Each in Their Own Place (1)
The day after concluding the Marchioness of Lilche’s funeral, I returned to the imperial palace. It had been nearly a month since I last walked these halls. Exhaustion weighed on both body and mind, yet I could not avoid paying my respects to His Majesty Emperor Hebron.
“Duchess, please enter.”
Sophie, the head maid, held the door open. With a heavy heart I stepped into the Emperor’s chambers.
“It has been some time, Your Majesty.”
After my brief greeting came the expected formal question: had the funeral been conducted properly?
A regent’s funeral. The words “it went well” felt almost obscene. I returned the equally formal reply that it had passed without incident, thanks to his concern.
I wish he would simply say I must be tired and should go rest.
I stared at the hem of my dress, thoughts drifting. Ever since hearing his cruel words in this very room, I had found it difficult to meet his eyes.
Yet His Majesty remained silent. He offered no other topic. I wanted to ask if there was something he wished to say, but the courage failed me and I kept quiet. At last he spoke, his voice heavy and slow.
“I will grant Karina the Regentra surname.”
So that was it.
I swallowed the sigh rising in my throat and answered evenly.
“As you wish, Your Majesty.”
My instant reply, free of any hesitation, appeared to surprise him.
Everyone in the empire already knew Karina carried Regentra blood. Attaching that surname to her name was hardly shocking anymore.
I had no interest in fighting him over a name on paper. My task was not emotional warfare but the pursuit of practical gain.
“However, the only thing she may possess is that nominal surname. Karina will inherit no rights to the Regentra family, nor will she ever demand any.”
Fabiel, who had passed on the Regentra blood, had been stricken from the family register long ago. Should anything happen to our house—an unlikely event—the Lilche Marchioness line would succeed us. Nothing would pass to Fabiel or his descendants.
His Majesty had no further comment on the matter. The conversation seemed to have reached its end, but it had not.
“I will raise the child’s title.”
This time I could not answer at once.
On what possible grounds?
I kept my face carefully blank even as indignation burned inside me.
Even if she had contributed greatly to His Majesty’s recovery, the viscountess title had already been excessive. Bestowing yet another honor for the same reason was impossible. Feeling as though I might as well hear the worst, I asked.
“What title do you intend to grant, Your Majesty?”
He remained silent for a long while. Tap, tap. The sound of his fingers drumming the edge of the desk filled the room—the golden ring on his hand striking the oak surface. After some time the noise ceased and his weary voice returned.
“I will make her a duchess.”
A duchess. For a moment I doubted my own ears.
The title of duchess meant, quite literally, the wife of a duke. It was not an honor one could bestow as mere recompense for service.
Besides, only one ducal house remained in the empire—ours. The sole duke, Zardo, was already married.
Unless the Bladin family is restored to ducal rank and Ebony is married to Karina, it cannot be done.
But that was absurd. As I stayed silent, His Majesty continued.
“The title will be Duchess of Rockfelt.”
This time I could not stop my expression from hardening. A sigh slipped between my dry lips before I could swallow it.
The Rockfelt duchy was a title held concurrently by the imperial family. It was the honor Emperor Hebron had received as crown prince; the late Empress had borne the title of Duchess of Rockfelt during her own time as crown princess.
To give that station to Karina was tantamount to declaring he would take her as his official consort.
So the rumors were true after all.
I did not believe His Majesty would treat Karina as a mere concubine.
Emperor Hebron had never kept a mistress while his empress lived. Even after losing his proper wife, he had refused to take a new empress so that the throne might pass to his nephew.
This decision must be to protect her. Is he willing to cast aside even his final shred of dignity?
The social world remained quiet, which suggested His Majesty was informing me first. Of course, excluding those who had helped orchestrate the matter.
“Your Majesty, if this is because you fear our house might harm Karina, I beg you to reconsider.”
I broke the long silence with a calm voice.
“I will not harm her. The moment I stepped down from the guillotine, my mind was already made up.”
His Majesty, who had been regarding me sideways, turned his full gaze upon me. I lifted my eyes—eyes that kept wanting to fall—and met his.
“You may not know this, but I have saved Karina’s life more than once. I may never be able to like her, yet quite apart from my personal feelings I have resolved to acknowledge her existence and live with that truth.”
“……”
“If my brother attempts to hurt her, I will intervene. If Yulian tries to drag her down, I will not stand by as I did last time.”
In truth I wanted to oppose the idea with all my strength. Yet this was the position of royal consort, not official empress. Interfering further felt like treading on uncertain ground.
“Therefore you need not go to such lengths, Your Majesty. You may not trust me, but these words come from my heart.”
I spoke with every ounce of sincerity I possessed.
Karina receiving the title of Duchess of Rockfelt did not merely mean she would become the Emperor’s consort. It was a station from which she could ascend to empress without objection, a position of power unlike any previous royal favorite.
Ebony Bladin must have urged him to do this.
By granting the title of duchess rather than empress, she had neatly silenced any open opposition.
“Your Majesty, I earnestly ask that you reconsider this decision.”
I expressed my dissent as diplomatically as I could, then bowed and turned to leave.
“Ishtel.”
He called me back. When I looked over my shoulder, I saw only weariness in his eyes.
“……Never mind. Go.”
Leaving the Emperor’s chambers, I stepped into the corridor. My mind spun so violently that everything felt hazy.
Walking in that daze, I halted when someone suddenly blocked my path. I lifted my head. It was Illid.
In the time since I had last seen him, his eyes had transformed; he looked like a different man. He stared at me with a coldness and sharpness I had never witnessed before.
I tried to pretend I had not seen him and walk past, but he seized my arm. The maids who had been following me were already barred from entering by his servants, stopped at the far end of the corridor.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
I shook his hand off irritably. I turned back the way I had come, only for him to catch me again before I could reach the door.
“Ishtel, it’s not too late. Come back to me.”
“I don’t want to. I have no intention of ever facing you again, so move.”
I pushed at his arm with all my strength, but he refused to release me. The motion spun me around until I stood directly before him.
“You’ve just come from His Majesty’s chambers, haven’t you? Then you must have heard that Karina is to become Duchess of Rockfelt.”
“Have you come to tell me this is a scheme you and Ebony Bladin cooked up together? How utterly incompetent you are. It seems the only way you can obtain what you want is by burdening His Majesty with such a disgraceful weight.”
At my scathing accusation, Illid bit his lip until it bled.
“I don’t know what you hope to achieve with the mere position of royal consort instead of proper empress, but it will not go as you wish. Do you really have the leisure to loiter in corridors like this? Instead of wasting time here, why not devise a better plan than clinging to the Emperor’s favorite?”
“Ishtel.”
Illid growled my name in a low, dangerous rumble.
“I am warning you ahead of time. Do not create a situation you will regret later.”
“Your delusions have gone too far. Do you truly believe I will simply endure this?”
Illid, now allied with Ebony, was a formidable enemy. We had made every possible preparation on our side.
We had increased the guards at the mansion and replaced every servant with someone trustworthy. All goods entering or leaving the estate were inspected with meticulous care.
Even so, hearing his warning unsettled me. To dispel the ominous feeling, I deliberately hardened my tone.
“You must have heard that Yulian has inherited the title of Marchioness of Lilche. Soon the marchioness house will issue an official declaration of support for Hellion. Go back and prepare yourself accordingly.”
“Ishtel!”
At the sound of Hellion’s name, Illid’s voice rose sharply. His grip on my shoulder tightened until pain flared. A short, involuntary cry escaped me.
“Let go!”
I shouted, but the sharpness of my voice only seemed to provoke him further. His fingers dug in harder.
I opened my mouth to call for the maids outside when a commotion erupted beyond the door. As though someone had read my mind, the corridor door burst open.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing!”
Hellion’s roar shook the hallway. He tore Illid’s hand from my shoulder and shoved him backward with brutal force.
“How dare you lay a hand on what is mine?”
Illid’s eyes, now fixed on Hellion, burned like twin flames.
“Don’t you dare use that word with me. Our titles are the same and our ranks are equal, yet you continually look down on me. And keep your hands off Ishtel from now on. Next time it won’t end with a mere push.”
Hellion refused to yield an inch, meeting Illid’s words head-on. Illid let out a sharp, bitter laugh.
“And if I don’t? Will you take revenge for the blow I gave you last time and strike me in return?”