Chapter 578: Toying Along

The great doors of the Imperial Court groaned open. The whispering nobles, the shifting courtiers, the servants frozen mid-step, fell silent all at once.

Angela entered alone.

No guards flanked her as she walked the long, polished aisle of the throne room as though she had never been gone. Looking at her now, it felt like the years in the dungeon were nothing more than a brief interlude in an otherwise unbroken reign of presence.

Her gown was deep sapphire, almost black where the shadows caught it, embroidered with silver thread that traced the Iondora crest across her bodice. The heavy velvet train whispered against the marble, trailing behind her.

Her black hair had been arranged elegantly, threaded with pearls and pinned so that not a single strand dared escape. Her lips were painted the deep, bruised red of old wine. While her eyes, those violet Iondora eyes, were not lowered. Not at all demure.

The announcer’s voice rang out across the hall.

"Her Imperial Highness, Princess Angela Iondora, First Daughter of the House Iondora, enters the court of His Majesty, Emperor Damon Iondora!"

The whispers began slowly, slithered through the assembled nobles like wind through dry grass, curling around her ankles, pressing against her spine. Oh well.

The court parted before her like water.

She didn’t hurry. Why would she? She walked slowly, the train of her gown swept over the floor as though the marble itself was honored to carry it.

At the head of the hall, upon the throne that had belonged to their father, sat Damon.

He was clad in black, the imperial mantle heavy on his shoulders and the crown resting on his brow like a thing that had always been there.

Look at that relief on his face.

She reached the base of the dais and stopped. Before bowing in front of her brother.

"Your Majesty. I have returned."

Damon’s lips curved.

"Welcome back, Princess."

The whispers behind her died.

And then Damon spoke again. "Today, we gather to uncover the truth of our father’s murder. The late Emperor was slain by treachery, and I have called upon the one person who can unravel it."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the assembled nobles.

"Princess Angela Iondora will have the floor."

Angela turned to face the court and lifted her chin.

"Esteemed lords and ladies of the Empire," she paused, "today, I will tell you who killed our Emperor."

***

The temple’s carriage rolled to a stop before the great palace gates, and for a long moment, Ruby did not move.

Beyond the frosted glass, the palace rose like a mountain of white stone and gold, its towers piercing the pale winter sky and its banners snapping in the cold wind.

She took a slow breath, steadying herself, and stepped out of the carriage. Father Rohan followed a step behind her, his plain healer’s robes quite a contrast to the opulence around them.

Ruby walked through the towering doors of the palace, her special Saintess robes brushing against the polished marble floor. The guards stationed at the entrance bowed low as she passed, their eyes carefully averted.

She could feel their stares anyway.

People must’ve heard. There she was, the Saintess who screamed like a madwoman in the middle of the night. The one who clawed at her own throat, and even after all that, whose own husband didn’t come for her.

She lifted her chin higher.

The corridor stretched before her, and the heels of her shoes clicked against the stone. And then, because she needed something to fill the silence, she turned her head slightly toward the man walking beside her.

"Thank you for accompanying me all the way here, Father," she said, her voice gentle, a soft smile curving her lips.

Father Rohan raised his eyebrows, a flicker of mild amusement passing across his features. His smile, when it came, was warm but not obsequious. He clearly knew his own worth and did not need to perform for anyone.

"It is a bit troublesome," he said lightly. "I had to pause my potion-making session for you."

Ruby knew he was joking. The man had a way of speaking that was both gentle and disarming, as though nothing in the world could truly rattle him.

She let out a small, breathy laugh. "I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Father. I truly am grateful."

"It’s no trouble, Saintess," he replied, his tone softening. "These are troubling times. It’s only right that you have someone at your side."

Someone at her side.

Well, anyone would be better than that disgusting pope.

She should have someone at her side. But she didn’t. In the end, she had only Father Rohan, a contract healer she barely knew, standing in the echoing halls of the imperial palace, walking beside her.

Somehow, she was grateful for it, even as the bitterness curled in her chest.

She was the Saintess. The chosen vessel of the gods, the most blessed woman in the empire. And she was alone.

Roarke could see the tension in her shoulders. She was clearly uncomfortable.

Nikolas Delanivis, her husband, was still embroiled in the chaos of the Edengolds’ relentless assault on his family. Roarke knew this as he watched the Delanivis name being systematically dismantled piece by piece.

But even so, even with the war and the attacks and the political maelstrom consuming them, they should have known. They should have sent someone to check on her, right? A cursory acknowledgment that their Saintess was vulnerable and needed comfort, perhaps?

They had sent nothing.

And Roarke knew that this was all the Luna’s doing.

He had a feeling that she was the one behind the Edengolds’ assault on the Delanivis family. She had timed it so that when Ruby fell, there would be no one left to catch her.

Roarke suppressed a shiver.

What a ruthless lady.

He had known she was formidable. But this... this meticulous isolation of an enemy... was akin to art.

She had not raised a hand against Ruby, nor did she utter a single threat. She had simply... removed every support, every safeguard, every shoulder the Saintess might have leaned on, and left her to stand alone.

Only to place him right beside her like this.

It was elegant.

They arrived at the guest reception room, and the guards at the door bowed as they opened it.

Ruby stepped inside first and Roarke followed a step behind, only to see Ruby flinch.

The room was not empty.

People were already inside, seated in the elegant chairs arranged around the low table. But not the people she expected.

One of them was the very one.

Lady Sees. The Luna.

She turned toward the door as it opened, and Roarke could see the curve of her red painted smile under the hem of her veil.

"Here she is," the Luna said, warm and welcoming.

Roarke suppressed every expression that threatened to surface. How long are you planning to toy with her, Luna?

What a ruthless lady indeed.