Oaths
"Some alliances are sealed not with ink, but with sharpened intent."
The younger sister was prepared to do anything to avenge her elder sister’s unjust death.
She had waited in silence, biding her time. Last night, she finally obtained Catherine’s secret.
"Robert Raju..."
Medea’s pale fingers tapped lightly against the table.
"Do you know who he is, Neril?"
"I do."
He had once been Medea’s ally—the man who’d helped raise Jason to the imperial throne.
He had supported her uncle’s family in Katzen both materially and emotionally, and he’d spent his own coin to secure Birna’s debut in imperial society.
He’d spared no effort to help Birna ingratiate herself with the Empress and the royal family.
When I think back on it now, the way he embraced Birna’s cause was… unusual.
It makes sense, if she was his own daughter—and not just a goddaughter.
"Robert Raju."
Birna’s middle name was Robin. A shortened form of Robert.
"Birna Claudio..."
Medea fell silent for a moment, lost in thought—then suddenly laughed.
"My aunt truly is a romantic soul. To give her child the name of her lover—how bold."
Medea had always felt Birna’s nature differed from her supposed father and brother.
Those straightforward passions, that unrefined intensity—they had another source entirely.
Birna, you were always so jealous of me, your cousin. Hiding behind the excuse of shared blood while you tried to take everything that was mine.
My place. My child. And finally, my husband.
Do you even realize that the title ‘Princess Claudio’ was already far too grand for you?
"If this truth comes to light, it won’t just destroy Princess Claudio. It will become a scandal unlike any other in Valdina—one that stains the Regent himself."
Neril’s face brightened with dawning understanding.
"We can use it against them—"
"Not yet."
Medea cut in calmly.
"Even without this secret, the Prince Regent will fall. That’s already guaranteed."
She’d already wound their leash tightly around her fist with the letter of acceptance.
I won’t let you die cheaply after selling my daughter. You’ll wait, Birna.
A cold light sparked in Medea’s blue-green eyes; beneath it shimmered the slightest trace of grim satisfaction.
Standing with her back to the darkness, wearing a serene smile, the Princess radiated an eerie calm.
"Events will unfold where and when I choose."
Prince Regent: Next time, I will visit you myself.
The next day, in the Princess’s Palace—
"Your Highness, Archduke Castullo has sent another gift and letter. This bouquet, I’m told, is from General Jared."
Medea’s steps faltered. She regarded the pile of gifts arranged before the fireplace with cool detachment.
"Throw them away."
"All of them?"
Instead of replying, Medea took one of the letters from the table and tossed it into the fire.
Saya nodded without another question.
"As you wish, Your Highness. Please rest well."
After Saya departed and the room fell silent, Medea’s gaze drifted back to the hearth.
The letter had long since crumbled into a handful of ash.
As she stared into the flames, Medea felt a presence and looked up.
A man in a white half-mask sat casually on the bedroom window sill. The mask gleamed softly in the moonlight.
Medea froze for an instant.
"Acares."
"Good evening, Princess."
His greeting was lazy, almost amused.
Behind him, the silver curtains stirred in the night breeze, and the star-pierced sky framed his silhouette.
The tableau was so composed, it resembled a scene from a painstakingly rendered painting.
Medea let out a soft, incredulous laugh and stretched out her hand.
"If you’re lost in the dark, I can help you find your way."
Her fingers closed around the crossbow set nearby. She lifted it and leveled it directly at his chest.
A low chuckle slipped from behind the white mask. For a moment, Medea almost thought he sounded… pleased.
"Thank you for the invitation."
As though she’d formally permitted his entry, Cesare vaulted over the window frame with the easy grace of a hunting cat, landing lightly and taking a seat again on the sill.
He remained perched there rather than stepping fully into the room, as if observing some minimal courtesy.
Should I be grateful he respects even that—or punish him for infiltrating the palace so brazenly and calling it an ‘invitation’?
"If I pull that cord now, do you think you’ll get out of here alive?"
One tug on the velvet bell rope, and every guard in the Princess’s wing would storm this room.
The answer came in an unshaken, arrogant tone.
"Princess, do you truly believe that? That you can keep me here?"
"..."
Unfortunately, it was true. At present, there wasn’t a single warrior in Valdina’s palace who could match this man.
Neril wouldn’t be able to stand against him either. Both of them knew it.
Cesare spoke again, voice smooth as silk.
"I brought you a gift. Something far better than the trash over there. Keep it—it will last longer."
"Since when have you been watching me?"
Medea’s tone remained indifferent.
He must have seen me burn Jason’s letter.
"If all I wanted was a reply, I’d have accepted one. You’re quite poor at humility—and at remembering your debts."
Medea gave a brief, humorless laugh.
Something small flew through the air toward her.
It was a tightly wrapped bundle of cloth, secured with simple string—the kind commonly used by couriers to deliver urgent messages across provinces.
Her white fingers tugged the knot loose. Inside lay a charred scrap of orange flag.
"The convoy that left Osso concluyó no longer has any provisions. I considered bringing you the head of the officer in charge as evidence."
His golden eyes, half-hidden behind the mask, roamed idly over the spotless walls and richly patterned carpet of her bedchamber.
"Perhaps your ‘precious person’ will be… surprised?"
"..."
Medea stared down at the scrap of fabric.
Embroidered on the half-burned orange cloth was the badger sigil of the Rasai tribe.
You really did it… in ten days.
This wasn’t something that could be accomplished with elite mercenaries and weapons alone.
The Rasai were the fiercest and most aggressive of the steppe tribes. Even Peleus struggled each time he faced them in open battle.
Astonishing speed, precise execution, and flawless delivery of the request—
Only now did Medea understand, viscerally, why Façade’s name resounded across the continent.
"Impressive."
"I told you. Façade is… different."
Cesare’s voice held an easy arrogance, completely certain of his own reputation.
"Consider yourself praised. One letter of reply would’ve sufficed."
Cesare chuckled softly, as if he heard the unspoken complaint: Why did you have to come in person?
"I heard the Princess intends to appear rather… understated at the banquet."
On Sunday evening, an official banquet would be held to welcome the Katzen delegation.
"Seems I’ll need to remind Pinatelli there are still a few weeds left in the palace gardens."
Matters concerning a woman’s adornment were strictly private. Medea understood at once: Façade had ears in the palace itself.
"I was curious."
He rubbed his chin idly.
"Why was I refused?"
His words made her think briefly of the sapphire necklace among the gifts she’d sent back to Façade.
"Was Alpensia’s work lacking? Or did you dislike the color?"
Alpensia—a dwarven village at the edge of the continent. Its artisans were unmatched anywhere in the world.
But the Alpensians were fiercely insular. Even Katzen’s royal family struggled to obtain their pieces.
"I thought emerald would suit you better."
His relaxed voice flowed directly into the quiet space between them, sinking into Medea’s green eyes like a stone into deep water.
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