Eric sat in the deepening shadows of his office, his thoughts drifting back to the first time they had truly met.
It was the day he had stood in for his brother at the palace—the day he had given the young princess his handkerchief. He hadn't expected her to remember him. To her, he was just a beggar boy who left wildflowers on the palace steps every Foundation Day. He had been content to be a ghost in her life, a shadow that admired her from afar.
But his brother, the real Eric, had returned from that banquet with a look of pure, infectious excitement. He had spent the next three years relentlessly courting her, replacing Eric’s humble wildflowers with exotic blooms from the imperial greenhouses and gifts that cost a small fortune.
The real Eric’s efforts had been a success. He had won the princess’s heart, and the "fake" had stood by and watched, offering a hollow congratulations to the brother he loved.
*Loving her was a sin against my brother,* he thought, his jaw tight. *That’s why I was cold. That’s why I pushed her away. I couldn't allow myself to have what was meant for him.*
He had spent five years trying to find his brother, trying to undo the lie and put things back where they belonged. But his brother was still missing, and Cornelia... Cornelia was finally breaking.
He looked at the raw jade gemstone sitting on his desk. It was large, unpolished, and arguably one of the finest specimens in the Empire. He’d promised it to her in the carriage, a desperate attempt to regain some shred of her attention.
“Do you hate me so much that you’d rather ride with a stranger than look at me?” he whispered.
He summoned Zenon, who was currently managing the household staff in Randon’s absence.
“Tomorrow, deliver this to the Duchess,” Eric commanded, sliding the jade toward him.
Zenon raised an eyebrow. “A raw stone, Your Excellency? Not a finished piece?”
“Yes. She should have the pleasure of deciding what it becomes. If she wants to sell it, let her. If she wants to throw it away, that is her right.”
Zenon took the gemstone, offering a stiff, professional bow. “As you wish.”
As Zenon left the office, he looked down at the stone with a look of pure, unadulterated contempt. *A cheap, unpolished rock,* he thought. *The Duke clearly finds her as tedious as I do.*
He paused in the empty corridor, his eyes narrowing. *I saw that rat watching me today. The Duchess’s little 'dog' thinks he can spy on me?*
Zenon let out a short, dry laugh. *Go ahead, Sardin. Keep watching. A rat only survives until the trap is set.*
***
The next morning, I woke up long after the sun had reached its zenith. I reached for the other side of the bed out of habit, then pulled my hand back as if I’d touched a hot stove.
*He’s not coming back to this room, Cornelia. Get used to the silence.*
I sat up, my mind immediately shifting to the instructions I’d given Sardin the night before. I had decided to leave Eric, but I wouldn't leave his estate until I’d neutralized the threats within it. And Zenon Reiner was at the top of that list.
I summoned Sardin as soon as I was dressed. “What did you find?”
“Just as you suspected, my lady. Zenon is hiding something.”
Sardin recounted his observations with the clinical precision of a trained guard. As soon as Eric had left the estate for a morning inspection, Zenon had slipped out through a side entrance. He’d met a man in a nondescript cloak near the outskirts of the capital.
“He knelt as if he were addressing a superior,” Sardin said. “I couldn't hear the conversation, but I saw Zenon hand over a packet of documents—internal records from the Brant accounts, from the look of them.”
“Did you see the man’s face?”
Sardin shook his head, his expression grim. “I had to pull back. Zenon is sharp; he sensed my presence before I could get close enough. I apologize, my lady.”
“Don't be. The fact that he’s nervous means we’re on the right track.”
*Who is he reporting to?* I wondered. *The Marquis of Arguin? The Empress? Or someone else entirely?*
A sharp knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.
“It’s Zenon. May I enter?”
Sardin and I exchanged a look. *Speak of the devil.*
“Enter,” I said, sitting at my vanity.
Zenon stepped into the room, his expression a mask of chilly professionalism. He bowed, then stepped forward to place a heavy, cloth-wrapped object on the table.
“The Duke requested that I deliver this to you personally,” he said.
I pulled back the cloth and gasped. It was a raw jade gemstone, nearly the size of a melon, and of a clarity I’d only ever seen in the Imperial Treasury. It was magnificent.
“The Duchess seems to spend a great deal of time with her... staff,” Zenon said, his gaze shifting to Sardin with a look of thinly veiled disgust.
Sardin bristled, his hand moving toward his belt, but I offered him a sharp, warning glance.
“Sardin is my personal escort,” I said to Zenon. “He goes where I go.”
“I see. I only wondered why you were seen wandering the palace gardens alone yesterday, if your escort is so... devoted.”
I laughed, a sharp, mocking sound. “You’re not as clever as you think you are, Zenon. If you’d bothered to speak with the knights, you’d know I had a run-in with Prince Franz. I sent Sardin ahead to ensure our return would be... unimpeded.”
Zenon’s expression flickered for a second—a flash of annoyance at being caught uninformed.
“You should spend more time managing your men and less time wondering about my whereabouts,” I continued. “It makes you look incompetent.”
Zenon’s jaw tightened. He offered a shallow bow. “I’ll keep that in mind, my lady. I’m sure you’ll find a use for that... rock. Though, given your lack of appreciation for the finer things, I wouldn't be surprised if you sold it for scrap.”
“Get out,” I said, not even looking at him.
I waited until the door closed before let out a long, frustrated breath. I wanted to throw something at his head, but I settled for staring at the jade.
*You have no idea what this 'rock' is worth, you fool,* I thought.
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of my maid. “My lady, shall I have the chef prepare your lunch? Is there anything specific you’d like?”
I looked at her, surprised by her fawning tone. For years, these people had treated my requests as chores. Now, they were falling over themselves to please me.
*It’s pathetic,* I thought. *I tried to be a good duchess, I tried to be kind, and they ignored me. Eric shows me a single shred of 'favor' by giving me a stone, and suddenly I’m their queen again.*
I gave my order and sat back, watching the dust motes dance in the light. *The world only respects power. I won't forget that again.*