"What is the meaning of this, Ines?"
Rosalia's voice cut through the room as she entered the Imperial study.
Ines looked up from the documents before her, unhurried.
"I'm working, Mother," she said evenly. "You walked in. I don't see what you mean."
"Do not play coy with me, young lady."
Rosalia pointed at her.
Ines leaned back slightly, a faint smirk touching her lips.
"I am the Empress," she said. "Not a young lady."
Rosalia's expression hardened.
"Ines Del Caelthorne, I am your mother. I carried you for nine months and nine days. You will not evade me, answer me."
A pause.
Then,
Ines sighed.
She snapped her fingers.
The servants lowered their heads and quietly exited the room, the doors closing behind them.
Silence settled.
Rosalia took a seat opposite her, her frown deepening.
"What happened, Mother?" Ines asked, her tone calm.
Rosalia stared at her.
"You're shutting down the Cerulean brothel," she said. "Permanently."
"That means the Flower Maiden ritual ends."
"I am aware," Ines replied.
Rosalia's anger flared.
"Of course you are! That's exactly the problem!" she snapped. "You're about to discard a tradition that has stood for centuries!"
Her voice rose.
"Have you considered what this will do? The noble council will not stay silent. They will see this as disregard for tradition, an insult, even."
"The unrest this could cause, your reputation—"
"Mother."
Ines's voice cut through hers.
Firm. Controlled.
Sharp enough to stop her mid-sentence.
Rosalia fell silent.
Ines leaned forward slightly, her gaze steady.
"Are you aware of what happens in that place?" she asked.
No anger.
Just cold certainty.
"They sell children."
A beat.
"Alive."
Another.
"And when they are no longer of use… they sell their bodies."
Her expression did not change.
"The women are abused. Starved. Broken."
A pause.
"Is that the tradition you wish me to preserve?"
Rosalia fell silent.
Her throat went dry, her eyes widening as she stared at Ines.
"I beg your pardon?" she said, her voice low.
"They do what?"
"You heard me, Mother," Ines replied, sliding the ledger across the table toward her. "That place is steeped in crime and corruption."
Rosalia took it.
Her hands trembled as her eyes moved across the pages.
The color drained from her face.
She set the ledger down abruptly, covering her mouth.
"…Oh my…"
Ines quietly pushed a glass of water toward her.
Rosalia took it and drank, her breaths uneven.
"Do you see now?" Ines asked.
Rosalia closed her eyes briefly before speaking.
"I understand," she said slowly. "But you moved too quickly."
She exhaled.
"No matter how severe this is, the nobles will not accept it so easily. They will demand the brothel be restored, perhaps under new management."
"The corruption runs too deep for that," Ines replied. "It must be uprooted entirely."
Rosalia shook her head, rubbing her temples.
"You don't understand the political consequences," she said. "Alexander's faction will seize this. They'll claim you're disregarding centuries of tradition."
"Punish those responsible, yes, but dismantling it entirely will stir unrest within the council."
"Mother."
Ines's voice was calm, but unyielding.
"When I took the throne, I was sixteen."
Rosalia looked at her, confused.
"…Yes. Why bring that up now?"
Ines met her gaze.
"What did you tell me then?"
Rosalia paused.
Then, slowly, she spoke.
"I told you… that from that day forward, you were the Empress. That every decision you make must be for the good of the Empire, even if others fail to see it."
Her voice softened slightly.
"And that no matter who opposes you… you must not waver."
She exhaled.
"Because I trusted that you would choose what is right."
Silence followed.
Then Rosalia let out a quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle.
"Using my own words against me now?"
"I'm following them," Ines said simply.
Rosalia studied her for a moment.
Then sighed.
"…Very well."
She reached out, patting Ines's head lightly.
"Leave the nobles to me and Marceline."
"Mother…" Ines groaned.
"Oh, don't start," Rosalia scoffed. "You'll always be eight to me."
"Then remember that the next time you try to marry me off," Ines shot back.
Rosalia rolled her eyes.
"Don't get cheeky."
She stood.
"I'll handle how this is presented."
With that, she turned and left the study.
Ines watched her mother leave before leaning back in her chair with a quiet sigh.
The noble council would protest.
Of course they would.
They always did.
Her gaze drifted back to the file before her, her expression hardening slightly.
Zarah.
"I wonder what she's doing right now…" she murmured under her breath before returning to her work.
"I wonder what Zarah is doing right now…"
Jia rested her chin against her hand as she stared out the carriage window.
"You've spoken of that girl so often I feel like I already know her," Jacob said with a sigh.
They had been traveling for a week now. The Imperial Palace was not far.
"Can you blame me, Father?" Jia replied, turning to him with a bright smile. "It's been years since I last saw Zarah and Iris. They're the reason I'm even here with you."
Her gaze softened slightly.
"And this is the year they were meant to be sent to the palace as Flower Maidens… I can't wait to see them again."
Fragments of memory flickered through her mind,
laughter, whispered plans…
and poorly made cookies that may or may not have contained sleeping powder.
Jacob sighed, rubbing his temple.
"They are Flower Maidens now, Jia," he said. "And you are my heir. The future Duchess of Sterling. Carry yourself accordingly."
Jia raised a brow.
"Wow, Father. No gratitude at all?"
"I am grateful," Jacob replied dryly. "If they asked, I would even take them in as my own."
"No, don't adopt Zarah!" Jia said immediately. "Adopt Iris."
Jacob blinked.
"…Right. You have a crush on that girl."
"It's not a crush," Jia said, lifting her chin proudly. "It's eternal love."
Jacob made a face.
"Mm. Of course it is."
He leaned back slightly.
"Regardless, she is the Empress's Flower Maiden. If you intend to pursue anything… you'll need Her Majesty's permission."
Jia didn't even hesitate.
"Then I'll just ask for it."
Jacob sighed.
He had long since accepted that arguing with his daughter was a losing battle.