Chapter 12
A grand imperial carriage came to a halt at the gates of a massive estate. The black lacquered coach bore the insignia of the Imperial House—an eagle with outstretched wings.
“I bring a message from the future Second Princess Consort.”
The man seated inside briefly declared his purpose to the guards. One of the sentries, gripping a long spear, bowed his head and raised his hand in signal.
“A herald from the Second Princess Consort! Open the gates!”
“Whoa, easy!”
With that shout and the coachman soothing the horses, the gates creaked open.
Guards, no less disciplined than those at the palace, moved with sharp precision as the coach glided smoothly across the vast estate garden.
From the window of the mansion, a woman watched as the carriage approached the front gate, her brow furrowed.
‘The Second Princess Consort? For me?’
Duchess Belisa Skylar narrowed her eyes, digging through her memory.
Had she ever met the future Second Princess Consort? No. She hadn’t sent an invitation either.
‘Why now?’
Tilting her head, Belisa opened her fan thoughtfully. Her contemplation continued until the herald arrived.
It took some time for anyone to reach the receiving room—such was the size of the Skylar estate. It gave her plenty of time to think.
‘Is the Ambrose family trying to align themselves with the Skylar house now that they’ve lost power? Or is this some kind of test?’
Belisa considered her options carefully. As the lady of the house, her decisions were directly tied to the family’s fate.
The Skylar Duchy was one of the Empire of Laurentz’s three great houses, alongside the Count of Roshanac and the Duke of Corneille.
These houses balanced each other’s power while vying for influence within the imperial court. Naturally, when it was announced the Second Prince would choose a consort, each house put forward a candidate.
Skylar refrained only because their only daughter, Natalia, was deemed too young.
As a result, they had yet to form any alliance with the Second Prince.
Caught between two princes fighting for the crown prince title, they had not made their decision.
Even after Alaisia was chosen, Belisa had withheld any invitation—cautious until the wedding was finalized.
‘Could it be… because of that?’
Perhaps the Lady of Ambrose thought the Skylar house had slighted her.
It was a strange suspicion—but it was the only one that made sense.
“I greet Duchess Belisa Skylar. I come bearing the words of the future Second Princess Consort.”
In the end, Belisa had found no answer by the time the herald arrived. She received him gracefully and waited with a mixture of dread and anticipation.
“The Lady wishes you and Lady Natalia to come with her to the Second Prince’s palace—immediately.”
“Right now? With Natalia? She’s only four years old!”
Belisa’s eyes widened at the message.
“Prepare yourself quietly, Your Grace. The carriage is waiting.”
The sudden and unannounced invitation—and including Natalia—only confirmed Belisa’s earlier suspicion.
Alaisia sat in the drawing room, a cup of steaming tea in her hand. She lifted the cup toward her lips but paused, then lowered it again.
It was improper to drink before the guest arrived.
And Belisa was known to be strict about etiquette. Alaisia would have to match her standards.
‘What did she look like again…’
She half-closed her eyes, trying to recall the woman’s face.
But her memory was faint—likely because they had only met a few times in passing.
Still, Alaisia knew a great deal about her.
Belisa was the second wife of Duke Lyndon Skylar, wed after the previous duchess died from puerperal fever.
Perhaps because of that, there was a notable age difference—nine years—between the duke and his wife. Yet, unlike many noble couples, they were sincere with one another.
Belisa cherished Natalia, the duke’s daughter from his first marriage, as if she were her own. She had even declared she would bear no children of her own, for Natalia’s sake.
‘That’s not an easy decision. She must really love the girl.’
Crossing her arms, Alaisia mentally reviewed everything she knew about House Skylar.
With the wedding just two weeks away, she was more active than ever—not to plan the ceremony (which would be handled by the imperial court), but for something else.
The wedding itself didn’t matter to her. She had little say in it anyway.
Instead, she intended to build her political foundation—before officially becoming the Second Princess Consort.
To obstruct Franz.
In her previous life, Franz had taken Nerys as a lover—the daughter of Count Danil Roshanac and niece of the Empress.
Thanks to Nerys, Franz gained Roshanac’s backing.
With even one of the three great houses behind him, he became powerful. Eventually, House Corneille joined him too.
Everyone had assumed House Corneille—being the family of Princess Consort Glenna—would oppose Franz.
But they betrayed expectations and supported the Second Prince.
Only one pillar remained unaligned: House Skylar.
‘My role is clear.’
As she waited for Belisa, Alaisia’s eyes gleamed.
She had spent much time contemplating what Franz held most dear.
He had everything.
And while it’s said that those with much have much to lose, careless attacks would mean nothing.
Alaisia wanted to strike hard—just as she had felt when she lost everything.
If House Skylar grew strong enough to overpower the other two houses—
If Franz lost both wings, he could never ascend to the position of crown prince.
Until then, he would feel safe, seeing Skylar growing close to her. He would assume they supported the Second Prince.
When his guard was down, Alaisia would use House Skylar to crush the other two, then bring him down.
She could already imagine his face when it shattered.
This was her second revenge.
A plan to be completed before Franz met Nerys.
‘I never wanted to go this far.’
She had seen him dull the pain of mana with potions.
So simply refusing to neutralize it wouldn’t be enough.
‘Franz, you must taste the most devastating despair.’
The kind that feels like the end of the world.
Hearing approaching footsteps, Alaisia bit her lip and wrapped her arms around her empty belly.
Tears welled in her emerald eyes.
‘You betrayed me.’
You turned your back on me when I needed you most.
Her other hand clenched tightly around the chair handle.
Her nails dug sharply into her palm—until the door to the drawing room opened.
Then, she relaxed her hand and rose.
Wearing the most beautiful smile she could muster, she greeted Belisa.
To mark the beginning of her ruthless revenge.
“Oh! Mommy, cookies! Nettie wants cookies too!”
“Hush, Nettie. What did Mommy say? You must behave properly in the palace, remember?”
“Okayyy…”
The little girl’s expression fell at her mother’s stern voice. Belisa sighed and gently offered her a cookie.
“Here. Drink milk with it too, or you’ll get a tummy ache.”
“Yes!”
As Natalia beamed brightly, Alaisia smiled softly.
Belisa and her daughter Natalia shared no similarities in hair, eyes, or features. But their affection for one another was unmistakable.
“Your lady seems to like the cookies. Sara, bring some more.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“That won’t be necessary. This is more than enough.”
Belisa declined politely, but Alaisia smiled again.
“Don’t refuse. I wasn’t sure what children might like, so I prepared a variety. I’m glad to see she enjoys them.”
“Wow!”
Natalia clapped her cheeks in delight at the colorful sugar cookies Sara brought. Her crimson eyes sparkled as she looked up at Belisa.
“Mommy, you eat too!”
“Nett…”
Belisa hesitated as she looked into her daughter’s hopeful eyes.
Young Natalia didn’t know the proper customs of the imperial palace. It was a miracle she wasn’t already running wild.
Even if the future Second Princess Consort was smiling now, one never knew what might offend her.
Belisa had intended to leave Natalia behind.
“Go ahead, Duchess. Your daughter is offering.”
“…Very well.”
Belisa reluctantly took a cookie and, smiling at her eager daughter, said gently:
“It’s delicious. Eat more, Nettie. Slowly.”
“Okay!”
Natalia nodded obediently and resumed eating.
While wiping crumbs from her daughter’s mouth, Belisa suddenly felt a gaze on her and looked up.
“…You look lovely together.”
“I-I’m sorry, Your Grace.”
Startled, Belisa quickly folded her handkerchief. As her eyes met Alaisia’s, she parted her lips in surprise.
There was something in Alaisia’s emerald eyes—envy. A deep, aching longing.
Belisa’s breath caught for a brief moment.
That look—so deep, so wistful—it wasn’t just admiration. It was the gaze of someone mourning something she once had but lost forever. Or perhaps, something she never had to begin with.
Belisa, unsettled by the intensity in Alaisia’s eyes, gently averted her gaze and tried to smooth her expression.
“I… I’m glad to know the Lady has a fondness for children,” she said cautiously, her tone a touch more sincere than before.
“I do,” Alaisia replied softly, glancing at Natalia with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the steel behind her smile. “They’re honest, aren’t they? They say what they feel. They show what they love.”
Natalia, happily munching on her cookie, was blissfully unaware of the heavy emotions swimming between the two women.
Belisa hesitated. It was clear now—this visit wasn’t a casual tea invitation, nor a ceremonial courtesy. There was something else, something unspoken but deliberate. And yet, Alaisia’s warmth toward Natalia didn’t feel like a mere performance.
The future Princess Consort continued in a calm, measured voice, “The Skylar house holds great influence, Duchess. The empire watches every step your family takes. And now, so do I.”
Belisa’s lips tightened, her fan halting mid-motion.
“Is this… a warning, Lady Alaisia?”
“No,” Alaisia said gently, shaking her head. “It’s an invitation.”
“An invitation?” Belisa echoed.
“To join me. Not just in tea—but in what’s to come.”
Belisa’s heart skipped a beat.
Alaisia’s gaze sharpened as she leaned forward slightly, her voice a soft whisper layered with meaning. “Soon, the empire will shift. Power always changes hands, Duchess. The question is—do you want to wait and see who wins? Or will you choose the side that’s already preparing to rise?”
There it was. The offer beneath the smile. The game behind the tea.
Belisa realized this wasn’t the unsure, cast-off daughter of a failing noble house. This was a woman with a plan. A dangerous one.
And it was already in motion.
“…And if I refuse?” she asked, careful not to sound hostile.
Alaisia’s smile didn’t falter. “Then we part ways here as graciously as we met. No ill will. No misstep.”
Her tone was warm—but it sent a chill down Belisa’s spine.
Alaisia stood, stepping away from the tea table. Natalia glanced up briefly but returned to her cookie, unbothered.
The green-eyed woman approached the window, gazing out at the late-afternoon garden dappled in golden light.
“Duchess,” she said without turning around, “you’re a mother. So am I.”
Belisa’s eyes widened slightly. Alaisia’s hand gently brushed her stomach—an unconscious, protective motion. One that held more truth than any words.
Belisa suddenly understood.
This wasn’t just politics. It was personal. It was blood-deep. And it was about survival.
“I see,” Belisa said softly.
Alaisia turned then, her expression composed, her smile serene.
“You’re welcome here anytime. I believe Natalia and I will get along quite well.”
The duchess rose and gave a slow, graceful curtsy. “Then… I shall consider your offer, my lady.”
Alaisia inclined her head. “That’s all I ask.”
As Belisa took Natalia’s hand and prepared to leave, she glanced one last time at the young woman who had so quickly revealed herself not as a bride, but a strategist.
A storm was coming—and the Second Princess Consort would be at its eye.
