Lexius brought Elise to the busiest district of Stelton—and straight to its most opulent building.
Elise recognized it at once: Selind Jewelers, the shop where she had already sold her jewels twice—once while fleeing with Hadin and again to fund the greenhouse.
“Why, if it isn’t His Grace, Duke Ernheart. An honor to see you.”
The proprietor bowed deeply, having recognized Lexius immediately.
“I’d like to look at necklaces,” the duke said.
“Of course, Your Grace. This way—our finest designs await.”
With polished courtesy the proprietor led them inside.
“Is it a gift for madam?”
“Yes. I’d like to see your rarest pieces.”
He guided them to the innermost display case, where exquisitely crafted necklaces glittered under the lights.
Elise’s eyes settled on one she knew well—one she herself had sold here.
“Does this piece please you, madam?” the proprietor asked, pointing to the necklace Elise had been staring at.
“No,” she answered calmly. “The craftsmanship is merely unusual, that’s all.”
“Now that I see you up close, I believe we’ve met before,” he ventured. His eye for faces was sharp; she had only visited twice, yet he remembered.
“I’ve been here twice,” she admitted.
“I thought so. I distinctly recall thinking you remarkably beautiful. Might that necklace be the one you sold us?”
“You remember everything, don’t you?” Elise nodded.
“I told you then it was fit for the imperial palace, did I not?”
“You did.” He had said the same thing both times she sold jewels here.
“My apologies for my suspicion back then,” he continued. “I had no idea you were a princess…”
The first time, he had feared she was fencing stolen palace goods, until she produced the imperial pass of Lady Cecile; only then did he agree to buy.
“It’s fine,” Elise said lightly. “A good eye is hardly your fault—and you gave me an excellent price.”
Remembering, she smiled faintly. Among all the jewelers she visited, Selind had offered the highest sum.
Suddenly Lexius studied her intently.
“You’ve sold your jewels before, Your Highness?”
“I have. Is that a problem?”
“No, not at all.” He turned to the proprietor. “Show us everything my wife sold you—whatever remains.”
“At once, Your Grace.”
Leafing through his ledgers, the man fetched several pieces from the safe.
“They were so valuable I kept them separate. A few are gone, but these remain.”
“How much?” Lexius asked. “I’ll buy them all back.”
“Each is worth at least three thousand Stel… In total, thirty thousand Stel, Your Grace.”
“I’ll pay it.”
Elise seized his arm, shaking her head. “There’s no need. Why buy them again?”
“Were they not precious to you?”
“Not in the least. They were nothing more than routine birthday gifts.”
To her, the jewels were shackles—reminders that the Emperor still held her tight. They were useless ornaments for a songbird locked in a gilded cage—good only for funding an escape.
“But because they’re yours, they’re precious to me,” Lexius said, gently taking her hand and brushing a kiss across her knuckles.
Startled, Elise jerked her hand away.
“M-my lord, this isn’t the place…”
Her flustered voice rang out. Is this another symptom of the spell of infatuation? she wondered. She had never experienced such behavior from him before.
Pretending not to notice, the proprietor asked, “Shall I prepare the pieces, Your Grace?”
“Yes. Have them delivered to the ducal residence tomorrow; I’ll settle the bill then.”
“Very good. And if I may say, contrary to the gossip, the two of you seem wonderfully close.”
“Oh?” Lexius feigned ignorance. “What gossip?”
“Some say you neglect Her Highness—but rumors are not to be trusted, Your Grace. Envious tongues, no doubt.”
“I see.”
“If I hear such nonsense again, I’ll be sure to set them straight.”
“Please do.” Lexius’s arm slipped smoothly around Elise’s shoulders.
She tried to edge away, but his arm tightened.
“You still haven’t chosen anything for yourself,” he murmured.
“Wh-whatever you prefer will be fine,” she stammered, keenly aware of his hand on her shoulder.
“That sapphire necklace there catches my eye—it’s the exact shade of your eyes.”
“Then… let’s take that one.”
Flushed by his syrupy words, she nodded quickly. Any necklace would do; she intended to resell it later. Cut, design—none of it mattered, so long as it was valuable.
Lexius purchased the ocean-blue necklace and clasped it around her throat.
When his hands brushed her neck, Elise’s breath caught. Despite their rugged look, his fingers were gentle, lingering behind her nape to fasten the chain.
“Exquisite,” he said, smiling in satisfaction.
It was a lovely smile, yet a chill crept over her. Day by day his behavior was changing—if he truly was falling under a dangerous fascination, something irreparable might one day occur.
—
Madame Angre, Lexius had told her, was the widow of a baron who had fallen in the recent war against neighboring Tapait. Highly sociable and well-educated, she was courted alike by imperial loyalists and opposition factions.
From his description Elise had imagined a poised, mature woman—but the Madame who greeted them was young, strikingly beautiful, and, it seemed, very interested in Lexius.
“That the Duke graces my salon—I scarcely know what to say! It must be three years since your last visit, ever since your marriage, correct?”
She hurried out to the entrance, all warmth and familiarity.
“About that long,” Lexius replied. “My duties kept me too busy for society.”
“Or perhaps wedded bliss made you forget us entirely?” Madame Angre teased, eyes glimmering with an alluring smile.
“There could be some truth in that,” he said smoothly.
“I hadn’t expected Her Highness to accompany you, but it’s perfect timing. Princess Priscilla is here today as well.”
At the mention of her elder half-sister—ever antagonistic—Elise felt a throb behind her temples. How exactly is that perfect? she thought sourly. One benefit of marriage had been not having to see Priscilla.
“Are you unwell, Your Highness?” Lexius asked, concern writ plainly on his face—any observer would think him a devoted husband. Or perhaps the enchantment on him was indeed growing stronger, which chilled Elise further.
“I’m fine,” she said honestly. “I just don’t relish meeting Priscilla.”
Madame Angre’s mansion boasted a large ballroom. Elise had thought a salon meant an intimate parlor gathering, but this was on another scale: a space grand enough for a dance, hosting at least fifty guests. Clusters of people sipped tea, inspected paintings, or argued heatedly, while a chamber ensemble played.
Clap clap clap! Madame Angre drew everyone’s attention with a ringing applause.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Look who has arrived—His Grace, Duke Ernheart, and the Duchess, Princess Elise!”
Conversation halted; all eyes turned. Only the musicians continued their soft melody.
Uneasy under the scrutiny, Elise tried to slip back—but Lexius’s hand gripped her shoulder. He whispered in her ear, “Do not avoid their gaze. A duchess is the focal point wherever she goes, looking down on all but the royal family.”
She squared her shoulders, lifting her chin. Lexius’s arm still prickled against her back, yet being slighted here—especially with Priscilla present—would be far worse.
“Thank you for your welcome,” Lexius announced coolly. “Let us forgo individual greetings—enjoy the party, everyone.”
Applause sounded; someone popped a champagne cork, and chatter resumed. Immediately a knot of men surrounded Lexius.
“It’s been too long, Your Grace.”
“We hardly saw you in the capital—where have you been?”
“Is it true Tapait plans another war? You’d know best.”
“With the times so unsettled, your absence made us uneasy.”
As they peppered him with questions, Elise edged away to breathe. A long table, lavishly decked with flowers, offered finger foods, cakes, and wines. Parched from tension, she lifted a glass.
But just as she raised it to her lips, a sharp hand swatted it aside. Glass shattered with a crash, crimson w
ine splattering her dress.
Startled, Elise looked up—of course. It was Priscilla, glowering at her with vicious eyes, standing far closer than Elise had noticed.
