Chapter 204
“It’s unfortunate for Natasha, but she cannot be taken in as Crown Princess.”
‘There must be an heir to the throne.’
At those calm words, Abelus — who would normally grumble about being treated like breeding stock — stayed silent. The shock was simply too great.
It had only been an hour ago that Natasha had excused herself to the lounge, saying she didn’t feel well. And now, the entire order of the court had been overturned.
Countless people had flattered the Duke of Grünehals, expecting Natasha to become Crown Princess. They had already imagined the day, decades later, when her child would become the next Crown Prince — even assigning themselves seats at that future court.
There had been no reason to stop them, nor any need to. The imperial family had simply watched. And despite the cliques that formed, the palace had always managed to maintain balance through careful policy.
At least, until the very brink — when it became clear that no future emperor could ever again carry both Grünehals and Bistor royal blood.
Camille explained ‘why’ Natasha had caused such a scene that night and ‘how’ she had ended up unable to bear children. Abelus felt a flicker of guilt — as though part of this disaster was his fault.
After all, wasn’t it because two of the most beautiful, intelligent, and well-born women in court had fought over him that this entire mess had erupted?
If Camille could have read her younger brother’s thoughts, she might have been speechless at how idiotic his reasoning was. But no matter how clever she was, she wasn’t a mind reader.
So instead, she worried about what truly mattered — how to contain the noble factions already scheming over who would become the next Crown Princess.
Bistor was vast, and nobles were many, but once she narrowed the list to those of good blood, sound health, and suitable age for Abelus, only a handful remained. The Duke of Ganielo had no daughters. The Marquis of Kendall’s daughter was dead, her father clinging to her body in madness.
Truthfully, aside from Natasha, Megara, and Aidalia, there was only one remaining candidate among the great houses.
‘Valentin.’
The Elandria family had dared to defy the crown. For that, the imperial family had stripped them of nearly all political rights, buried them in crushing debt, and ensured they would struggle for the next century. Their branch lines were forbidden to marry without royal approval for fifty years, and even their household guards had been dissolved.
Yet punishment did not mean extinction. The cunning Duke and his father before him had surely hidden considerable wealth and influence beyond the crown’s sight. Camille had no intention of erasing that — not yet.
Even a cornered cat bites when pushed too far.
‘And,’ she thought, ‘that family still has its uses.’
Camille disliked Valentin — she was foolish, loud, and impulsive — but that was better than being shrewd.
Of course, she couldn’t suddenly elevate a traitor’s family to the position of the next Empress’s kin. That would make the nobility think the crown’s punishments were meaningless. But if she expelled the current Duke and replaced him with Nellusion, things would be different.
The Elandria power would weaken, caught off guard by the sudden transition. And perhaps Nellusion could tame Valentin into something tolerable.
Still, would Nellusion remain loyal, or would he turn into another wolf that bites its master? Camille didn’t know him well — their age gap had kept them apart — and she wanted to find out what kind of man he really was.
‘I’ll summon him,’ she decided.
Then she turned to her brother.
“You’re the host of this banquet, Abel. Go reassure your guests. Show them that a prince’s duties don’t stop just because two women left the hall. Act as if nothing’s happened.”
Abelus nodded, forcing his gloomy expression into composure. He rose and left the small room he’d been in with Camille.
And then, as he passed through a deserted corridor on his way back to the ballroom—
“Your Highness.”
A soft, trembling voice called out to him.
The corridor was lined with ornate columns carved in the old style, leading toward the private quarters of the imperial family — a place ordinary nobles rarely entered.
Between the pillars, Megara Lykeandros appeared, her tear-streaked face emerging from the shadows.
No — she was no longer ‘Megara Lykeandros.’ An illegitimate child could not bear her parents’ name.
Under the glow of the enchanted lamps, her beauty and sorrow shimmered together. Even with her face wet from tears, she was still as lovely as a flower drenched in morning dew.
“Lady Megara. You’re still here.”
Abelus spoke awkwardly, surprised.
He was well aware that she had been flirting with him lately, and he had played along — it had been amusing. When she complained about being scolded by her father or doused by Natasha, he’d even offered kind words.
But the woman before him now was not the witty beauty of the ballroom. She was someone who had just lost her name, her family, her place. The situation demanded a different tone.
He felt a pang of regret. He would probably never see her in the palace again. She would never again set foot here as a noble lady.
Tears welled anew in her purple eyes as she looked at him and took a step forward.
Her movements were soft, graceful — like moonlight spilling across the floor. Abelus found himself rooted in place, unable to move.
Her sweet, trembling lips parted.
“I suppose… I’ll be officially broken off now, won’t I?”
A foolish question. Of course she would. The Ganiero family would probably refuse to even acknowledge the engagement.
“It’s funny,” she continued faintly. “I’d been wishing for that breakup all along. But Father was so stubborn — I had no choice. Now that it’s finally happened… I can’t ever come to the palace again.”
Abelus, dazed, asked, “Why did you want to end it? Colin adored you.”
Beautifully measured anger rose on her face.
“So what if he did? The one I’ve always loved is someone else.”
‘Always?’
Stopping just a hand’s breadth from him, she tilted her face up.
She smelled wonderful — soft, floral, intoxicating. Abelus didn’t pull away when her lips brushed his, light as a flower petal.
Her glistening eyes caught his, and his mind went blank. He was lonely, after all. And now that she was no longer a marquis’s daughter… touching her was no longer forbidden, was it?
“Who is it?” he murmured.
“Do you really need to ask?”
Her eyes flushed with shy reproach.
This time, he was the one who leaned down.
❖ ❖ ❖
News that the disgraced Megara had been officially expelled from Noble Academy just before graduation hardly made a ripple in society. There was a far juicier rumor attached to her name.
“They say she’s become the Crown Prince’s official concubine and will live in the palace,” Talfrin reported casually.
“How unfortunate,” Nerys Truydd said calmly. “She could’ve lived peacefully.”
Megara’s path to marrying a nobleman was closed, but as the Marquis of Lykeandros’s beloved daughter, she could have received a handsome dowry and married a respectable commoner. Wealth made many things possible.
Half of her blood was still that of one of the empire’s greatest families, and she was intelligent enough to live comfortably with a cultured man. With the right bribes, even her children could have been baptized.
Talfrin, however, felt no pity. He had never liked Megara — not since their academy days, when he had witnessed her cruelty and constant rivalry with Nerys.
“She must think this path more worthwhile.”
“Perhaps. It’s unusual for a Crown Prince to take a mistress before marriage. He must be quite taken with her.”
It seemed the two really were bound by some cruel twist of fate. Nerys smiled wryly.
Dora, who had been tidying the office, asked, “My lady, what’s an ‘official’ concubine? How can a concubine be official?”
“Such ignorance from a former member of ‘Shadow’” Talfrin scolded before Nerys could answer.
“My missions were all within Maindulante, Captain!” Dora protested.
“Still, you should know basic terms. If I sent you to the palace now, you’d ruin the assignment because you don’t even know what an official concubine is.”
‘Shadow’ was made up of Cledwyn’s most elite subordinates, and Talfrin took great pride in that. He glanced at Nerys, embarrassed by his former subordinate’s ignorance.
Nerys gently intervened.
“Don’t be too harsh, Talfrin. It’s a palace-specific system — she wouldn’t know it if she’s only served in Maindulante. Dora, an ‘official concubine’ is someone to whom the Emperor, Crown Prince, or heir apparent grants rooms within the palace.”
Among nobles of Bistor, it was common for men and women in arranged marriages to take lovers — Rebecca Shirley, for instance. But only a sovereign or heir could have a ‘recognized’ concubine.
The official excuse was to ensure the continuation of Emperor Visto’s bloodline should anything happen to the Empress. But everyone knew such children would be embraced by the aristocracy as royal offspring.
To Nerys, it was merely another system built to maintain noble balance — sacrificing women to stabilize power. If the Empress’s family grew too strong, the crown would draw another house into influence by taking one of their daughters into the palace.
Of course, this time it was simply Abelus acting on his own.
Dora still looked puzzled. “Why is having a room such a big deal? Lady Rebecca lives at the marquisate.”
“Exactly,” Nerys said. “Everyone knows it, but no one says it aloud. Officially, Rebecca lives alone in her own house.”
“Oh…” Dora’s eyes widened in understanding.
“If Megara were merely the prince’s lover,” Nerys continued, “she’d have to sneak into the palace when he called for her and leave before nightfall. She couldn’t even attend gatherings. But as an official concubine, she can walk the halls freely, be greeted by servants, and even attend palace banquets on her own.”
It was precisely the ‘social standing’ Megara craved most.
Of course, she’d be looked down on. Every foolish thing Abelus did from now on would be blamed on her. Yet she’d still manage — as long as she had her pass back into society.
And once a new Crown Princess was chosen, Megara might even learn to pull her strings — as she once had Nerys in another life.
‘Whoever the next Crown Princess is,’ Nerys thought.
Camille’s eyes were surely on Valentin now — perfect in age, health, and bloodline.
That meant Nellusion’s rise to Duke was imminent.
Nerys had long waited for this day. A smile curved her lips.
“Strengthen our watch on the Elandria family, Talfrin. It seems Nellusion’s time is coming. We’ll be leaving soon ourselves, but keep eyes here in the capital. There’ll be plenty of entertaining events ahead — I don’t want to miss a single one.”
Camille likely didn’t yet realize how relentless and prideful that young girl who had ensnared her brother was.
When a wolf like that began to resent the princess who meddled in her affairs, she would bite and never let go.
Nerys intended to let Megara have time — to gather herself, to grow.
To make sure that when the young wolf was set loose, she would return as a whole pack, and tear the palace apart.