Chapter 109

“Janice?” I mumble out, unsure if my eyes have mistaken me from the high perch I stand on.

I don’t have a chance to properly confirm as my father finishes his speech and the crowd disperses to dance and make merry. In the fray, one dark-haired girl takes the place of another. A demure debutante stuck to her mother’s side raises her head and reveals that she is not Janice. The woman in question has disappeared like a mirage.

But lucky for me, I am not a stupid horror movie protagonist.

If I think I saw Janice, I’m going to assume that my ex-maid is indeed here and act accordingly instead of dismissing it as a hallucination. Out of sheer habit, I begin to call for Emma’s name for her to check, but a glance by my side reminds me that the only maid who was allowed to come was my official nursemaid, Marie. I heave out a sigh and throw one last anxious look into the crowd, but there is indeed no Janice to be found anywhere.

Old foes stand beside me, while newer ones begin to roost amongst the nobility. I can do the math in my head, and with Janice’s surprisingly pretty face and decent lying ability, hooking a decently-monied noble shouldn’t be too much trouble. I don’t remember her being beautiful enough to compare with Empress Katya, but the arrogant tilt of her brow as if everyone is beneath her is a telltale giveaway. I saw it when she thought no one was looking after she’d made up lies about me being a murderer. And I know I saw it once more just now.

Once bitten, twice shy. Rather than sit around and wait for the snake in the grass to inevitably bite me I’d rather root out that vindictive bitch myself and figure out what her purpose is in returning to the imperial palace. I storm down the stairs of the balcony with purpose, ready to immerse myself into the crowd and receive 100% confirmation with my own eyes.

However, at the last step, a hand lands on my shoulder. I look back to see Marie casting an apologetic look at me.

.....

“Apologies, your highness. I was instructed that you return to bed,” Marie tells me softly.

I narrow my eyes as Augustus and Julian leave the stairway and begin intermingling with the up-and-coming noble youths of the capital.

“By who? One of them?” I ask. Inside, I feel annoyed at the thought of my older brothers trying to boss around my own maid.

“No,” Marie says, surprising me. “I heard it from one of His Majesty’s men.”

“My father?” I exclaim, patting my chubby cheeks in surprise.

A few seconds earlier I had seen him suddenly rush down the stairs like a man possessed, the servants barely clearing his path in time as he and a few men disappeared into one of the halls close to the lady’s room. But indeed, a sheepish-looking royal guard member stands not far from where Marie had been.

“Sir Humphrey,” I say, somehow managing to remember his name despite not properly interacting with the royal guard for a few years. Despite all being nobles, the rigors of the military training had humbled and tempered the young men, making them all good company when I was able to spend time with them. But with Sir Gregory’s influential position as vice-captain and myself being on the Taylor family’s blacklist, there is no way to rectify the spilled glass of burgeoning friendship.

“Your highness, I was instructed by the captain, Lord Wolfgang to lead you to your quarters in accordance with His Majesty’s will. Your activities for the evening shall come to an end.” His quiet voice is difficult to hear over the din of the ballroom.

“Leave? I just got here!” I scoff. I know resisting is futile, but I can’t help but react. I’d hoped to confirm my suspicions, share a few laughs with Elias, and establish tentative relations with some noble girls while they’re all still young and easy to befriend.

Sir Humphrey looks flustered, his thin shoulders slightly quivering as if he were afraid. Despite his weaker, birdlike appearance, he is the most powerful archer in the entire division, a single shot of his easily reaching over 100 yards. They call him Humphrey the Eagle-eyed, as his incredible vision and keen senses have also made him a trusted scout.

“This is what I have been instructed to tell you, your highness,” he stammers out.

I heave a sigh, my lips pressing into a thin line. “I understand. Lead the way.”

But I do not understand at all. Not one bit. I could see Julia still clinging to her mother’s side with her ignorant gaze staring at Augustus with rapture. Julian and Augustus appeared as if their evening was just starting. Despite being the youngest, I just don’t understand why my father would send me away so suddenly with such a bs excuse, considering how I practically stayed up until dawn at the Belfort Castle banquet.

Did he suddenly grow a conscience and wish to play dad? I’d sooner believe that pigs fly and the sun rises from the west before that. Something stinks, and it’s definitely not the gardens of the imperial palace. I’ve seen for myself how large gatherings of nobility make the perfect setting for plots to take place at Belfort Castle. So with that experience under my belt, I’m all the more certain that there have been not one, but several schemes taking place in conjunction right under my nose.

I run through a mental roster of any potential people I have who may be able to investigate tonight’s occurrences without drawing suspicion to themselves, the thoughts following me through Marie’s aid in undressing me before dispersing into fragments of my dreams. I see my father carrying his sword and glaring at someone hidden in the darkness, I hear people laughing and dancing to the pulse of my heart, and through it all, a pair of amethyst eyes stare down at me from above like a god overseeing its creations.

The morning forces me to greet a reality I did not wish to face last night, I have no one under my service in the position to get the information I need. The best I have are a few cleaning staff who have permission to clean the ballroom, but whatever scraps they might find won’t give me the answers I need. I need more people, more power. But for that, I need money.

I instruct the attendant who peeks her head in due to my movements to summon Emma if she was awake, only to hear that Emma has been practicing with her sword for the past hour.

She comes in without looking as if she’s even broken a sweat, her apron that is tied on hastily confirming what the attendant said. We exchange brief pleasantries, but Emma has never been fond of useless conversation and cuts straight to the chase.

“Did you summon me for something, your highness?” she asks in a tone blunter than her haircut.

“Ah, yes. Yes, I did,” I admit, quickly signaling for the maid who was opening my curtains to exit the bedroom and close the door. Taking a long sip from the glass of water on my nightstand I open my mouth to speak on Emma’s favorite topic.

“Money. You need it. I need it. I also owe someone a house. What do you say we sneak out of the palace and go over to Lady Arabella’s atelier?” I suggest playfully, offering something Emma can’t resist.

“Yes, your highness. I will ready the disguises,” Emma replies like a robot. But there is a spark in her eyes that can’t be hidden. With her fervent love for money, the only man who would ever be able to coax a smile out of stoic Emma is King Midas and he’s just a myth.

“Oh, and one more thing. I think I saw Janice last night at the ball. Can you speak with our people outside the palace and see if you can find out where she has taken roost?” I ask, my voice unconsciously lowering to a whisper. Somehow, I manage not to completely burst out laughing at calling the growing network of street kids “our people” like I’m a bigshot mob boss.

“Janice?” Emma displays a rare moment of visible concern, her creasing brows leaving an ill feeling in my chest.

“What is it?” I ask seriously, my playful spirit melting away into nothing.

Emma looks away uncomfortably, her shyness only making me more worried.

“What is it?” I repeat.

“Janice spoke a lot when she was a maid, your highness. She had... high aspirations,” Emma admits timidly.

My golden eyes flash as I read between the lines in an instant. “How high?”

I recall Janice’s cockiness greatly. Although my time at the Rose Palace was littered with many maids who openly and covertly disrespected me, none were as brazen as Janice. It was because they knew, despite then being a powerless and unimportant princess, I still had enough power to do something as simple as fire a maid should they do something worth firing them over.

There is the saying, a skinny camel is better than a horse.

It was the only reason why the piranhas dressed as maids swarming around me didn’t dare take a pound of flesh, at least where I could catch them for it. But Janice, in what at the time I had considered dumb foolishness, did not seem to care for the hidden line these maids toed perfectly. She’d arrogantly stomped all over it and got herself fired in specular fashion, only to be weaponized against me later.

“As high as any woman can go. She flirted with the royal guards who manned the palace. Janice would... slip them notes,” Emma’s face was beet red, which was quite adorable despite the circumstances. “She would slip away when she was meant to be working and wander the gardens of the Rose Palace to try to accidentally run into a knight of the royal guard.”

“How despicable,” I mutter under my breath.

“But when she was drunk one late night, I heard her telling a friend how more than anything she wished to marry the emperor one day. She said she dreamt of... peeling the emperor’s shirt off... and... l-licking him up and down like a-”

“I get it! I get it! That’s enough!” I wipe away sweat from my forehead, the silence growing more awkward with every second I try to block out what Emma told me. Whether it was in my past life or this life, hearing about your parents as sexual beings still messes with me.

“So her end goal is my dad, huh?” I mutter to myself once the embarrassment has died down and I can process Emma’s words fully.

I almost want to dismiss Janice’s thoughts as nonsense, but considering how beautiful she is and how my whole existence is literal proof that my father is happy to stray from his loveless marriage, it would be a dumb move on my part. The icy, forced interactions between my father and Empress Katya upon the balcony couldn’t be broken with the strongest ice pick. You can smell the bad blood between them from a mile away. Although it befuddled me in the past why my father still persisted in his miserable marriage with a woman he obviously hates, time and experience have shown me that there is little my father isn’t willing to do for his end goals.

In order to take advantage of and keep a leash on the Duvernay family, my father was even willing to abandon the memory of his so-called true love and wed Katya Duvernay before a year had closed on the first empress’ funeral.

A few hours later bring forth the answer I had suspected.

“The count’s wife died recently?” I scoff. Emma explains that it was illness that took out the former Countess Koberg, but considering Janice was secretly moved in days after her passing I doubt that. Having “my people” on the streets had its uses in finding out when Janice moved in.

Months ago, several rich artisans had been summoned to the Koberg residence to create memorabilia to honor his dead wife. However, one of the youths under my employ delivers the paper to a high-end jeweler on the East Bend and he had seen that several of the blueprints for the recently finished designs all had the letter J inscribed on them. He had thought nothing of it however, until Emma had asked if there was any evidence of a woman named Janice living in the Koberg residence.

Pendants in the shape of the letter J. A plated gold necklace with a letter J hanging from the middle. And yet the former Countess Koberg’s name was Meredith.

I feel nothing but disgust for such a man who would happily take his first wife out of the picture in order to make room for a second. I vaguely recall hearing news about Lady Arabella crafting designs for the late Countess Koberg’s funeral march and at the time had even been impressed by her widowed husband’s dedication. But in the midst of my disgust, a wild thought takes hold of me.

“The first empress...” I muse slowly. “Is there any record as to how she passed?”

“It was a fire, your highness. The Rose Palace you resided in was not the original,” Emma states. She doesn’t need to say much else for me to already see the ‘DUH’ radiating from her eyes, which is fair considering the woman’s death is common knowledge and a key part of why Augustus’ heart was hard as a rock before he met his beloved Clara in the webnovel.

“No, no, I know that. But was there a written transcript of the events that transpired? I just feel like the timing was weird and convenient,” I explain.

We sit by the babbling pond constructed in a garden meant to pay homage to the wetter marshlands of the east. It also conveniently doubles as a prevention method to any ears trying to listen in on when Emma and I speak about private matters.

But Emma shakes her head and ruins any hope of learning more of matters in the past while laying the first of many seeds of doubt.

“All records of the first empress have been destroyed.”

“Destroyed?” I gasp out. “What?”

“It is said that in his grief the emperor instructed people of the palace to remove all information and evidence about the first empress. He burnt her portraits, banned her poems, forbade servants from speaking her name, and fired all her closest maids. The Rose Palace and the crown prince are all that is left of her,” Emma says.

She shoves a stick in the water and scares away a fish that had been blankly staring at us in anticipation of a feeding that would never come.

I snort loudly. “And then he marries another girl in less than a year? Men are trash.”

Emma flicks water off her hands and turns to look at me. “Your highness, do you think he-” she whispers before cutting herself off.

She doesn’t even dare verbalize the thoughts that, if heard by the wrong party, could get her tortured and beheaded before tomorrow’s sunrise. As for me, if I weren’t fortunate enough to escape death due to my aid during the war against the Sarsavalians, I would be disappeared somewhere, never to be seen or heard from anyone again. All records of me would be expunged like the first empress and the palace would release news that I had died of the flux.

I look away from her as I don’t want the doubt flickering in my golden eyes to be visible. “I don’t know, Emma. I don’t know.”