“Must there always be a reason?”

She knew exactly what emotions those words would awaken: a searing misery and a desolation so profound that she felt as though she had been cast adrift in the world.

She knew that feeling all too well, with its rough, scraping texture.

After all, Aiden had once said those very words to her.

Sveta could easily imagine how Beth was feeling now.

Guilt began to rise within her, swelling as if it might take solid form. However, she did not bow her head.

Tears welled in Beth’s round eyes, painfully reminiscent of her own. A single tear slipped down her dry cheek.

As though afraid the dark freckles painted across her skin might be washed away, Beth quickly lowered her head, her slender shoulders trembling.

“You may leave now.”

After delivering her gentle dismissal, Sveta watched Beth’s retreating figure until she disappeared from view.

Amy had been right.

The mirror had shattered.

And, in the end, something good had finally happened.

Sveta made a firm vow.

She would no longer live a life reflecting someone else.

***

One spring day, when the roses were in full bloom, covering the garden, the Queen visited the ducal estate.

It had been exactly one year since the invitation had arrived, summoning the Duke and his mistress to the May Festival.

The Queen was immediately escorted to the gazebo at the center of the maze garden.

As she gazed up at the pale lavender wisteria cascading thickly over the white stone roof, a large man approached her silently.

“It is an honor to receive Your Majesty in person.”

“Not at all, Sir. I am the one overwhelmed by such… devoted hospitality.”

‘Devoted hospitality.’

The warped words slipped from her lips before she could stop them.

Unmoved, he merely tilted his head slightly.

Elvita regarded Aiden Strilland in silence.

Could a blade forged from Valter steel be any harder than this man?

Could a golden flower be any more fragile?

He was as sharp as the tip of an arrow—unyielding and precise—yet there was an unexpected elegance to him, like the trailing plume of a bird in flight.

“I am merely embarrassed that such insufficient arrangements have pleased Your Majesty.”

He spoke without the slightest hint of embarrassment.

Whether or not she was an official representative, she was still the Queen. It would have been proper, even expected, for someone to escort her to the seat of honor in the reception chamber.

Instead, this brazen man had summoned her to the garden under the pretext of admiring his beautiful pink roses and left her waiting there.

From the outset, he had intended to take control of the meeting.

The motive was so obvious that Elvita had to swallow the bitterness rising in her throat.

“You should feel ashamed… especially with the rumors spreading through Renan society these days.”

“……”

“Did you dislike the prospect of marrying me that much, Sir?”

“Is that what you believe?”

With the sun behind him, his expression was impossible to read. The Duke offered no further comment.

Yet an inexplicable pressure tightened around her throat.

Her fingertips tingled with tension.

Elvita forced herself to speak.

“If I do not grant permission, you cannot marry anyone.”

“And?”

“Then answer me.”

“……”

“The three conditions I set a year ago still stand.”

The corner of his red lips seemed to shift upward.

In a low voice that resonated in her chest, he murmured.

“An answer. An answer, you say…”

Aiden turned his head halfway.

The harsh spring sunlight touched the sharp bridge of his nose before fading away.

Just as Elvita raised her hand to shield her eyes from the glare, the Duke turned around.

Footsteps approached.

He addressed the Queen as she turned towards the sound behind her.

“This is my answer, Your Majesty.”

A middle-aged man was approaching them from a distance.

In the fading orange light, Elvita recognized the Marquess of Matwood and sighed heavily.

Now standing beside her, the Marquess bowed properly.

“I pay my respects to Her Majesty the Queen.”

Strilland and Matwood.

Trade and diplomacy.

These two great pillars of Aetania stood firmly before the Queen.

Unlike the Marquess, who appeared somewhat solemn, the Duke’s expression was utterly unreadable.

Suddenly, Elvita was reminded of the sky on the day she had risen in rebellion against her second elder brother.

The sky had been high and mercilessly clear.

The knights and private soldiers backed by Strilland had seized the castle with startling ease. From atop the ramparts, Elvita looked down upon the tyrant.

In the distance, the forces of Prisada advanced, their deep blue cloaks rippling in the wind as they marched towards the fallen king and his defeated knights.

The long, suffocating tyranny had finally come to an end.

Aiden Strilland stood behind her like an unyielding pillar, drawing a massive bow and taking aim at the king.

‘The expression he wore that day…’

Cold and rigid, like steel armor.

A face devoid of expression.

A barren, merciless gaze.

Even when he overthrew a king, there was no trace of emotion.

Just like now.

The look he gave her was unmistakable: intimidation and threat.

The air felt thin.

Her lungs seemed to shrink.

Clenching her fist invisibly at her side, Elvita said.

“…Do you intend to tighten the noose around my neck together with the House of Matwood?”

“How could that be?”

“……”

“We merely wish to pledge our loyalty.”

The Duke’s voice cut through the languid afternoon air, brimming with arrogance.

“How remarkably arrogant, this loyalty of yours.”

“If that is how Your Majesty perceives it, then it must be so.”

“……”

The Duke did not even bother to deny it.

In other words, he had no intention of feigning humility.

“But is it not Your Majesty who stands in the highest position of all, gazing down upon everyone from above?”

“……”

“You stand upon the shoulders of our two houses.”

The meaning behind his measured words was unmistakable.

An alliance of the two great houses.

And upon that alliance would rest an unshakable throne.

“So you are asking me to permit a marriage between Strilland and Matwood?”

“……”

This time, Aiden remained silent.

He slowly poured wine into the crystal glass on the table.

It was a pale golden wine, fragrant with peaches — the so-called ‘King’s Wine’, once favored by her second-eldest brother, the tyrant.

Was this deliberate, too?

Even the way he tilted the glass was precise and measured, without the slightest excess.

As she watched him, a thought took shape in Elvita’s mind.

That man had been born to rule.

He would never bow his head.

How foolish of her to believe she could tame him!

The Duke of Strilland deliberately placed the glass on the stone table, making a sharp, controlled sound. Then he parted his red lips to speak.

“You were the one who asked us to stand behind you—to be your support.”

“……”

“At the very least, one of Your Majesty’s demands will be fulfilled without fail. Today, you will claim not only Strilland—but Matwood as well.”

“……”

In other words—

She stood to lose both Strilland and Matwood.

Had the duke chosen any other house, she would have refused him outright. However, he named Matwood, a house that commanded diplomacy across the West.

Currently, she relied heavily on Prisada, the eastern power that had helped her secure the throne. Yet such dependence was perilous in the long run. If Prisada’s intentions changed, she could lose her throne in an instant.

To maintain balance, she needed influence in the West.

Matwood was as indispensable as Strilland.

He was ensuring she understood that now.

This marriage had been proposed from the outset to consolidate power. If she could secure the loyalty of both houses, it would be a fair bargain.

Finally, Elvita spoke, her voice carefully measured and betraying none of the calculations raging beneath the surface.

“So you would rather be an arrogant vassal than a dutiful husband.”

“Your Majesty would prefer a capable ally to a mere man.”

There was no path to refusal.

Yes.

This was better.

‘A mere husband. A trivial love…’

Elvita thought of her brothers, the former kings, and their queens.

Her eldest brother, Baren, had remained unmarried for years for political reasons. Ultimately, however, he married the disgraced daughter of a fallen marquess — a woman who had been exiled to a convent.

He married her for love alone.

Ah, righteous Baren.

What had become of him?

He was killed by their second brother, who had long harbored unrequited love for the queen.

And what became of the woman caught up in that storm of desire and ambition?

She abandoned everything and fled to Prisada. It was the Duke of Baiton who helped her escape. That, too, had been an act of love.

The queen’s second brother amassed troops along the border, vowing to reclaim her. Prisada intervened.

Ultimately, both brothers lost their lives — and their crowns — because of love.

Elvita had no desire to repeat such a tragedy.

As the duke had said, it was wiser to choose a political ally than a mere man. She had no need for romantic entanglements.

She wanted to rule.

The answer was clear.

It did not take her long to make up her mind.

The young queen stood up straight, her voice sharpening with authority as she declared—

“Lord Strilland. I find myself quite taken with you.”

“It is an honor.”

The man who spoke of honor had cold, green eyes.

They were cold — unmistakably so.

Swallowing the dryness in her throat, she continued.

“Above all, because you are capable. Just as you have said…”

The Queen slowly extended her hand.

Upon her gloved finger gleamed the signet ring engraved with the royal emblem—the flower of Fernancia.

“…I will accept the loyalty of your houses.”

The Marquess of Matwood knelt at her feet and pressed his lips to the ring in a gesture of formal submission.

But the Duke, Aiden Strilland, did not.

Instead, he merely inclined his body slightly and bowed. This was the ancient royal custom of Muwieo.

Even when pledging loyalty, he refused to lower himself.

Arrogant to the very end.

At last, a faint smile curved his lips.

Everything had unfolded precisely as he had intended.

***

Sveta stood frozen to the spot, clutching the reins tightly, as two grand carriages rolled out of the main gates one after the other.

The first had no visible insignia, but its elegance and splendor indicated that it was carrying an important personage.

The second displayed the unmistakable crest of the House of Matwood.

Visits from the Marquess’s household had recently become increasingly frequent.

The servants whispered excitedly to each other. Whenever Sveta passed by, their conversations fell abruptly silent. Yet the fragments she overheard all revolved around the same subject: the imminent engagement of the Duke.

The Duke would soon be engaged.

‘Will it be Her Majesty? Or the Marquess’s daughter?’

Either way, it seemed certain that Aiden would soon become another woman’s husband.

“…Perhaps it’s for the best.”

She whispered so that only Roundie could hear.

“If he marries… if that happens… will he finally let me go?”