He stopped at the entrance, an imposing figure in a navy blue frock coat. Military regulations required uniforms within the palace walls – a decree that Cesare himself had implemented to bolster the army's image. His successes on the battlefield had increased recruitment, proof that the strategy had worked. Yet, there he was, a symbol of the Empire, without a uniform. So this was not an official visit.
Perhaps that wasn't on the Archduke's agenda today…
Eileen stared at him, speechless. Cesare watched her as he slowly entered. He stopped near the sofa, his red eyes fixed on her.
— You're not going to deny that today, are you?
Eileen blinked, confused, not understanding the question. He finished with a slight, knowing smile:
— You're not going to tell me I'm not your husband yet, are you?
Her face flushed at the casual use of the word "husband." But the shame was hers alone.
Cesare sat beside her, the intimacy unexpected, as if there were a tacit agreement between them. His arm, resting casually on the back of the sofa, lightly brushed her shoulder. Eileen shuddered; the touch felt like a spark on an exposed nerve. It was the first time she had seen him since their confusing encounter, but bathed in the midday sunlight, he seemed the same, the personification of unattainable beauty. It was hard to believe he was the same man from her scandalous memories.
— Ah, I was discovered too quickly.
Leone let out a warm laugh. He shook his head resignedly, then tilted it playfully to the side and asked:
Is Mr. Lotan still alive?
Well, that depends on how you're going to respond from now on, brother.
Cesare's reply, laced with a cutting coldness, sounded more like a threat than a joke. Leone, frowning, poured himself a cup of tea, murmuring something that betrayed his discomfort. Eileen, noticing the tea set prepared for three, understood with a start that the emperor was expecting his brother's visit. Even so, Cesare ignored his own cup and took Eileen's. With precise movements, he threw away the lukewarm tea, refilled it, and added sugar and milk, preparing it exactly as she liked it.
He placed the cup, now full of creamy tea, in front of Eileen. Then, with a deft movement, he speared a muffin and offered it to her. Eileen, surprised, hesitated. But Cesare wasn't looking at her. His gaze remained fixed on Leone, a challenge burning in his eyes. He poured a generous amount of brandy into his own cup and finally spoke:
Why did you call Eileen?
I have some questions to ask.
Is there something you need to ask her, not me?
I can say the same about you.
With a deliberate clinking sound, Leone placed the cup down forcefully. The Emperor, having deliberately broken etiquette, looked calmly at his brother.
She doesn't seem to know anything.
Eileen, holding her fork with the muffin, blinked, confused. Cesare noticed she hadn't touched either the muffin or the tea yet, and made a slight gesture with his chin towards the food. Instinctively, Eileen opened her mouth and took a bite. After chewing and swallowing, the man gestured towards the cup. Eileen quickly picked it up and drank. Unlike before, the tea was sweet and smooth, flowing easily down her throat.
The quality of the palace tea leaves was exceptional, making even the sweetness refined. For a moment, Eileen allowed herself to be carried away by the flavor, but she quickly returned her attention to the situation.
It was then that Cesare suddenly turned to her.
— …!
Eileen held her breath. The sudden proximity brought with it a fresh scent, like that of a forest bathed in morning dew—cold, but invigorating. A gloved hand in black leather touched her lips, naturally wiping away the crumbs of muffin. And then, he leaned back. Her face burned, a blush rising to her neck. The man seemed oblivious to it, calmly taking a sip of tea. Meanwhile, Eileen felt like a fragile ornament, about to shatter at the slightest touch.
— Oh my God… you —
Witnessing the scene, Leone laughed with a mixture of disbelief and resignation. Cesare merely raised an eyebrow in response.
I'm sorry, I made a mistake.
Leone murmured, perplexed, and looked at Eileen, still blushing, formally apologizing.
— I apologize if I startled you, Miss Elrod. I simply wanted to get to know you better.
— Thank you.
Taken by surprise, Eileen thanked him, which made Leone laugh again. It was hard to understand what he found so funny.
Can we talk for a little bit?
At the emperor's request, Cesare looked at Eileen. Leone quickly added:
— Miss Eileen, allow me to show you my private garden.
Eileen enthusiastically nodded at the suggestion, grateful for any chance to escape that tense atmosphere. Realizing she might be being impolite, she added:
- Forgiveness.
Leone laughed again.
— Take a quick look.
Cesare accompanied Eileen to the door of the conference room and whispered:
Next time, don't leave your husband behind.
He gently stroked her cheek before letting her go. Finally free from the suffocating room, Eileen let out a deep sigh. A footman waited outside and bowed respectfully.
— Allow me to take you to the garden.
Eileen followed the man, walking down the opposite corridor from where she had come. The central courtyard was filled with rare flowers and trees, which caught her attention, then a strong smell invaded her nostrils – the odor of tobacco.
'Who would be smoking in the emperor's palace?'
Curious, Eileen looked around, trying to locate the source of the smell.
The footman stopped suddenly and tilted his head. Eileen, who was walking behind him, peeked to see what had caused the interruption.
— …!
A sigh escaped his lips. A woman of dazzling beauty stood in the doorway. Her platinum blonde hair shone like silver, framing eyes the color of the palest spring leaves. Her flawless, translucent skin covered delicate shoulders that seemed to plead for protection. She could only be one person in the capital – the woman whose ethereal beauty had graced countless magazine covers.
With her pure and innocent appearance, she is the proud flower of the Empire. The nickname "The Lily of Traon" truly suits her.
It was Ornella von Farbellini, the dazzling daughter of Duke Farbellini and, more importantly, the fiancée of Emperor Leone. An air of ambiguity hung over the prolonged engagement, with rumors circulating at court. When he was just a prince without influence, no noble family dared to offer their daughters.
When Leone became Emperor, Ornella expressed a desire to unite her family with the Imperial House. As the power of the throne was still unstable, Duke Farbellini vehemently opposed this. He did not want his only daughter on a dangerous path. However, Ornella insisted so much that he reluctantly initiated negotiations with the imperial family.
Originally, Ornella hoped to marry Cesare. But he refused due to his imminent departure for the Front, and she became engaged to Leone. However, the emperor postponed the wedding—he could not celebrate while his brother was at war.
Duke Farbellini, knowing that it would be advantageous to break off the engagement if Cesare lost, agreed to the postponement.
Now that the Archduke had returned victorious, preparations for the imperial wedding were underway, with the ceremony scheduled for the following spring.
She was destined to become the most noble woman in the Empire, the center of high society, admired by all. Compared to her, Eileen felt an almost shameful difference in status and importance.
Ornella, noticing the footman and Eileen, nodded gently. Her presence was majestic, yet graceful, the very essence of nobility.
"Good afternoon," he greeted, his voice as gentle as his appearance. "Have you also come to visit His Majesty?"
Caught off guard, Eileen bowed hastily, feeling inadequate.
Good afternoon, Miss Farbellini. Yes, I was going to the garden.
Ornella's smile was warm, dispelling some of Eileen's tension.
The garden is lovely at this time of year. I'm sure you'll enjoy it.
With that, Ornella gracefully stepped aside, allowing Eileen and the footman to continue. As she passed her, Eileen couldn't help but glance back, her heart filled with admiration and an inexplicable pang of sadness.
Feeling embarrassed, Eileen tried to act gracefully. She bowed her head slightly and, as she stood up, noticed that Ornella was still watching her.
— …
Ornella stared blankly at Eileen. Her light green eyes examined her without disguise. Then, she turned to the footman and asked:
Who is she?
— This is Eileen Elrod, from the Elrod Barony.
Ornella responded with a brief, dismissive “hmm,” and then approached. Eileen wanted to hide behind the footman—but he stepped aside, leaving her exposed.
He stared intently at Eileen as he took a drag of his cigarette. Then, he blew the smoke directly into her face. Eileen, surprised, began to cough uncontrollably.
Ornella chuckled, amused by the other woman's discomfort.
Congratulations on your wedding!
To be continued…