CHAPTER 214: HER FATHER’S THRONE

[Lavinia’s POV—Imperial Palace—The Tea Party—Continuation]

The nobles hesitated at the edge of the garden, their polished shoes whispering against the marble paths. I let my gaze sweep over them, slow and deliberate, watching every flicker of unease, every carefully masked curiosity.

The boldest among them dared to step forward first—a young lady in sapphire silk, her fan trembling in her grip.

"Y-Your Highness... the... the garden looks... enchanting tonight," she stammered, glancing nervously at the assembled crowd.

I let a faint smile curve my lips. "Why, thank you. I do hope it meets your expectations."

Color rose to her cheeks as she half-bowed. "Y-yes, Your Highness... it is very lovely indeed."

I inclined my head, voice warm but deliberate. "I’m glad to hear that. My lady-in-waiting will be most pleased—she worked tirelessly to ensure every detail would delight our guests."

Then I added softly, "Please, take a seat. I shall order someone to serve the tea."

She nodded quickly and moved, relief flooding her features as if I had spared her. The others followed, like sheep taking comfort from the first one who dared cross the meadow.

When all had settled, I turned my head slightly. "Osric," I said sweetly, "please take a seat."

He blinked. "...But, Your Highness—"

I tilted my head, amused. "Don’t forget—you are also the heir of Everheart. And heirs do not stand behind chairs like servants."

His eyes softened briefly, then he inclined his head. "...As you wish, Your Highness." He took the seat beside me, posture straight and dignified.

And that was when the whispers began.

"...Look—look how close they are sitting. Almost touching shoulders..."

"... Do you think the rumors are true?"

"...They must be. No one else is ever allowed so near her. And she doesn’t seem to mind at all..."

A muffled giggle. "...Well, can you blame her? Lord Osric is... impossibly perfect. A future Grand Duke, strong, handsome, and loyal—and she, our Crown Princess. If the stars wove a match, would it not look exactly like this?"

"...A Grand Duke and an Empress. Every title in the empire would tremble before them."

"...Indeed, no one could ever replace Lord Osric at her side."

I sipped my tea slowly, pretending not to hear—though every word sank into me. Really, they sound as though they’re narrating some romantic play.

But then—one sharper voice cut through, a little too gleeful.

"...Still... don’t you think the age gap is... scandalous?"

A soft gasp, a chuckle behind a fan. "...True. He was already wielding a sword when she was still toddling after her nursemaids."

"...If they truly are bound together, it will cause quite the stir. Some will say it’s love... others will call it ambition."

I nearly choked on my tea, holding back a laugh. Oh, how predictable. Praise in one breath, poison in the next. These people really do keep themselves entertained.

But then—like a blade against my skin—I felt it.

A stare.

Hot. Sharp. Burning holes into me from across the garden.

I didn’t need to turn to know who it belonged to.

Eleania.

The air between us seemed to shift, crackling with the venom of her silent rage. She sat rigid, her fan snapping open with a snap too sharp to be casual, her knuckles white as she gripped it. Her eyes—though lowered in false modesty—kept darting toward me, brimming with the fury of someone who had lost everything and could do nothing but seethe.

I let her glare wash over me like a passing breeze. If looks could kill, I would have been buried thrice over already. But looks alone cannot topple me.

Before the tension could thicken further, a soft, hesitant voice cut through the air.

"G-Greetings, Your Majesty the Crown Princess..."

A girl stepped forward—not older than me by much. Short brown hair framed her face, and though her curtsy was proper, her trembling hands betrayed her nerves.

"I... I am Lily Beryt."

Her voice wavered, as if even saying her own name was a challenge.

I softened my smile, my tone light but firm. "Greetings to you as well, Lady Lily."

Beryt. The name tugged at my memory. Ah, yes—the new baron family. They had risen to fill the seat left empty after my first decree at the age of four. My very first act of justice. And this young woman was the daughter of that house.

"Please, take a seat, Lady Lily," I gestured gracefully.

She flushed, bobbing her head quickly before slipping into the chair beside me—closer than most would dare.

Behind me, Osric leaned in slightly, his voice low enough only for me to hear. "Baron Beryt has proven himself, Princess. I heard that during the floods last year, he emptied his stores and paid from his own purse to feed the farmers before the imperial family reached them."

I nodded faintly. That much alone had earned my interest.

Lady Lily fidgeted, her hands clasping tightly in her lap. "Your Highness..."

I cut her off gently, letting warmth soften my voice. "Just ’Princess’ is fine, Lily. There’s no need for such long formality between us."

Her eyes widened, her cheeks blooming crimson. She bobbed her head, words tripping over themselves. "Y-yes, Princess."

I chuckled under my breath. How endearing.

"The hair ornament you wear is quite beautiful, Lady Lily," I noted, letting my gaze rest on the delicate piece glinting in her hair. "It really suits you."

Her fingers flew to it instantly, flustered. "T-this? I... I made it myself, Princess. If... if you would like, I could... make one for you."

"Oh?" My smile widened, touched with genuine delight. "Then I shall be very happy if you do."

Her lips parted in surprise, and then she stammered, "I-I will make one... and send it to you, Princess."

"You may bring it personally, too," I added, my tone airy but pointed. "I would be happy to know you better."

Her entire face went scarlet at once.

But before she could melt entirely, she took a shaky breath, gathering her courage. "I... I know this is not the right time, Princess, but may I... make a request?"

I tilted my head, curiosity piqued. "Go on."

Her hands trembled slightly against her skirts. "C-could you... reduce the tax rate a little?"

The words dropped like stones into the silence. Around us, a few nobles stiffened, their gazes flicking our way.

I arched a brow, fixing her with a steady look. "And why do you ask this, Lady Lily?"

She flinched, lowering her eyes. "I-I know why you raised it, Princess. And you were right to punish those who dared to harm you. But..." Her voice cracked. "My sister... she is very ill. And the medicine is so costly under the new rates. We... we cannot keep up."

She faltered, choking back the words.

I studied her carefully. The dress she wore was simple compared to the glittering gowns around us. The faint wear at the seams, the careful mending—it spoke of a girl who had not come here only for pleasantries. She had come here clinging to the hope of a chance.

"What illness troubles your sister?" I asked at last.

"It... it is a fever, Princess. But... contagious."

"Mm. I see." I let a smile soften my lips, though my eyes lingered with thought. "You may rest assured, Lady Lily. I will see to it personally."

Her head snapped up, eyes wide with disbelief.

"For now, I shall send my imperial physician to her side. And if there is no improvement..." I paused, letting the weight of my words settle. "...then I will send a holy priest."

Her eyes glistened, her lips trembling as she bowed low. "T-thank you, Princess... truly... thank you."

I leaned back in my chair, my fingers brushing against my teacup once more. Raising the tax had been a calculated punishment against arrogant nobles who needed to remember their place. But in the precision of striking them down, I had forgotten—

Not everyone in this world is a monster.

Sigh...I shall really look into this matter.

Lady Lily fidgeted, her hands twisting in her lap. Her voice trembled, but there was something desperate in it—like a child blurting out what had been whispered into her ear too many times.

"You’re... really different from the rumors, Princess."

Ah. There it was. The very thing I had been waiting for.

I tilted my head, smile faint, curious. "And... what kind of rumor are you referring to, Lady Lily?"

Her breath hitched. She glanced around helplessly, as if searching for escape, but the silence of the nobles pinned her in place.

I reached out, resting my hand gently over hers, my smile soft but commanding. "Lily... don’t forget who I am. I am the Princess. There’s no need to be afraid."

Her breath hitched. Slowly, hesitantly, she whispered, "There is... a rumor that... y-you’re trying to take over the throne."

The words hung in the air like a blade suspended above us.

A ripple went through the nobles. Gasps muffled behind fans, goblets trembling in hands suddenly slick with sweat.

My smile never faltered. My eyes, however, sharpened like steel.

"You mean..." I said slowly, my voice carrying clear across the garden, "...that I am committing treason against my father, the Emperor?"

Every noble present flinched as though struck. Silence fell heavy, suffocating.

And there—sitting among them—Eleania trembled, her face contorted with barely restrained fury. Her fan shook so violently it might snap in half, her knuckles white as bone.

How amusing.

How revealing.