A few days later.

Caesar passed through the grand arched gate of the imperial palace garden and made his way to the front of the palace, heading with practiced ease toward the Emperor’s reception room.

Before long, Emperor Edmund Valterion made his appearance.

His platinum hair had faded to something close to ash gray, betraying the years that had passed, yet his eyes alone had not died out, still holding a sharp and piercing light.

He gazed silently at his handsome nephew’s face for a moment, then parted his lips.

“Sit.”

“Yes. Your Majesty.”

It was a private audience with the Emperor, yet perhaps because the invitation had been informal, the atmosphere was surprisingly loose and relaxed. Even so, Caesar could not let his guard down for a single moment.

Edmund uncorked a bottle of vodka, poured for Caesar’s glass first, then dropped a few cubes of ice into his own and filled it slowly.

Caesar lifted his glass and drained it in one go.

“I simply couldn’t help wondering how my nephew has been getting on.”

“Thanks to you, I’ve been getting on very well.”

“Is that so? I hear from Adrian that you and your wife are on splendid terms. Does the bride suit you?”

The marriage between Caesar and Adelia had been one the Emperor Edmund had pushed through unilaterally.

Having tied him to a marchioness who trailed scandal after scandal, the Emperor brought it up now with perfect composure.

Caesar felt a surge of resentment deep inside, but he let none of it show as he answered.

“We suit each other rather well in a number of ways, better than I expected. I never used to believe the saying that each person has their own destined match, but now I find I understand it.”

The fact that Adelia was no spy sent by anyone had by now become clear beyond any doubt.

Caesar no longer had any reason to hesitate. It was time to press forward with the plan he had laid from the very beginning.

A man so besotted with a woman that he had no interest in the imperial throne.

Making the Emperor believe exactly that was Caesar’s objective. It was also the reason he had been putting on such an openly affectionate display with the Grand Duchess all this time.

But the Emperor narrowed his eyes, studying Caesar’s face as though trying to peer into his innermost thoughts, and spoke at a measured pace.

“Is that so? In that case… carrying out the order I issued should present no particular difficulty.”

The Emperor’s secret edict, delivered to Caesar in private.

[Conceive an heir within one year. Should you fail to comply, the Grand Ducal territory will be absorbed directly under imperial jurisdiction.]

Only Caesar and the Emperor knew of it.

And it amounted to a declaration that the moment Caesar failed to fulfill the Emperor’s command, everything he had built up until now would be stripped away entirely.

“I cannot simply leave a Grand Duke who, well past the age of marriage, remains perfectly at ease with no heir to speak of. As his uncle, I have no choice but to step in on my nephew’s behalf.”

“I am grateful that you have given it thought even amid the demands of state affairs.”

“Your father, in his lifetime, worried so deeply about you being left alone. He asked me to look after the Grand Duke well. I hope you won’t take my position, which leaves me no other course, too much to heart.”

He was invoking the last words Caesar’s father had left behind. A quiet, inward scoff rose up inside him.

On the surface it was dressed as consideration, but the reality was something else entirely.

Under the pretext of carefully looking after a nephew with no one in the world, the true intent was to slowly tighten his grip on Caesar’s authority and assets and wear down his power. There was no mistaking that this was Emperor Edmund’s real design.

He had not once called Caesar by his name.

It was always “Grand Duke Valenstein.”

In the way he dealt with him, a clear and unmistakable check was always present.

As ever, the exchange passed with each concealing what lay within.

Caesar said nothing. He lifted his glass and drained the vodka one after another.

The harsh liquid slid down his throat and left a burning heat in its wake.

“We should share a dinner together soon, the Grand Duke and his wife and I.”

When would he ever be free of this wretched chain. A suffocating frustration rose all the way to the back of his throat, yet even so, Caesar kept his expression composed and unhurried, and lowered his head.

“Understood. Your Majesty.”

* * *

Having devoted the past several days to her recovery, Luna had returned to very nearly her usual state.

After Yuriya was revealed to have been a spy, Caesar’s manner had also visibly softened.

It occurred to her that his initial difficulty trusting her might have had its roots in how he had grown up.

Luna slowly lifted her gaze and looked around the room.

Caesar’s father and mother, who had passed away early.

The vast Grand Ducal manor looked magnificent and flawless, yet it was strangely, unsettlingly quiet.

Most of those who came to this estate were people approaching with want of help or money. There was not a single person Caesar had genuinely let close to him.

Perhaps he had lived all that long time inside loneliness.

She herself was an orphan, someone accustomed to a solitary life. Yet at the very least, she had had Adelia, and she had had the Marquis and Marchioness who had taken her in.

But now Adelia was gone, and she could not reveal her true identity to anyone. Luna felt as though she had truly become alone at last.

Perhaps that was why she could not help but feel that her circumstances and Caesar’s were more alike than ever.

Luna smoothed a hand over her tightening chest and drew a slow, steadying breath. Still, the one consolation was that the greatest crisis had been cleared for now, so going forward she could take things one step at a time and work through them.

She was deep in thought just then when a knock came from outside the door.

Knock, knock.

It was a maid who had rapped at the door.

“His Highness the Grand Duke has asked me to convey that he would like to dine with you this evening.”

Caesar, who had disappeared early in the morning, appeared to have only just returned.

The sudden dinner invitation caught Luna off guard, and she was briefly at a loss for words before she managed to speak.

“All right.”

As the dinner hour drew near, the dining room hummed with activity.

Rare and exquisite dishes were brought out one after another, filling the long table.

Luna sat down and took in the scene once more, and a memory surfaced unbidden of the first time she had shared a meal with Caesar.

It had been the moment she had clumsily tried to play the part of Adelia, been caught out by him, and in the end received a cold rebuke.

The image of artificial flowers arranged in a vase, and the marriage guidebook that had been thr*st into her hands without warning.

In the end, Caesar had left the table early that day, and she had never even managed to have dinner with him.

What was he going to bring up today?

At the thought of facing him, she had stood before the mirror since early in the day and checked her appearance again and again. The tension was plain in her fingertips.

At last the dining room door opened and Caesar appeared.

“You’re back?”

At Luna’s brief greeting, he offered no words in return, only a light glance by way of acknowledgment.

It could not quite be called warm, but it was a clear change from before. Luna received him, unable to hide the awkwardness she felt.

Attendants approached shortly after and spread neatly folded napkins across Caesar’s and her laps. The thin, soft cloth settled naturally over their thighs.

He straightened the edge of his napkin with practiced ease, then reached for the cutlery laid on the table.

“Eat.”

It was a short, matter-of-fact word.

And so the meal began.

Luna kept her gaze on the food as though indifferent, though she stole glances at him every now and then.

Caesar’s table manners were impeccably neat. The restrained movements particular to the nobility, the angle at which he lifted his utensils, the timing with which he set them down, all of it fell into place with precise exactness.

Unlike her, who was imitating a noble young lady, everything he did carried a natural dignity.

Over the quiet table, only the faint sound of cutlery grazing surfaces drifted through the air.

But Caesar still said nothing.

The one relief was that, unlike before, it was not the kind of cold silence that made it hard to breathe.

Had he really called her here simply to eat, with nothing else in mind?

The settled quiet only drew the tension higher, and Luna ended up doing nothing but watching for his reaction until she finally ventured to speak.

“Today… was there something you…”

She let her words trail off as she asked with care, and Caesar, without taking his eyes from her, answered evenly.

“Is it strange for a husband and wife to have dinner together?”

“Oh, no? I only thought there might be something you needed, like last time…”

“I intend to do this together more often from now on.”

“I… I see.”

She had answered, but she felt unsettled inside. At this rate she might get indigestion. Even so, whenever she raised her eyes and met his face across the table, it was not entirely unpleasant.

“Oh, and…”

Luna had just cut a piece of veal steak and put it in her mouth, and she paused mid-chew to look up at him with a questioning gaze.

“About what happened the other day… I’m sorry. I wanted to offer you a sincere apology.”