Voices of Loyalty Under the Lights
In the opening atmosphere of the Duchy's founding anniversary party, the great hall sparkled like a carefully polished jewel, candlelight reflecting off the marble columns, and crimson banners hanging from the balconies like a suspended history no one dared touch.
All eyes turned at once towards the main entrance as the Vershi family gathered again. Their presence alone was enough to unsettle the silence and rearrange breaths.
The party was crowded with residents of the South, from high nobles to minor lords.
Marchionesses in their heavy dresses,
Counts with rigid faces counting influence before pleasantries,
and Barons clinging to their titles as if they were lifelines.
Even the minor lords attended with their families, their eyes shifting between the throne and the family, trying to determine who stood at the center of the balance.
The Vershi family advanced with measured steps towards the Emperor's throne.
Before anyone could bow, Theobald cast a quick, silent but decisive sideways glance.
No bowing.
We don't need that today.
He stepped forward, stood upright, and said in a steady, noble voice: "Welcome, Your Majesty the Emperor. You honor us with your presence at our party."
The Emperor laughed as he leaned back on his throne, a calculated laugh more than a friendly one: "Theobald Vershi… it seems this party is different from past years. Truly magnificent.
Blessings upon you for the passing of years of loyalty, strength, and steadfastness, and we wish for a future stronger… and more advanced, from a real man."
The phrase echoed in the hall like a malicious whisper.
Some smiled.
Others ignored it.
But Osana… did not.
She caught the phrase immediately.
"A real man".
Deliberate, undoubtedly.
She stepped forward half a step and smiled a calm smile, as if adding a passing remark: "Yes, certainly. We will have a real heir… whether male or female."
The Emperor's smile widened slightly, and he nodded in agreement, like one agreeing publicly… while calculating secretly.
The family dispersed afterward.
Theobald remained with the Emperor and some high nobles in a conversation heavy with pleasantries and surveillance.
As for Osana, she headed towards a group of noblewomen, including the consorts, and Karina followed with quiet steps.
Anne, the Second Consort and mother of the Third Prince Jake, said as she looked around admiringly: "The party seems different and beautiful this year… I like it very much."
Osana smiled with undisguised pride: "I designed it with Karina, and other family members also contributed."
She gently placed her hand on Karina's shoulder and looked at her with a smile.
Karina only gave a small nod, eyes watching more than participating.
The Marchioness of Larias stepped forward, her gaze wandering around the hall before she said with feigned surprise: "I didn't expect this work to be accomplished by the Princess and the Lady together…
but I haven't seen Lord Yuri. His absence is noticeable."
There was something mocking in the tone of the question.
Osana raised her fan to cover half her face and said with calculated calm: "He works hard for the people and progress. My son and I allowed him to continue his work and not attend."
The two consorts nodded, as if the absence was a logical matter not worth dwelling on.
Meanwhile, Karina noticed the crowded hall… and another absence.
The Princes.
She looked at her grandmother, and their eyes met.
Both noticed it.
Osana said in an audible voice: "It seems the Princes haven't arrived yet… I was hoping for the complete Imperial family gathering."
Asti, the First Consort and mother of the First Prince, replied: "We apologize, they have patrols and studies today. They will come soon together."
Osana nodded understandingly, before one of the noblewomen said: "It's clear the Princes sacrifice a lot for the homeland."
Asti sighed and placed her hand on her cheek: "Especially my son, the First Prince… he bears a greater burden than his brothers."
Anne cast a sharp sideways glance: "Don't exaggerate, Asti. Everyone tires."
Asti suddenly stood up, her voice rising: "No! My son is different!"
Karina's eyes wandered between them, and she whispered inwardly with coldness: Now I understand why the First Prince is a fool…
She's exactly like his mother.
Then she added silently: Anne is smart. Calm. She knows how to win the room without raising her voice.
Beautiful, elegant, caring about every detail… naturally she's the Emperor's favorite.
Anne approached Asti, gently holding her arms: "I know, I know. Everyone knows how hard your son works, just calm down."
Then she turned to the noblewomen: "I apologize. Asti is kind-hearted… she loves her son very much and worries about him."
Murmurs began to spread: "Anne is truly kind." "She deserves to be Empress." "Asti is jealous." "Anne is the best."
Karina watched the scene and again realized Anne's cunning.
But Osana's voice cut through the atmosphere with quiet sharpness: "Don't apologize, Anne. You truly are kind.
And as for you, Asti, you have the right to love your son like this."
The room gradually calmed.
Osana added: "When my children were young, I didn't allow anyone to touch them.
I suffered greatly when Yuri was hurt as a child… I understand both of your feelings perfectly."
Silence prevailed, and the smile returned to Asti's face: "You are truly wise, Lady Osana."
Looks of admiration spread… except from one person.
Karina.
And what about Damian?
He lost his mother… so who will defend him?
Who gives him this love?
At that same moment, the hall door opened.
"We welcome the Three Princes."
They entered with dignity, coordinated steps, a calculated presence.
The Emperor laughed from his throne: "Here are my sons!"
They bowed to him first, then to Theobald.
The First Prince said: "We apologize for the delay, we were busy."
Theobald smiled calmly: "May you be successful in your work."
But beneath those smiles…
other chapters were being written.
---
"I heard you were busy… weren't you?"
Karina's voice was calm, carrying neither reproach nor sharp curiosity, but something closer to a soft test.
She was walking alongside him through the long corridor, the marble floor reflecting the light from the high windows like a cold lake. The edges of her dress slid across the floor with a calculated flow, as if she was accustomed to hiding the sound of her steps.
Damian walked beside her in silent dignity.
His shoulders straight, his gaze forward, but in the corner of his eyes was a faint shadow of caution. He wasn't wary of her specifically… but of something he didn't want to name.
"Yes… I was busy. And I think I won't be staying long here."
He paused slightly when he said it, as if giving his words more weight than they appeared.
Karina stepped ahead of him, then turned to him, her smile unchanged, but it became deeper — as if she understood what was left unsaid.
"It's okay… the important thing is that I'll show you all the details of the furniture and heritage pieces before you leave."
She said it with clear enthusiasm, but in her eyes was something else… a desire to keep him a little longer.
Damian nodded silently.
He looked around. The walls were decorated with gold engravings faded by time, and the air carried the scent of old wood and dried roses.
He felt her energy today was different. Lighter. Quicker.
As if she was trying to fill the distance between them with words before silence crept in.
He didn't ask her what was going on inside her.
He postponed it.
Not because he wasn't interested… but because he wasn't ready for what he might hear.
Suddenly, she grabbed his wrist.
Her grip wasn't strong, but it was real, warm, direct.
She pulled him lightly, walking faster until she stopped in front of the family portrait wall.
There… time was suspended in frames.
"This is our picture… when I was little! I look so cute… oh!"
She placed her hands on her cheeks with childish pretense, but her smile wasn't entirely an act.
In the picture, a child with flowing hair and a wide gaze, who didn't yet know how the palace becomes narrow when one of its corners disappears.
Damian didn't comment immediately.
He stepped closer.
He contemplated the picture slowly.
The family gathered.
The formal stance.
The deliberate coldness in the arrangement of bodies.
Then he looked at her.
She was no longer that child.
Her features had matured, but something of sternness had crept into her eyes.
"You look more like your father now than before."
He said it calmly, but he meant more than just resemblance.
Karina nodded in agreement.
She didn't argue.
For only a second, her smile relaxed, then she regained its brightness with calculated speed.
"Let's see the rest."
She pointed to an older picture.
"This is before my birth… it looks boring without me… but my mother lights it up."
When she mentioned her mother, her voice unconsciously softened.
As if the name itself was fragile.
Damian kept staring at the portrait of Duchess Revellina.
Silky blonde hair flowing softly, catching the light as if offering it.
Green eyes… neither sharp nor weak, but quietly tired.
A delicate smile, but behind it lay a heavy shadow.
He read in her features something akin to long sacrifice.
A woman who gained the love and support of the Vershi family, yet carried a past that never left her.
Even after becoming Duchess… no trace of complete comfort appeared in her eyes.
Damian felt the air around him slow down.
Karina noticed his stillness.
His gaze wasn't passing.
So she pointed to a larger picture, its frame decorated with carefully carved flowers.
"Look… here it's clearer."
Elegant clothes draped with discipline, fine gold threads in the fabric.
The silky blonde hair flowing over her shoulders.
The features… resembling Doga to an undeniable degree.
Suddenly, Rina said with sudden enthusiasm:
"Oh! Your blonde hair looks like Mama's!"
Without thinking, she reached out and touched a strand of his hair.
It was an impulsive movement… but more intimate than it should have been.
Damian froze for a moment.
He moved back a small step, as if distance was necessary to regain balance.
"It looks nice."
She smiled, unaware of her boldness until after she saw his confusion.
"Oh no! I mean… I mean Mama's hair is beautiful! Boy, don't misunderstand me!"
She grabbed his shoulders and began shaking him lightly, trying to fix what her words had ruined.
"Alright… alright, I understand, Rina… stop."
He said it while laughing softly, trying to stop his shaking, his head spinning slightly from her excited movement.
When she stopped, he exhaled deeply, and truly laughed this time.
She placed her hand on her chest as if she had survived a catastrophe.
Then she moved to the next picture.
"This is the third one… without Mama or me… and here's this ugly man… my grandfather."
She laughed with slight sarcasm.
Damian looked at the picture.
The man had stern features, sharp eyes, chin raised with old confidence.
"Honestly… he looks like you."
He said it with deliberate seriousness, then burst out laughing.
Her eyes widened.
"Wha— what?!"
He laughed again, forgetting for a moment his previous suspicions, forgetting his usual calculations.
"I'm joking… calm down."
She exhaled forcefully, then a slow, devilish smile appeared on her lips.
She stepped half a step closer.
"And you… look like the Emperor."
The laughter stopped.
His smile froze for a fraction of a second.
The Emperor.
A heavy word.
Not just a joke.
Then… he smiled a small, sideways smile.
He understood the message.
She had returned his joke —
and returned to him something of the lightness of spirit he hadn't felt for a long time.
---
They wandered through the vast hall, which was not just a space for celebration, but a playground for the Vershi memory.
From the high ceiling hung crystal chandeliers, from which warm light flowed, breaking over the marble statues lined up on the sides.
The ancestors' faces were carved with eternal sternness; straight noses, unwavering gazes that knew no hesitation.
Each statue had a small brass plaque beneath its feet: date, battle, achievement.
Karina passed by one of them, raised her gaze to the features of a distant grandfather, as if trying to see something of her blood in the marble.
Here were ancient shields, their edges eroded by time but still gleaming with pride.
There were ceremonial costumes, heavy fabrics embroidered with gold threads, witnessing eras when power was measured by the weight of the crown, not the sharpness of the mind.
The furniture itself seemed to breathe the past; dark wood tables carved with the Vershi emblem since the family's founding.
Everything… from the very first seed.
Damian was walking behind her this time, watching her explain with renewed enthusiasm, noticing how her voice changed when she talked about family matters — becoming deeper, more belonging.
Then, after they finished the tour, a short silence prevailed.
The distant sound of music from the party reached them muffled through the thick walls.
Damian finally said, in a formal tone that had regained its original coolness:
"The party is beautiful… and I thank you for it. Now I wish to leave, as I am busy."
The words were polite, but the distance suddenly returned between them.
Karina nodded with a disciplined smile.
That smile she learned at formal occasions.
"Goodbye… thank you for your attendance and the Princes'."
His features relaxed for a moment, as if something was still unresolved.
He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a carefully folded paper.
He placed it in her hand.
His fingers touched her palm for a brief second… then withdrew.
"Goodbye."
He turned without adding anything, and left accompanied by the princes, his steps steady, unwavering.
Karina remained standing, the paper between her fingers.
A slight feeling of confusion crept into her chest.
Why a letter?
And why now?
She opened it.
She leaned slightly, the light pouring from the chandelier touching the clear black letters.
~Greetings, Princess Karina Vershi…
I request your mandatory attendance at the beginning of next week at the Second Prince's palace.
Alone, without family members.
Attendance is compulsory.
~Second Prince Damian de Bosachi
She gasped.
She felt as if the words had left the paper to press on her chest.
"Compulsory attendance?!!"
She re-read the last line.
Compulsory.
The word was no joke.
It was not a request.
"How will Father agree…"
She quickly raised her head, searching for him among the attendees, among the lights and shadows, but she only saw the great hall doors closing behind the last attendants.
He had left.
She looked around her, then returned to the letter.
She gripped it tightly.
"You mean boy!"
She stomped her foot on the ground, the sound of her heel echoing in the relatively empty hall.
"Oh… left alone?"
A woman's voice flowed from behind, soft but carrying subtle sharpness.
Karina turned quickly.
Clara.
Her father's cousin.
She was walking towards her with confident steps, her purple dress flowing behind her, and a smile that knew more than it said.
In an instant, Karina straightened up, rearranged her features, hid the paper behind her back.
"Ah…"
"You look beautiful and wonderful, my cousin's daughter."
Clara approached, her heavy perfume filling the space between them.
The compliment was not casual… it was measurement.
Then she glimpsed the paper.
"What's this letter? Is it a love letter?"
She said it with a light laugh, but her eyes did not laugh.
Karina quickly shook her head.
"No! No, no! This is a paper that fell from me… the Prince just gave it to me!"
Even she felt the weakness of the justification.
Clara laughed, a short laugh that didn't reach the heart.
"Well… I thought he loved you for your beauty. You look like your father."
The last sentence was not pure praise.
Karina immediately replied, with a slightly sharp tone:
"And I look like my mother too."
The silence that followed was not comfortable.
Something in her quick defense made Clara's gaze change… for just a second.
Then—
Memories crept in.
Inside Clara's mind, not on her face.
Originally… she was destined to be the Duchess.
The name was approaching her, the title almost called.
But Osana…
Fought long.
Screams, arguments, tables ending in angry withdrawal.
Her father, her uncle, their wives…
All divided.
The Duke's will before his death was clear:
Full leadership for Osana.
And she used that right with no small intelligence.
She convinced her son to choose his wife himself.
And in the end… he married a commoner.
A commoner.
Not a noble.
Not matching the beauty standards of that strict era.
Her immunity was weak.
Her body fragile.
And she gave birth to a girl…
With even weaker immunity.
Yet—
He cherished her.
Rumors spread like wildfire:
Criminal.
Uses black magic.
Betrays her husband.
And when she became pregnant…
It was long said the child was not of Vershi.
But she gave birth to a girl who resembled the family to the point of exact match.
Features undeniable.
So tongues fell silent… partially.
Clara remembered how that woman used to stand at parties.
Slight tension in her fingers.
Barely noticeable trembling.
Cautious looks, as if afraid the air would be taken from her.
But…
As soon as one of the Vershi family stood by her side—
Everything calmed.
As if their presence was an invisible shield.
Clara's awareness returned to the hall.
She looked at Karina.
She smiled.
But inside her… there was no warmth.
Then she whispered:
And now…
I am pregnant.
The idea was no longer a passing possibility, but a heavy certainty settling inside me.
A child… a boy, as my intuition told me the first time I placed my hand on my belly.
From an ordinary lord.
A name that adds nothing to my lineage,
and opens not one of those doors that were closed in my face.
And in the end… divorced.
The word still stings.
I, who was supposed to be the Duchess.
I, who was raised to wear the title as a crown is worn.
I lost.
But they also lost me.
They lost my blood,
my name,
and the child who will carry the Vershi legacy in his veins… whether they acknowledge it or not.
Clara smiled a barely visible smile.
Not a complete defeat.
Not yet.