“If I hadn't been blinded by petty feelings... Damian wouldn't have died.”
I picked up the heavy iron poker from the hearth and struck the antique clock on the mantel. The glass shattered, and the rhythmic, mocking *tick-tock* that had soundtracked my five years of misery finally went silent.
I looked at the dead hands of the clock and turned away. My time as the "Wicked Wife," the "Crow of Schwanherd," was over. I placed my heavy platinum wedding ring on the dressing table, its polished surface reflecting the morning light one last time. I didn't need it where I was going.
I grabbed the small, sturdy bag containing my valuables—the jewels I’d salvaged, the coin I’d hoarded, and the alchemical reagents I’d bought from Barakiel—and stepped into the hallway.
Sardin was waiting by the door. He took the bag from me, his expression unreadable behind his mask. “Are you ready, my lady?”
“I’ve never been more ready,” I said.
As we descended the grand staircase, I saw the staff lined up in the foyer. Randon stood at the head of the line, his posture stiff and his eyes full of a strange, burgeoning respect.
“Safe travels, Your Highness,” Landon said, leading the staff in a deep, synchronized bow.
I looked at them—the people who had spent five years ignoring me, whispering about me, and waiting for me to fail. I didn't feel anger anymore. I just felt a profound, echoing emptiness.
“Thank you for your service,” I said, my voice carrying the finality of a death sentence. “You’ve worked hard.”
Landon looked up, a flash of confusion and concern crossing his face. *She sounds as if she isn't coming back,* he thought, but he didn't dare say it. “Take care of yourself, my lady.”
“I will.”
I stepped out into the courtyard, only to find a wall of steel blocking my path.
Commander Chester stood at the head of a fifteen-man unit of Brant knights. They were fully armored, their blue-and-silver tabards bright in the morning sun.
“Madam,” Chester said, his voice firm. “The Duke has ordered us to provide you with a full escort for your outing today.”
I frowned. *Fifteen knights?*
The Brant knight system was a small army. While most ducal houses struggled to maintain twenty knights, House Brant had nearly two hundred, including squires and retainers. It was the price they paid for holding the border, and it gave them a military power that rivaled the Imperial family’s own guards.
*Eric is being excessively cautious,* I thought, my jaw tightening. *Or he’s being excessively possessive.*
A fifteen-man escort would make my escape nearly impossible. I needed the chaos of the marketplace to lose my tail, but these men were trained to hold a perimeter against a barbarian horde.
“Surely you don't need all these men for a simple shopping trip, Commander?” I asked.
“The Duke was very specific, madam,” Chester replied, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “The capital is not as safe as it looks.”
“Indeed,” Bianca’s voice rang out from the manor steps. The Dowager Duchess descended with a look of extreme annoyance. “Is it really necessary to take half the garrison? I feel quite safe with just a few men.”
I suppressed a smile. The Dowager was as eager to get rid of the knights as I was. She didn't want any witnesses when her "gift" took effect. But the knights were stubborn.
“We have our orders, Grand Madam,” Chester said.
I stepped forward, playing the role of the "reasonable" mistress. “Commander, while I appreciate the concern, we must also consider the security of the manor. If fifteen of our best knights leave for the day, the palace security will be dangerously thin. Why don't we compromise? Five men. That should be more than enough to handle a few pickpockets in the merchant district.”
Chester hesitated. He looked at me, seeing a woman who was supposedly "considerate" of his men’s duties. He still felt the sting of his past failures, and my sudden "generosity" seemed to move him.
“Five men,” Chester finally agreed. “But I will be one of them.”
“Agreed,” I said, nodding to the Dowager.
Bianca’s eyes flashed with a dark satisfaction. Five men were manageable. She turned toward the carriages. “We shall take separate carriages, Cornelia. You should be as comfortable as possible in your condition. My carriage is a bit... stiff... for a pregnant woman.”
*She wants me alone,* I thought. *She wants me to drink that tea while I’m in motion, so the catalyst can begin its work.*
“As you wish, Grand Madam,” I said, offering her a warm, naive smile.
As I headed toward my carriage, Chester stepped into line beside me.
“Commander,” I said, stopping. “Shouldn't you escort the Dowager? She’s the senior member of the house.”
“The Duke’s primary order was for your protection, madam,” Chester said, his eyes full of a new, fierce determination. “Wilson can guard the Grand Madam. I will stay with you.”
I let out a soft sigh and climbed into the carriage. *A persistent variable,* I thought, watching Chester mount his horse outside my window. *But no matter. If my plan could be ruined by a single knight, I shouldn't have started this war in the first place.*
I leaned back against the silk cushions as the carriage began to move. The final act had begun.