Inside the Emperor’s quiet, suffocatingly grand office, a middle-aged man with platinum hair closed his eyes, his face a mask of profound boredom.
On his desk lay a detailed report on every recent move made by the Duke of Brant.
“He’s becoming increasingly troublesome,” the Emperor murmured.
If Eric continued on his current path, he would soon be impossible to control. The Emperor glanced at another report—one detailing the erratic behavior of his own son, the Crown Prince Franz. He sighed. He couldn't trust Franz to handle the Duke if things came to a head.
A chamberlain approached, carrying a letter on a golden tray. Sensing the movement, the Emperor opened his eyes and stared at the wax seal. It bore two distinct crests: the roaring lion of the Brant family and the obsidian rose of the Imperial House.
“That child again,” the Emperor noted, his voice devoid of interest.
He had only allowed Cornelia’s marriage to Eric because she had promised to act as his spy within the Brant household. But every letter she had sent since the wedding had been filled with trivial nonsense—complaints about the staff, requests for more gold, or obsessive ramblings about her husband’s schedule.
*It will be the same today,* he thought. Still, he gestured for the letter. “Open it.”
The chamberlain carefully broke the seal and handed the parchment to the Emperor. His purple eyes scanned the lines with practiced indifference, until they caught a specific sentence.
*[...Therefore, I wish to provide you with the information you seek regarding Duke Brant’s hidden weaknesses—the very reason Your Majesty saw fit to marry me into his house.]*
The Emperor’s brow arched. This didn't read like a joke. For the first time in years, a genuine spark of interest lit his eyes.
“Bold girl,” he mused. He looked up at the chamberlain. “Tell the Princess she is expected at the palace within the week.”
***
Outside the Emperor’s chambers, Sardin received the message and bowed his head.
“I will inform my lady at once.”
As Sardin turned to leave, a maid who had been lurking behind a nearby pillar scurried away, disappearing into the labyrinthine corridors of the palace. She soon reached a lavishly decorated room, where she whispered the news to its occupant.
“His Majesty has summoned the Duchess of Brant, my lady.”
The silver-haired woman sitting by the window narrowed her eyes. She was draped in silk and lace, her features sharp and elegant.
“Good,” the Empress said, a cold smile touching her lips. “I was going to call for her anyway, but it seems she’s making this easy for me. It’s a sign that things are moving in the right direction. Isn't that right, Madeleine?”
Across from her, Madeleine of Arguin set down her tea cup with a graceful clink. She offered her aunt a soft, practiced smile.
“It is all thanks to your grace, Your Majesty.”
The Empress sighed, looking at her niece with genuine affection. “How I wish you were my daughter instead of that... creature.”
Madeleine’s green eyes flashed with a deep, hidden joy. She lowered her gaze, her voice perfectly humble. “You overestimate me, Aunt. Cornelia is a good daughter, in her own way.”
The Empress let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Yes. She’s useful, if nothing else.”
***
The day of my audience with the Emperor arrived.
*Today is the day of the decisive battle,* I thought, as I finished my preparations an hour earlier than necessary. I knew my father’s temper; if I were even a minute late, he would use it as an excuse to ignore whatever I had to say.
The problem was the staff. The same people who had ignored me for years were suddenly very interested in my itinerary.
“My lady, where are you going at such an early hour?” one of the maids asked, her eyes full of a forced, nervous curiosity.
I knew why they were asking. Eric’s orders. They were monitoring me, terrified of being reprimanded if I disappeared again. I ignored them, heading straight for the courtyard.
But someone was waiting to block my path.
“My lady!”
I narrowed my eyes. It was Randon. He had never shown me a shred of respect in the past, and I knew he wasn't acting out of genuine concern now. He was likely hoping that if he could report my movements to Eric, he’d be restored to his position as butler.
“Step aside,” I said, my voice cold.
“You’re going out early, my lady?” Randon asked, his tone carefully polite.
“Since when do you care about my schedule? Besides, aren't you a mere servant now? It’s not your place to question me.”
“I only wish to fulfill my duty to the house, my lady. I must know where you are going.”
I offered a sharp, cynical laugh. “So you still haven't learned your lesson? Get out of my way.”
Instead of moving, Randon dropped to his knees right in front of the carriage. “I know I have been disrespectful in the past, my lady. Please, let me make up for my mistakes!”
I felt a surge of irritation. I didn't have time for this drama. “Move, now!”
“Cornelia.”
Eric was approaching, his stride purposeful. I bit back a curse. This was exactly why I had tried to leave early.
He looked at the carriage and then at me. “Where are you going at this hour?”
“To the Imperial Palace,” I replied, knowing he’d find out anyway.
He didn't miss a beat. He turned to a group of four knights standing nearby. “Accompany the Duchess. You are responsible for her safety.”
I wanted to scream. I was going to my childhood home, yet he was treating it like I was entering enemy territory, placing me under open surveillance. But I didn't have time to argue. I sighed and moved to step into the carriage.
“Take it,” Eric said, extending his gloved hand.
He looked as if he were doing me a great favor, his expression one of forced, distant courtesy. I ignored the hand entirely, pulling myself into the carriage without a word. I saw a flicker of something—displeasure? surprise?—cross his face, but I didn't care.
“Drive,” I commanded.
As the wheels began to turn, the servants bowed in unison. “Safe travels, my lady.”
I looked out the window, watching the Brant estate recede. I had once longed to hear those words, to feel like I belonged in that house. But now, I felt nothing. I wasn't the Duchess of Brant anymore. I was just Cornelia.
The scenery shifted as we entered the massive, obsidian gates of the Imperial Palace.
*This place hasn't changed a bit,* I thought, looking at the familiar, cold spires.
Most people think of their childhood home as a sanctuary. For me, this vast, echoing space had never been anything but a gilded cage.
When the carriage door opened, I was greeted by a chamberlain who offered a deep, formal bow.
“Welcome, Duchess of Brant. Please, allow me to guide you.”
The title felt like a slap. Even here, in the place where I was born, I was treated as an outsider—a political pawn who had been traded away.
*I suppose I have myself to blame for that,* I thought bitterly. I had spent my youth as the "obsessive princess," a girl so desperate for affection that I had made myself a laughingstock. My father had seen my worth only as a bargaining chip.
I was lost in my own thoughts when a voice I had hoped to avoid rang out across the hall.
“Oh my, who do we have here? Cor!”
I stiffened. Madeleine was standing there, a bright, false smile on her face. Beside her stood the Empress, her expression one of cold disdain.
The memory of my younger self, constantly seeking the Empress’s approval and calling her "Mother" only to be ignored, flashed through my mind.
*If I greet her, she’ll only look at me with disgust. Why bother?*
I was on my way to see the Emperor; I had no desire to waste energy on them. Madeleine, however, was as persistent as ever. She always used that nickname—*Cor*—in public. To the world, it sounded like a friendly abbreviation of my name. But I knew the truth. In the slang of the capital, it was a slur that meant *crow.*
She used it to remind everyone of my status as the "Crow Princess."
I stared at her for a long moment, then shifted my gaze to the Empress. I didn't say a word. I simply offered a shallow, formal bow—the kind one gives to a social superior who is not a loved one—and walked right past them.