Tears welled in the nursemaid’s eyes, streaming down her face in a way that evoked pity from onlookers. “To think you’d try to kill the man you loved to hide the truth! How could you?” she wailed.
Her cry echoed through the room.
I turned to the First Consort, who met my gaze with a satisfied smile.
The doors opened, and a man entered, supported by an attendant.
His pallid face and cracked lips clearly marked him as ill.
The nursemaid pointed at him, shouting, “That’s the man she tried to kill to conceal the truth! Will you still deny it?”
As soon as she spoke, Evan, supported by the attendant, knelt before the emperor.
“Evan Ri of the Pison Guild greets the Sun of the Empire.
Please forgive my inability to observe proper etiquette due to my injuries.”
“What is the meaning of this?”
the emperor demanded, turning to the First Consort.
“Wasn’t the master of the Pison Guild supposed to be dead?”
“Indeed, he was stabbed by Lady Eliant and buried in a remote hill,” she replied calmly, her gaze shifting to me.
“She must have thought he was dead.”
A mocking smile curled her lips.
“But that woman there saved him as he lay dying in the earth.”
She pointed at the nursemaid without breaking eye contact with me.
Seizing the moment, the nursemaid cried,
“I could no longer stand by and watch her heinous acts!
For the late marchioness, I had to set the truth right.
With Your Highness’s help, I stand here today.”
Sobbing, she bowed deeply to the emperor.
He shifted his gaze to Evan. “Is what she says true?”
Evan’s eyes met mine. He looked far more haggard than the last time I saw him.
I recalled that day.
“What should I do now?”
“Hate and resent me, Evan.”
His brow furrowed uncomfortably at my words. I smiled softly. “I don’t mean truly hate me. I’d rather not be despised by my knight.”
His eyes softened slightly at my half-joking tone.
“The First Consort is cautious. She won’t move without a strong hand. So, I’ll give her one she can’t resist.”
I pointed at him. “Evan, be that card.”
Rumors about us abounded, and most suspected our relationship.
The First Consort was no exception—she’d been watching Evan closely.
I had people stage his burial in a remote hill. His injuries were serious but not life-threatening, making the plan feasible.
Evan played the part of a dying man, and the First Consort’s spies took the bait, believing he was buried.
His real stab wound to the abdomen, witnessed by her agents, made it convincing.
Once conscious, Evan mobilized the Pison Guild to pressure House Eliant,
acting the part of a betrayed, vengeful lover.
His relentless attacks were so convincing that even the First Consort, holding the nursemaid as a card, fell for it.
Though commoners, Evan and the nursemaid held weight.
She’d raised me, and he led the Pison Guild.
Even as the crown prince’s fiancée, I couldn’t dismiss their testimony lightly.
“Speak. Is she telling the truth?” the emperor pressed.
“No,” Evan replied firmly.
The nursemaid’s face twisted, and the First Consort’s smile froze.
“What nonsense!” the nursemaid shouted, sensing something amiss. Evan’s gaze moved past her to the emperor.
“Her words are all lies.”
“He’s lying!” she cried. “What wouldn’t a man in love do for his beloved? He’s blinded by her!”
Evan didn’t respond, kneeling silently, awaiting the emperor’s judgment. The emperor studied him with interest.
“Get a grip! You nearly died by her hand, yet you still lie?” the nursemaid pleaded.
When he ignored her, she pressed, “Didn’t you swear to take revenge? Have you forgotten?”
“Do you have nothing to say?” the emperor asked.
Evan raised his head, his gaze steady. “They misunderstood. I never said such things.”
“You can’t hide the truth! Do you want to be betrayed and abandoned again?” she shrieked, but Evan remained unmoved, his expression unchanged.
The emperor stroked his beard, a faint smile on his lips. “The witness denies it. I’m at a loss. First Consort, who’s telling the truth?”
Her jaw tightened at his teasing tone. Though she sat composed, blue veins stood out on her pale hands.
Noticing my stare, she turned to me. I returned the same smile she’d given me.
“What does Lady Eliant think?” the emperor asked.
I dropped my smile and bowed respectfully. “Embarrassingly, malicious rumors have long plagued me—vile and persistent, as if someone spread them deliberately.”
“Outrageous!” the emperor exclaimed theatrically.
“With the Pison Guild master’s help, I set a trap to prove my innocence by finding the source of these rumors.”
“Clever! Did you catch the culprit?”
Instead of answering, I looked at the nursemaid, her face contorted. My silence was answer enough for the emperor and the room. All eyes turned to her, and she screamed, “Don’t be fooled! Why would the Pison Guild’s master help her? It’s because they’re entangled in an improper relationship!”
Some nobles frowned in distaste, others glanced between Evan and me, their imaginations clear. Rumors about us ranged from him being my lover to us having a secret child. Some were plausible, but most were absurd—spread by my own orders.
A single credible rumor piques curiosity, but a flood of outlandish ones erodes trust. I’d counted on that. Hostile nobles hoped the rumors were true, while others dismissed them as nonsense.
I scanned their faces, reading allies and enemies in their expressions.
“It’s only natural the Pison Guild’s master helps me,” I said.
“Why?” the emperor asked.
I smiled. “Because I am the true owner of the Pison Guild.”
“Lies!” Marquis Moyton, the First Consort’s brother, roared, standing so abruptly his chair toppled.
“How dare you lie in this place!”
His outburst hardened the First Consort’s face, while my smile deepened. Though called a fool, he was a house head and could sense the tide turning against him. His folly wasn’t stupidity but failing to know when to act.
“A mere woman owning a guild? Preposterous!” he bellowed.
He thrived under the First Consort’s protection, a chauvinist who saw women as tools for desire. A pig wallowing in unearned superiority—not worth my attention.
“Is there a problem?” I asked.
“Of course! How could someone like you own a guild?”
“You seem to forget my maternal grandfather was the Pison Guild’s master.”
Though tied by marriage, House Eliant and House Pison were distant. Our dealings were purely transactional, not intimate. My grandfather visited me often, and Anasha frequented our house, but that was private. They knew I was from House Pison but not the extent of my influence.
They believed Evan ran the guild. The idea that I, a woman unable to inherit a title, could be its master was beyond their imagination.
“The founder of House Pison was Rosat Riddle Pison. My full name is Bionne Lossa Eliant.”
The high nobles instantly grasped the implication. Bearing the founder’s name as a middle name granted near-absolute rights to the house’s legacy, superseding even a head’s will. Granting such a name was a grave decision, irrevocable once given. It required utmost caution.
Though a name alone meant nothing without the power to wield it, I had that power. With my grandfather gone, House Pison’s authority was effectively mine—close enough for them to believe.
“What does a name matter—” Moyton began.
“Silence!” the First Consort snapped.
“But, sister—”
“Silence, Marquis Moyton!” Her icy command shut him up. Her cold gaze shifted to me.
“I understand you’re the guild’s true master. But does that explain your improper relationship with him?”
Regaining her composure, she pressed relentlessly. I replied calmly, “What improper relationship do you mean?”
My bold question made some nobles flush and cough awkwardly. Unfazed, the First Consort stared at me. “I heard you underwent a virginity test before entering the palace. Shall I prove my innocence with one here?”
