I had not yet finished speaking when Duke Rowan’s face twisted in anger.

  "Enough! Are you delusional? Even without Alaric, there are still other members of the royal family. It’s not like the dynasty has run out of heirs. And as for you—the so-called adopted daughter of Duke of Braedon—that’s nothing more than a title. Go back where you came from."

  As expected, I had already predicted his reaction.

  I was never good at convincing people with direct words.

  "Or… shall I tell you what happens if you don’t choose me?" I said, tilting my head. "If you refuse, you will only force Alaric to solidify his claim sooner, just to secure your support. That’s what you’re waiting for, right? For him to run out of options, to be desperate enough to beg you?"

  Duke Rowan remained composed, showing no reaction.

  I sighed softly, shaking my head.

  "Then you won’t have time to wait. The moment I walk out of here, Alaric will learn about the troops moving from Braedon. Your lands, your soldiers—marching under your banner—will be seen as a direct threat to the capital. Tell me, if you were Alaric, would you believe this was merely a request for an imperial decree?"

  His brow furrowed.

  "The troops of Braedon wouldn’t move without my command!"

  I didn’t answer. My voice was steady and slow.

  "You've been locked away in this dungeon. You have no idea what’s happening outside. In a few days, Darius will arrive. In a month, Elias will reach the capital. But Braedon’s forces departed too late. By the time they arrive, the new emperor will have already taken the throne. Their march will be for nothing, and they will die for nothing."

  His expression darkened, realization dawning in his eyes.

  "Spring Myles! She did this! Over and over again… What did you say to make her agree to this?"

  I smiled.

  "I told her… it would save you."

  Duke Rowan fell silent for a long moment. His gaze grew cold.

  "Even if I go along with this, who would accept it? You do not bear the royal name, and you are a woman. Do you intend to sit on the throne?"

  "You say I don’t bear the royal name?"

  I pulled out Consort Thorne’s jade pendant and held it before him.

  "Look closely. Do I not resemble the long-lost princess?"

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  His eyes narrowed. He reached for it, but I moved it away.

  "This idea came from Darius. The royal family needs legitimacy, don’t they?"

  I caressed the pendant, my voice calm and steady.

  "Brother-in-law, when the infant princess was cast into the river all those years ago, the only witnesses were the Late King, the Late Empress, Consort Thorne, Corwin—all dead. The only ones left… are you and Darius."

  I met his gaze directly.

  "I am widowed. No husband, no children. I seek only a reign of my own. And you—you seek to secure the future of the royal bloodline. So if I take the throne, I will leave behind an imperial decree, granting you the right to select my successor from the royal family. When I die, the crown will return to the Rowan bloodline."

  He studied me, eyes flickering with uncertainty.

  "Autumn Myles, even if I agree… will Darius allow you to rule? Will Alaric accept such a fabricated identity? If even one of them refuses, your plan is nothing more than a joke!"

  I carefully tucked the pendant away and gave him a small, knowing smile.

  "Brother-in-law, I have said everything I needed to say. The day Alaric ascends the throne will not be peaceful. All you need to do is stand in the hall, acknowledge me as the lost princess, and declare your support for me as ruler. Leave the rest to me. If I fail, at the very least, I will ensure that Spring recalls the Braedon troops before a single drop of blood is shed."

  I left the dungeon and met with Alaric, informing him that Duke Rowan had been convinced.

  He was ecstatic, immediately preparing for his ascension ceremony before Darius could reach the capital.

  As I stepped out of the great hall, I spotted my youngest sister.

  "Third Sister, it’s been a long time."

  Winter stood beneath the corridor, draped in a dark purple cloak embroidered with golden cranes. She held a round silk fan in one hand, while a golden phoenix hairpin glittered atop her head, the delicate tail feathers swaying with her every movement.

  A year in the palace had left her well cared for.

  Her complexion was as pale as snow, her features refined, and she seemed fuller than before.

  But it was only October, and she was already wrapped in thick layers.

  Clearly, her fear of the cold had only worsened.

  My eyes trailed upward, pausing on the phoenix hairpin.

  "This was the Late Empress’s keepsake," she said, tilting her chin slightly. "Isn’t it beautiful?"

  "It suits you well."

  I studied it for a moment longer.

  It was perfectly within reach.

  The day of the ascension was shrouded in thick, overcast skies.

  Duke Rowan and the royal family entered the grand hall. The court officials gathered outside.

  Before the Late King’s casket, Alaric knelt, bowing three times and prostrating himself nine times.

  As tradition dictated, the next step was for the royal decree to be read.

  However, at the time of the Late King’s death, the only ones present in the chamber had been Alaric and Winter Myles.

  Thus, the legitimacy of this decree was questionable.

  When the announcement reached the part declaring Alaric the rightful successor, Duke Rowan hesitated. His brow furrowed, his body tensed.

  But before he could move, someone else stepped forward first.