Chapter 160
“Darling, send Nerys Truydd away this instant!”
At his wife’s storming words, the Duke looked incredulous.
“What nonsense is this? I already explained why we must keep her, and you agreed.”
“That was before I realized what an arrogant creature she is! I don’t like her. Do you know what Valen just told me?”
The Duchess relayed Valentin’s account, with a touch of distortion and exaggeration—Nerys had taken out her dislike of Valentin on Delma, ordering even the Duchess’s maid about as if she were already adopted into the house, and Delma had been struck so hard she collapsed in shock.
The Duke sighed, knowing both wife and daughter well.
“I told Valen not to provoke her, yet she did so anyway.”
“And why blame Valen?”
“Because of course Valen urged Delma forward—or Delma stepped up for Valen’s sake. You know our daughter’s nature. You know Delma’s loyalty.”
Both of them knew Delma could overstep on Valentin’s behalf. The Duchess scoffed.
“Regardless, Jeweled Eyes or not, I refuse to live with that thing in this house. If you must keep her, give her another residence.”
“That cannot be.”
The Duke’s face hardened.
“I’ve received reports the Grand Duke himself appeared at the palace. If she is his target, why make it easier for him? And it’s not just Ja’an—she has Jeweled Eyes. Nellusion explained everything. You’re no fool; why argue what’s already decided?”
The Duchess was no fool either. She knew well there was no loss, only gain, in keeping Nerys.
But she hated it. Years ago, when Valentin had written tearful letters about how that brazen girl had humiliated her, her heart had tipped decisively.
And she could not trust that her husband’s balance had tipped so fully.
“Valentin despises her! Our precious daughter—the only daughter of the Duke of Elandria—was tormented and insulted. And you would not only keep that hateful girl here, but indulge her?”
“When have I indulged her? Did you hear the whole from Valentin only?”
What the Duchess described sounded off to the Duke.
Nerys was no fool. And if she was no fool, she would never act so recklessly without cause.
“Are you saying my daughter lies?”
“Valen wouldn’t. But Delma could exaggerate her grievance.”
From the Duke’s view, this was no time to alienate the bearer of Jeweled Eyes over some quarrel with a servant. Rather, it was time to woo her wholly.
“Let it be, my lady.”
He spoke wearily. She glared.
“You think I do this for Delma? It’s my daughter who’s upset. Don’t you care?”
“Of course, I do.”
“And she dared command my maid as well. Today it was Delma, but who else will she strike next? It shows—children unloved by their fathers grow warped. Imagine how she’ll rampage through society!”
The Duchess knew her maid had struck Delma with full force. After all, her maids despised Delma.
Delma was tolerated only by the Duke, the Duchess, and their children. To the rest, her arrogance was loathsome.
Among the household, two camps had long been split—Valentin’s attendants led by Delma, and the Duchess’s attendants led by her chief maid.
So when Nerys gave the command—’“Don’t hold back”’—her maid had seized the chance and lashed out with long-held resentment.
This was an incident, one that shattered the fragile balance below stairs.
“Yes, my lady.”
The Duke sighed, then looked at his wife warmly.
“A young lady raised with love is always pure and kind. May our Valen grow up just so.”
She knew he was deflecting, but his gentle gaze softened her anger.
For indeed, she had been raised with love. The Wells marquessate, her family, was among the Empire’s three greatest merchant houses, wealthy beyond compare. With two elder brothers far older, her birth had been perfection.
The cherished youngest, precious as a jewel.
She had received more love than one person could, and believed her children must receive the same. Fortunately, her husband shared that view—family above all.
The Wells family had invested heavily in the Duke’s ventures. What benefited the Duchy benefited her family.
Now all she wanted was for her son and daughter to flourish. And if there were obstacles in their way?
‘I’ll pluck them out myself.’
The Duchess loathed Nerys. That lowborn wretch, daring to raise her voice and stir discord under this roof.
But if she truly could benefit her two precious children—
‘Then I’ll make her obey.’
The Duchess prided herself on taming the unruly. She smiled at her husband.
“I’ll overlook this time. After all, it was my maid who struck Delma. But Valen will be hurt. Let’s buy her that ruby she wanted—shall we?”
She spoke of the winter’s most coveted jewel in Pellena—a rare, deep-colored gemstone cut by a famed artisan.
Valentin already owned enough jewels to fill any noble’s treasury, but the Duke indulged her whims. Still, this ruby was exorbitant, and the Duke’s coffers were strained after Camille’s silver mine faltered.
As he hesitated, the Duchess’s face darkened. The Duke caught it, and with a bitter smile, relented.
“Very well.”
If need be, the Wells family would cover the cost.
❖ ❖ ❖
Valentin was in foul spirits, and everyone present could tell.
They were in no less a place than Madame Foyet’s famed atelier, surrounded by ladies of the highest houses.
None present ranked higher than Valentin, but one could address her freely—Natasha Grünehals, daughter of the Duke of Grünehals.
“Why so glum, Valentin? Is that ruby on your neck too heavy?”
The jibe meant: ‘Are you sulking because no one praised your gaudy stone?’ It was hardly kind. Natasha thought flaunting such jewels was unbecoming of a great noble, and often teased her for it.
Valentin glared daggers.
When she had run to her mother over Nerys’s supposed offense, she was certain the girl would be expelled at once. Her parents had always given her what she wanted.
Yet Nerys still dined daily under their roof.
Her mother had soothed her with the ruby, but Valentin remained unsatisfied.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Natasha. Buy what you came for and leave.”
Most young ladies would shrink at her glare, but Natasha only smiled like a thorned rose, meeting her stare.
In her eyes, she was equal, if not superior. Both were dukes’ daughters, but Natasha was older—and soon to be Crown Princess. If anything, Valentin should be deferential.
‘Insolent child.’
“Do as you wish, Valentin Elandria. But I know why you’re upset.”
“What?”
Valentin’s eyes flared. Natasha bared her teeth in a smile, cold as ice.
“That girl lives in your house, doesn’t she? They say your brother dotes on her. They say she’s close to the Grand Duke too. And accused of murder, no less. Quite the guest you’ve welcomed.”
She spoke like gossip, her voice dripping with disdain. Valentin’s face flushed crimson with fury and shame.
If there was anything she wished never to be spoken of, it was Nerys. She had kept even Delma’s beating quiet for that reason.
Who spread it? Loose-tongued servants? Natasha savored her discomfiture.
“No need to puzzle it out. His Highness the Crown Prince told me himself. I hear much of what passes in the palace.”
“What’s it to you?”
“Nothing to me. A distant cousin’s child has no value to me. But there are those who’d delight to hear it.”
Those who would seize the tale and spread it at once. Valentin knew exactly whom she meant.
Since the graduation ball, her feud with Megara had only worsened. If she could disgrace her without reprisal, she would, and so would Megara.
“What do you want?”
Pale with humiliation, Valentin clenched her jaw. Natasha laughed gaily.
“Don’t fret, Valentin. I’ve known you since you were small. Would I spread such talk? I only said I know why you sulk, isn’t that so?”
Feigning innocence, refusing to name her price—infuriating. Valentin ground her teeth, glaring.
Soon Natasha’s laughter faded. She lifted her chin, proud and imperious.
“Valentin, I’ve realized something. As you grow, you’ve grown less charming before me. Didn’t you once call me ‘Respected Sister Natasha’?”
By heaven, Valentin had never. Not even as a child.
But now was no time for pride. After a long grind of her teeth, she spat,
“…Respected Sister Natasha.”
“There, my darling Valentin. Let’s see more of each other, yes?”
Satisfied, Natasha laughed again.
Soon Madame Foyet herself came to consult on dresses. Natasha spoke first of her gown.
Ordinarily, Valentin would have insisted on going first. But today, she sat silent.
This concession would be the talk of society for weeks—how even proud Valentin had deferred, acknowledging Natasha as the future Crown Princess.
Valentin knew it, and it burned. When Natasha left, she vented her fury on Madame Foyet.
“These are all you have?”
Unjust words, for the atelier was stocked with the finest fashions society could demand.