I watched the shadows dance on the wall, my thoughts returning to the man who had occupied them for far too long. Eric had spent five years ignoring me, a deliberate distance that had once felt like a slow-acting poison. But if Sardin’s report was accurate, Zenon Reiner was a far more immediate threat. Zenon didn't just ignore me; he loathed me with a focus that suggested he served a master who wasn't Eric.
*How do I neutralize him without alerting the whole house?*
“My lady?”
My maid’s voice pulled me back to the present. I looked at her with a look of bored indifference.
“Lunch. Anything but seafood,” I said. “Make it a large portion. Sandwiches, a salad, and ensure the dessert includes peaches.”
“Yes, my lady. Shall I have the table set in the dining room?”
“No. I’ll eat here. Bring it up.”
The girl looked disappointed. She’d clearly been hoping for a chance to show off her fawning "loyalty" in front of the other staff. I didn't care. I needed to avoid the performance in the dining room if I wanted to think clearly.
I looked over at Sardin. He stood by the door, his eyes scanning the room as if he expected Zenon to burst through the floorboards.
“Stay,” I said as he prepared to leave.
“But my lady... it would be inappropriate for me to remain while you dine.”
“I didn't ask for your opinion on etiquette, Sardin. Sit down.”
He hesitated, then gave a stiff, military nod. I could see the confusion in his eyes. He likely thought I was just being a difficult mistress, denying him even the chance to eat with the other guards. But I knew Zenon would be watching our every move. If Sardin was constantly hovering near the assistant’s office, Zenon would know I was spying. We had to break the routine.
A few minutes later, the sound of a heavy cart rattling in the corridor reached us. But when the knock came, it wasn't a maid’s voice.
“I have your lunch, my lady.”
I recognized that voice. Randon.
“Enter,” I said, my brow furrowing.
The door swung open, and the former butler rolled in a silver-domed cart. He offered me a wide, fawning smile that didn't reach his eyes.
“Today’s main course is a veal steak with foie gras,” Randon announced, his voice smooth and practiced. “The chef remembers it was once a favorite of yours.”
He moved with an efficiency that suggested he’d never been demoted to a mere servant. He went through the motions of describing each dish—the tomato soup, the delicate sandwiches, the chilled peaches—but I could feel his gaze searching mine.
“I assume you didn't come up here just to play the part of a waiter, Randon,” I said.
Randon’s smile faltered, replaced by a look of calculated sincerity. “The lady is as perceptive as ever. I... I wanted to speak with you about my position.”
“You mean your demotion?” I asked, leaning back in my chair. “The one you earned by neglecting me for five years?”
Randon went pale. “I... I made mistakes. I recognize that now. But I believe it would be mutually beneficial if I were to return to my proper place as butler.”
“Beneficial? To whom?”
“To you, my lady. You lack allies in this house. If you support my reinstatement, you will have a true friend at the head of the staff.”
I burst out laughing. It was a cold, sharp sound that made Randon flinch. “An ally? You, who treated me like a ghost for half a decade? You really think I’m that desperate?”
In my past life, I might have been. I had been so starved for a single friendly face that I would have accepted a deal with the devil. But I wasn't that girl anymore.
“The regime has changed, Randon,” I said, my voice turning hard. “If you want to be my 'ally,' you’ll have to show me something more than empty promises. You’ll have to show me honesty.”
Randon looked confused. “Honesty, my lady?”
“Figure it out for yourself. Until then, you’re just a servant with a cart. Leave.”
He bowed stiffly and exited the room, his shoulders slumped in defeat. I didn't trust him. He was Eric’s man through and through, and his sudden change of heart was nothing more than survival instinct. But I knew I could use that instinct when the time was right.
I looked over at Sardin. “Sit. Eat.”
“My lady?”
“There’s enough here for three people. Don't make me repeat myself. You won't get a decent meal in the guards' mess today anyway.”
Sardin hesitated, his face flushing a deep red. To him, the idea of a slave-born bodyguard sitting at the same table as a princess was a sacrilege. But he saw the look in my eyes and finally conceded.
“I am honored by your kindness, my lady,” he said, his voice thick.
I handed him the plate with the veal steak. “Take this. I’m not in the mood for something so heavy.”
He took the plate with a look of stunned gratitude and went to the small table in the corner. He sat cross-legged on the floor—a habit he couldn't seem to break—and began to eat with a quiet, intense focus.
I picked up a sandwich, but before I could take a bite, the door was thrown open with a violent crash.
“You!”
I didn't need to look up to know who it was. The Dowager Duchess Brant stood in the doorway, her face a mask of aristocratic disdain. Randon tried to step in front of her, his hands raised in a futile attempt to stop her.
“Madam, this is highly irregular! The Duchess is—”
*Slap!*
The Dowager didn't even slow down. She struck Randon across the face, sending him stumbling back. “How dare you try to bar me from any room in this house!”
She swept into the room, her gaze landing on Sardin, who had immediately scrambled to his feet.
“Ugh. The things one has to tolerate in this house,” she muttered, sitting in the chair Randon had just vacated.
I took a slow, deliberate bite of my sandwich. “Mother. To what do I owe the pleasure of this... unannounced visit?”
She ignored my tone. “I heard a rumor today. A rumor that the Empress has gifted you a jade mine.”
I lifted a corner of my mouth. *Madeleine’s mouth really is like a sieve.*
“And if she has?”
The Dowager leaned forward, her eyes bright with greed. “Give the mine to me. I have connections in the trade who can ensure we get a far better price for it than you ever could.”
I stared at her, nearly laughing at the audacity. She wanted to take the asset I’d just blackmailed my way into and use it as fodder for her own deals with the Arguin family.
*You really think I’m still that weak, don't you?* I thought.
I realized that a flat refusal would only lead to a screaming match. I needed a different approach—a way to handle her with the kind of grace that made even a Dowager realize she was no longer the one in charge.