CHAPTER 191: BIANCA

The estate gardens of House Virelya were famous across the Border Territories for their beauty.

Roses climbed trellises in careful patterns. Hedges stood trimmed to geometric perfection. Fountains tinkled with water imported from mountain springs, the sound designed to soothe rather than distract.

And in the heart of it all, in a private courtyard walled off from curious eyes, Lady Bianca Virelya sat among her birds.

She wore cream today. Simple muslin that made her look younger than her twenty-two years, innocent almost, with her midnight blue hair falling loose around her shoulders and her green eyes soft as spring grass. The kind of girl who belonged in fairy tales, surrounded by singing creatures and dappled sunlight.

The birds thought so too.

They clustered around her in a riot of color and sound. Finches and sparrows, a pair of doves, even a small hawk that perched on the fountain’s edge with unusual docility. They chirped and cooed, hopping closer whenever she moved, pressing against her skirts like children seeking attention.

Bianca smiled at them. Sweet. Gentle.

"There you are," she murmured, sprinkling seeds from a small silk pouch. "Hungry again? You’re always hungry."

The birds descended on the offering with enthusiasm, pecking at the ground where she’d scattered the mixture.

She watched them eat, head tilted, expression fond.

Anyone observing from a distance would see a lovely young woman communing with nature. Proof that House Virelya raised daughters of refinement and grace. The kind of girl who’d make a perfect empress someday, gentle enough not to threaten, pretty enough to display at state functions.

Up close, though.

Up close, you might notice the birds never left.

Not when she stood. Not when she walked away. They followed, always, with a devotion that went beyond hunger or habit. Their eyes tracked her constantly, pupils slightly too wide, movements just a fraction too sluggish.

You might also notice that wild birds didn’t usually tolerate this much handling. That hawks didn’t normally sit docile beside prey animals. That the longer the birds stayed In Bianca’s garden, the less interested they seemed in leaving.

But who would look that closely?

She hummed as she refilled the pouch from a larger container hidden behind the fountain. The seeds looked normal. Smelled normal. Perhaps a bit sweeter than standard bird feed, with a faint herbal undertone that might have been mint or basil or something else entirely.

The birds ate eagerly, as always.

One of the doves wobbled slightly after swallowing. Bianca reached down, scooped it up, cradled it against her chest. "Shh," she whispered. "You’re all right. Just rest."

The dove’s head drooped. Eyes half-closed. Breathing steady but slow.

She stroked its feathers, touch gentle, smile never wavering.

"Good girl," she murmured. "Such a good girl. You’ll feel better soon. You always do."

Footsteps on gravel interrupted the moment.

Bianca looked up, expression shifting to polite curiosity as a messenger rounded the hedge. Young man, breathing hard like he’d been running. He stopped when he saw her, bowed quickly.

"Lady Bianca. Forgive the intrusion."

She set the dove down carefully, watching it stumble back toward the others. Then she rose, brushing seeds from her skirt, smile brightening. "No intrusion at all. What is it?"

"A message." He held out a sealed letter. "From the capital. For Duke Viktor."

"Oh, that’s for Father, isn’t it?" She moved closer, reaching for the letter before he could respond.

The messenger hesitated. "Yes, my lady. But Duke Viktor is currently—"

"Occupied with estate business, yes." Bianca took the letter anyway, fingers closing around the wax seal. Royal blue. Vetra’s personal mark. "I’ll make sure he receives it."

She didn’t wait for permission. Simply held the letter against her chest, smile still in place, green eyes fixed on the messenger with perfect, unblinking attention.

He shifted. Uncomfortable under that stare, though he couldn’t have said why. "My lady, I was instructed to deliver it personally to the Duke—"

"And you have." Her voice stayed soft. Sweet. "You delivered it to his estate, to his daughter, who will place it directly in his hands. Unless you’re suggesting I can’t be trusted with correspondence addressed to my own father?"

The last part came out with just enough wounded innocence to make him backtrack immediately.

"No, of course not, Lady Bianca. I didn’t mean—"

"I know you didn’t." She smiled wider. "You’re just being thorough. It’s admirable. But I promise, Father will have his letter within the hour. You’ve done your duty perfectly."

Dismissed. Clearly dismissed, though she never said the words explicitly.

The messenger bowed again, retreating with visible relief.

Bianca watched him go. Waited until the sound of his footsteps faded completely. Then she looked down at the letter in her hands.

Royal seal. Vetra’s handwriting on the address. Heavy paper that suggested multiple pages.

Important, then.

She broke the seal carefully, unfolded the parchment, read.

Duke Viktor,

There is no cause for alarm, though I write with news that concerns your future directly.

His Majesty has made... an impulsive decision. A foreign woman now wears the ring that was intended for your daughter. This is temporary. A complication, not a conclusion.

I write to invite both you and Lady Bianca to the capital. There are matters that require your presence, and opportunities that must be seized before they vanish.

The wedding is in nine days. Much can change in nine days.

Trust that I have not forgotten our arrangements, nor the promises made to House Virelya.

Come swiftly.

—Vetra Helena

Bianca read it twice. Then a third time.

Her expression didn’t change. Still sweet. Still calm.

Only her eyes shifted. Something sharp flickering behind the green, there and gone too quickly to name.

A foreign woman.

Wearing her ring.

She folded the letter with careful precision. Each crease exact. Then she smoothed the paper against her palm, considering.

Soren had chosen someone else.

Soren, who’d been promised to her since she was sixteen. Who’d smiled politely at state dinners and diplomatic functions, who’d danced with her exactly twice over the years, always formal, always distant, but always there. A future written in treaties and trade agreements and Vetra’s careful maneuvering.

And now some foreign bitch had walked in and taken it.

Taken him.

The birds around her feet chirped softly, pressing closer, sensing... something. They always could.

Bianca looked down at them. At the dove still wobbling near the fountain. At the hawk watching her with unfocused eyes.

"What do you think?" she asked them, voice still gentle. "Should I be worried?"

The birds, of course, said nothing.

She smiled. "No. You’re right. There’s nothing to worry about."

She turned toward the manor house, letter clutched against her chest, birds trailing behind in an awkward procession.

"She’s just visiting."