The Empress already knew that Cedric had rejected Anita. Although she did not know the exact details, she had learned enough from her sources at the Crown Prince’s residence to know that the Crown Princess had sought him out and been turned away.

Allowing Anita to give up now, however, was not an option.

“No, If it’s for your homeland, then you must persuade him. You must try whether that means sending troops or aid, you cannot remain idle.”

“……”

“I know it will be difficult. I understand that well. But, Crown Princess—”

“……”

“Will you simply leave your family as they are?”

The Empress’s tone softened, but her words struck like a blade.

“Even I have heard the dreadful rumors. Whatever happens, surely you cannot abandon your young nephews?”

In order to further her own agenda, the Empress exploited Anita’s sense of guilt. As expected, the blow landed. Anita’s hands began to tremble uncontrollably, and she could hardly breathe.

“It’s a matter of your family’s lives, surely you’re not hesitating, are you?”

Hearing the quiet voice of the Empress, Anita bit her pale lip and shook her head. The Empress took her hand again and squeezed it tightly.

“What I mean is that you must try anything.”

“…Yes. You are right, Your Majesty.”

Although the Empress’s hand was warm, Anita could not feel any warmth from it. She knew the woman’s concern was not born of genuine compassion for Callithea.

Nevertheless, perhaps she did have to go to Cedric once more, no matter what he said. The moment she thought of her young nephews’ faces, however, her resolve wavered.

Just as she was about to make a decision, the Empress spoke again, her tone light and almost offhand.

“Crown Princess, shall I offer you a little advice? You may already know, but Laxion’s figs are said to be quite delicious.”

The sudden remark left Anita visibly puzzled. The Empress chuckled softly, hiding her mouth behind a graceful hand.

“White figs are in season now. They’re rare, but their fragrance and sweetness are exceptional. Even here in the palace, they’re not easily found.”

Anita only blinked, uncertain of the meaning behind those words. The Empress’s smile deepened as she revealed her true intent.

“I happen to have acquired some myself. I’ll give them to you as a gift. Why not bake them into a pie and take it to the Crown Prince? He’s never said it himself, but I’ve heard that he loves generously filled fig and honey pies.”

“……”

“Well, who isn’t won over by food, after all? Nothing brings people closer quite like it.”

The Empress’s expression remained serene, her eyes curved sweetly with warmth yet behind that graceful smile lurked unmistakable malice, sharp and deliberate.

··· ✦ ···

Even after Anita had left, the Empress remained in her glass conservatory. A maid soon arrived with trays of confections and tea.

“The Crown Prince will never grant the Crown Princess’s request.”

“Of course not.”

The Empress replied calmly. She reached for a tart filled with puréed white figs soaked in honey and wine, which was sitting on a porcelain plate in front of her.

It tasted as exquisite as it looked. The rich, lingering flavor of the fruit spread over her tongue, and despite herself, the Empress’s lips curved into a quiet smile.

“Wouldn’t it be better if something happened soon? At a time like this, the Emperor tends to show the Crown Prince more mercy than usual. If the Crown Prince doesn’t kill his consort outright, he might pardon him.”

“Perhaps. After all, Ines’s memory will be upon us.”

When the late empress was mentioned, the faint smile on the current empress’s lips turned into a frown. She put down the tart with an irritated click. Her maid, reading the situation perfectly, remained silent.

Her thoughts turned to when she had first entered the palace less than a year ago. The late Empress had been a viper of a woman who threw a fit over a fig-filled pastry on the eve of her mother’s memorial.

The boy, who was nine years old at the time but far too cold and controlled for his age, had lost all composure and torn through the room in a blind rage. She hadn’t witnessed it herself, but she had heard that, when the servant who had brought the tart was found, the young crown prince had almost killed him.

‘I should have seen him suffer with my own eyes. At the time, I didn’t realize that it would be my last chance. He begged me to be careful afterwards, so I could never again pretend that the gifts were innocent.’

It was hardly surprising that she linked that rage to the death of Empress Ines.

The Empress lifted the fork lying beside the ruined tart and drove it into the delicate dessert that her chef had crafted with such care, grinding it down without a hint of restraint.

“Whether the Crown Prince kills her or merely strikes her this time makes no difference. If he ends her life by accident, so much the better. And if not…”

She pressed the fork into the mangled remains on the plate again, though there was nothing left to destroy. It wasn’t her pain after all, she had no reason to hold back.

“He’ll despise her more than ever. Send her to him now. With his temper, what do you think will happen? He’ll lash out, torment her, and that hatred will never fade.”

“……”

“When the time is right, we will strike when the Emperor can no longer tolerate his son’s savagery. That will be our opening.”

The fork clicked against the porcelain as she put it down. There was no good reason for the sharp sound, and the Empress smiled as if pleased by the shattered plate before her.

“And if the Crown Prince continues to despise his consort… well. Should anything happen to the Crown Princess, won’t the culprit be obvious?”

··· ✦ ···

The twelve white figs that the Empress sent in a basket were every bit as exquisite as she had promised. Their scent was rich and their sheen was flawless, so exquisite that even Anita, who had seen her fair share of fine fruit, couldn’t help but marvel at them.

Yet she secretly threw them into the fire burning in her chamber’s stove.

No matter how perfect they were, she could never bring herself to use anything that came from the Empress not even for Cedric. Some quiet instinct deep within her warned her against it.

Instead, she asked for permission to use one of the ovens in the Crown Prince’s kitchen and went downstairs with Renee. The moment she entered, the entire kitchen fell silent.

From the head cook to the flour-covered boy hauling sacks across the room, every servant stared in shock. The Crown Princess whom they regarded with unease at best had come to the kitchen herself.

“Thank you for making time. I know my presence must be uncomfortable, but I’ll be quick.”

Anita spoke gently to the baker.

With his help, she prepared a few épis — simple bread, yet demanding in terms of both time and precision. When the loaves emerged from the oven, they looked more perfect than usual, as though the Crown Princess’s quiet sincerity had shaped them. From a distance, they could easily have been mistaken for golden stalks of wheat.

She selected the crispiest and most beautifully bronzed pieces, carefully wrapping them with a jar of fig jam. This jam was not made from the white figs sent by the Empress, but from ripe, high-quality fruit harvested two months earlier. Slowly simmered with sugar and honey, the jam carried the rich sweetness of freshly picked figs.

As the time for afternoon tea approached, Anita placed the épis and jam in a small basket, her pen poised above a blank sheet of paper. She knew he would not see her — not before his mother’s memorial.

After a long hesitation, she put down her pen. A letter, she decided, would have to wait.

‘It would be better to visit or write after the ceremony.’

She didn’t want to upset Cedric, who was already so emotional. However, as the Empress had said, she couldn’t just do nothing. At the very least, she needed to approach him carefully and, if possible, offer him some small comfort.

‘It isn’t a pie… but he liked fig jam too.’

She knew he might refuse the gift, perhaps passing it on to someone else or throwing it away without looking at it. Nevertheless, she hoped he would try it, which would allow a sliver of warmth to return to their relationship.

“Renee.”

She said softly, steadying her resolve. When she handed over the basket, Renee offered to deliver it to the Crown Prince herself. However, Anita instructed her to leave it with one of his attendants instead.

Before long, Renee returned with a sulky expression. She reported that the basket had been given to one of the Crown Prince’s servants. Anita only nodded, sharing the remaining épis with her.

The bread was crisp and fragrant, the mild sweetness of the jam complementing it perfectly. For the first time in days, Anita allowed herself a brief moment of quiet hope.

If she could take even a small step towards Cedric…

Thud.

“Your Highness!”

“Y-Your Highness!”

Anita’s slim hope didn’t last even a few hours. The sound of muffled shouting grew louder and more frantic as it drew closer from her chambers.

Sensing danger, Renee sprang to her feet and moved towards the door. But before she could reach it, the door burst open with such force that it made the walls tremble.

Bang!

Startled, Renee screamed and threw herself instinctively in front of Anita. Anita froze where she sat, wide-eyed, until her gaze fell on the intruder:

Cedric.

The moment she met his bright grey eyes, which were darker than silver but lighter than ash, her whole body shuddered. The fury in them was enough to stop her heart.

“Y-Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”

Renee stammered, forcing herself to bow, though she never lowered the arms she held protectively before Anita.

Cedric’s expression was murderous. His voice was low, clipped, and ice-cold.

“Get out.”

The order was meant for Renee. Yet she stood her ground, swallowing hard, saying nothing.

“…Drag her out.”

Before Anita had time to speak, Cedric gave the command and armored men stormed through the doorway. She hadn’t realized they were waiting outside. Within moments, they seized Renee by the arms.

“Renee!”

“Your Highness! Let go! I said, let me go!”

It happened too quickly. Anita began to move forward to stop them, but Cedric grabbed her shoulder. The pressure was so intense that she cried out in pain and twisted beneath his grip.

However, he didn’t release her until Reneé was dragged from the room, struggling and shouting, and the door was slammed shut once more.

Thud.

Now only Cedric and Anita remained.

She writhed, voice trembling.

“Please—Your Highness, It hurts—ah…”

The pain brought tears to her eyes, but Cedric didn’t so much as flinch. Then, without warning, he shoved her away.

“Ah!”

Anita stumbled back, the force sending her crashing to the floor. Something small rolled beside her and struck the carpet.

Thump.

One of the glass jars that she had used earlier fell to the floor. The thick carpet muffled the sound, but the lid cracked and a sharp piece of glass flew off, grazing her exposed arm.

A thin red line appeared where the glass had touched her skin.

The cut wasn’t deep, but it was long, and a thin stream of blood welled up from the wound.

At the same time, the cracked jar began to spill its contents, thick jam seeped through the fractured glass.

Anita’s gaze shifted from her wound to the mess on the carpet.

Pieces of fig, preserved in sugar and honey, slid out in a sticky trail, spreading slowly across the weave. The jam, which she had once made with care, now looked wretched and ruined, staining the fabric like blood with its sweetness.