"It is unbecoming of a duchess to wear such an expression around the mansion," my brother's voice startled me from behind. Slowly turning to face him, I met his dark blue eyes. He approached me with a comforting smile, takes my hands gently in his, kissed them softly, and embraced me. "Mother informed me of the High House's decision... are you alright?" he inquired in a hushed tone. Reluctantly initiating the conversation, we both know is unavoidable, I took a deep breath, withdrew my hands, and stepped back to create some distance between us.
"I am confused but fine," I reply, eliciting a puzzled look from my brother. He gently guides us to the small garden behind the mansion and motions for us to sit, his gaze fixed on me. How long has it been since I last saw this place? Perhaps since my husband's death, he truly was the only one who cherished this garden.
"Why would you be confused, sister?" he finally asks. I anticipate his next words—why should I be confused when such grand opportunities seldom come twice, and I ought to feel honored rather than perplexed, but...
"I just wanted to know... why me? Out of all the beautiful and elegant women in Vinsmug, why would they choose me?" I ranted, feeling frustrated and defeated. I knew there was nothing I could do to change their minds; even my previous marriage was arranged just as it is now, without my consent.
"What do you mean by that, Saltanat? You are a talented, beautiful, elegant, and respected duchess. Never corrupt yourself just because something good happens in your life," he scolds, truly angry with my previous reasoning, but I cannot stop thinking about it. It is common for a king to marry a duchess, but why me? We never had any interaction in the past, let alone met each other. Why would they choose someone like me? Sensing my internal turmoil, Ethan gently squeezes my hands before clearing his throat. "I know this situation is a bit strange, but you will not be the first or the last it has happened to. In fact, I myself have no clue who mother will choose as a wife for me, or... do you still hold feelings toward—" Before he can finish his sentence, I press my hands on his lips, stopping him. Everyone knows what my previous husband was like, and I am certain I am not the only one who does not miss him.
"I dare not," I reply, pulling my hands away from his lips, then gently cradle his head in my palm, which he leans into further. "I suppose I'm just too taken aback by the news," I say with a smile to reassure him, thinking it might be for the best. Having been a widow for some time, perhaps my mother is right; if my previous marriage failed, this one could be different. Even if we follow the same pattern, there's no proof the outcome will be identical. "What will become of the duchy?" I inquire, steering the conversation elsewhere.
"What will become of it?" he asks rhetorically, clearing his throat before smiling and gently placing his hand atop my head. "We will follow whatever decision you make for it," he retorts. This place was the sanctuary of my great-grandfather-in-law, a commoner who triumphed in great battles during the Saga and the sea war. Back then, not everyone had the time to appreciate a hardworking holy knight, but the king did, and he rewarded that diligence. Now, its fate is to be determined by this lowlife.
"Can I entrust it to you then? I've never learned how this place works, and I doubt the king will want it back, especially with my absence..." I trailed off, attempting to persuade him further, to no avail. "A dukedom isn't complete without a duke and a duchess," I finally muttered, casting a sidelong glance at him, only to receive a displeased blank stare in return.
"You know I can't do that; being born wealthy but without a title means that my taking over a dukedom would only create unnecessary obstacles," he explains. I understand his concerns; it's uncommon for someone without a title to take over such a place. "You don't need to torment yourself with this. Prioritize your happiness, and perhaps a member of their previous family will emerge to claim this."
"The best person to take charge here is you, Ethan. You've managed this place solo since Willy's passing, and no relative of his has come forward to claim it. I need you to oversee this place until you or mother find a suitable duchess to assist you. I will send a letter to Reginald forthwith," I declared, not for my husband, but for the man who sacrificed his life, proving that this kingdom held something only he could see.
"You don't have to; I can still manage it without owning it," he replied, his gaze drifting past me before he smirked mischievously. "It seems mother has located us," I said, turning to see the beautiful woman striding towards us, her long blonde hair secured in a tight ponytail. Her furious expression was a stark contrast to the sunny gown she had chosen for the day, complete with high heels and vibrant red lipstick. Her smile could have been the brightest thing in this dark tunnel, but alas, she too was part of the darkness.
"Edgar, what are you—" she begins, her voice a stark contrast to her expression, but I am not in the mood for a sermon today.
"Accepting my blessing from my elder brother before my sudden departure. We have no idea when I will be leaving, and no one knows if we will ever meet again before I journey to the palace," I interject before she can utter something vile. She has always been this way, ever since I became aware of my surroundings. My father must have wronged her deeply for her to detest me so much.
"Oh," was all she said when she finally drew close enough. Sometimes I wonder if this is the same face my children and her grandchildren will have to confront. Perhaps she will cut ties with me after my departure; the future holds the best or worst, and all I can do is wait for it patiently. "You make it sound like we would prevent you from entering this place, you know—" she begins, approaching me reluctantly and lifting my chin with a finger, compelling me to look into her hazel eyes as she speaks. "You know this place is yours, and its doors are always open to you." Is she suggesting I run away? Dismissing the thought, I offer her the innocent smile she always looks to find on my face. "Perfect, now that you've spent time with my son, why don't you come with me?" With that, she leads the way. I kiss my brother on the jaw before following her. I always wonder why she refers to Ethan as her son and to me as her diamond in front of others. Am I not lovable? My latest husband regarded me with such disdain that he always insisted I wear...
"My lady, your mother requests that you wait for her in her office," announces one of my housekeepers, halting my train of thought. Her expression is somber, and I can sense her despondency. She is among the few staff members reluctant to part with me, but the decision has been made, and I no longer have a voice in the matter.
"Thank you, Bluebell, and thank you for your service here with us," I say, and she begins to tear up. I know she will be alright. "There's no need to cry, Bluebell. I'm not dying; I'm just getting married, and I'll still visit you when I can." I take out a handkerchief and offer it to her, but she adamantly refuses.
"Is there no way for some of us to accompany you, so we could at least tend to your needs after you find a more suitable servant for replacement?" she inquires, having calmed her tears.
"And who declared that maids such as yourself are unsuitable? As long as your service and loyalty are dedicated to your employer, there is no issue," I recall now. My former aide wished to accompany me, but her request was decisively denied by my mother, who insisted that I learn self-sufficiency.
"You need not trouble your gentle mind with such matters, my lady. We still have the mansion to attend to, and I am quite certain the king has provided excellent servants for your use," she says, looking both worried and reassured. I know I will miss this young woman as much as I will not miss this place. She escorts me to my mother's office, inquiring if I require anything before I depart, and only leaves when convinced I am fine. Surveying the large room, it truly embodies my mother: a bookshelf distinguished by the colors of its contents. I'm sure if I were to peruse it, I would find it organized by numbers. Her desk always buried under papers, and then there's her praying room—hard to believe she's a believer. I take a seat near the window to take in the view one last time. Coming here was never a pleasure, and leaving is no joy either. My husband was insufferable, but his surroundings were different—they cared for him, and he either failed to see it or chose to ignore it.
"Now that we are alone, we can have a final mother-to-diamond conversation," I heard my mother's voice after she closed the door. I really wanted to ask her why she refers to me as a diamond; they are indeed remarkably beautiful, but why? "I know I haven't been the best caregiver in the world, but rest assured, there are worse," she said. Is this a threat? "The palace is dangerous, yet it can also be a place of comfort. Always keep your eyes open and listen to your husband; he is always—" Not allowing her the chance to repeat the same lecture, I continued.
"Correct, I must never fall asleep before him, never be in bed when he wakes, never question his judgment since he is always right, and finally, never resist his hand, raise my voice, or scream," I recite the lessons ingrained in me since the age of twelve. These are the 'Basics' of marriage, according to my mother, and she appears satisfied with my recollection.
"See, it's not that difficult. Now that you've listed all of those, I'm fairly certain you can perform them. Your father was a great actor; it wouldn't surprise me if you excelled as well," she says, walking to the jar to pour herself a glass of orange juice. Returning to me, this time she doesn't sit back down but comes right up to me, bends slightly so our eyes meet, and smiles. "Congratulations on your second marriage, Diamond, and let's hope it's for the best. Your late husband wasn't the strongest of men, and God has provided you with a stronger one. I pray he lives up to what people say, not to mention the recent rumors about him and the former queen... My apologies," she says, standing up and straightening my hair with what seems like a motherly smile, but we both know it's anything but. It is becoming clear that my mother never loved me; my getting married or hurt would only affirm her stance of 'I do not want you near me.' She strolls back to her seat and finishes the rest of her juice, gracefully setting the glass down.
"What about them, Mother?" I ask, noticing her hands clench until her knuckles turn white; she seems truly repulsed by the sound of me calling her 'Mother.'
"You will have to find out for yourself. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. Please inform me when the royal carriage arrives," she says before dismissing me. Walking forward, I stop in front of the door.
"I will be taking Bluebell to the palace," I murmured, awaiting a response. When she finally hummed her reply, I opened the door and left. There are worse things in this world than her. I've witnessed many acquaintances in contractual marriages, but never have I seen parents so indifferent; they usually beg their in-laws to take good care of their child. Entering my room, I froze upon spotting the last person I ever thought would come to bid me farewell.
"There you are. One of your maids mentioned you were meeting with your mother," she begins, but before she can continue, I rush to her with a big embrace.
"How was your journey, Grandma?" I ask, still in disbelief that she's embracing me in return. It's been such a long time since we last spoke; she couldn't even attend my last ceremony, and now she's here. I give her a little space while still holding her hands. She beams at me and replies.
"It was fantastic. I'm tired but happy. How are you, my sweetheart?" she inquires after responding to my earlier question. Despite her warm presence, I can't shake off the doubt that she's the woman who raised my mother.
"Good, Grandma," I reply, leading her to my large bed so she can rest. "When did you arrive?" she asks. The housekeeper had told her I was with Mother when she arrived, which means Mother is unaware of her presence in the mansion.
"I arrived just a short while ago," she says, offering me a warm smile. Her hair is lushly braided at the front, accentuating her perfect jawline and pallid face. She's still cladded in a black Haorugut, a garment she once told me she wears to honor her husband's memory. "How is your mother?" she inquires.
"She is doing fine; she's actually the one assisting with the wedding preparations," I reply. I'm eager to know her thoughts on this—whether mother informed her—but I doubt this is the right time, so I decide to ask another question.
"Grandma, how was the king with his other wife?" I ask, posing the question my mother refuses to answer. I never had the desire to meet him in the past, but now that we are to be married, I might as well get to know him a little.
"Hmm... I'm not sure, I never had the opportunity to meet them together since the queen wasn't socially active. Why do you ask?" she inquires in return.
"It's nothing, I just wanted to know a bit more about the person I'm getting involved with," I explain, but it doesn't come out right. She takes my hand in hers, examines it, and lets out a sigh.
"I understand that such situations are difficult to navigate but let me tell you this: Gerold and I faced similar challenges in the past, yet we made it work because we learned about each other, from each other. And if the king is truly that terrible, a single letter should suffice," she declared firmly. All I could do was smile at her concern; merely seeing her was a blessing, and knowing she cares about me was overwhelming.
"Thanks a lot. I'll try my best not to annoy him," I say, offering a half-hearted joke. She sneers, releases my hands, and walks to the door to request something before returning to sit with me.
"Why didn't you ask me? I could have gotten it for you," I says, shaking her head dismissively. Shortly after, there's a knock on the door. Before I have a chance to stand, I rush to the door and am greeted by a servant holding a massive red metal box. I open the door, knowing I won't be able to carry the object myself.
"Ah, was it heavy?" she asks.
"Not in the slightest, my lady," he replies, then departs to resume his prior task.
"Open it; it's for you," she says, her own excitement evident. I gaze at the box before kneeling in front of it, I realize this will be the second gift I've ever received in my life, and it's still from the same person. As I slowly open the metal box, I gasp at its contents.
"It belonged to my mother. I offered it to your mother after she accepted your father's proposal, but she politely declined, so I kept it in case she had a daughter. I wanted to send it to you, but I really needed to hand it over in person," she explains as I gently lift the heavy white gown and place it on the bed. It looks so picturesque: a long white dress with lacing at the front, no particular ornaments, just simply magnificent.
"I love it; it's a bit heavy, but I think I can manage. Thanks, Grandma, this is perfect," I say, even though I know my mother always wants me to be the center of attention with the gowns she chooses for me. I can tell she won't be pleased with me.
"Glad you love it; it holds nothing of value except its memories, and I know yours will only add to its preciousness," she yawns, slowly rising to her knees when another knock at the door interrupts. "You can come in," she calls out, and a figure resembling Bluebell enters, her face as pale as death.
"My lady, the king's men are here," she attempts to sound composed, but the tremor in her voice is unmistakable. I turn to my grandmother who approaches and places her hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze accompanied by a reassuring smile.
"At least we now know something about him; he is a punctual human being." She says, giving Bluebell a dismissive smile before she coaxes me to walk out and greet my new husband, which I follow behind her