Grace sat straight upon the throne, doing her best to look attentive. The crown glittered above her head, but her wandering eyes told a different story. The ceremony's endless speeches and rigid formalities had long since lost her interest.
One by one, nobles approached with gifts and honeyed words. Grace saw little sincerity in either. Behind every bow and smile lay ambition, each gesture carefully crafted to win the favor of the newly crowned queen.
(So boring...) Grace groaned inwardly.
"Welfred, is there any point in holding this ceremony before courtiers instead of the people we're meant to serve?"
"It is an ancient custom, Your Majesty," Welfred replied. "Whether we approve of it or not, tradition leaves us little choice."
Grace clicked her tongue and muttered under her breath.
"These traditions..."
"Grace, my dear! How have you been?" a woman called, her voice so sweetly saccharine that Grace nearly winced.
More than one courtier visibly stiffened at the familiar address.
Grace turned to her and offered a courteous smile.
"Elder Mother Patricia," she said smoothly, her courtesy concealing a subtle edge of mockery.
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{ Patricia Darkbane, Rosemary Elenhart's elder sister and Grace's great-aunt, had spent much of her life envying what Rosemary possessed. She had once loved Morrigan Elenhart and believed he would one day be hers, only to watch him fall in love with Rosemary instead.
Though Patricia later married into wealth, neither her husband nor his family could rival the prestige of the Elenharts. The disappointment hardened into bitterness over the years.
To Patricia, Grace was not merely the new Empress. She was a living reminder of everything Patricia believed had been taken from her—Morrigan's love, the Elenhart legacy, and a crown she believed should never have passed to Rosemary's descendants.
Patricia never addressed Grace by her imperial title. No matter the occasion or who stood witness, she called her simply "Grace," cloaking the slight beneath a veneer of familial affection that had never truly existed. It was a quiet but deliberate refusal to acknowledge Grace as the rightful Empress.
Grace understood the meaning behind it all. She knew Patricia's false warmth was nothing more than a mask for contempt. Yet she never corrected her. Patricia's approval meant nothing to her, and Grace had no desire to waste time demanding respect from someone who had already chosen not to give it. }
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Clad in a richly embroidered golden gown, Patricia carried herself with effortless elegance. Her white hair spoke of age, yet her flawless skin seemed untouched by time. Beneath her graceful exterior, however, lay something cold and unsettling.
"My, how you've grown," Patricia said with a smile. "The last time I saw you, you were still a little girl."
"And you haven't changed at all," Grace replied.
Her words were polite, but the look in her eyes made it clear she wasn't speaking merely of age.
"By the way, I expected something far grander for your coronation," Patricia remarked with a faint smile. "A gown befitting a queen. Instead, you've chosen... simplicity."
Grace smiled.
"Fortunately, a crown is not made by a gown," she said. "I find character more important than appearances."
Patricia's expression tightened.
"Your words are just like your mother's," she said. "And even your ey—"
"Lady Patricia, how was your journey?" Welfred interjected smoothly. "I trust you encountered no difficulties on your way to the palace."
His tone remained courteous, but the look he gave her carried a quiet warning. Patricia understood the message and fell silent.
"The journey was smooth, and we arrived without incident," she replied calmly, her serene tone betraying none of the irritation beneath.
Patricia paused before speaking again, her smile thin.
"I must say, your rise has been remarkable—from a mere butler to the queen's right hand."
"Isn't that precisely what an aide should be?" Grace interjected smoothly. "Someone the queen can trust and rely on."
For an instant, surprise flashed across Welfred's face before it melted into a faint, softened expression.
"Well now, letus not sour such a joyous occasion," Patricia said lightly, concealing her annoyance behind a gracious smile. Though the argument had clearly struck a nerve, she refused to let it show.
"Let me show you the gift I've brought for you."
Patricia gestured to her maid, who stepped forward carrying the gift. With a graceful motion, the cloth was removed, revealing an ornate jewelry box. Patricia took it and placed it into Grace's hands.
"Inside lies the secret to my beauty—a treasure I now pass on to you," she declared.
What followed was a lengthy account of her own timeless appearance and the miraculous cream contained within.
Grace endured Patricia's lengthy self-praise with a polite smile, her interest fading long before the speech ended. Welfred, however, appeared genuinely fascinated, his attention fixed on the jeweled box and its promise of eternal youth.
The sight was enough to draw a faint, amused laugh from Grace before she quickly composed herself.
Patricia beckoned another maid forward, who carried two boxes.
"And these are for Rui and Ray," she said smoothly, handing one to each of them.
They accepted the gifts with polite smiles and slight bows, though neither expression carried much enthusiasm.
As Patricia occupied herself with Rui and Ray, Grace studied her quietly.
(This woman... the first time I saw her was at our grandparents' funeral. The last time was at our parents'. Like a crow drawn to misfortune, she always seems to appear at the worst of times.)
Her gaze lingered on the jewelry box.
(It's surprising enough that she has chosen to appear here at all. More surprising still is that she's offering a secret she wouldn't even share with her own children. What is she planning? And what does she expect from me in return?)
The moment Patricia stepped away, a subtle sense of relief settled over them. Their gifts were entrusted to the servants, who carried them off to their respective chambers, just as they had done with the many offerings before.
"Another 'dear Grace' and I might actually fall asleep," she muttered under her breath.
Shifting on the throne, she crossed one leg over the other and rested her head against her hand. The sceptre hung loosely in her grasp, while her relaxed posture carried an effortless authority. Grace looked less like someone trying to rule and more like someone born to it.
The two quickly mimicked her pose, but where Grace looked effortlessly imposing, they looked merely amusing.
Her casual posture drew no shortage of disapproving looks, but the guests kept their opinions to themselves. Under Grace's gaze, none dared speak them aloud.
Surveying the hall, Grace asked, "Welfred, should an Empress concern herself with every judgment cast upon her?"
"No, Your Majesty. So long as you are certain of yourself, the opinions of others matter little."
Grace chuckled softly.
"And that is precisely why you're my favorite," she said in a low voice.
"Oh, and you can keep that miracle cream," Grace added, dropping her voice to an even quieter whisper.
"But, Madam, it was given to you," Welfred murmured in protest, though the brief glimmer in his eyes betrayed his interest.
"It's yours. Don't argue," Grace replied, keeping her voice just as low as she gave a faint dismissive wave. "Just test it on your hand before putting it on your face. I doubt our 'elder mother' tampered with it, but caution never hurts."
Welfred hesitated before inclining his head.
"As you wish, Madam," he murmured.
"Her Imperial Majesty has quite a flair for style, doesn't she?" a woman remarked.
At the sight of her, Grace's face immediately brightened.
"Aunt Sera!"
She rose from the throne without hesitation and pulled her into a tight embrace. Sera welcomed her with the same warmth, holding her close.
As they parted, Sera smiled.
"How have you been?"
"I've been good. What about—"
"Aunt Sera! We missed you!"
Before Grace could finish, Rui and Ray rushed forward and wrapped Sera in a hug of their own. Smiling fondly, Grace stepped back and let them have their moment.
"I missed you too," Sera said, her smile warm with affection and touched by a hint of longing.