TEWRIT 40

Eliano felt uneasy. The Empress’s beautiful eyes were anything but kind. Was she mocking Eliano, knowing that her friendship with Liliana Sanders had ended badly? Rumour had it Liliana had badmouthed her.

“It’s obvious you feel uncomfortable,” the Empress said.

“Heriath, Mother asked her, not me. “This is a ladies’ conversation,” countered the Crown Prince.

“But I raised the topic—don’t I deserve a chance to speak?” he pressed.

Eliano thought, Fight among yourselves—don’t pull me in. She had no wish to be caught between her stepmother and Heriath, but they were dragging her in.

“I’m honoured that the shining Sun and the deep Moon of Bianteca hear my thoughts,” she answered, calm and measured.

“Don’t force yourself, Eliano,” the Empress purred—then struck like a blade:
“I don’t want to remind a princess who claimed she nearly suffered a bosom as a child.”

The blood drained from Eliano’s face. Curious young ladies eyeing her asked with their looks, “What did she mean?”

Heriath realised the Empress had laid a trap—to flatten two birds: him and Eliano. He felt guilt; he’d led Eliano here with Liliana in mind—and his stepmother was ready to crush her.

That fragile princess might end up weeping and broken—but this was no one Eliano could defeat with tears. Heriath had to step in.

“Mother, please. This isn’t the place. This is tragic gossip—too harsh for such a gathering,” he intervened.

“She was taken in a bosom, yet returned safely—there’s nothing wrong with speaking of it,” the Empress replied, her words sharper still.

Anger boiled inside Eliano. She refused to be trampled any closer.

“Rising Sun and deep Moon”, she began firmly, “may I speak?”

Her voice rang clear, commanding attention.

“Your Majesty”, she addressed the Empress, “when I was seven, a distant noble girl seized me, scheming to snatch my family’s fortune. That isn’t bosam.”

Gently she explained that the story began with a misunderstanding—her small size and cloth wrapping led a friend to misunderstand. It happened in Brillante before her debut.

Everyone knew Eliano and Liliana’s friendship began there.

The Empress might try to slander her, but Liliana had stirred the pot—and Eliano would fight back.

“My friend was terrified and sobbed; it was a distressing memory,” she added, feigning a trembling voice for effect.

“Please don’t ask names. A lady’s secret is loyalty.”

With a single tear glistening, imaginations began to swirl.

Eliano glanced at the Empress—her gaze flickered with uncertainty.

Just then, Heriath offered a handkerchief with refined courtesy.

“I apologise for reviving painful memories on Mother’s behalf.”

Eliano’s tear was stopped by Heriath’s bell-tone gesture. She accepted the handkerchief, silently thanking him, though she suspected no kindness in him.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” she said quietly, accepting it.

No more tears fell. She dabbed beneath her eyes and felt a fierce urge to leave and wash her face.

The Empress’s tea party was ruined. The tension drove everyone away.

The Crown Prince muttered:
“Lacking all decorum—she was a princess once, after all.”

Eliano had her attendant summoned. As she prepared to leave, Heriath called her back.

“Rosana Princess”.

She faced him again, curtly polite: “Yes, Your Highness?”

He studied her with those icy eyes—eyes that once seemed empty—but now held a spark.

She drew level with him—his gaze followed every small motion.

“Do you wish to speak?” she asked, poised.

Heriath had once dismissed Eliano’s emotions—but now, confronted with this new fire in her green eyes, he found himself unsettled.

She said quietly, “We were never friends again. Liliana and I parted ways long ago.”

He blinked—but she wasn’t done:

“Your Highness could use sharper judgement when choosing a life partner. Though you delay marriage, know that child will never let you go.”

She spoke so quietly, it was more whisper than challenge. Then she and her maid departed.

Heriath watched as she moved away, uneasy.

Scene change — Outside the palace

The buzz in society was about Howard Duke’s upcoming debutante ball—everyone wondered who would earn the title of Duchess.

Eliano wondered what Flint Howard was planning.

Now she could send secret letters—Penelope (her maid) would help them meet discreetly, perhaps in a teahouse. To strengthen ties with Flint, she needed to subtly stoke his desire for the seal—encouraging him to propose. But she could not be used, then discarded.

Even if she engineered marriage, she wouldn’t become a discarded toy later.

Such a handsome duke had every reason to survey the field—but Eliano felt a flash of betrayal. After all, he wasn’t here at court making announcements—why should she feel hurt? She thought of Heriath and the Empress—and the cunning in both.

Heriath is more of a fox than I thought.

Stinging emotions pulled at her. To calm herself, she prepared to go to the temple and pray.

Outside the main gate, Damien Rosana appears

“Eliano”, his voice cut through her resolve. She bit back her anger.

No luck today—no fairy of fortune blessed her.

“Where are you going at this hour?”

His servant glared at Penelope; she dropped her gaze in guilt. Damien spat, cold:

“A loyal maid you have. Does she dare ignore her esteemed Princess?”

Penelope fell to her knees. Eliano’s lips curled in a silent hiss.

“Damien, stop insulting her. We’re on our way to pray—get up, Penelope.”

The maid complied, trembling—but Eliano froze at Damien’s next words:

“You’ve grown careless—unaware Pamela plans something.”