Chapter 4: The Prince’s Mask Cracks

The atmosphere inside Obsidian Manor was surprisingly peaceful.

Over the next two weeks, Sara settled into her role as Duchess Regent with effortless grace. She reorganized the estate’s domestic ledger, optimized the supply chains for Valerius’s northern garrisons, and established a private intelligence network using trusted former captains of House Vance.

Valerius gave her complete freedom. In fact, he was consistently astounded by her sharp administrative genius. Where previous imperial officials saw endless military deficits, Sara found corrupt middlemen and eliminated them, saving the Regent’s army over three hundred thousand gold pieces in a single fortnight.

One evening, as rain pattered gently against the high glass windows of the study, Valerius entered holding a sealed imperial letter.

“An invitation from the Empress Dowager,” Valerius said, setting the thick parchment onto Sara’s desk. “A seasonal tea gathering at the Imperial Rose Garden this Thursday. All high noblewomen and royal fiances are required to attend.”

Sara picked up the letter, noticing the delicate gold-leaf crest. “This is not merely a tea party, is it?”

“No,” Valerius sat across from her, his dark eyes brooding. “My spies report that Prince Caspian has been under intense pressure from his western creditors. He cannot pay his debts, and he cannot access House Vance’s locked vaults because of you. He convinced his mother, the Empress Dowager, to host this tea party to publicly humiliate you and force you to relinquish control of the Vance commercial seals to Mara.”

Sara let out a soft, amused laugh. “Public pressure? Does Caspian truly believe I care about the whispers of court harpies?”

“It is not just whispers,” Valerius warned gently, his tone laced with protective concern. “The Empress Dowager is cunning. She uses subtle poisons, social isolation, and imperial decrees. If you feel uncomfortable, I can invoke military protocol and forbid you from attending.”

Sara looked up, meeting Valerius’s gaze. She reached across the desk, lightly placing her fingers over his gloved hand.

“Your Grace,” Sara said softly, a warm yet fierce glint in her eyes. “If I hide behind your shield forever, how can I stand beside you as your Duchess? Let them set their trap. A viper’s nest is most satisfying to crush when all the snakes are gathered in one place.”

Valerius looked down at her small hand resting over his. A rare softness washed over his stern features. He closed his fingers around hers, giving a firm, reassuring squeeze.

“Then I shall accompany you to the palace gates,” Valerius declared. “And forty Iron Guard knights will wait outside the garden. If a single hair on your head is harmed, I will tear down the Rose Garden brick by brick.”

Thursday arrived under a clear sky.

The Imperial Rose Garden was a breathtaking spectacle of white marble pavilions, blossoming red roses, and crystal fountains. Dozens of high noblewomen in pastel silk gowns gathered beneath silver canopies, sipping tea and gossiping.

At the head table sat the Empress Dowager, clad in regal purple velvet, flanked by Prince Caspian and Mara.

Mara looked exhausted. Despite heavy white powder and red rouge, the faint greenish bruise on her jaw was barely concealed. Her eyes were sunken, and her scarlet gown looked crumpled and overly ostentatious compared to the refined attire of the surrounding duchesses.

Suddenly, the imperial herald shouted in a booming voice:

“Presenting Her Grace, Duchess Sara Vance of Obsidian Manor!”

Conversations ceased instantly. Every eye in the garden turned toward the archway.

Sara walked in like an empress. She wore an exquisite dark emerald-green silk gown, trimmed with silver bullion lace that caught the sunlight with every step. Around her neck sat the famous Vance Sapphire—a legendary heirloom worth an entire province’s taxes. Her posture was regal, her stride effortless, and her face serene with supreme confidence.

Beside her walked two towering elite officers of the Iron Guard, their dark armor clanking rhythmically, providing a chilling reminder of who backed her.

Mara’s knuckles turned white as she gripped her teacup, her heart burning with hot, acidic envy. Why does she look so calm? Why isn’t she beaten and broken by Valerius?!

Prince Caspian stood up, his eyes widening as he took in Sara’s radiant appearance. For a fleeting moment, regret pierced his chest. Sara was magnificent—a true vision of nobility. Why had he let himself be blinded by Mara’s frantic flattery?

“Duchess Sara greets Her Imperial Majesty,” Sara curtsied with flawless grace before the Empress Dowager.

“Rise, Duchess,” the Empress Dowager said, her voice dripping with cold, artificial sweetness. “We are delighted you could join us. We were just discussing the duties of elder sisters in noble houses.”

Sara took her designated seat across from Mara and Caspian. “Empress Dowager is most wise. An elder sister’s duty is to ensure the family’s honor and stability.”

“Indeed,” Caspian chimed in, leaning forward with an arrogant, winning smile. “And stability requires unity, Lady Sara. My betrothed, Mara, has expressed great distress. It seems you have locked the Vance commercial vaults and withheld her rightful dowry. As a royal fiancé, I find it unacceptable that my future bride is denied her family’s wealth.”

The surrounding noblewomen began whispering, covering their mouths with silk fans.

“Is it true? Duchess Sara locked her sister’s dowry?”
“How cruel… poor Lady Mara looks so stressed!”

Sara took a small sip of jasmine tea, unbothered by the murmuring crowd.

“His Highness speaks of dowries,” Sara began, setting her cup down with an audible tap. “However, according to Solarian Imperial Law, Section Four, a family’s master vault is held exclusively by the head heir designated by the patriarch. Three years ago, our father officially named me the sole administrator of House Vance’s assets.”

“That was before you married into Obsidian Manor!” Mara blurted out, her voice shrieking slightly. “You belong to Duke Valerius now! You have no right to hoard our father’s gold!”

“I hoard nothing, sister,” Sara replied smoothly, pulling a crisp, gold-stamped parchment scroll from her velvet sleeve. “I merely protect House Vance from predatory debts.”

Prince Caspian’s smile froze instantly. “What did you say?”

“I hold here,” Sara raised the scroll high so every noblewoman could see the imperial tax seals, “the debt registry of the Grand Royal Bank. Two weeks ago, a loan request for eight hundred thousand gold pieces was submitted under House Vance’s forged seal. The borrower was none other than Second Prince Caspian.”

Gasps erupted across the Rose Garden like wildfire.

Noblewomen dropped their teacups. The Empress Dowager’s face paled dramatically.

“Insolence!” Caspian roared, slamming his fist onto the marble table, his handsome mask shattering completely into furious rage. “You dare slander a Prince of the Realm?!”

“Slander?” Sara tilted her head innocently. “The document bears the signature of the Royal Treasurer and the seal of the Shadow Syndicate of the Western Realm. If His Highness claims it is a forgery, shall we call Duke Valerius and the High Imperial Audit Council right now to investigate?”

Caspian choked on his words, his chest heaving, his face turning an ugly, mottled red. He couldn’t call the Audit Council—because the debt was terrifyingly real!

“You… you viper!” Mara shrieked, jumping to her feet and lunging toward Sara. “You ruined Caspian’s reputation! You did this on purpose!”

Before Mara’s hands could reach Sara, the two Iron Guard officers stepped forward instantly, drawing their heavy broadswords half an inch from their scabbards with a lethal CLANG!

The sharp steel gleamed inches from Mara’s face. Cold sweat poured down her neck as she froze in terror.

“Step back, Lady Mara,” the Iron Guard captain barked coldly. “Insulting the Duchess Regent in front of imperial guards is punishable by immediate detention.”

The Rose Garden fell into utter, suffocating silence.

Sara stood up slowly, adjusting her emerald sleeves. She looked down at Caspian, whose face was pale as death, and then at Mara, who was trembling in sheer terror.

“My Imperial Majesty,” Sara bowed politely to the paralyzed Empress Dowager. “It seems the atmosphere here is unfavorable for tea. I shall take my leave. Good day.”

Sara turned around and swept out of the Rose Garden, her emerald dress fluttering in the wind, flanked by her steel-clad guards.

Behind her, the garden erupted into chaotic chaos. Noblewomen scrambled to leave, whispering furiously about Caspian’s illegal debts, while Prince Caspian turned his murderous rage directly onto the weeping Mara.

Sara stepped out of the palace gates, where Regent Duke Valerius stood waiting beside his black warhorse.

Seeing her walk out unscathed, a look of profound relief washed over Valerius’s dark eyes. He walked up to her, wrapping his warm wolf-fur cloak around her shoulders.

“How was the tea?” Valerius asked, a subtle smirk touching his lips.

“Delicious,” Sara smiled softly, leaning into the warmth of his cloak. “The vipers have begun eating each other.”