## Valquiterre's Discovery
The journal lay open on his desk—Kaian's private record, meant only for the heads of the Temnes family.
Valquiterre read the words slowly, savoring each one:
*[Claudel Temnes, the first child born to his wife from Vermont, will be the heir.]*
*[May the sacrifice without honor end here.]*
He laughed—a sharp, bitter sound.
"You fool," he whispered. "You actually thought you could change the old ways. That a woman carrying Vermont blood could be accepted as heir without... sacrifice."
He understood why the custom existed. Family honor required bloodline purity. Every great family head before Kaian had accepted this necessity, had made the hard choices that Kaian seemed to think he could escape through sentiment.
But Kaian, blessed by fortune his entire life, thought love and good intentions were enough.
"He who laughs last is the true winner," Valquiterre murmured, setting the journal aside.
---
## The Spider's Web
He summoned Count Makie—his man in Rowen, his spy, his instrument of control.
"How are preparations progressing?" Valquiterre asked coldly.
"The ship is ready to depart immediately, Your Majesty."
"Good. And the other matter?"
"As discussed. The castle is properly seeded with informants. No one knows they work for you. They simply create... opinions. Rumors that spread naturally among servants."
Valquiterre nodded with satisfaction. "The Duchess. Are they treating her as you instructed?"
"She's isolated, Your Majesty. The servants whisper about her Vermont blood, her Herzol past, her inadequacy as Duchess. Even Madame Marcel's incident is being reframed as proof she's corrupt and manipulative."
Perfect. A woman pregnant and frightened, surrounded by doubt and suspicion in her own home.
After Makie left, Valquiterre poured wine and contemplated his victory. How delicious—to finally prove that luck and bloodline weren't everything. That intelligence and patience could topple even the strongest man.
---
## Count Makie's Ambition
Later that night, Makie returned to his quarters to find a maid waiting.
She used the password: *Summer lakeside. Rowen is the land of the kingdom.*
He knew her immediately—one of his agents.
"You've worked well," he said, handing her a gold coin. "Keep spreading the rumors. Create more doubt between them. Tell the servants the Duchess is unfaithful, that she despises Temnes, that the child might not even be his."
After she left, Makie contemplated his own future.
Claudel divorced and carrying a bastard child—worthless to most men. But not to him. Not if she could be positioned as the King's bride.
If Valquiterre married her, Vermont would open the northern routes. The spices and medicinal herbs from the Sol Continent flowing through Oberon could make a man—could make *him*—extraordinarily wealthy.
"A divorced woman with a child," he mused aloud. "But if the King treats her like a swan instead of a disgraced woman..."
He poured strong wine and drank deeply. Sleep would be difficult tonight. But that was acceptable. The sleepless endured because they were prepared to be ruthless.
---
## Kaian's Blindness
The day before the water banquet, Kaian was exhausted from endless preparations.
After his marriage to Claudel, he'd reduced the guest list and minimized the celebration—too ashamed to display his Vermont wife, too repulsed by the match to make it grand.
Now, looking back, he regretted that coldness. He wanted to show Claudel off, to prove she belonged.
But there was no time. Valquiterre's ship towered over the dock—three cabins, royal standards flying. Kaian had only his personal vessel with one cabin, hardly suitable for a lord competing in pageantry.
"Do you have a similar-sized ship?" Count Makie asked casually.
"Yes," Kaian lied, already calculating how to transform one of his cargo ships into something presentable.
He spent the day rushing workers, hanging ribbons, scrubbing decks. He'd grown tolerant of such things because of Claudel. Because he wanted to do better by her.
But he hadn't seen her in days. He was too busy, too distracted, too convinced that the distance between them was merely temporary conflict.
He had no idea that servants were whispering about her in every corner of the castle.
He didn't know that Claudel was hearing, day after day, that she was inadequate, that her child would be Vermont-tainted, that her husband was only keeping her because of the political alliance.
He didn't know that every rumor was deliberately planted by his own family's enemies, designed to isolate her at precisely the moment she most needed his support.
---
## Claudel's Isolation
In her chambers, Claudel heard the whispers through servants' conversations, through their pitying glances, through their hesitation to serve her.
*Vermont blood.*
*Herzol remnants.*
*The child will be cursed.*
*The Duke regrets the marriage.*
And no one contradicted these rumors.
Not Kaian, who was too busy preparing ships for festivals.
Not Hannah, who was torn between loyalty to her mistress and loyalty to her new lord.
Not the household staff, who had been carefully taught to doubt and despise the woman they served.
Claudel lay in her chambers, one hand on her belly, and believed every word.
By tomorrow night, when the water banquet would showcase Kaian's power and success, she would be utterly, completely alone.
---