Duchess Denise Whitlow, who had been feigning illness since last night due to Rishi’s defiance, eventually found the pretense unbearable and retreated to the dining room for lunch.
The mansion’s dining room was a cavernous space, designed for grand receptions, with tables scattered like islands across the polished floor.
Today’s lunch featured mushroom soup, a cheese-topped salad, a savory minced-meat pie, fish fillet pasta, and a dessert of milk pudding. While it lacked the staggering variety of the ducal mansion, the food was exquisite.
“The chef here clearly has a refined palate,” Denise remarked.
Brittany furrowed her brows. “It’s not the chef’s skill that matters, Mother. Father, that matter regarding the Crown Prince we discussed—is it moving forward?”
“It is, Brittany. The imperial faction has signaled that the Crown Prince’s inner circle favors our house above all others.”
“Are you certain?”
“Indeed. The Second Prince’s recent maneuvers have forced the Crown Prince’s hand; he can no longer afford to remain idle. He is already behind on marriage prospects, and with the Emperor’s mounting pressure, news should break soon.”
Brittany bit her lower lip, desperate for that news to arrive.
Once she secured her position as the Crown Prince’s bride, she would throw a wedding that would dwarf Rishi’s in grandeur. She would invite her, of course. She wanted to see Rishi’s face contort with jealousy when she witnessed a dress more stunning than her own and a guest list far surpassing her station. She wanted Rishi to wither at a wedding blessed by the entire empire.
“Will His Highness attend this wedding?”
“He’s far too busy. The imperial family will likely send the Third or Fourth Prince in his stead.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
*But my wedding,* Brittany thought, *will be different.*
As the wedding of the Steimor Empire’s future ruler, no one would dare decline an invitation.
Just as Brittany began to picture herself at the Crown Prince’s side, the dining room doors swung open. Count and Countess Green entered. Glovern and Denise stiffened, caught off guard by the couple’s arrival. Even though their own status was technically superior, there was an air of authority about the Greens that compelled them to stand.
“Count Green. Countess Green.”
“Duke Whitlow.”
The parents exchanged stiff, perfunctory greetings before taking a table nearby.
“We hadn’t realized you were staying here,” Glovern said.
“Our son is to be married, so we came early to oversee the preparations. Had I known you were in residence, I would have sought you out sooner.”
“Not at all. This chance encounter is quite enough.”
A heavy, awkward silence stretched between them until a servant arrived to serve the elder couple.
“Anyway…” Denise began cautiously. “I do hope our… lacking Iris is meeting your expectations.”
Heraina offered an elegant, tight-lipped smile.
“Lacking? Far from it. She is a daughter-in-law who exceeds all requirements. She is a lovely, clever child. I think of her as my own daughter—you need not worry, Duchess.”
*Liar.*
Brittany’s heart curled in resentment. She refused to believe Rishi had charmed them. *They’re just putting on a show for our benefit.*
Her tongue itched to lash out. *She’s a liar. She’s mean. Did you see her dress? You should have seen how insolently she acted toward us.* The words swirled in her throat, poisonous and frantic.
“Since our daughter has lived her entire life sheltered within our walls, she lacks in many ways,” Denise continued, ignoring her daughter’s agitation. “She might be rude, but I hope you will guide her with a generous heart.”
“I told you she lacks nothing. Why are you so intent on highlighting her flaws?” Heraina’s voice sharpened, cutting through the air. “Duchess, it almost sounds as if you want me to be a mother-in-law who nitpicks every breath she takes.”
Denise was left speechless. Though they were of a similar age, there had been no rapport between Heraina, a princess of the Alor Kingdom, and Denise, a provincial count’s daughter from Steimor. She did not know how to handle Heraina’s steel.
“By the way,” Heraina added, her gaze icy. “Does this ‘guidance’ you speak of imply the use of a cane, Duchess?”
Denise pressed her lips into a thin line and looked to Glovern.
“Ha, ha-ha-ha. A cane? We raised Iris so delicately… we never let her hands touch a drop of water. The Flower of the Whitlow Duchy, you know. Surely you’ve heard the rumors?”
Glovern’s excuses did nothing to soften the cold line of Heraina’s mouth.
“I have held that child’s hands, and they are certainly not the hands of someone who has never touched water. They are rougher than those of the maids who scrub our floors. I was beginning to wonder if the ‘Flower of the Whitlow Duchy’ was actually a weed.”
A stifling silence descended. Denise’s eyes darted nervously.
“Did our Iris say that?”
“Iris did not. I merely surmised it myself.”
“You are being too harsh, Countess. To evaluate our daughter that way is a grave insult to our family.”
“I merely stated what I saw. If that is not the truth, then I apologize.”
There wasn’t a trace of sincerity in her cool gaze.
Glovern cleared his throat. “Ahem. Countess, we are only worried that Iris might disgrace the Green reputation. She was embroiled in such ugly rumors the moment she arrived…”
“They were just rumors.”
“Yes, of course. Our Iris would never do such things. But I am worried—and this is difficult to say, given she is my daughter—that she has a habit of lying. We really should have corrected that before she left…”
“Iris has spoken only of her love for her family, yet you seem eager to tear her down.”
“S-speaking ill, you say? We were only being apologetic…”
“There is nothing to be sorry for. Iris is as good as my own daughter. Whether she causes trouble or spins a tale, it is for this mother to take responsibility. If anyone speaks ill of her in the future, I will consider it an attack on House Green.”
The Whitlows stared, stunned. They had expected her to be disgruntled by a marriage born of a whim, not to see her shield Rishi as if she were her own biological child. Still, one could hardly complain about a mother-in-law who cherished her son’s wife.
“W-we are grateful for your affection toward her.”
Heraina smiled at Glovern’s words. It was her first smile of the meal, but it brought no warmth; it was a sharp, predatory expression, as if she were preparing to strike.
“You don’t look as if you mean that, but perhaps I’m mistaken. Lady Brittany, in particular, looks as if she is dying of suppressed rage. Is it so unpleasant to see your younger sister loved, Lady Whitlow?”
Brittany’s heart dropped. She smoothed her expression, masking her face in wide-eyed innocence.
“Whatever do you mean, Countess? I love Iris dearly.”
“That’s true,” Denise chimed in. “This child cries every day since Iris left, saying how much she misses her.”
Heraina chuckled. “I see. I must be getting old, and my eyes are failing me. Please, enjoy your meal.”
+++
Late that night, Rishi changed into her nightgown and stood by the window, staring out at the ink-black garden.
*News of the incident will reach them by the time the gold mine ceremony ends.*
The mine was only the beginning.
*I have so much to do. Everything has changed, so I need someone skilled in intelligence. And I must secure trade with the Taleha Kingdom.*
Opening a trade route with an island nation would be a monumental task.
*I need someone to do it for me.*
I was so deeply lost in thought that I didn’t notice Kay enter the room. I only realized he was there when his thick arms wrapped around my waist. His lips brushed the curve of my ear and the nape of my neck before pulling away. The brief touch left the skin burning.
“Kay. You’re home early.”
“I finished my work early. What were you thinking about so deeply that you didn’t even notice me come in?”
“Hmm. Thinking about what to buy for my husband?”
Kay chuckled, his lips still grazing the nape of my neck. His laughter was a warm vibration, yet every time his breath hit my skin, it left me feeling strange—unsettled and eager all at once.
I turned, slipping naturally out of his embrace to head for the bed. Kay followed, sitting down beside me.
“Rishi, there’s something I want to discuss regarding today.”
“Go ahead.”
“First of all, our date at the lake was wonderful. We should go again. Next time, I’ll pack a lunch.”
“I’d like that.”
“And about Windy…”
“Kay. Don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Do you see the future?”
“Hm?”
“About the gold mine earlier. You didn’t seem flustered when you heard the tunnel was blocked, and you were certain about the explosion. You knew something was behind it, and you were sure no one would die. You were so certain of it.”
I knew he would be suspicious.
“Do you see the future? A power of prophecy, or something like that?”
“I have no such power.”
*The future will change,* I told myself. *Kay must never believe I am a prophet. He must never come to rely on me for that.*
“Then how did you know?”
“I calculated it.”
“Calculated…”
“If you have enough information on the past and present, you can infer the outcome.”
“That was more than just an inference.”
“It was,” I insisted. “I’m confident because I trust my own judgment.”
I knew the excuse was thin, but I also knew Kay wouldn’t dig deeper. He had his own secrets, and he had decided not to pry into mine.
“You really are a mysterious woman, Rishi.”
Kay wound a lock of my hair around his finger, kissing the ends of it. “You know I don’t believe you, don’t you?”
“I know.”
“Will you tell me the truth someday?”
I couldn’t answer that. Would there ever be a day I could tell him everything? And if I did, would this man even believe me?
“We’ll see.”
Kay burst into laughter at my clipped reply. “Oh, Rishi. Iris. You really do know how to keep me on my toes.”
“Do you dislike it?”
“No.”
Kay supported my back, gently laying me down on the bed before climbing over me. “I love it far too much.”
He buried his face against my chest, nuzzling in like a large puppy. His dark hair tickled my chin. I smiled and stroked his head.
“I like this dog-like side of you, too.”
“Dog-like? Wolves and dogs are distinct species, Rishi.”
“But right now, you’re just like a dog wagging its tail.”
“Call me a puppy, then.”
His breath, starting at my chest, traced a path down the silk of my nightgown. The heat of his skin, the weight of his body—it left me in that same intoxicating, restless state. Every time he spoke, every time he exhaled, a smoldering heat spread through my limbs.
*Why am I being swept away?*
In my past life, physical contact had been a terror—a source of pain. I had been prepared to endure it as Kay’s wife, but I had never expected to find myself wanting it. Wanting *him*.
The realization struck me like an arrow.
*I want this man.*
I want to be with Kay.
I want to become one with him.
I want to be connected, to soak into him, until there is not a single part of us left separate.