I looked at Janet, who was standing stiffly at my side, her eyes scanning the restaurant for threats.
“Sit down, Janet,” I said, gesturing to the chair across from me.
“My lady? I am on duty. It’s not appropriate for me to dine with you.”
“I don't like eating alone,” I said, my tone final. “And I find it hard to digest my food when I’m being watched like a specimen in a jar. Please. Join me.”
Janet let out a small, defeated sigh and sat down. She looked out of place in the opulent dining room, but as the first course arrived, I saw her shoulders relax.
*I have questions for you, Janet,* I thought. *Questions that only someone who has been in that house for a decade can answer.*
“You’ve been with the Brant family for eleven years, haven't you?” I asked, picking up my fork.
“Yes, my lady. I was recruited shortly after the war.”
“And the others? Commander Chester and Adjutant Zenon?”
“Commander Chester was here before me. He was the former Commander’s protégé. Master Zenon... he joined us about nine years ago, during the Duke’s inauguration.”
“Zenon Reiner,” I mused. “He was Eric’s advisor on the battlefield, wasn't he?”
“Yes. He gained His Excellency’s trust during the border skirmishes. He’s been his right hand ever since.”
I nodded, my mind racing. Zenon was currently two years older than Eric. If Eric had taken the title at sixteen, Zenon would have been eighteen when he joined. It was a remarkably young age for a "genius tactician."
I’d been having Sardin look into Zenon’s background via the Information Guild. The results were... troubling. On paper, Zenon was a fallen noble from a minor house, recommended by the prestigious Count Schulz. He’d graduated from the academy with mediocre grades—nothing that suggested a strategic mastermind. And his swordsmanship grades had been so poor it was a wonder he’d graduated at all.
*It’s like he stepped out of a void and into Eric’s shadow,* I thought. *A man with no past who suddenly becomes a genius. People don't change that much... unless they aren't the people they claim to be.*
“Why the sudden interest in Master Zenon, my lady?” Janet asked, her gaze sharpening.
“He’s the one who manages the Duke’s schedule,” I said smoothly. “If I’m planning a divorce, I need to know the man who controls the gate.”
Janet looked skeptical but didn't push. She turned her attention to the food, and for a few minutes, we ate in a comfortable silence.
As the waiter cleared the plates and brought out a tart lemon sorbet for dessert, Janet looked at me. “Will we be returning home after this, my lady?”
I shook my head, a cold, satisfied smile touching my lips. “No. We have an appointment at the jewelry store.”
***
*The Gilded Solitaire* was, as always, the beating heart of the capital’s gossip. The VIP lounge was filled with noblewomen hidden behind fans, their voices a low, constant hum of scandal and speculation.
When I entered, the room went still.
“Is that the Duchess of Brant?” someone whispered. “I heard she was here only two days ago.”
I wasn't dressed in the regal charcoal silk of my last visit. I wore a simple, severe traveling dress of deep navy, and my face was a mask of cold, weary dignity.
The manager, a woman named Madame Vane, hurried toward me. “Your Highness! Welcome back. The jade bracelet is still in production, I’m afraid. It’s a very delicate process.”
“I’m not here for the jade, Madame Vane,” I said.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the velvet box. I set it on the table with a sharp *thud*.
Madame Vane opened the box and let out a strangled gasp. The ruby necklace—the masterpiece I’d purchased only forty-eight hours ago—was a mangled wreck of bent gold and loose stones.
“How... how did this happen?” she whispered.
The ladies in the lounge leaned in, their fans snapping shut in unison.
“It seems your advice was... incorrect,” I said, my voice dry and carrying through the room.
Madame Vane went pale. She remembered our conversation, and she remembered me mentioning that Madeleine von Arguin had suggested the rubies.
“I... I am so sorry, Your Highness! We will repair it at once, free of charge. I can even offer a different design if the Dowager found the current one... lacking.”
“There’s no need to change the design,” I said, offering a bitter, hollow smile to the room. “The necklace is fine. The rubies are perfect.”
“But... the damage...”
“The damage wasn't caused by a flaw in the jewelry,” I said, my voice dropping into a tone of quiet, dignified suffering. “I presented the gift to my mother-in-law last night. I told her I’d spent a fortune to get the stones Madeleine said she loved.”
I paused, letting the silence hang.
“She didn't even look at it. She snatched the box from my hand and threw it across the landing. She told me she never wanted to see my 'vulgar' gifts again.”
A wave of shocked gasps rippled through the VIP lounge. Even for the most cold-hearted mother-in-law, physically destroying a gift from a princess was a level of aggression that crossed every social line.
“But... but rubies are her favorite!” Madame Vane stammered. “Lady Arguin was so certain!”
“Wait,” one countess said, standing up. “I thought Dowager Duchess Bianca hated rubies? Didn't she have that public falling out with the Empress years ago over a ruby necklace?”
The room erupted.
“Exactly! Everyone knows she can't stand the color red!”
“Then why would Lady Arguin tell the Duchess to buy them?”
I looked down at the mangled necklace, my eyes filling with a performative, watery sheen. “I don't know why Madeleine would tell me that. I trusted her. She’s my cousin. She’s... she’s so close to the Dowager.”
I looked up at the manager, my voice trembling. “Please. Just fix it. I’ll pay the costs. I’ll keep it in my room as a reminder of my... my inadequacy.”
I didn't wait for a response. I turned and walked out of the store, my head bowed, looking for all the world like a woman whose heart had been systematically broken by the very people she tried to love.
Behind me, I could hear the roar of the gossip machine.
“Madeleine von Arguin did this on purpose!”
“She deliberately sabotaged her own cousin! How vicious!”
“And the Dowager... to treat a princess like that... it’s a disgrace to the Brant name!”
As I stepped into the carriage, I wiped the "tears" from my eyes and looked at Janet.
“One stone, two birds,” I whispered.
Madeleine’s reputation as the "Sweet Saint" was officially dead. And the Dowager’s "tyrant" status was now a matter of public record. The war of public opinion was well and truly won.