“Anita is not wrong, High Priest.” Rael’s voice was firm. “The Archduke and Archduchess only just passed three days ago. Our lady is still mourning, recovering, from the incident! She is in no state to begin her role as Archduchess.”

Before them sat Hemilio, High Priest of Maelithor, Valchevia’s capital. Behind him, three escorts stood in silence. The gray-haired priest grinned, the twitch of his eyes betraying amusement.

“It is not the imperial council’s fault, Baroness.” His voice was too smooth. “The Archduke and Archduchess left duties and responsibilities that must be fulfilled.”

Anita’s lips curled with disgust. Maxwell’s jaw tightened.

“Our lady will not inherit obligations until she is mentally and physically ready,” Maxwell said from behind them.

The priest turned his gaze on him, mocking.

“You have no say in this, young guard. The baroness and the butler may speak. They served the late Archduke and Archduchess for years. But you?” He paused, letting the silence stretch. “You are a mere bodyguard to the heir of Obregón. What gives you the right to interfere? Do you truly hate keeping your life?”

Maxwell scoffed. “That question should be asked of you, High Priest Hemilio. Disrespecting the heir of one of the founding houses of Valchevia has its own consequences. My loyalty does not lie with you, but with House Obregón.”

Rael and Anita both nodded firmly, standing with him. The High Priest only laughed.

“How loyal. Yet the imperial council owes loyalty to no one but the law. Rules are rules.”

“Impartial indeed,” Anita muttered bitterly.

“You and I both know that not even a founding house may counter those rules.” Hemilio’s tone remained smooth, unbothered. “Obregón oversees Valchevia’s international trade and foreign diplomacy. To stall these duties over personal matters would harm the Empire itself.”

Anita snapped. “And should the Empire not be more concerned with finding those responsible for the Archduke and Archduchess’s murders?!”

Hemilio rose, brushing her words aside like dust from his sleeve.

“My work here is done. You have four days to transfer the work and title to her. Otherwise, the imperial council will appoint an outsider to inherit, in accordance with Act III of the imperial constitution.”

He departed with his escorts, leaving the room thick with silence. Anita and Rael sat stricken, while Maxwell lashed out and kicked over a stool in frustration.

“What should we do now?” Anita bit her fingers nervously. “What about Her Grace’s grandparents? The former Archduke and Archduchess. Should we contact them?”

“They didn’t even attend the burial,” Rael said quietly. “What makes you think they’d help now?”

“Rael is right.” Maxwell’s voice was flat. “We can’t afford reckless decisions.”

Anita’s shoulders sagged. “But our lady needs support. Her paternal grandparents…”

“The same grandparents the Archduke banned from this estate?” Rael cut in. “You know what they put her parents through, Anita.”

“It was ten years ago,” she protested weakly.

“And they haven’t contacted us once since,” Maxwell added. “Not once.”

Rael leaned forward, his voice dropping. “Forcing them to get involved will only cause more harm to our lady. You remember what happened. Don’t you?”

Anita closed her eyes. “Yes… I remember. How could I forget.”

“Then you know what matters most.” Rael straightened. “We stay by our lady’s side and assist her to the best of our capabilities. She must assume responsibility as soon as possible. We must avoid external threats.”

***

Two weeks after the Archduke and Archduchess’s deaths, Kayona had begun her role as Archduchess of Obregón.

In her new office, Anita stood at her side as lady-in-waiting and assistant, while Maxwell took his post behind her.

“We have notified Maelithor Academy of your withdrawal, Your Grace,” Anita reported. “And I have secured a private tutor to help you complete the two years remaining of your education.”

“Understood.” Kayona didn’t look up, her quill moving steadily across the ledgers. “What else is on my schedule today?”

Anita lifted the parchment in her hand, scanning quickly.

“You’re required to visit and inspect the sites where the new ships of Valchevia’s eastern territory are being constructed.”

“The eastern territory is closest to Obregón, so it’s still possible to carry out today.” Kayona’s tone was steady, though her gaze lingered on the papers before her. “That’s the last task for today, right?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Good. Tell Rael to inform the guards to prepare our cars. I’m almost done here, so we’ll be leaving soon.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Anita bowed before exiting.

A knock came at the door.

“Open the door, Maxwell.”

He nodded.

The door creaked, revealing a servant whose face was flushed with distress. “Forgive us, Your Grace, but the former Archduke and Archduchess forced their convoy into the estate. We tried to stop them…”

Kayona set down her quill slowly. “What’s done is done. Let me face this once and for all. Maxwell, come with me.”

She rose from her seat.

“Anita, please continue till I return.”

“Your Grace, I should come with you.”

“Anita.” Kayona’s voice was gentle but firm. “I will be fine.”

Anita hesitated, then bowed her head. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

***

Kayona made her entrance to the visitors’ room. The guards at the entrance bowed.

Sitting by the window were her paternal grandparents.

Lord Justus Obregón sat rigid and tall, his broad frame filling the chair with the authority of a man who had never been denied. His hair, once the pure silver of Obregón bloodline, was now threaded with white. Age claiming what genetics had gifted. Strands of bright silver mixed with duller white, a crown that spoke of both legacy and time. His pale skin was lined but firm, sharp features carved into permanent displeasure. Gray eyes, cold and unblinking, fixed on Kayona without warmth. His black suit was immaculate, every detail perfect.

Beside him, Lady Sera Obregón sat with the rigid grace of foreign nobility. Her dark hair, once rich black, was now heavily streaked with white and pinned in the elaborate braided style of her homeland. Her brown skin was flushed from crying, but her spine stayed straight. Gold jewelry, foreign in design and wrought with deep red stones, glinted at her throat and wrists. Markers of the count’s daughter she had been before she ever wore the Obregón name.

Their venomous presence filled the room. Maxwell and Kayona felt it immediately.

They didn’t bother to stand or greet. They just watched as Kayona crossed the room and took her seat. Maxwell, as always, stood right behind her.

“We heard you stabbed the heir of Geerich with a pen weeks ago.” Her grandmother’s voice was sharp, cutting across the room before Kayona could even settle. “How can such a reckless head be permitted to govern this estate?”

Kayona took her time, smoothing her skirts with deliberate care. “Good day, grandmother.”

Justus leaned forward, his gray eyes cold. “You deserve everything coming to you. If I were you, I wouldn’t speak at all.”

“Good day to you too, grandfather.”

“Putting up a brave face isn’t going to save you from the sin your parents committed ten years ago.” His voice was hard. “Since your father chose common blood, only bad luck has befallen this family.”

“That common blood is my mother.” Kayona’s voice stayed calm, but her eyes sharpened. “I don’t care what you say about me, but you better watch your mouth on how you speak about the late Archduchess.”

Justus let out a bitter laugh, but it caught in his throat. His pale face twisted.

“That commoner brought wrath on the empire’s moon.” His voice cracked. “It’s that woman’s fault for coming into my son’s life and dragging him to the grave with her!”

The grief in his voice was real. But it was the pain of a father who’d lost his child, not a grandfather reaching for his grandchild. The blame was absolute.

“Is that all you came to say?” Kayona asked quietly. “To the only child of your late son and daughter-in-law?”

Sera’s sobs were real, her handkerchief clutched tight. But her tears were for the son she’d lost, not for the granddaughter sitting before her, drowning in the same loss.

“My precious boy.” Her voice broke. “I couldn’t bear to watch him get buried with that commoner woman.”

“Are you done fighting to justify your actions?” Kayona’s tone hardened, irritation bleeding through.

“You might be acting confident now, but soon enough, you’ll need our help, Kayona.” Sera dabbed at her eyes. “You’re just a reckless little girl with no direction.”

Justus straightened in his chair. “Don’t forget that all you’re standing on today is a result of the hard work of your forefathers. Remember who your real owners are.”

“I tolerated your distasteful entrance today because I thought your worn-out brains were finally on the right track.” Kayona’s voice cut through the room like steel. “But disappointment slapped me in the face.”

The two guards at the entrance stepped forward.

“What are your orders, Your Grace?”

“Escort them out.” Kayona’s voice was ice. She didn’t stand. Didn’t move.

But as the guards stepped forward, her gaze locked on her grandparents.

“And the next time you dare set foot in my estate, I will show you exactly how far a sixteen-year-old can go to harm those who threaten her.”