That night, Corwin came to see me.
It was the first time in three months since I entered the estate that he stepped into my courtyard.
The doors creaked twice.
"About what happened today, I had no intention—"
I leaned against the window frame, holding a book in my hand, but I didn’t respond.
"You should understand that predicting fate in such a cold, merciless way makes me uneasy."
I snapped the book shut and looked at him steadily. "Chancellor, today you wanted to ask, and I only told the truth. But that made you unhappy. What exactly are you afraid of? Consort Thorne was poisoned and sought revenge for the princess. If, in the end, she was fated to die, then so be it."
He stood silently for a moment before turning away.
Consort Thorne had served the King faithfully for twenty years, enjoying his favor throughout.
But she had no children. And so, her death barely made a ripple in the court.
The King, unable to find anyone else to blame, directed his anger at the Crown Prince.
More than that, it was said that whenever the King’s illness worsened, the Crown Prince would send him medicine.
After the incident, the King’s suspicion of him only deepened.
The Eastern Palace was now heavily guarded, with even close aides barred from entering.
Duke Rowan kneeled outside the main hall for a day and night, pleading for the Crown Prince, but the King remained unmoved.
When he turned to Corwin, he wasn’t even allowed through the gates.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Corwin fell ill soon after and remained bedridden for months.
Spring came to visit me.
"I won’t go to see the Crown Prince," she said. "Summer is already locked away with him in the Eastern Palace."
I was sipping tea and looked up at her. "Spring, if you ask me, I will tell you—you won’t die."
She snatched the cup from my hand, gripping my wrist tightly.
"Autumn, look at me. Am I still your sister?"
Her fingers dug into my skin, and a drop of blood slid down my arm. She gritted her teeth. "You can see people’s deaths, but can you see mine?"
I studied her expression carefully.
"You and Summer have always been cold toward me," she said. "Doesn’t that make me the villain in your eyes? As if I don’t know what you two think of me? And now, when you need me, you suddenly ask for my help?"
She turned and walked away.
I still didn’t understand what made her so certain of her own kindness.
But given her abilities, she had always been able to align herself with the right people and avoid unnecessary troubles. Even when we were given in marriage to four powerful men, she and Duke Rowan had maintained an easy and beneficial relationship.
The Eastern Palace had endured a miserable, cold winter, but the Chancellor’s estate remained warm and inviting.
As for Corwin, he spent more time at Arianne’s residence.
The two of them often talked late into the night.
I kept my distance, watching from afar, my thoughts wandering elsewhere.
One evening, while we sat in quiet companionship, Arianne turned to Corwin.
"Should we invite General Elias over?"
Corwin nodded.
Elias arrived just as the first snow had melted, bringing with him a bouquet of red plum blossoms.
I took the flowers from him, brushing away the melting snow, feeling the damp petals against my fingertips.
Corwin and Arianne were still seated, the warmth of the brazier filling the room with a comforting scent.
Elias sat beside me. We said nothing, only sharing the quiet as we placed the blossoms in a vase.
Then, Arianne stirred the fire, and Corwin followed her out into the courtyard.
The four of us remained silent.
News soon arrived from the palace.
The Crown Prince’s consort, weakened from years of illness, had passed away.
Despite her status, she was buried in the Eastern Palace, forbidden a proper state funeral.
Arianne was granted permission to pay her respects.
The Eastern Palace, once isolated, was now strangely open to visitors. Even minor consorts and maids had the freedom to come and go.
Summer, who had been confined for nearly a year, was finally allowed to greet guests.
When she saw me, she smiled bitterly.
"I used to visit often," she admitted. "But as time passed…"
She hesitated, her voice trailing off.
I placed my hand over hers. "Summer, do you think an old, cunning fox can truly rise to power?"
She scoffed, lowering her gaze. "You overestimate me, sister."
But I knew she understood what I meant.
The game was far from over.