38.
“Your words flow as smooth as water.”
The Queen let out a short laugh and gestured to Anita. “Show me the gold sword. I wish to inspect the item before the title succession ceremony.”
Before Anita could respond, the attendants standing in a row behind them presented the sword to the Queen.
Holding the weapon as if it were her own, the Queen scrutinized the meticulously crafted blade. “Is Veronica truly sending this away so easily?”
Lancelot answered in her stead. “It is said she tried to hide it and bring a fake instead.”
“She hid it? A fascinating story. How did you retrieve it?”
Anita expected Lancelot to provide the details, but he turned his gaze toward her—a silent instruction to speak for herself.
“Ah, actually, this morning…”
Left with no choice, she informed the Queen of what had transpired.
The Queen’s nonchalant expression occasionally flickered with what could only be described as a mocking smile. At first, Anita had wondered if the sovereign was merely stifling a yawn from boredom.
*Her Majesty the Queen hides her emotions just as skillfully as Lancelot.*
Only then did she realize that the Queen suppressed every flicker of feeling to maintain the unassailable dignity of the throne.
“You seem quite clever, much like Sir Vincent.”
At the mention of her father’s name, Anita raised her voice before she could stop herself. “You know my father?”
“I have never met him, but the former Duke Edenbahir would often bring up his name. He claimed he was the most intelligent man he had ever encountered.”
“My father is the person I respect most in this world.”
“His disappearance is a regrettable piece of news. I pray you reunite with him soon.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Carefully setting down the gold sword, the Queen asked in a lighter tone, “I heard this banquet is your debutante. Is that correct?”
For a split second, Anita’s mind froze.
*Debutante… Right. I had planned to have my debutante this year. Father was supposed to be my first dance partner.*
With her family’s ruin and her father’s disappearance, it was a detail she had completely forgotten.
“How did Your Majesty know that…?”
“How could I not? Your husband informed me.”
She had no idea Lancelot remembered such a thing.
“I have made a pact with Lancelot to lend you my support. I shall grant you the opportunity for the third dance at my birthday banquet.”
In a royal banquet, the third dance was a position of immense prestige, reserved for those dancing immediately after the royals. Since the ball officially began once those first three couples finished, they served as the faces of the event.
“How could I dare to claim the third dance? Your Majesty’s interest alone is enough. Please, withdraw the decision.”
The three couples were traditionally fixed: the King and Queen, Prince Maxim and his fiancée, and the most respected elder of high status. In this case, it was clearly meant to be the Grand Duchess.
“My lady, let me offer you one piece of advice.” The Queen looked down at Anita with a deliberately earnest gaze. “In this kingdom, the only women of higher status than you are myself and Veronica Edenbahir. Never forget this.”
“I will keep it in mind.”
“Furthermore, there are people everywhere trying to grind you down. If you feel intimidated by your origins, they will look down on you. When an opportunity is given, it is best to seize it first and worry later.”
After a brief silence, Anita bowed her head. “I dare to make a request, Your Majesty. I believe it is proper for the Grand Duchess to take the third dance.”
The Queen’s brow furrowed, clearly displeased that Anita was trying to retreat like a coward despite the advice.
“Instead,” Anita continued, “please grant me the opportunity for the fourth dance.”
The Queen’s expression softened. “The fourth?”
“Before the dance begins, I have a gift I wish to present to Your Majesty.”
“A gift, you say?”
Lancelot, catching the Queen’s eye, aided Anita with a brief remark. “It will be worth seeing. Specifically, the look on the Grand Duchess’s face when she sees the gift.”
“Since Lancelot says so, I am expectant. Very well. I grant you the fourth dance. I hope you do not disappoint me.”
“Of course. Thank you, Your Majesty.”
It was over. Anita let out an inaudible sigh of relief and stepped back.
Just before they cleared the audience chamber, the Queen, sipping her wine, remarked in passing, “The two of you seem quite close.”
Startled, Anita tried to pull her hand away. Lancelot tightened his grip and replied for all to hear.
“We’ve known each other for ten years; it would be difficult to be on bad terms.”
“Well, that isn’t exactly what I meant.”
Once they were finally out of the room, Anita pushed his hand away, looking exhausted. “Really… I don’t know how many times my heart almost stopped. Why on earth didn’t you let go?”
Lancelot kept his voice low, maintaining distance from the attendant ahead. “Because I have to convince the Queen that you aren’t just a Duchess brought in as a temporary measure.”
His tone was uncharacteristically admonishing. “If I didn’t, the Queen would only help you once and be done with it. She wouldn’t bother putting effort into a card that will be discarded anyway.”
“Are you saying I can avoid her suspicion just by holding hands?”
“She knows I am not the type to do that unless I truly meant it.”
Anita searched for a rebuttal, but found none. He pulled her shoulder affectionately and whispered into her ear—to any observer, a picture of lovers sharing secrets.
“Handle me a bit more boldly in front of the Queen, my lady. If you act like a squirrel hunted by a hawk as you just did, you’ll be found out in no time.”
A squirrel? Flustered, Anita shook him off. “Fine. I’ll act boldly, at least while we’re in the royal castle. Don’t be surprised.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
*Look forward to it, my foot.* Anita walked past him, sticking close to the attendant. *A fox or a raccoon I could understand. But a squirrel? That’s just too pathetic.*
Unless she was mistaken, Lancelot seemed to have smiled.
***
The schedule for the title succession ceremony had been moved.
It was to be held at the start of the Queen’s birthday banquet—an honor of immense measure. It signaled that the Queen’s favor toward the new head of the Edenbahir house was soaring, and she had no intention of hiding it from the world.
However, there was one unexpected problem.
They had only one marital bedroom.
*Oh, god. That’s right. We’re a married couple.*
In the ‘Edenbahir couple’s bedroom’ where they arrived a day late, Lancelot’s luggage had already been unpacked. As Anita inspected the room, Lancelot stood leaning against the doorway.
“I won’t be able to come in tonight.”
It was a notification that left her feeling both relieved and curious. “What do you mean?”
“In Hixen, there’s a custom of pouring drinks for a successor before a title ceremony. People eager to hear stories have been itching to call me out since broad daylight.”
“Do I have to go?”
“No. You should rest.”
The first night, he stayed out as declared. She had woken at dawn to check the empty spot beside her, and seeing it cold, she knew his absence was genuine. When he appeared at noon the next day, he ate with her, his face clear and devoid of any lingering signs of the night’s revelry.
“I won’t be able to come in tonight, either,” he said the following morning. “I’ve decided to drink with some nobles who are dissatisfied with the Callasgo Trust investors in Hixen.”
“The ones who were spreading rumors?”
“I’ll have to talk to them to find out. If I can persuade them, Callasgo can survive for a while without major risks. Of course, 90 percent of that is thanks to you standing by my side as the Duchess of Edenbahir.”
Anita spread apple jam on her bread, feeling self-conscious. “You don’t have to praise me that much…”
“Do I look like the type of person who gives empty compliments?”
“Hmm. No.”
Whatever his true reasons, because Lancelot left the bedroom empty again on the second night, Anita was guaranteed her peace of mind.