I didn't bother to reply, turning my back on the Empress and walking toward the door.
“You ungrateful slut!” she screamed after me. “Do you think you’ll live a happy life after this? Wait until my son is Emperor. I’ll make you crawl for what you’ve done today!”
I stopped at the threshold and looked back over my shoulder. “Your Majesty... have you wondered how I came to know so much about my brother’s private affairs?”
“That’s...!” Her lips parted, but no words came out. I could see the wheels turning in her mind. She was likely already suspecting her own ladies-in-waiting or her head maid.
I decided to throw a little more fuel on the fire. “It was Madeleine. She has a remarkably loose tongue when she’s been drinking.”
The Empress’s eyes widened in shock. “That’s impossible! Why would my niece tell you anything?”
“I’m just telling you the truth,” I said, my voice dripping with false sincerity. “I have so few friends, after all. Who else would I talk to but my dear cousin?”
I looked at her one last time—her face pale, her hands trembling. “Stay healthy, Your Majesty. I imagine you’ll be quite busy in the coming days.”
As I stepped into the corridor, I heard the sound of a porcelain vase shattering against the door, followed by a piercing shriek. “Call Madeleine! Fetch her this instant!”
I smiled to myself. In my past life, they had appeared to be a unified front, the perfect "royal" family. But the truth was far uglier. They were scavengers, waiting for the first sign of weakness to tear each other apart. The Marquis of Arguin had cleaned up Franz’s messes not out of loyalty, but to collect leverage. And in the end, it was he who had handed the Empress and her son over to the rebels to secure his own position.
I had simply moved up the timeline for their inevitable collapse.
***
Madeleine von Arguin was sitting on a stone bench in the palace gardens, her fingers curled into tight fists.
*How dare she! How dare that crow look down on me!*
Cornelia had always been a tool for Madeleine’s own advancement. From a young age, Madeleine had used her cousin’s "crows-dance" (her clumsy attempts at social grace) to make herself shine. Her parents had always compared her favorably to the "disgraced" princess, and even the Empress seemed to prefer her niece over her own daughter.
Madeleine had spent her life cultivating the image of a "swan"—elegant, pure, and superior to the black-clad "crow" that was Cornelia. She took a perverse joy in humiliating her cousin in front of their peers, relishing the feeling of being the undisputed jewel of the Schwanherd Empire.
But lately, Cornelia had become... difficult.
*I was going to let you live a quiet, pathetic life,* Madeleine thought. *But you’ve become too arrogant. You’ve started to covet things that belong to me.*
She wanted to crush Cornelia, to remind her of her place. But she knew she had to be careful. The Emperor was still watching, and Cornelia was still useful.
*That eastern land... my father said it was sitting on a diamond vein.*
On the surface, the estate was nothing but fertile farmland. But the Marquis had uncovered its true value and had spent months persuading the Empress to take it from Cornelia. The Empress had agreed, of course, because the Marquis had promised to fix Franz’s latest "accident" in exchange.
*Seizing that land will be easier than drinking a cup of cold tea,* Madeleine mused. *There’s no need to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs just yet.*
She saw Cornelia exiting the Empress’s Palace and stood up, a patronizing smile returning to her face. *I’ll play with her a little longer. Remind her who the real swan is.*
“Oh, my sweet little Cor!” Madeleine called out, sashaying toward me. “You look simply exhausted.”
“What do you want, Madeleine?”
“I was just thinking about that land deal. Honestly, I don’t think I’d have the heart to hand over such a vast estate to a brother I despised. Especially at such a... modest price.”
She was watching me closely, her green eyes full of a cruel, expectant glee. She expected me to bite my lip, to show the frustration and helplessness I’d always felt when the Empress took things from me.
I looked at her and let out a soft, genuine laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Madeleine asked, her smile faltering.
“That land? I didn't sell it.”
“What? But... why? The Empress wouldn't just let you—”
“Because it was below market value,” I interrupted. “And as you said, why would I hand it over to Franz?”
Madeleine grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly tight. “Do you have any idea how much the Empress has done for you? You shouldn't be such a shameless, ungrateful daughter!”
I looked down at her hand, then back into her eyes. My voice was like a blade of ice. “I believe I told you not to touch me.”
I wrenched my arm away, making her stumble. “I am the Duchess of Brant now. That land is part of my child’s inheritance. Why would I sell my son’s future for a pittance?”
Madeleine’s face contorted with a resentment she could no longer hide. *You dare to throw your pregnancy in my face? You dare to take the title that should have been mine?*
She stared at my stomach, her gaze dark and predatory. *If I can't get rid of you yet, crow... I can certainly ensure that child never sees the light of day.*
Just as Madeleine leaned forward, her hand reaching out as if to "accidentally" shove me toward the stone stairs, a voice thundered through the garden.
“What do you think you’re doing!”
The voice was low, terrifyingly cold, and vibrated with a suppressed fury.
The bodyguards standing nearby immediately scrambled to the side as the man approached. Madeleine’s face went from pale to a deep, blooming red the moment she recognized him.
“Eric!”
I watched as her expression shifted into one of fawning adoration. She had known Eric for twenty years. She often spoke of a "confession" he had made to her as a teenager—a shy admission that there was someone he liked. At the time, Madeleine had been convinced he meant her.
She believed his marriage to me was nothing but a political necessity, and that his coldness toward me was proof of his lingering affection for her. She saw every "kind" word he gave her as a secret message, a promise that he was only waiting for the right moment to cast the crow aside and return to his swan.
“What is going on here?” Eric demanded, his gaze fixed on us.
Madeleine offered him a look of practiced victory. She wanted to show him exactly where I stood—and who he truly belonged to.
I felt a wave of cold fury rising in my chest as I saw her glance at my stomach again. I could tolerate her petty manipulation, her insults, and even her attempts to seduce my husband. But my baby was another matter.
*If you so much as breathe toward my child,* I thought, *I will dismantle your life piece by piece.*
I was surprised to see Eric here, though. The Eric Lennon Brant I knew loathed the Imperial Palace. He hadn't set foot in these gardens since he returned from the war.
*What are you doing here, Eric? And why do you look like you’re ready to kill someone?*