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"Ah-a-ah!" unable to restrain her anger, Ornella let out a nervous cry.
The ladies-in-waiting, accustomed to her flashes of rage, continued with their business without excess emotion.
She had felt that something was wrong even during the triumphal procession.
How she had rejoiced, hearing that Cesare was holding a lily in his hands!
For Ornella was the Traon Lily.
Out of all flowers he’d chosen exactly a lily—it was clearly a gift for her.
She had waited for Cesare before the Imperial Palace together with Leone, full of agitation.
But Cesare had come empty-handed.
Rumors had reached her that he was carrying a lily.
Why were his hands empty now?
Perhaps he’d given it to some child on the way?
When Ornella later learned what had actually happened, she’d demolished her entire bedroom.
*[Suddenly leaving the procession, the Grand Duke headed for one woman.
He handed her the lily he was holding.
The woman's identity remained unknown.
Everyone watching the triumphal procession envied her luck.
But that wasn't even the most amazing thing.
He’d tenderly touched her face.
In his eyes, when he looked at her, was a softness like feathers.
For those who knew of the Duke's indifference, this sight was truly shocking.
This tender look, which not even the most famous beauties of the capital had merited...]*
Reading the magazine article, Ornella felt her blood boiling.
It especially infuriated her that the wet nurse's daughter had received the lily.
She couldn't believe he’d passed her over for some negligible girl.
But even then she’d managed to restrain herself.
However, the news of the wedding finished her finally.
All the Empire learned of the upcoming wedding of Grand Duke Erzet.
And that his chosen one was that very ‘Eileen Elrod.’ Ornella was so enraged that she even appeared calm outwardly.
She seriously interested herself in Eileen Elrod for the first time.
What she managed to find out with the help of servants plunged her into shock.
It turned out the entire army was going crazy over this country bumpkin of low birth.
She couldn't believe the reports, but today, seeing Eileen in person, she’d just lost the gift of speech.
Those ridiculous thick bangs and huge glasses looked simply laughable.
Apparently everyone had finally lost their minds, and she would have to help them come to their senses.
For long years Ornella had remained the ‘Traon Lily’ and queen of High Society.
She’d won her current position by hard work behind the scenes.
And now she was ready to apply every effort.
Shaking off the ash, Ornella again took a drag of a cigar.
Drawing on the cigar as if caressing something intimate, she imagined Cesare—his strong body and the power hidden in his groin.
Running her tongue around the cigar, Ornella gave an order to her ladies-in-waiting:
"I need to pray.
Leave me alone."
The ladies-in-waiting left the room all at once.
Soon a man entered the chambers and dropped to his knees before Ornella.
She squinted, looking him over.
Compared with Cesare he was negligible.
In his black hair red strands glinted, and his eyes were the most ordinary.
But for temporary use he sufficed.
Ornella spread her legs before him.
"Come here."
The man uncomplainingly put his head under the skirts of her dress.
Large palms slid over her calves and softly squeezed the inner surface of her thighs.
Soon lips touched her intimate place.
"M-m-m, a-ah..." Ornella groaned lustfully, spreading her legs even wider.
Wet sounds rang out in the silence of the room.
Stroking the head of the man working diligently with his tongue, she slowly continued to smoke.
***
Eileen approached the bookcase.
The shelves were filled with the diaries she had kept since childhood—every day, without skipping.
Now, having become an adult, she limited herself to brief notes.
But in childhood she’d filled whole pages, supplementing the entries with drawings.
She took out one of the diaries.
Flipping a page, Eileen saw a drawn ring.
A smile immediately appeared on her lips—though the hand was unskilled, the drawing had turned out very diligent.
Eleven-year-old Eileen had drawn it, picturing her wedding to Cesare.
Then she’d firmly decided to marry the Prince.
She’d liked him since the first meeting, but a year of observation had convinced her that her feelings wouldn't change.
But even as a child she instinctively understood: one shouldn't tell anyone about this.
Especially her mother—she surely would have scolded her to tears.
Therefore, on the day Eileen first got into the Imperial Palace, she’d secretly confessed to Cesare.
"Prince, Prince!" Not knowing the rules of propriety, she’d brought her lips to his ear and whispered: "I want to marry you!.."
Having heard somewhere that one should give flowers along with a proposal, she’d presented him with a drawn lily—the little one didn't have money for live flowers, and weeds plucked by the roadside had seemed unworthy.
Cesare laughed quietly in response to such a daring proposal.
He’d sat Eileen on his lap and affectionately calmed her: "You need to grow a bit more, Eileen."
The girl, certain he would accept the proposal—for he too was well-disposed toward her—was lost at the unexpected answer.
"How much?"
He’d thought about it, comfortably settling his chin on the crown of her head, then pointed a long finger toward a garden shrub.
"Maybe to those bushes?"
Seeing the bush, Eileen opened her mouth.
To a little girl it seemed huge.
But can one disobey a future husband?
She’d carefully studied the indicated juniper bush.
Although ordinary junipers grow to 15 meters, this was a decorative variety and didn't reach such sizes.
Evaluating the situation, Eileen clarified with Cesare that for the wedding it was necessary for her to grow to the height of that bush.
She’d also measured the difference between her height and the plant's height.
Then she’d murmured gloomily: "I'll have to wait with the wedding..."
Many married even before coming of age at 18.
Eileen had hoped to play the wedding next spring—she’d dreamed of becoming a spring bride and was now very upset.
But since she’d received a promise, it could be considered half a success.
She’d written all her plans in the diary.
The drawing of the lily presented to him Cesare had cut out along the contour and placed in a vase.
The paper flower had decorated it until it completely rotted away.
"He is so kind..." Eileen, immersed in memories, ran a finger over the drawn ring.
The design she’d thought up then, scouring magazines and books, even now looked quite nice.
Flipping through several more pages, she returned the diary to the shelf.
A heavy sigh escaped involuntarily.
After the audience with the Emperor, a feeling of anxiety hadn't left her.
Leone had said that Cesare had changed.
And that these changes worried him.
Now Eileen seemed to understand what he had meant.
Cesare, speaking of the watch as the thing of an executed man, seemed unstable.
Always adult and imperturbable, he now looked as if he stood on the edge of an abyss.
This strange feeling since he returned from the war...
All these incomprehensible acts and sharp words...
The more she thought about it, the more obvious it became: something serious had happened.
But what?
Even the knights, who’d gone through fire and water with Cesare, and the Emperor himself—his brother and only superior—didn't know the reason.
*‘But how am I to know?’* It had seemed strange to her that Leone had asked her about it.
Apparently he held her too high.
*‘It would be good if His Highness himself told me about his difficulties.’* Eileen wanted to be a support for Cesare, but it seemed almost impossible.
Twirling her nails, she again sighed deeply and began to get ready.
Today she and Diego were to set off for the atelier—for the first fitting of the wedding dress.