— First of all, I would like to offer my condolences to the Duke and Lady Evelyn.
Fergus Vernon spoke like someone reciting a line he already detests.
Bored look. Lazy posture.
No shadow of respect.
I watched him expressionlessly.
He had no class, and now I knew my creator made him that way, which made the scene unfolding in front of me even more pathetic.
If there was a feeling he offered, it certainly wasn't grief, but rather the mutual contempt everyone knew he harbored for my father.
— I accept your condolences, Your Highness.
The bastard didn't even notice my reply.
Maybe it was better that way.
— I also offer my condolences, Your Grace — said Nathaniel Blair.
The Grand Sage looked like he was made of carved ice.
Neither hostile nor affable.
Just... a bird of prey, watching its prey from afar.
The hall was of cold stone, red fabric curtains, and gold-adorned accents.
A place made for comfort, but with accommodations arranged to make it clear that the host was the main element there.
One of the intimidation tactics my father liked to use.
Orestes then showed why I appreciated his services.
Certainly noting the atmosphere, he introduced hundreds of formalities in a few sentences, and everyone acted with the expected politeness.
A cold courtesy, translucent like fine glass. Fragile.
Finally, the door opened again and the butler announced:
— Lady Livia Roseheart.
She entered slowly, and I no longer noticed the theatricality in her movements.
All I could notice was the elegance with which she carried herself in her beautiful dress.
It was different from what she wore in my room.
Still modest, but clearly more flattering to her figure.
The curls pinned with grace.
The perfect posture.
She made a flawless curtsy.
Maybe she wasn't actually an entirely unsuitable bride.
— Your Grace. Your Highness. Master Blair. Lady Evelyn. — She said, bowing to each of us.
Fergus noticed her for real this time.
His eyes roamed over every detail of her body.
Scoundrel, he couldn't be more obvious if he tried.
— The newest Lady Vane... — he murmured. — Curiously charming.
He stood up and went to her, taking her hand without waiting for permission and kissing it.
At least he had the decency not to touch his dirty lips to her glove.
Livia held his gaze with gentle firmness.
Not defiant, not subservient.
Just present.
It was surprising, and in a way I didn't expect, admirable.
Nathaniel inclined his head.
— Your arrival was troubled. I hope you are settling in.
— The servants have been attentive — she replied.
Her tone was serene, without a single crack.
Fergus smiled crookedly.
— And how is the old baron? I heard that his health betrays him more each day. A pity, he and my father are good friends.
Livia maintained composure with surgical precision.
— My father is being cared for with diligence. That is all I can say.
The prince waved his hand, like someone swatting away an insect.
— Of course, of course. It is obvious that what is said is nothing but gossip. — He sat back down in his seat and continued — Can you believe I was forced to whip a maid before coming here?
Silence. Only the slurp of the prince's careless suction as he took a long sip of his tea.
— Was that really necessary, Your Highness? — Questioned Livia.
— Well, of course it was. The maid in question was caught saying that when the Baron is gone, her young mother will be... vulnerable. And that women at that age rarely like solitude.
Nathaniel looked deeply into his own tea. Undoubtedly uninterested in the Prince's theater.
Livia wavered and for an instant her face reflected the disgust she felt.
Evelyn raised her face instantly.
— Your Highness, you are absolutely correct, insinuating the future state of a living lady is not only in poor taste. It is vulgar.
Fergus opened a slow smile.
A smile that announced cruelty.
— Indeed. — He looked at Nathaniel, an idea forming in his head. — Perhaps the Grand Sage can offer company to the future widow. A pious, respected man... I imagine the marriage would be well received.
Nathaniel replied without moving a muscle in his face:
— I have no matrimonial intentions.
— What a waste — said Fergus. — It would be a union that would certainly stop the circulation of such malicious rumors.
Evelyn uncrossed her arms, tilting her head.
— Your Highness is so thoughtful. — She said, in a tone I knew meant the prelude to some nonsense — But I doubt if that alone would be enough. The particular type of pig that spreads such rumors does not silence so easily.
Fergus smiled. He got up and walked slowly to Evelyn. He caressed the side of her face delicately...
The slap echoed before anyone could react.
A quick slap, without hesitation.
The prince's ring scratched a thread of blood on Evelyn's cheek.
My body reacted an instant before reason.
A hot wave went up my spine — anger, yes, but something beyond that.
An inconvenient paternal protective instinct coming from my past life.
I positioned myself between the two with speed. I removed a handkerchief from my pocket and handed it to the prince, who used it to wipe a splash of Evelyn's blood from his hand.
Evelyn, however, just curtsied.
— Forgive me, Your Highness. Sometimes I lose track of the limits of humor. It was rude of me to speak something so vulgar in your presence.
Livia crossed eyes with me. A mutual understanding that the prince's fury was not due to the vulgarity, but because he noticed that Evelyn's attack was directed at him.
Fergus smiled.
— It is good to be reminded.
He turned to me, expecting a reaction.
— Good to see that House Vane still knows how to put its women in their proper place.
I just stared at him. The silence I returned was heavy enough to make him look away.
— Well — he said, adjusting his gloves. — I believe I have already fulfilled my duty of condolences. Enjoy the afternoon.
Fergus left with satisfied steps, being guided to the royal guest suite.
The air seemed lighter and everyone could finally breathe again.
Livia placed the tea on the table carefully.
Her fingers were trembling — just a little — but she kept control.
— Lady Evelyn... — she murmured, with sincere concern. — You are hurt.
— Oh, nothing that ruins my mood — replied Evelyn, smiling as if that were a game.
Livia hesitated.
Her concern was clear.
But there was another feeling there too — contained indignation.
Another unexpected spark.
Nathaniel remained motionless, apparently unshaken by all that drama.
Finally, he turned to me.
— Your sister continues to be spirited.
— Insolent, you mean.
— When we were young, it was... charming. Now it is just dangerous. Why allow it?
My gaze fell on Evelyn.
She wiped the blood mark with her thumb, without losing her dignified posture for a second.
And, again, something difficult to define tightened my chest.
Affection. One that I never felt for my sister until the awakening of his memories.
Of Ryuuji.
It was an inopportune feeling. It was easier to deal with Evelyn as an insolent brat.
I inhaled deeply.
— My father protected her too much. She hasn't realized yet that the house has changed masters.
Nathaniel observed me with an interest I didn't like.
— I recommend you make that clear soon. The Empire watches. And judges.
Orestes appeared at the door.
— Master Blair, your quarters are prepared.
Nathaniel bowed and left the room without looking at Evelyn, as if she were just part of the furniture.
When the door closed, Evelyn gasped — not from pain, but from irritation.
— The prince isa pig. And the Sage continues to think he breathes cleaner air than the rest of us.
Livia stepped closer.
— Lady Evelyn... if he hurt you... I...
Livia put her hand over the injury.
The two exchanged a brief look, unexpectedly supportive.
Evelyn smiled.
A true smile.
— You are too sweet for this house, Lady Roseheart. But... thank you. I don't want rumors that my sister-in-law secretly uses magic.
I watched them — two distinct women, forging a silent respect.
Something I never imagined seeing.
And I felt, for an instant, that perhaps the original cast was... improving.
Even if by force.