The knights stood frozen as they processed my response.
“We... we did nothing wrong?” one of them whispered, his voice full of a profound, gnawing confusion.
They knew better than anyone how they had treated me. To them, I was the "Crow Princess"—a flawed, manipulative woman who had forced their master into a marriage he clearly despised. They had spent five years drawing a line between themselves and the lady of the house, refusing to offer the protection and respect my title deserved.
They had expected me to scream. They had expected me to scrutinize their every failure and use my connection to the Emperor to have them punished. They were prepared for my wrath.
But to be told they had done nothing wrong... it was a blow they hadn't anticipated.
Sir Chester, the commander of the guard, was the first to find his voice. He bowed his head so low his forehead nearly touched the cobblestones. “My lady, why do you say such things? We are not so shameless that we cannot recognize our own failure.”
“I am not mocking you, Sir Chester,” I said, my voice calm.
“Then rebuke us! Tell us of our crimes so that we may atone!”
I offered him a small, weary smile. “Truly, you did nothing wrong. You were simply being loyal to your master. And I... I was never your master.”
The weight of those words hit them like a physical force. They realized that I wasn't forgiving them; I was simply acknowledging a reality I had finally accepted. I had never been the Duchess in their eyes, so why would I expect the loyalty due to one?
“We cannot justify our past,” Chester said, his voice thick with a new, sharp shame. “But if you would give us another chance... if you would allow us to serve you truly...”
“Why the sudden change of heart?” I interrupted, my expression one of genuine bewilderment. “Were you not ready to let me walk away only moments ago?”
The knights couldn't meet my gaze. The woman they had spent years dismissing as "intimidating" or "obsessive" was now looking at them with a clarity that made them feel small.
“If you’re worried about the Duke’s reaction,” I said, turning away, “tell him that I ordered you to stay behind. I won’t deny it.”
“My lady, please—”
“Go,” I said, my voice turning cold. “Go and protect your master. Don't waste your time on me.”
I walked away without looking back, leaving them standing in the twilight, paralyzed by a guilt they hadn't known they were capable of feeling.
***
“Where is she?”
The voice was like a whip-crack. The knights snapped to attention as Eric appeared, his face a mask of barely suppressed rage. He stepped toward Chester, grabbing the commander by the collar of his tunic.
“Answer me. Where did the Duchess go?”
Chester, who had never seen his master lose his composure so completely, stammered for a second. Eric’s usually calm blue eyes were wild, almost irrational.
“She... she went back toward the Inner Palace, Your Grace.”
Eric released him with a shove, turning and heading straight for the palace gates. *Of all the places she could have gone...* He clenched his fists, the veins in his neck bulging with a desperate, frantic energy.
***
I walked through the palace gardens alone.
I was glad I hadn't brought Sardin with me today. Despite his steady nature, Sardin was fiercely protective; if he’d seen the way the knights or Franz had treated me, there would have been a bloodbath. I remembered the time Sardin had pushed Franz to keep him from harassing me, only to be whipped nearly to death for his "insolence."
*Leaving him at the estate was the right choice,* I thought. *I don't need any more ghosts on my conscience.*
I was heading toward the main gates, wondering how to approach the Emperor again. *Will he find me pathetic?* I’d just presented him with a confident, strategic plan, and now I was returning to ask for a carriage because my husband’s men refused to follow my orders.
I felt the eyes of the palace guards on me, and I clenched my fists, forcing myself to keep my head high.
“Cornelia?”
I stopped and turned. A man was standing a few yards away, watching me with a look of genuine amazement. He was handsome, with shimmering platinum hair and golden eyes that seemed to catch the light of the setting sun.
**Reinhardt Adolf Tarrant.**
He was a high-ranking noble with a strong claim to the throne, often cited as a potential replacement for Franz. To most of the court, he was a paragon of charm and competence. But when I saw him, my voice was like a serrated blade.
“I don’t believe we’re on a first-name basis, Duke Tarrant.”
Despite my tone, he offered a bright, charming smile. “Haha, I knew it was you. I’d recognize that walk anywhere.”
I didn't find him charming. My father praised him constantly, while my mother loathed him, viewing him as a threat to her son’s inheritance. But what I hated most was his hair. It was a pure, brilliant platinum—a mark of imperial heritage that even I, a princess of the blood, didn't possess.
“Is there something you want?” I asked, my brow furrowing.
“What brings the Duchess of Brant to the palace alone? And in such... spirited company?” He glanced at the empty path behind me.
“I’m here to see His Majesty. That’s all.”
“Again? I heard you already had your audience this morning. Surely the Great Sun doesn't require a second visit so soon?”
I closed my eyes, wishing he’d just disappear. Reinhardt had a habit of pestering me whenever we met, his curiosity as sharp as it was annoying.
“You wouldn't understand,” I muttered.
“Try me.”
I shook my head. “I was going to ask the Emperor for a carriage. My own... has been delayed.”
In truth, I didn't want to see my father again. I didn't want to show him this weak, abandoned side of myself. Reinhardt, for all his annoying habits, was at least predictable. He was a man who prided himself on his "gentlemanly" conduct.
“Are you on your way out?” I asked, finally meeting his gaze.
“I am. Why?”
I hesitated, then forced the words out. “Then take me to the Brant estate. I require a ride.”
Reinhardt’s golden eyes widened in genuine astonishment. It was unheard of for a Duchess—especially one as proud as Cornelia—to ask a rival noble for a lift.
“Your Highness, did I hear that correctly?”
“Don't ask for the reasons,” I snapped. “Just tell me if you’re willing.”
A look of pure, delighted amusement crossed his face. “I would be honored. It’s been far too long since we’ve had a chance to speak privately.”
He gestured to his aide, who hurried off to fetch the carriage. A few minutes later, a sleek, black-and-gold coach pulled up to the gate.
“I will ensure this debt is repaid,” I said as we approached the door.
Reinhardt laughed. “Still counting favors, Cornelia? Some things never change.”
*I’ve always been calculating,* I thought. *It’s the only way I’ve survived.*
I reached for the carriage handle, but Reinhardt was already there, stepping beside the door and extending his hand to help me up.
“Allow me, Your Highness.”
I reached out to take it, but before our fingers could touch, another hand shot out and gripped my wrist with a bruising force.
“What are you doing?”
I looked up. Eric was standing there, his face as cold and hard as a winter tomb. He was still wearing those damned leather gloves.
A sudden, sharp memory of his voice from an hour ago echoed in my mind: *“I do not consider that woman my wife. It is only for the eyes of the palace.”*
I stared at his gloved hand, a bitter, mocking smile touching my lips. *You can't even touch me with your bare skin, can you?*
“Duke Brant,” I said, my voice low and dangerous.
Reinhardt’s smile vanished, his golden eyes turning as sharp as flint. He looked at Eric, his voice perfectly polite yet vibrating with an unspoken threat.
“I suggest you release her hand, Duke Brant. Before I stop being polite.”