“……!”

“Ahem, ahem……”

The King of Croatan, a man in his seventies, already had grown children. A sudden marriage was surprising enough, but to marry a queen only twenty years old? It was nothing short of a disgrace for Croatan.

It seemed the king had lost more than just his physical health. Though irreverent, Astrid couldn’t help but think that the king’s judgment had severely faltered. However, it wasn’t something she could voice aloud.

“To summon us to the royal palace while His Grace the Grand Duke is absent and to bring the new queen here in such haste—none of this follows precedent.”

Matilda, who shared Astrid’s thoughts, finally voiced her own.

“……I’m just as surprised. To be summoned to the royal palace after two years in Cliff—never did I imagine Her Grace’s visit would happen this way. I’m not sure whether to feel congratulated or not.”

Under normal circumstances, she would have entered the palace to greet the king after marrying Caleb. But her first visit to the royal palace had come about under entirely unexpected circumstances.

A queen at the age of twenty. I wonder what kind of person she is……

At twenty, she would be the same age as Astrid. Memories of her past flooded her mind: at fifteen, after losing her father, she had been sold off as a second wife to an aging count. A shadow of concern darkened her face.

Perhaps it was undue meddling, but Astrid couldn’t help feeling sorry for the new queen, whoever she might be. Or perhaps she was pitying herself—her fifteen-year-old self, who had faced brutal rituals alone without anyone to rely on.

***

“Your Grace, we’ve arrived. Please disembark.”

Cradoc opened the carriage door himself and extended a hand toward Astrid. After traveling non-stop for five days, the announcement of their arrival couldn’t have been more welcome.

“One moment, Your Grace.”

Just as she reached for Cradoc’s hand, Edith swiftly adjusted Astrid’s attire and tidied her hair.

“Thank you, Edith.”

Astrid smiled gently at Edith before taking Cradoc’s hand and stepping down. Cradoc, now rid of his apron, was dressed in a knight’s formal uniform—a rare sight.

With his gray hair, impressive mustache, and perfectly adorned uniform, he suddenly reminded her that he was indeed a knight of Cliff.

“You look splendid today, Sir.”

“And Your Grace is truly radiant. You are Cliff’s pride and treasure. Walk proudly, for I shall guard you. While I cannot replace His Grace the Grand Duke, I will ensure you are not left alone.”

“……Thank you, all of you.”

Astrid looked around at Matilda and Edith, who had silently disembarked to stand beside her, and Cradoc, standing protectively at the front.

To say she wasn’t nervous would have been a lie, but their presence was reassuring.

‘I must not let Caleb’s absence be felt. I am here as a representative of Cliff.’

Steeling her resolve, Astrid gave a small nod, prompting Cradoc to lead the way. Passing through a dazzling garden and grand fountains, they arrived at the Queen’s Palace, where the chamberlain greeted them.

“Presenting Her Grace, Grand Duchess Astrid Lionel of Cliff!”

The gatekeeper’s booming announcement was followed by the grand doors of the audience hall swinging wide open, revealing a world bathed in the glow of exquisite chandeliers, the hum of conversation, and the enchanting melody of an orchestra.

With unwavering poise, Astrid stepped forward.

***

As she entered the audience hall, every gaze turned to her.

The atmosphere seemed to freeze, leaving her momentarily breathless. Still, she forced a calm smile and walked with the grace and dignity befitting her title.

Behind her, the royal family whispered among themselves as they watched her confident stride.

“Indeed, she is said to be the most beautiful woman in Hestia. Look at that golden hair—it’s like silk from the Eastern Continent. How stunning!”

“If His Majesty had seen her portrait beforehand, I daresay the current queen’s position might not be hers today.”

“Oh, such talk is unbecoming! But for Her Grace, it is fortunate, is it not? The title of queen may be alluring, but the Grand Duke of Cliff is young, handsome, and resembles Grand Duchess Iris. Not to mention his physique!”

“My, Lady, you are incorrigible! Hoho……”

“Shh, Lady! Mind your words; they could be taken as an insult to the new queen.”

“Hmm, perhaps you’re right. Still, isn’t it fascinating how two lives, stemming from the same root, diverged so greatly……?”

Among the many murmurs behind her, one phrase struck Astrid like a bolt: “the same root.”

A faint furrow formed on her brow at the unsettling words, though she quickly smoothed her expression into a refined smile as Matilda subtly glanced at her.

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle this,” Astrid whispered, earning a small nod from Matilda.

As she entered the reception room, Lady MacDowell, the Queen’s lady-in-waiting, approached to welcome her.

“Your Grace, please proceed. Her Majesty the Queen awaits you.”

‘The Queen awaits me?’

The words left Astrid puzzled, but there was no time to dwell on them. A few steps later, she found herself before the Queen.

“Pay your respects, Your Grace.”

Lowering her head and bending her knees in a perfect curtsy, Astrid greeted the Queen with utmost decorum.

“Astrid Lionel, Grand Duchess of Cliff, greets Her Majesty the Queen.”

“It’s been a while, Astrid.”

“…?”

A familiar yet unplaceable voice startled As, prompting her to lift her head. Slowly, the face hidden behind a fan came into view.

“…Ah.”

It was a face she had never forgotten but wished she would never see again for the rest of her life.

Fabiola Bowell—no, Fabiola Lionel—the new queen of Croatan.

***

Fabiola greeted Astrid with a gentle smile lingering on her lips.

“How delightful to see you here, my dear sister. By the way, your hair… it’s grown quite long, hasn’t it?”

Her affectionate tone made Astrid’s skin crawl. Fabiola’s sympathetic expression deepened as she took in Astrid’s pale, stricken face.

“Oh dear, the journey must have been exhausting for you. I suppose traveling all the way from the remote Cliff territory to the capital would be quite disorienting.”

Beneath her velvety words was a blade, sharp and gleaming. Astrid clenched her fists tightly beneath the folds of her dress, her nails biting into her palms. She felt an overwhelming urge to strike Fabiola across the face with her clenched hand.

“I always thought short hair suited you better, Astrid. Or should I call you ‘Your Grace, the Grand Duchess’ now?”

The cold touch of Fabiola’s hand against her face sent a shiver down Astrid’s spine. She nearly recoiled instinctively but managed to suppress the impulse with considerable effort.

“…As you wish, Your Majesty. Just as you’ve always done.”

“Hah!”

A soft, derisive chuckle escaped Fabiola’s lips, low enough that only Astrid could catch it.

Her serene smile didn’t waver, but her gaze turned icily frigid as it bore down on Astrid. Within those deep brown eyes lay an unmistakable, long-held contempt. It wasn’t hard for Astrid to recognize it—she had felt those eyes on her back since childhood.

‘I need to stay calm.’

Astrid forced herself to remain composed. Losing her cool here would only feed Fabiola’s delight.

“So, how did you find the capital? Quite grand and majestic, isn’t it? A far cry from the rustic Cliff territory, wouldn’t you say?”

She shut her eyes briefly before responding in a firm voice.

“For a ‘rustic’ place, Cliff does contribute over half of Croatan’s royal treasury, Your Majesty. Perhaps you haven’t had time to notice, given how recently you’ve arrived.”

Her steady blue eyes betrayed no uncertainty. Meeting them, Fabiola felt a surge of violent irritation well up from deep within her.

“….”

The smile that had graced her lips throughout their conversation flattened into a rigid line.

‘In the past, I might have fallen for such provocations. But Astrid, I’m no longer the naive little Fabi you once knew. You’ll soon realize your place is and always will be beneath me.’

Regaining her composure, Fabiola looked down at Astrid with quiet confidence. Slowly, she lifted one corner of her lips into a smirk before suddenly pressing her temple with a groan.

“Oh…!”

“Your Majesty! Are you unwell?”