*Perhaps Dahlia also stumbled upon this knowledge by accident.*
But something deeper gnawed at Juliet—an instinct that refused to settle.
*What is her true purpose?*
*Ashelrid, the mage and my friend from the guild, suggested Dahlia might be a powerful sorceress—far more dangerous than she appears.*
*What if she was the one who sent me here? What if my very presence in this life was orchestrated by her hand?*
While Juliet stood lost in thought, a voice cut through the murmur of the crowd. Clear. Deliberate.
It was Dahlia.
"Miss Moned, are you afraid of anything at all?"
The formal address—*Miss Moned*—was revealing enough. That was precisely how the castle servants had addressed her during her years in the North.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Juliet responded with a slight, unreadable smile. "I frighten quite easily, in fact. For example..."
She reached out and gently stroked her horse's velvety muzzle, then let her fingers trail slowly across the leather saddle.
"For example, I'm terrified that someone might have hidden a sharp nail beneath the saddle."
Those nearby exchanged bewildered glances, unable to grasp her meaning.
But Elizabeth Tillman understood perfectly. A faint smirk tugged at her lips as she answered, her words dripping with double meaning:
"Then do take care—for the sake of your *precious family*."
Juliet met the Empress's maid with a gaze cold enough to freeze summer wine. Then, slowly, deliberately, she smiled.
The ladies hastened to intervene, sensing the tension crackling between them like lightning before a storm:
"Miss Elizabeth... Countess Moned, as far as anyone knows, has no close relatives."
"That's correct," Juliet confirmed, her voice perfectly calm. "My parents died many years ago."
"Oh? I wasn't aware..." Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in a performance of genuine surprise. "Forgive me—I confess I'm not well-versed in social etiquette. That was terribly rude of me. I didn't behave like a proper lady at all."
And then, curiously, it was no longer Juliet but the *other* ladies who began to chastise Elizabeth:
"It's perfectly understandable if you didn't know—such things happen."
"Learning from one's mistakes is also part of a proper education."
"Isn't that so, Lady Juliet?"
Juliet nodded, her social smile fixed perfectly in place.
---
*Bolt.*
Without warning, she swung into the saddle and yanked sharply on the reins. The horse reared, striking the ground with powerful hooves and sending sand spraying in every direction.
"Oh!"
"Countess Moned!"
"What on earth is she doing?!"
"Good heavens..."
Juliet brought her mount to a calm halt and arranged her features into an expression of innocent confusion.
"My apologies... I'm afraid I'm not a particularly skilled rider."
---
"Have you heard about the incident in the women's arena?"
A group of young aristocrats lounged indolently in the shade, sipping chilled refreshments and observing the day's proceedings from a comfortable distance. The conversation, inevitably, circled back to the tension between the Empress's healer and Countess Moned.
In the afternoon sunlight, Elizabeth Tillman appeared radiant and utterly flawless—the living embodiment of grace and charm.
"Why does Countess Moned glare at her with such venom? Finally, a *worthy* woman graces the palace."
"Obviously. Female jealousy is a dreadful thing."
"With beauty like Elizabeth's... anyone would feel threatened."
Coarse laughter rippled through the group.
"Oh, if only Countess Moned would *smile* occasionally... perhaps someone might look at her differently."
"Everyone knows—Juliet Moned is cold as winter ice."
"The Duke should have discarded her ages ago. She's clearly out of her depth."
Juliet's public disdain stemmed largely from her past: she had been the lover of the Duke of Carlisle.
After the Duke publicly threatened her at a court ball scarcely a month ago, people had stopped even meeting her eyes.
But now that the Duke had departed the capital...
"She's stuck in limbo—neither here nor there. When the Duke finally tires of her, she'll become just another discarded 'former.'"
"Wouldn't you agree, Your Highness?"
Among this shameless company sat the Second Prince himself—Kloff.
*Bang!*
Without warning, he kicked the table leg with explosive force.
"Damn Carlisle!"
"Your Highness?!"
"Enough! Have we no topics of conversation beyond that insufferable Duke?"
Seething with barely contained rage, Prince Kloff rose abruptly and stormed away.
*A splinter in the eye.*
He and the Duke were the same age, and from the moment they came of age, they had been constantly compared.
*But how can one compete with a man who, before his twentieth birthday, became a war hero, reclaimed his ancestral title, and rose above every other noble in the realm?*
The Marquis of Guinness affair had been no different.
Few knew the truth, but Kloff had secretly invested heavily in the Marquis's scheme. He had hoped the man would successfully frame Carlisle—had even aided the conspiracy from the shadows—all to knock that arrogant Duke from his lofty perch.
But Carlisle had proven far more cunning. He outmaneuvered the Emperor himself, survived every trap, and watched the Marquis fall while emerging stronger than before.
They had tried to turn the nobility against Carlisle, to prevent him from claiming the southern territories.
*And the result?*
*All the lands belong to Carlisle.*
*He's merely a duke...*
*And I am a prince. The heir to the Imperial throne!*
Kloff tried to convince himself that his time would come, that everything still lay ahead. But the resentment festered, and the anger refused to fade.
---
"Excuse me... Are you the Second Prince?"
A melodic female voice drifted from behind him.
Kloff turned sharply.
"Who are you?"
"I would like to speak with His Highness," the stranger replied, her smile warm and inviting.
A woman with golden hair gleaming with amber highlights stood before him. She offered a polite bow, her expression open and disarmingly bright.
"My name is Elizabeth Tillman. I serve Her Majesty the Empress."
"Ah... the Palace Healer. Rise."
Kloff studied Elizabeth with careful intensity, his eyes sweeping over her with practiced wariness.
"Forgive my boldness, Your Highness," she said, her gaze lowered demurely. "I happened to overhear your conversation and felt compelled to follow."
*Conversation?* He frowned. *She must be referring to my outburst when someone mentioned the Duke again.*
Kloff was naturally distrustful, especially of those who approached too eagerly. But Elizabeth's next words carried an unexpected weight of confidence:
"I believe I can be of service to you, Your Highness."
She stepped closer, and in that instant, Kloff felt a strange dizziness wash over him—as though his thoughts had grown thick and clouded, wrapped in fog.
*What was that just now?*
"I can help you defeat the Duke of Carlisle."
Something deep within him coiled tight. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though a quiet, serpentine hiss whispered through the air.
---
"Juliet?!"
Theo spurred his horse after her, but Juliet had already fled the riding arena, her face tight with barely suppressed fury.
*Dahlia's words were a direct threat.*
*"Then do take care—for the sake of your precious family."*
*That wasn't merely an offhand remark. The implication was unmistakable. She knows. She knows I still have relatives—including my grandfather, who hides from the authorities with a bounty on his head.*
After several minutes, Theo finally caught up with her on horseback, his mount breathing hard.
"What happened back there?"
"Theo..."
Seeing his concerned face, Juliet nearly asked what had been weighing on her heart:
"Grandfather..."
But she stopped mid-sentence. A prickling sensation crawled across her skin—the unmistakable weight of being watched. The gaze was subtle, almost imperceptible, yet far too deliberate to ignore.
"Why did you stop?"
Theo stared at her in confusion.
"I just..."
And then the words from Lennox's letter burned through her memory:
*Trust no one.*
*Why did Dahlia mention family so openly? Was she demonstrating that she knew about Grandfather—the man with a price on his head?*
*No. Not now. Not here.*
Juliet composed herself with practiced discipline. This was palace grounds. The walls here had ears, and every shadow might conceal a spy.
She spoke with deliberate calm, her voice clear and measured:
"Theo, can you send someone to Levan?"
"To Levan?" He blinked. "Why?"
"I need to deliver a message to someone there."
She kept her tone steady, betraying nothing.
"But what does Levan have to do with anything?"
Theo's frown deepened—but after a moment, understanding flickered in his eyes.
*Lionel Lebatan hasn't set foot in Levan for quite some time.*
*Juliet was deliberately laying a false trail. She knew someone was listening. And whoever lurked in the shadows needed to hear exactly that.*