---
Alone in the carriage with Cedric.
The moment the door clicked shut, I glanced at him.
"You didn't have to say that."
Cedric looked back at me with an expression of perfect, unhurried innocence.
"Say what?"
He let the question hang there — slow, deliberate — and then the corner of his mouth curved up.
*Infuriating.*
But if I said it out loud, I would have to say the words again — and I had no intention of doing that.
"What you said back there. Something along the lines of... the most beautiful thing you'd seen today."
Cedric tilted his head slightly, as though giving the matter genuine consideration, and turned to look out the window.
"Ah." He raised one long brow. "And who was it that suggested we play the devoted couple in the first place?"
His tone was perfectly mild. That made it worse.
I pressed my lips together.
"The agreement was to do just enough to be convincing — not to take it this far. And besides..." I paused. "Saying things like that will only give Bianca the wrong idea."
"The wrong idea?"
"Yes. She already expects us to stay together as a happy couple indefinitely. There's no point in feeding that expectation when we both know how this ends."
Silence.
Cedric's gaze drifted back to the window for a long moment. When he finally turned to look at me again, something in his expression had shifted — though I couldn't quite name what.
"...I wasn't performing."
"..."
"When I said that — I meant it."
His voice was low and unhurried, the kind that seems to settle into the space around it rather than break through it. I held his gaze for a moment longer than I intended.
Something warm crept up the back of my neck.
I turned and pushed the carriage window open.
*The most beautiful thing I've seen today.*
Such a simple set of words. And those blue eyes that had said them without so much as a flicker of uncertainty. Both things kept turning over in my mind, refusing to be set aside.
---
*Meanwhile, at the Dmitri family's estate...*
Count Dmitri stood at the entrance of the banquet hall beside his wife Camilla, playing his part as gracious host. He had been watching her for some time.
*She's still in a dark mood.*
Camilla was staring into her hand mirror with the focused intensity of someone looking for something to blame. Since returning from her travels, she had abruptly left her position as the Grand Duchess's lady-in-waiting — and had refused to explain why to anyone, including him. But the Count was not without his powers of observation. The escalating hysteria, the things thrown at walls, the servants tiptoeing through their own home — it wasn't difficult to piece together.
She had lost favor with the Grand Duchess.
"My dear," he ventured gently, "you don't have to be here this evening if you're feeling unwell. I can make your excuses to the guests."
Camilla's head snapped up. She hurled the mirror sideways.
*Crack.*
Servants materialized immediately to collect the pieces. Camilla paid them no attention.
"I *know* that!" She fixed her husband with a glare that could have stripped paint. "That's not the point! Why do you never understand anything?"
*I am living with such a maddening man.*
Count Dmitri was, by any objective measure, an excellent husband — kind, steady, dependable in every way that mattered. Camilla was aware of this. She simply found it profoundly irritating compared to Henry, who was none of those things and altogether more exciting for it.
*If Henry were only a little wealthier, I'd have filed for divorce already.*
She ground her teeth.
Count Henry Bart — her dearest friend Lobelia's husband, and Camilla's secret lover. The two of them had been quietly building toward something for years: a careful, methodical plan. Accumulate a fortune through futures trading, dissolve their respective marriages, and within three years, remarry each other properly and openly.
It had been a beautiful plan.
Rebecca had ruined it.
*That foolish, ungrateful Grand Duchess.*
The dream of a new life felt very far away now. What remained was the sting of a damaged reputation — gossip had already spread through Northern society that Camilla had been *dismissed* from her position, rather than resigning — and a hunger for revenge that had not diminished one bit.
*I have to go out there and smile at her.*
Camilla drew a slow, steadying breath and pressed her lips together.
*I have to. But not for long. Because tonight, I am going to redirect every pair of eyes in that room.*
She had planned this carefully. Every gossipy, well-connected lady in Northern society had been invited specifically for this evening. If the news of the Grand Duke and Duchess's separation were to slip out in precisely the right setting — with precisely the right witnesses — the resulting scandal would bury any whispers about Camilla's departure entirely.
The corners of her mouth curved with cold satisfaction as she pictured it.
*Just wait, Your Highness.*
---
The Dmitri estate was not far from the city center. Our carriage arrived roughly forty minutes into the scheduled banquet — a deliberate choice, since arriving fashionably late was considered a matter of rank rather than rudeness in aristocratic circles.
By the time we stepped out, the sky had been dark for some time. But the lights spilling from the mansion windows, the drift of music, the sound of laughter — all of it made the grounds feel bright and alive despite the hour.
"It looks like Adrian and Bianca haven't arrived yet."
Their carriage was nowhere in sight. I was still scanning the drive when Cedric's arm appeared in front of me.
I looked up.
"Couples don't arrive to a banquet walking separately," he said simply, and guided my hand to his forearm.
"...Right."
I settled my arm through his. Up close, his presence had a particular quality to it — something composed and warm at once — and a faint scent that I had never quite gotten used to, even after years of proximity.
I did my best to ignore the effect of both and walked with him toward the entrance.
The hallway leading to the banquet hall was richly decorated, candlelit and warm. At the far end, Count Dmitri and Camilla stood together, receiving the last of their guests.
"Ah — Your Royal Highnesses! You've arrived at last! How wonderful of you to come." The Count beamed and stepped forward with genuine warmth.
"Thank you for the invitation, Count Dmitri." Cedric greeted him easily, and the two fell into conversation.
At which point Camilla glided smoothly to my side and took both my hands.
"Your Highness, how lovely it is to see you again."
Her voice was warm. Her smile was perfect. Her eyes said nothing at all.
*So. We're pretending.*
I arranged my own expression to match and returned the smile with equal superficiality.
"Lovely to see you as well, Camilla."
She turned slightly toward her husband. "Darling, I'll take Her Highness in and get her settled."
"Of course, my dear."
Part of me wanted to pull my hand free immediately. But declining a host's escort at a banquet was a social slight significant enough to create its own problems.
*Fine. I can manage a few minutes.*
I was just about to release Cedric's arm when he leaned down slightly.
"Rebecca." His voice was quiet, close to my ear. "Shall we leave together after the banquet this evening?"
Couples from noble families routinely arrived together and departed separately at their own convenience — particularly estranged ones. This was almost certainly another calculated piece of the show window performance. But I hadn't thought that far ahead, and I found myself silently grateful for the fact that he had.
I nodded. "Yes. I'll find you."
"Good. Enjoy your evening."
"You too."
I let go of his arm and followed Camilla into the banquet hall.
We had walked perhaps a dozen steps when Camilla raised her hand and waved toward a large table some distance away, around which a group of perhaps a dozen noblewomen were gathered in lively conversation. Heads turned. Greetings were exchanged from across the room with small, practiced nods.
"The ladies have been very much looking forward to seeing Your Highness. Quite a few new faces this evening as well."
I understood the social obligation. A certain amount of participation was unavoidable when one was a guest. But there was a difference between the unavoidable and the voluntary, and I had no interest in spending my evening being steered.
I stopped.
"I appreciate the thought, Camilla, but I'd rather not be introduced to a great many new people this evening. Besides, I should keep an eye out for Princess Bianca — she's still finding her way in Northern society."
"Princess Bianca?" Camilla's smile flickered almost imperceptibly. "But she hasn't arrived yet. We have time."
"Camilla—"
"Your Highness the Grand Duchess is here!" Camilla called out, raising her voice brightly toward the table before I could get another word in.
A ripple of delighted reaction moved through the group immediately. Two ladies rose and came toward us, arms open, smiles wide.
"Your Highness! It's been an age — how have you been?"
"We've been so disappointed not to receive any invitations to your tea parties recently!"
There was nothing left to do. I allowed myself to be carried, gracefully and inevitably, to the table.
As I sat down at the head, every woman present turned to me with expressions of barely contained anticipation, like a group of people who had been given front-row seats and were waiting for the curtain to rise.
*Right. The highest-ranking person at the table is expected to set the conversation.*
I had been a beat too slow to remember that. I recovered quickly.
"What were you all discussing before I arrived?"
Camilla, who had taken the seat beside mine, answered before anyone else could.
"Oh — the ladies and I were talking about a rather unkind rumor that's been making the rounds." She tilted her head with an expression of theatrical regret. "Apparently, people are saying that I was dismissed from my position as lady-in-waiting because of some terrible indiscretion." A soft laugh. "Your Highness, you'll tell them how absurd that is — won't you?"
*So this is what you invited me for.*
The urge to laugh was nearly overpowering. I kept my expression carefully neutral.
Camilla read my silence as permission to continue, and immediately turned back to the table.
"You see? Her Highness agrees, of course." She smiled around at the assembled ladies with the confidence of someone who believed she was conducting an orchestra. "I resigned for entirely personal reasons. Nothing more. And anyone who says otherwise is simply spreading malicious gossip."
Murmurs of sympathetic agreement rippled around the table. Camilla looked satisfied — and just slightly emboldened.
"I'm grateful for your understanding, all of you. Truly. It would take something quite extraordinary to make me leave that position voluntarily — especially now, when things between the Grand Duke and his wife are so..." She let the sentence trail off, her eyes going wide with a performance of sudden, accidental realization. One hand flew to her lips.
"Oh! I've said too much."
She blinked innocently at the table — and the table, collectively, leaned in.
---