The evening descended over the Lionhart estate in soft hues of amber and gold. Janette stepped into the carriage, emerald silk gown catching the lantern light, and exhaled slowly, bracing herself for the court's scrutinizing eyes. The weight of her father's words lingered: rise taller when the world seeks to diminish you.
She had hoped—naively—that Killian might still accompany her. That he might appear at her side as promised. But the hours of the day had passed with no sign of him, and now, in the quiet of her carriage, she felt the familiar sting of abandonment.
The ride to Countess Elvina's estate was filled with the soft rhythm of hooves and the muted clatter of wheels. Janette traced the folds of her gown with delicate fingers, drawing calm from the smooth silk. She thought of Killian, sitting somewhere behind piles of reports, completely unaware of the ache his absence inflicted.
"Janette…" Lucas's small voice broke her thoughts. He had insisted on accompanying her, though he could not enter the hall. "Don't let them… don't let them upset you. You'll shine tonight. I know it."
She smiled faintly at him, ruffling his hair. "Thank you, Lucas. That means more than you know."
Damian, seated beside the driver, leaned closer. "Lucas is right. Words are fleeting. How you carry yourself is what matters." His eyes softened as they met hers. "No one can diminish you, Janette, unless you allow it."
Janette inclined her head, drawing strength from their support. Her heart still twisted at Killian's absence, but she squared her shoulders and prepared to face the court.
The estate of Countess Elvina glimmered in the night, chandeliers reflecting off polished marble floors. Courtiers and nobles laughed softly, the delicate clinking of glasses underscoring their conversations. Janette stepped out, her presence commanding in quiet, subtle ways. Heads turned. Some whispered. Some admired. Some judged.
The whispers reached her ears almost immediately.
"Ah, the Duchess alone again," one lady murmured behind a fan. "How… unfortunate."
Another added, "Five years… and no child? What does that say about her standing?"
Janette held her composure, letting her eyes scan the room calmly. Each whisper landed like a stone, but she would not let it break her.
She greeted a few familiar faces with courteous nods, forcing her lips into a gentle smile. Her gaze swept the hall. Among the glittering gowns and polished floorboards, she caught glimpses of Lady Wisteria laughing lightly in a corner, the attention of several noblemen following her with obvious admiration.
The sight twisted Janette's stomach, though she maintained a serene expression. Her pulse quickened, but only for a moment. She had endured worse—she could endure this.
A delicate cough beside her drew her attention. Lady Giselle, a woman notorious for her sharp tongue, leaned slightly, lips curved into a carefully polite smile.
"Duchess Janette," she said, scanning her dress for tonight. "I hope you are well this evening. The Countess has done quite the splendid job, has she not?"
Janette inclined her head. "Indeed, Lady Giselle. Everything appears very… orderly. One must appreciate diligence in such affairs."
Lady Giselle's eyes glittered, not missing the subtle rebuke. "Of course. Though I had heard some… whispers… about certain absences tonight. It must be difficult to appear alone when the Duke is otherwise engaged."
Janette's red eyes flickered with quiet fire, but she remained calm, her voice smooth. "The empire calls to him, as it always does. I am proud of his devotion, and I am capable of representing our house in his stead."
A ripple of murmurs followed. Lady Giselle's painted smile faltered. "Ah… yes. Of course. A wife's role, after all, is to support quietly. Still, I do hope the empire permits such patience."
Janette's lips curved faintly, not in triumph, but in quiet acknowledgment. "Patience is a virtue that has served me well."
Nearby, a small group of supportive nobles approached. Countess Elvina herself smiled warmly. "Duchess Janette, I have heard much of your efforts in managing the Lionhart estate. Your diligence is… admirable."
Janette inclined her head politely. "Thank you, Countess. It is a duty I take seriously. Beyond the estate, I have also advised on campaigns. My father instilled in me that intellect is as much a duty as decorum."
A younger nobleman whispered beside her, voice low, "Your words have carried farther than the court realizes, Duchess. Your influence is felt even when others fail to see it."
Janette gave him a brief, polite nod. Gratitude was quiet, but real. It was enough to warm the ache of isolation in her chest.
She moved through the hall, greeting a few others, her posture perfect, each step measured. Still, whispers followed her, subtle but cutting. Words about her childlessness, her husband's absence, everything was being whispered around the nobles. It was as if they were amused to see her struggle to keep her head high.
And yet, Janette stood quietly. Avoiding to have much conversation about the matters which were already obvious to everyone.
At the far end of the hall, she paused near a window, watching the moonlight shimmer across the gardens. Her reflection in the glass showed the composure she had spent years cultivating, but beneath it, her heart ached. Killian's absence had been a constant, gnawing presence, and now, she just looked at the other nobles laughing and enjoying their days.
A soft cough interrupted her reverie. "Duchess?" The voice was gentle, sincere. One of her minor allies at court, Lady Marielle, stood nearby. "You handle their annoying remarks far better than most could. I admire your grace."
Janette offered a faint smile, the kind that acknowledged understanding but concealed any fracture of emotion. "Thank you, Lady Marielle. The court can be cruel, but one must endure. Strength… dignity… these outlast petty words."
"You're right, it is indeed very necessary for you to be strong like this. Any moment you let your guard down, they'll all be more than happy to see you fall."
Janette nodded. Marielle was still unmarried and she didn't know much about the life of a married woman, but her little support was also soothing to her.
Janette asked, "do have any plans for chooding a suitor?"
"You know there are lot's of men out there looking for a young lady to marry, but only few of them actually are worthwhile... Seeing your distress also makes me wonder if marriage is even worth the hassle."
Janette gave a small laugh listening to her. "I agree, marriage is very difficult."
The evening drew on, glasses clinking, dances beginning, whispers fading into polite chatter. Janette, though wounded by absence and gossip, felt a sense of relief after talking with Marielle. It was good to have someone around who isn't always after cheap gossips and politics.
The carriage ride back was quiet, the night wrapped around her like a velvet cloak. Janette leaned back, exhausted yet alert, the cold air brushing against her cheeks. She let herself finally breathe.
And then, movement. A presence.
Across from her, a man sat, half-shrouded in shadow, his face obscured beneath the hood of a dark cloak. He did not speak immediately, but his eyes caught the lantern light, revealing an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
"Duchess Janette," he said at last, voice low and smooth. "Do not be alarmed. If I wished harm, you would know it already."
Her fingers went instinctively to her gown, where a small dagger rested. "Who are you?" she demanded, voice steady though her heart raced. "Why are you here?"
"A name is a gift," he said, tilting his head. "Best not wasted until trust is earned. For now… think of me as someone who sees what others do not."
Janette narrowed her eyes. "And what is it you see?"
He leaned forward slightly, the flicker of the lantern catching in his eyes. "A Duchess… bound in shadows, yet meant to burn brighter than any flame."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing Duchess, we'll soon meet again more often. I just wished to let pass this letter which I had for you." He took out a letter out of his pocket.
Janette hesitated, but let go of her dagger and held the envelope.
"It's a message for you, my lady. Surely you'll understand it when the time comes..."
Before she could respond, the carriage jolted. The man slipped out the opposite door with uncanny silence, vanishing into the misty night.
Janette sat frozen, fingers clutching her gown. The words echoed in her mind. Brighter than any flame.
For the first time that night, hope mingled with her ache. Perhaps the world would continue to underestimate her, perhaps her husband would continue to be absent, but this… this spark, however mysterious, gave her a weird feeling. She couldn't describe it herself.
The carriage rolled forward through the quiet streets. Janette's red hair spilled over her shoulders, the cool night air brushing her face, and for the first time in years, she allowed herself to feel a flicker of determination.
Holding the letter with her hand, she wondered who had sent this message and what were the contents of it?