"My father is on his way. Zerro, you will greet him for me. Take him to the drawing room down the hall. That is where I speak with my guest." Athenix never takes her eyes from the sky as she gives this command.

As I swiftly stand up, my heart racing with anticipation, my body automatically moves into a graceful curtsy. Before I have a chance to say a word, Athenix's voice fills the room with its commanding presence. "His name is Elias Carmine. Make sure you address him as Duke Carmine."

"Yes, my lady."

"Leave your maid here." Her voice carries a warning, evident as she absentmindedly rubs her throat while gazing at the sky.

"Yes, My lady," I turn and nod at Abigail, who gives me a worried look.

Anxiety washes over me as my hands tremble uncontrollably, rubbing together in a desperate attempt to still them. Each step down the corridor feels like a heavy thud from my shaky legs. It's as if all the blood has drained from my body, leaving me light-headed and disconnected. Thoughts race uncontrollably through my mind, like runaway trains veering off the tracks.

Who tried to poison Athenix, and why does she make the same expression as I when mentioning her father?

Rushing towards me, the butler, whom I've come to know as Noah, is adorned with a worried expression that deepens his wrinkles and fills his brown eyes with concern as he stops before me.

"Duke Carmine is here."

"Lead the way." My steady voices betrays my shaking body as I follow Noah.

As I approach the entrance, a tall, lean figure with arms crossed and a finger tapping impatiently on his arm catches my attention. His face is etched with a haunting, murderous look, exuding an aura of intensity and seriousness. I can't help but notice the resemblance between him and Athenix in their looks and cold demeanor, but I have a gut feeling that there is more to this than meets the eye. The tension in the air feels palpable as I try to gauge the situation and decipher the emotions that seem to be simmering just beneath the surface.

I execute a deep curtsy, nearly brushing the floor with my knee. "Your grace, I am Zerro, princess Athenix's lady in waiting, I've come to escort you to the drawing room." Even as my legs start to cramp, I maintain my position without shame, although my pride seems to have abandoned me. If he resembles my father, I will handle him similarly, with my head bowed but unable to resist a smirk. I will soon manipulate you like a puppet.

"You may rise." The pride and arrogance in his voice confirm that I have made the right decision.

This is a man who believes the throne will be in his grasp since his daughter is an Empress candidate. Technically, I can't call her Empress, as that could anger the other nobles since she has not earned that position yet. I shouldn't call her princess yet, but it's not completely stepping over the line; so, I can get away with that much because Athenix is a daughter of the Duke.

I ensure that my poker face is in place before I raise my head and lock eyes with him briefly before averting my gaze. "This way your grace." In a display of propriety and respect, I offer a slight bow as I gracefully step to the side, creating a clear path towards the elegant drawing room. His demeanor exudes an air of aristocracy, evident in the way he holds his head high and maintains a posture so impeccable, with shoulders rolled back and a stiff carriage that speaks volumes about his upbringing and bearing. Walking by me with an aura of dignified aloofness, he never once deigns to cast a glance in my direction, maintaining a sense of distance and formality that characterizes his interaction.

I match his pace making sure not to over take him and lead him to the drawing room. Opening the door for him I see one of Athenix's maids waiting.

As the Duke entered the elegant drawing room, his eyes were drawn to the meticulously arranged table set with fine china and silverware. Before he could even take a seat on the plush velvet armchair, a graceful maid appeared by his side, her white apron pristine against her black dress.

With a practiced hand, she picked up the delicate porcelain teapot and poured the steaming tea into a waiting teacup, the liquid glinting amber in the soft afternoon light that filtered through the lace curtains. The fragrant aroma of the tea filled the room, mixing with the faint scent of freshly cut flowers on the nearby side table.

"How long will she make me wait."

"Her highness was getting ready when I left. She won't keep you waiting long." It was as though Athenix had sensed my unspoken call, for the door swung open to reveal her commanding presence. With a poker face mirroring my own, she entered the room, her eyes fixed on her father with a palpable air of suspicion. Every movement of his was met with vigilant scrutiny from her, as she walked in with a confident stride. The atmosphere crackled with tension as their gazes locked, a silent battle of wills commencing between father and daughter.

Her presence filled the room, a potent mix of power and defiance emanating from her every step. The unspoken tension hung heavy in the air, thickening with each passing moment as they faced off. It was a standoff of silent communication, where words were unnecessary in conveying the depth of their emotions.

As I observed this intricate dance of emotions between Athenix and her father, I couldn't help but be drawn into the weight of their unspoken history and the complexities of their relationship. It was a scene that spoke volumes without a single word uttered, a silent drama unfolding before my eyes.

She slightly curtsied while breaking the silence, "Duke Carmine."

I watch them carefully, wondering if there is even anything I can do to protect her.

"I need to speak to you." His piercing gaze swept over us, his expression inscrutable. Athenix's elegant gesture swiftly prompted the maid and me to retreat, our quick exit a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken tension in the air. The weight of his scrutiny still palpable on my back. Athenix, composed as ever, offered no indication of the emotions churning beneath her serene facade.

As I close the door behind me, I catch Athenix's gaze before she nonchalantly flips her hair over her shoulder and turns her attention back to her father. I can't resist the urge to eavesdrop, so I lean against the closed doors, straining to make out their muffled voices even with my heightened senses, which only frustrates me further.

With crossed arms, I nervously bite at a fingernail and observe the maid, whose name still eludes me, pacing back and forth in the hallway. She absentmindedly braids small sections of hair as she moves, her eyes fixed on the ground with a look of knowing in her expression.

She knows.

Athenix can only hide so much.

The sound of a muffled smack echoes in the room, jolting me into action as I swiftly open the door. Before me, Athenix stands, holding her reddened cheek, her eyes downcast. Across from her, her father looms menacingly, his hand poised for another strike. Reacting instinctively, I intercept his movement, positioning myself as a shield between them. The impact of his blow hits me hard, causing my head to snap to the side with force.

In that tense moment, a startled gasp escapes the maid who bears witness to this disturbing scene. The air crackles with a mix of fear and tension as emotions swirl in the room. With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I stand my ground, silently challenging the father's display of aggression.

In the tense atmosphere, as I turn to look at the Duke, I notice the intensity in his gaze, his nostrils flared with anger, his breathing labored and heavy. The suddenness of his actions catches me off guard as he grips my shoulders tightly, his hands shaking me with a forceful urgency. His voice cuts through the air, the sharpness of its tone echoing around the room, filled with a mix of frustration and anger.  "Who are you to get in the way of me handling my daughter!" In that moment, I am tossed aside like a doll and barely manage to catch myself before my body hits the floor with a thud. My ears ring, my cheek throbs, and tears well up in my eyes as I grit my teeth.

"Father, I will find the person who tried to poison me." Athenix voice is flat. Her body is calm, but I can see her hands slightly shaking.

"How could you let this happen. Do you know how that looks on the duchy? Someone had the guts to poison my daughter." He raises his hand as if to strike her again, and I am immediately on my feet.

"But that is a good thing, your grace." My words seem to grab his arm in mid-air as he turns quickly to me. Athenix doesn't do anything as he stomps. The floor seems to shake from his wrath. I notice a vein popping in his neck as he raises his hand to strike me. "Think about it, your grace."

This causes him to stop mid slap. "What are you going on about," his hand balls up before pointing a finger at me. "What does a mere lady in waiting know."

This man only cares about his ego, pride, and authority. He wants people to fear him. He wants people to see him as someone as high and mighty as the Emperor.

"You can use this to your advantage."

Athenix, with a hint of intrigue in her expression, crosses her arms as if in contemplation while watching me closely. Her eyes convey a sense of caution, silently urging me to choose my words wisely.

"Someone feels threatened by your daughter being Empress candidate. Someone fears you being in power." When I spoke, I noticed a shift in his demeanor. The initial anger seemed to dissipate, giving way to a more composed and methodical response. His focus sharpened, indicating that he was now assessing the situation from a different perspective. It was as if a switch had been flipped, transforming him into a figure driven by personal pride and a sense of control.
"You can spread rumors that your poor daughter, an innocent Empress candidate, has been poisoned and is in critical condition. This will gain sympathy from the public, causing her to gain their support." He smirks at my words. The gears have started to turn.

There are other ways he can gain from this situation, but I don't like him enough to give him that information; he is calculating enough to figure that out on his own.

"Yes, yes, it seems you have a good eye, Athenix." He states as he starts to study me as if I were a product. I find myself having to bite my tongue.

"It is all thanks to you, your grace." Athenix voice comes out flat once again, her eyes burning into mine.

The Duke quickly excuses himself. He doesn't spare Athenix a glance as he rushes out.

"Lynn, I'm going to my room. Make sure no one enters since I'm critically ill from poison." Athenix's sly smirk lingers on her lips as she turns away from me, the hint of mischief in her eyes only adding to her enigmatic charm. I watch her graceful figure saunter out of the drawing room, her every movement exuding confidence and allure. Despite her aloof demeanor, I can't help but feel a twinge of warmth at the sound of her voice softening, like a hidden vulnerability peeking through her tough exterior.

As I obediently follow Athenix back to her room, Lynn closes the door gently behind me, creating a sense of privacy within the elegant space. I watch as another maid, swift and efficient, retrieve an ice pack, and apply it with care to Athenix's cheek, soothing the visible mark left by the altercation. Close by, Abigail reaches out to me, handing over an ice pack of my own. Tentatively, I press it against my throbbing cheek, feeling a sharp pang as the icy cold penetrates my heated skin.

The unfamiliar sensation startles me. In my world, healing was always a solitary act, devoid of any external comfort or support. Maids drew invisible boundaries, fearing my father's wrath, leaving me to tend to my wounds in solitude. But here, in this unexpected moment of tenderness, I sense a shift in the air, a glimmer of care that flickers to life in the midst of the chaos. And despite my ingrained instincts to fend for myself, I find myself quietly appreciating the gesture, a silent acknowledgment of shared pain and healing.

"My lady, do you have any siblings." As I slowly lower the ice pack from my cheek, I glance over at Athenix, a hint of uncertainty in my gaze. I can feel the coolness of the ice soothing the pain in my cheek, but I'm still hesitant as I address her. Athenix's sharp eyes lock onto mine, assessing me with a critical gaze before delivering a response. There's a weight to her stare, making me wonder what thoughts are running through her mind as she seems to dissect every word and gesture.

"No."

"So if-"

"Everyone out." The sharp words cut through the air, filling the room with a tense atmosphere. The other maids, sensing the brewing tension, exchange quick glances and hurriedly make their exit, leaving only Athenix and me behind. Athenix's piercing gaze remains fixed on me, with a subtle challenge in her expression.

"Those maids are mine, but my father can always buy them off." Athenix rises from her ornately carved vanity chair, her movements elegant yet calculated. As she stands, her piercing gaze, with narrowed eyes, locks onto me, studying me intently. The room around us seems to fade into the background as her focused attention shifts solely to me.

"So if the Duke dies, you would be Duchess."

You would be free. That is what I want to add, but I don't. Being careful with my words, Athenix is not someone who wants pity or sympathy.

In a daunting and unsettling manner, she steadily approaches me, her every move calculated and deliberate. As she draws near, her slender hands reach out, delicately encircling my throat with a chilling grip. The sharp edges of her fingernails press into my skin, sending a shiver down my spine, yet her hold remains just loose enough for me to gasp for air. It's a harrowing moment as I feel the weight of her presence and the intensity of her intent, like being trapped in a web spun by a meticulous predator. Her eyes bore into mine with a mix of determination and danger, leaving me feeling both terrified and strangely captivated by the raw power she exudes. In that tense exchange, I struggle to find my voice, my mind racing to comprehend the perilous situation unfolding before me. The atmosphere is thick with tension, as though time itself has stilled in anticipation of what could come next.

"Are you a spy sent by my father?" Her piercing gaze meets mine, delving deep as if attempting to unearth hidden truths buried within my soul. "Is that why you took that hit, to gain my trust, so you could set me up?"

My eyes start to well up but not from fear.

The intensity of her gaze speaks volumes about the resilience that lies within. She carries herself with a sense of determination that is unmistakable. It is clear that she has endured hardships that have shaped her into a survivor. Her eyes reveal a story of overcoming challenges and refusing to be defined by them. Every movement she makes is deliberate, a careful dance between self-preservation and defiance.

In her eyes, you can see the battle scars of a past that she has fought tooth and nail to move beyond. The wariness she carries is a shield, a protective barrier born out of necessity. She has learned the hard way that trust must be earned, not freely given.

As she struggles against the grasp of a power hungry father, there is a sense of defiance in her every gesture. She is like a puppet trying to sever the strings that bind her, reclaiming control over her own destiny. The flicker of desperation is met with an unwavering resolve to break free from the chains that seek to bind her.

"No, my lady."

"Then who are you?" Why would you try to help me? That is what she is really asking.

"I am a puppet who cut her own strings." In a sudden and startling moment, her eyes widen in disbelief as she takes a step back, her hand hesitantly releasing its grip from my throat.

As she continues to scrutinize me, her gaze feels heavy with suspicion. My heart races, knowing that my every move is being dissected for any signs of deceit. I slowly roll up my sleeves, revealing the intricate patterns of scars etched into my skin by a cruel past.

Her eyes widen with a mix of shock and something else - is it empathy? Suddenly, a glimmer of hope flickers in her gaze, softening the steely facade she had worn moments before. I catch a glimpse of vulnerability in her demeanor as she nervously nibbles on her lower lip, a rare display of her inner turmoil.

She begins to pace back and forth, deep in thought as she processes the truth I have laid bare before her. The weight of her scrutiny is almost palpable, hanging heavy in the air between us. I hold my breath, waiting for her final judgment, hoping that my honesty will be enough to bridge the gap of distrust that had loomed large between us.

"Do you want to be the Duchess or the Empress." The sudden revelation seems to catch her completely off guard, causing her to pause in surprise. Her expression shifts from confusion to amusement, and a burst of laughter escapes her lips as she processes my words.

"I can't tell if you're fearless or stupid." The gentle sound of her exhale reverberates in the room as she continues her repeated steps, back and forth. Each footfall seems to echo with a weight of contemplation, the pattern of her movement a silent dance of inner turmoil. The soft rustle of her clothing accompanies the cadence of her pacing, a rhythmic reminder of the restlessness within her.

"Do you love the Emperor?" When my words left my lips, I couldn't help but wonder if perhaps I had gone too far. To my surprise, her response was not what I expected. It wasn't anger or annoyance that crept into her expression, but rather pure, unbridled laughter that seemed to bubble up from deep within her. Each melodic peal of her laughter washed over me, filling the room with its contagious joy.

The fleeting moment of joy quickly dissipated, leaving behind a somber expression on her face. Her gaze shifted towards the window, where the outside world seemed to mirror her inner turmoil. Whatever happiness had briefly touched her heart was now overshadowed by a wave of sadness, evident in her downcast eyes and furrowed brow. The room around her suddenly felt colder, as if the emotional shift had a tangible effect on the atmosphere. It was as if the walls themselves could feel her melancholy, absorbing the weight of her emotions.

"There is no room for love in this palace."

I flinch at her words. Heartless conviction; this is something she learned a long time ago.

"All I can be is Empress, my father has already promised my cousin the dukedom." Her words are like acid, going against her normal elegant tone.

"That can be changed."

"My father would never let a woman take over the dukedom." As she gracefully positions herself on the luxurious sofa, her posture exudes a sense of poised anticipation, her eyes fixed on me in expectation of my next utterance. The room is enveloped in a momentary silence, punctuated only by the subtle rustle of fabric as she adjusts her position elegantly.

"But if both pieces are off the board, the position is yours. You're his daughter, the nobility wouldn't fight it since you're his daughter by blood. You are the most noble option." Nobility prioritizes birthright over gender. It might matter to her father that she is a woman, but most of the other nobles care more about birthright.

Of course, they would rather have a son take over the title, but the Duke doesn't have any sons. "Now the question is. How to throw them off the board." Athenix exudes an air of confidence and sophistication as she gracefully crosses her legs and leans back into the plush sofa. The subtle curve of her lips hints at a smirk, showcasing her self-assurance and poise.

"Your cousin could lose something. An arm, a leg. His sight." I muse as I walk towards her. "The Duke would never let someone with a disability take over the dukedom, it would hurt his pride. Or you could kill him."

"The problem lies in finding someone to do it without getting caught." Athenix let out a weary sigh, her hand reaching up to her forehead in frustration. "I have people watching me."

"But you also have me."

My words seem to shock her. "You would kill for me."

"It's easier than dying for you."

This causes a bubble of laughter to escape Athenix's lips. She clears her throat, her eyes now determined. "Do you have a plan."

"Not yet, I need more information, but I can take care of it for you."

She responds with a smirk on her face. "What do you need to know?"

"Your cousins name. Do you want him dead or not. Does he have any enemies."

Her lips purse in thought. "Henry. I don't care, as long as he isn't in my way and he can't prove I had something to do with it." She bites her lip seeming to be in thought again.

Since I will most likely have to kill the Duke, it would be better to disable Henry. Though the Duke would have to go shortly after so he doesn't have a chance to appoint someone else.

"A majority of the vassals don't want him to inherit the dukedom. He doesn't listen to their concerns and only worries about his self interest." She explains.

"I'll figure out a plan to get rid of him."  I make a slight curtsy before promptly opening the door to allow the other maids to enter the room.

"The ball celebrating you receiving a title is coming up. I hope nothing happens before then." Athenix muses, and I nod at her sudden hint.

"It's not far off. I'm sure it will be quiet until then, my lady." I offer my assurances to her, and in response, a subtle yet confidently amused smirk graces her lips.

"I'll buy your dress, I can't have my lady in waiting wearing rags."

"I'll summon the seamstress from Eveline boutique." Lynn performed a graceful curtsy before hastily making her way out of the door.

**

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