“Rowena of Calois.”

“Anna Louise of Rehad.”

“Catherine of Romnifle.”

Swan’s head spun. Starting with Adelaide of Pantheon, the women had introduced themselves along with their houses, each taking turns. They then bowed again. Swan, at a loss for words, could only stare at them blankly. As she pressed her lips tightly together, the women maintained their picturesque smiles, standing as still as statues.

“I…”

“Please, give us your orders.”

“What brings you all here…?”

“His Majesty has ordered us to attend to you, my lady. Did you not hear this from the Duchess of Dolia?”

“Who is that?”

Dolia? Swan looked at the women with a bewildered expression. Each one was young and stunningly beautiful. Their attire was far too extravagant and noble for simple attendants. In front of such women, Swan felt it was impossible to even lift her head.

And yet, here she was, completely n*ked and fresh from sleep. As she ,looked at them with a frightened expression, Adelaide of Pantheon stepped forward. She lowered herself slightly to look up at Swan, a gesture that only made Swan’s face flush with embarrassment.

“From now on, we will be serving you, who will soon be Empress. Please give us your orders.”

“What… what kind of orders…?”

Swan stammered as she looked down at her. Her eyelashes trembled as her mind flashed back to the night before.

She remembered arguing with Atlion, only to realise there was no way to escape. The despair of understanding that she would have to live as his wife in Solam had overwhelmed her. She had cried, knowing she would never see Theo again, drowning in grief.

She couldn’t even remember how she had fallen asleep – exhaustion must have overtaken her. And now, with morning upon her, Atlion was nowhere to be found. She had to find him and find out what Adelaide meant, but her tongue felt tied.

“If dealing with subordinates is new to you,” Adelaide offered, her tone soft, “may I guide you?”

A voice as melodious as a finely tuned instrument pierced Swan’s confused thoughts. Adelaide smiled radiantly, her light chestnut hair tinged with a soft reddish hue. Her warm amber eyes, rosy cheeks and skin as pale as if it had never been touched by the sun gave her the appearance of a young and stunning noblewoman.

And yet there was something about her that made Swan uncomfortable. It was perhaps inevitable, given the vast distance between their stations. Adelaide, clearly a lady of high birth, seemed intimidating. Swan could only look down at her with hesitant, frightened eyes.

“When you order us to prepare your bathwater, we will call the maids to attend you, then you will share breakfast with His Majesty before boarding the carriage. My husband, Raoul, will escort you to Solam.”

Raoul. Swan’s thoughts were immediately drawn to the name. Adelaide’s family name was Pantheon. Pantheon. The man who had once brought her to her knees – Raoul Pantheon. A man so rigid he seemed unbreakable.

And to think that such a stern man was married to a noblewoman with such a warm and gentle voice – it was baffling. The contrast in temperament was stark, almost shocking.

“A bath… I want a bath.”

Swan murmured softly, struggling to get up from the bed.

Hearing her tentative request, Adelaide rose gracefully and motioned for the maids to enter. The women, who seemed numerous enough to overwhelm the room, moved in unison, following Adelaide’s lead. It struck Swan that just one of them would have been more than enough, but all of them began to bustle about, preparing to fulfil her request.

Anna Louise, seeing Swan frozen on the bed, clutching the covers and unable to move, brought a silk robe that a maid had prepared. She gently draped it over Swan’s shoulders. Swan bowed her head slightly in thanks and Anna Louise whispered softly.

“You don’t have to bow.”

Pressing her lips together, Swan moved to the round table by the window. A maid laid a cream tablecloth and Rowena brought in a large bunch of red geraniums, which she said she had picked in the palace summer garden. She placed some in a blue vase to decorate the table. Next, Catherine gave Swan a cup of herbal tea with honey and a small bowl of almonds.

“If you have some warm tea before the bath water is prepared, it will soothe your body.”

Once everything was neatly arranged, the women returned to stand in line beside Adelaide. Swan stared at the tea with a puzzled expression. She had no appetite – not until she saw Atlion again or had her child back – but there was a sense of obligation.

More than anything, her expectant expression, so full of pride in her work, made it impossible not to take at least a sip. Reluctantly, Swan brought the tea to her lips and took a small sip before glancing at Adelaide.

Adelaide, whose demeanor was strikingly different from her husband’s, wore a soft smile. For a moment, Swan wondered if this warmth was real. Was it possible for nobles to have such kind and gentle personalities? Was that why Adelaide was so kind to her?

But probably not. No matter how different she seemed from her husband, Adelaide was still a noblewoman. And Swan knew better than to trust appearances.

Perhaps, deep down, Adelaide and the others were secretly looking down on Swan. They might be carrying out Atlion’s orders reluctantly, doing so only because they had no choice.

The phrase “the lady who will become Empress” suddenly resurfaced in her mind. In this space, there was no one but Swan, so if anyone were to become Empress, it would have to be her.

“Empress…”

Her eyebrows twitched as her brow furrowed deeply. She couldn’t fathom what Atlion was thinking. Becoming Empress? Set to become the Empress?

Were these not the very people who had objected to her even being at Atlion’s side? The very ones who couldn’t stand the idea of her being close to him, simply because she had shared his bed? To them, the existence of a child born to a woman of her lowly status was an affront – an unbearable humiliation. And now Swan was to become Empress?

Her head pounded at the thought.

“Excuse me, where is His Majesty?”

“His Majesty is currently preparing to depart for Solam with his lieutenants. He mentioned that he would see you again before you board the carriage, once you’ve finished your bath.”

“I see.”

Swan lowered her head, her eyes catching the sight of maids struggling to carry a wooden bathtub, just as they had the night before. By the time she finished her tea, the tub was filled with steaming water. She watched the steam rise and waited for the women to leave, but they did not.

“Um… I’d like to bathe alone.”

Swan said hesitantly, her lips barely parting in embarrassment.

Despite her cautious request, Adelaide shook her head gently.

“It is an honour for us noblewomen to serve you. Please allow us to continue this esteemed duty.”

With her hands folded neatly, she spoke in a heartfelt tone, even lifting the hem of her voluminous dress slightly as she bowed again. It was a desperate plea, but it seemed overly dramatic, almost excessive in its sentiment.

An honour to be with her? The idea seemed absurd. Even if she were to become Empress, to claim that it was an ‘honour’ for noblewomen to serve her felt like an exaggeration.

After all, weren’t these the same women who had recoiled from her presence, finding someone like Renéee vulgar and inappropriate? Swan couldn’t quite trust their words. The thought of undressing in front of women whose true feelings towards her remained unknown made her deeply uncomfortable.

“No, I don’t think it’s really honourable to serve someone like me. Perhaps if I were a true noblewoman it would be different, but I’m not…”

“My lady.”

Adelaide interrupted gently, her voice steady.

“It is true. You already know what kind of person I am, don’t you?”

Swan’s cheeks burned and she couldn’t bring herself to meet her eyes. Instead, she lowered her head and fumbled with her words. Adelaide, who had been poised and graceful moments before, now looked at her with tearful eyes, as if she might cry at any moment.

“How could you say such a thing? The Countess of Cattleya is to become the mistress of the Imperial House of Solerium…”

“No, no, that’s not true.”

Swan interrupted, shaking her head.

‘The mistress of the Imperial House. The Countess of Cattleya.’

She didn’t know what “Cattleya” meant, but it sounded like a title chosen to address someone of high status. It was a term she’d heard occasionally over the past two and a half years, yet its meaning remained a mystery to her.

Whatever it was, it didn’t suit Swan. She was descended from runaway serfs. Once a runaway serf, always a runaway serf. She couldn’t even claim the status of a free person.

Her grandmother, Una’s father, had fled with a young Una to the distant land of Parnec and settled in the small, remote village of Duian. Swan was sixteen at the time.

Una’s father had left the manor where he had worked as a serf, unable to bear the harsh life there. He had fled, but died only three years after his escape. Since then, Una had lived without remembering where her original home had been.

Her speech and appearance differed from those of the villagers, remnants of a life of servitude. These were things she couldn’t shed completely, making it impossible for her to truly integrate. Apart from young Tom, she had no connections in the village. Even the man who had fathered her child was not a villager.

Petunia, Una’s daughter and Swan’s mother, had no idea where her mother had fled to or what manor she had escaped from. Petunia never revealed this information to her own daughter, fearing that slave hunters might discover her hiding place.

“Just be careful. If you see anyone like that in the village, run.”

Una had warned Petunia, repeating the words her mother had once whispered to her. Petunia in turn passed on the same warning to Swan.

Neither Petunia nor Swan knew where their family had come from, or the exact location of the estate where their ancestors had lived as slaves. But one thing was clear: the descendants of slaves were still considered slaves.

If the nobleman who once owned Una still seeks her or her descendants, Swan could be dragged into servitude at any moment. And yet… Empress? The descendant of runaway slaves, an empress? It was ridiculous.

For all she knew, some noble from Solam’s court might have been the one who had once owned her ancestors as slaves. The thought made the idea of becoming an Empress seem even more absurd.