorrow. Your soul can watch your daughter’s miserable fate.”
“Aaah!”
Her scream echoed as I turned away, slowly distancing myself.
“Spare her!”
I paused as she begged.
“Please, spare my daughter! I beg you, my lady!”
“Why should I?”
“Please, for old times’ sake…”
Before she finished, I turned, crouching to meet her eyes as she slumped.
“There’s no affection left, but for old times’ sake, I’ll give you a chance. One last time: where did you get that powder?”
Her gaze flicked to the white powder scattered on the cold stone floor.
“It’s… It’s…”
Her eyes darted nervously before she began biting her fingers.
“Not worried about your daughter, I see.”
“Inayari!” she blurted.
“Inayari?”
I frowned, and she quickly added, “More precisely, a merchant trading with the Inayari.”
“A merchant?”
“Yes, he claimed he had some Inayari blood, allowing him to trade with them and handle rare medicines only they could procure. He said no one would notice…”
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know!”
I frowned again, and she cried, “Truly, I don’t! I met him by chance.”
“How do you buy from him?”
“When I run low, he contacts me first.”
“How?”
“It varies—sometimes a paid messenger, sometimes a letter. I swear, my lady!”
She didn’t seem to be lying.
*Why is Inayari, once just a name, suddenly so prominent?*
That was all I could extract from her. Without lingering, I left. Her desperate cries followed, but they were her own doing.
I had no intention of harming her daughter, nor of helping her. Sparing her was enough—I’d fulfilled my duty. My ties with the nursemaid were severed.
—
Act 16: Recollection
“What is it?”
“The Crown Prince has arrived,” the steward reported.
My brow furrowed. Since that day, Sys had been swamped, stabilizing the chaos as the crown prince. He barely had time to sleep, let alone visit me.
*Why would he come at this hour?*
Curious but preoccupied, I instructed the steward to receive him.
“Show him to the parlor.”
“Understood.”
As the steward left, I hurriedly organized the documents and invitations on my desk.
Father was currently at one of House Eliant’s estates. Though close to the capital, traveling back and forth took time. Before leaving, he’d entrusted me with the house seal, delegating full authority in his absence.
I pushed the sorted documents aside and picked up an invitation from House Engrail for a tea party.
Noble women typically began social activities after their coming-of-age ceremonies. Parties ranged from intimate tea gatherings to grand imperial balls. However, attendance required invitations, even for nobles.
As the crown prince’s fiancée, I received countless invitations from those eager to curry favor. In the past, I’d have ignored them, but things were different now.
I’d resolved to stand by Sys and find happiness at his side. Power was essential for that.
Whether I liked it or not, Sys was destined to be emperor—he was born and raised for it. Half-hearted resolve wouldn’t suffice. One failure was enough.
Tapping the desk, I considered my options. Lady Engrail’s tea party was a prime opportunity. Though not overtly ambitious, her gentle demeanor and sociable nature gave her wide influence in social circles.
A high noble of imperial descent, she didn’t discriminate by status and, thanks to her close friend Baroness Bizdel, was well-versed in the arts, often hosting salons for artists. Her events drew diverse crowds, making them ideal for establishing my presence.
I set her invitation aside, discarding the rest. I didn’t need to attend every event.
Standing, I left the study. The steward awaited me, his face subtly troubled.
