Less than three days remained until Yelena Darconer's seventeenth birthday.
"Oh, just look at all those gifts!" Duchess Mathilda exclaimed, her voice bright with delight as one ornate box after another arrived from the noble houses affiliated with the Darconers.She greeted each courier with a smile far too sweet for a woman known to be as fierce as a hawk guarding its treasure.
Outside the Darconer estate, carriages lined the front court, each adorned with the crests of aristocratic families. The gifts had arrived early—a calculated move to ensure their offerings would be noticed and used at the upcoming celebration.
"Handle those carefully," Vincent instructed, voice calm yet firm.
The couriers moved swiftly, carrying lavish boxes into the grand halls of House Darconer. Vincent meticulously recorded each sender's name with the precision of a royal secretary.
And so begins the parade of well-dressed lapdogs, Sevine mused dryly.
She sat by the window on the upper floor, watching the spectacle with a blank expression. To her, the gifts were just another form of shallow praise—not for her, but for her father, the Duke of Darconer.
"My lady, would you like to open any of them?" asked Emily as she changed the bedsheets in Sevine's room. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, like a puppy begging for affection.
"I'm not interested," Sevine replied curtly.
"…Understood.."
"…Maybe I'll open a few," sevine added after a pause.
Emily's face lit up instantly. It was almost comical, how quickly her expression flipped from disappointment to radiant joy.
Sevine allowed herself a small smile. For some reason, Emily reminded her of Cecilia—her dearest sister in a former life—who once cried tears of joy over a gifted fortunette on her nineteenth birthday.
Sometimes, memories from her past life slipped through the cracks.Had Cecilia and Daniel's crimes ever come to light? Were they rotting away in prison?.Did anyone shed a single tear at her funeral?.Even just for a moment, Sevine longed to witness their downfall—if only in a dream.
"Bring me a few of the smaller boxes," she said softly.
"Yes, My Lady!" Emily chirped and darted out of the room, her skirts fluttering behind her as she ran down the stairs.
"So cute," Sevine murmured.
If all people were suddenly turned into animals, Emily would surely become a spotted fawn—bouncing about without a care in the world.
Minutes later, Emily returned with a few small boxes, placing them neatly on the vanity table.
"Her Grace said you should open this one and wear it to the party," she said, offering a pink velvet box.
Sevine took it, her fingers brushing against the soft material.The crest of the royal family was stamped in gold on the lid.
"From… the palace?" she muttered, frowning.
She opened the box slowly—and stopped breathing.
"MY LADY YOU'VE BEEN GIFTED A PIECE FROM THE ROYAL MUSEUM!"
Emily practically screamed, voice rising to an octave only tame donkeys might rival when excited. Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes sparkled with delirious joy.
Inside the box lay an elegant tiara set—ornate, luxurious, unmistakably regal.
It was the kind of jewelry no one could simply buy.
"This… is from the palace?" Sevine asked in a quiet voice.
Emily nodded furiously. "Yes! I'm sure this belonged to Her Majesty Annabeth Isabella Baterville, the Crown Prince's mother! I saw her wear it once at a capital banquet!"
Note: Only women of the royal family bear middle names—a tradition upheld since Queen Baterville IV, the first reigning queen.
Sevine found a letter tucked beneath the velvet lining, written in shimmering gold ink.
Her hands trembled as she opened it, the paper slipping from her grasp.
"THE CROWN PRINCE IS IN LOVE WITH YOU!"
Emily's shriek summoned the other maids, who burst into the room with gasps and wide eyes.And once they understood what had happened, the entire room erupted into chaotic hysteria.
"Kyaa! Our lady will be the future Empress!"
"His Highness will surely protect you with all his heart!"
"I can die happy now!"
"We're serving the next Empress!!"
Sevine sat frozen at the edge of her bed, biting her fingers nervously.Her face had gone pale, and cold sweat dripped down her temples.
"Until we meet again," he wrote? But… when had they ever met?
She was certain she'd never attended the New Year's ball, never stood on the palace balconies.
And so far, no one she had met matched the description of the crown prince—Reinhardt Baterville, the man with glossy black hair, emerald eyes, and lips made for trouble.
________
Jayden's Study – The Same Time
Jayden Winchester looked every bit the noble warrior in his white fur cloak, the fabric falling in sharp, pristine folds as he moved across his study. He was focused, methodical—gathering everything he deemed essential for his upcoming journey westward, toward the lands ruled by House Darconer.
"You're leaving again?"
Madeline's arms slipped around his waist from behind, her voice soft yet tinged with disappointment.
His hands paused. Jayden turned, facing her fully, his expression gentler than most would ever see.
He brushed his fingers across the top of her head. "Be patient. I promise I'll make more time for you once this mission is done."
Madeline puffed her cheeks, reluctantly letting go. "We've been invited to the Duke of Darconer's daughter's birthday celebration."
"Hmm? Is that so?" Jayden's tone was indifferent, as usual when it came to noble festivities.
"Will you come with me?"
She leaned into him again, draping herself over his broad shoulder with practiced charm.
"Unlikely," he replied. "I'll still be on assignment."
Madeline huffed and stepped back.
"I'll ask Wollfey to escort you. You can go with Maria or with the Duke."
"No one goes to a ball with their little sister or their father-in-law," she muttered.
Jayden smirked. "Someone does."
"Who?"
"You."
She threw up her hands. "Ugh! I give up, Lord Jayden Winchester. I surrender."
Jayden chuckled, pleased with her capitulation.
"I've sent a few gifts in House Winchester's name," Madeline added, voice regaining its composure.
"Hmm?"
"Gowns. Vivian's designs. Think she'll like them?"
"Every girl likes Vivian's gowns. But you…" His eyes narrowed. "You seem especially interested in this girl."
Madeline laughed. "I am."
"Why?" he asked, frowning slightly. It was unlike her to take interest in others.
"Because she reminds me of someone."
Jayden's brow arched. "Who?"
She leaned in close, her eyes glittering. "My fiancé."
Jayden coughed, flustered. "We're nothing alike."
"To me, you could be siblings."
She continued teasing him until his ears turned faintly red with irritation.
"I don't know why," she said softly, "but I feel drawn to her. I think we'd get along."
Jayden's amusement faded into concern. Madeline never opened herself to strangers, especially not one with such a questionable past.
"Don't. Her reputation isn't good."
"But I heard she's changed."
"No one changes overnight. If they do—it's just a mask."
Madeline sighed. "Then find out for me. Please. I really want to know her."
He said nothing at first, then brushed his hand along her arm in a quiet promise.
"Jayden..."
"Yes?"
"Come back safely. You must promise."
He smiled faintly. "I'll always return to you. So don't worry."
Her expression softened as her hand drifted down, cradling her belly with a subtle tenderness.
"My lord your carriage is ready," came Wollfey's voice from behind the door, respectful yet firm. He knew better than to walk in while the two were alone.
Jayden stepped back. "I'm leaving, Madeline. If you need anything, ask Wollfey."
"Alright. Be careful."
She watched him go with a smile on her lips—one he didn't see. A smile that held more than just affection. It held something unspoken.