Chapter 186: Political Consequences [1]

Returning home, Anastasiya immediately glared at Ilya.

"Whatever kind of farce the two of you are playing, call it off."

"...What do you mean?"

"Your engagement with the Princess. Call it off."

Anastasiya stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned toward him, her expression completely different from the one she had been showing throughout most of the evening.

"I don’t know what kind of agreement you have with Her Highness, but the political consequences aren’t something you, or even I, could handle so easily. I’ll try to convince Father somehow before this goes any further."

"...."

Ilya stared at her for a moment, genuinely surprised by how quickly her attitude had changed.

Barely an hour ago, Anastasiya had been walking around the carnival with Liselotte, buying her food, winning prizes for her, and gradually becoming comfortable enough that the two had started addressing each other by name.

If he hadn’t known any better, he would have assumed his sister had taken a liking to Liselotte.

"You and I both know the North isn’t as stable as it looks," Anastasiya said.

"And that’s exactly why—"

"That’s exactly why a matter like this is beyond Her Highness alone," Anastasiya interrupted, refusing to let him finish. "Whatever agreement you have with Her Highness doesn’t change the fact that Father and His Imperial Majesty are the ones who ultimately decide whether this engagement becomes official. And tell me something, Ilya. Do you truly believe Father makes the correct decision every time?"

"...."

Ilya stared at her for several seconds, his expression slowly changing as he realized exactly what she had just implied.

Their father was still the Grand Duke, the head of House Belozersky, and the man whose authority Anastasiya herself was being raised to inherit, so hearing those words come from her was considerably more surprising than if they had come from anyone else.

"...Are you questioning Father?"

"Yes, I am."

Anastasiya met his gaze without flinching, and although her voice remained calm, the conviction behind it was enough to make Ilya stop whatever response had been about to leave his mouth. There was no hesitation and no attempt to soften what she had said simply because the man they were discussing was their father.

"As the future head of House Belozersky, it is my duty to lead this family down the right path, even if the person standing in that path happens to be Father himself."

Anastasiya placed a hand against her chest, her fingers slowly curling against the fabric of her clothes.

"My blood is Belozersky blood. If it must be spilled for this family, then I will spill it willingly, and if Father’s decisions threaten the future of everything I’m supposed to inherit and protect, then being his daughter will not stop me from opposing him."

Ilya’s eyes narrowed.

Those weren’t words Anastasiya would have spoken lightly.

Their father was still the Grand Duke, the head of House Belozersky, and the man whose authority Anastasiya herself would one day inherit, yet she had just admitted without the slightest attempt to soften it that there were circumstances in which she would stand against him.

More importantly, neither of them needed to ask why she would even consider doing so.

"...Are you afraid?" Ilya asked.

"...."

"Afraid that if this engagement actually happens, my political influence might eventually surpass yours?"

"Don’t you dare talk back to me."

Her voice cracked through the hallway. Anastasiya stepped toward him, whatever restraint she had maintained throughout the conversation finally beginning to slip as she glared directly into his eyes.

"You think this is about my position?"

"Isn’t it?" Ilya asked, recovering quickly. "You spent your entire life preparing to become Grand Duchess, and suddenly your useless little brother might marry into the Imperial Family. I’d say that’s at least worth considering."

Anastasiya’s clenched her teeth. "You arrogant little bastard."

"There she is."

"I am trying to stop you from walking blindly into something you don’t understand, and the first thing you do is accuse me of being threatened by you?"

Anastasiya’s voice rose as she spoke, and whatever concern had motivated the conversation was rapidly being buried beneath genuine anger.

"Do you really think so highly of yourself now that you believe everything I do must somehow revolve around keeping you beneath me?"

"I didn’t say everything."

"You didn’t have to."

Anastasiya took another step closer, leaving barely any distance between them.

Neither appeared willing to move away, and the tension that had been simmering beneath their conversation since they returned home finally broke through the thin layer of civility they had managed to maintain.

"If all I cared about was protecting my position, I wouldn’t be standing here warning you," Anastasiya continued. "I’d let you marry her. I’d let you throw yourself into the Imperial Court, let every faction in the Empire pull you apart trying to determine whose side you’re on, and then I’d sit comfortably in the North while you dealt with the consequences yourself."

"Maybe I’d manage."

"You don’t even know what you’re walking into."

"And you do?"

"More than you."

Ilya gave a short laugh.

Anastasiya’s expression darkened further.

"There it is again," she said. "That ridiculous arrogance you’ve developed lately. You win a few fights, place first in an examination, learn enough magic to finally make people look at you differently, and suddenly you think you’re prepared for everything."

Ilya’s smile disappeared.

"Careful."

"No, you be careful."

Anastasiya jabbed a finger against his chest.

"This isn’t the academy. You can’t solve this by punching someone in the face or pulling out some trick nobody expected you to have. The people who would take an interest in you because of Liselotte have been playing politics since before either of us could walk, and some of them would happily smile across a dinner table while deciding how useful your death would be."

Ilya grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from his chest.

"Don’t touch me."

Anastasiya immediately tore her arm free.

"Then stop acting like a child," Ilya said.

"Funny coming from you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you stand there talking about Father’s mistakes as though you’ve suddenly become the one person qualified to fix everything." Ilya’s voice remained quieter than hers. "You aren’t the Grand Duchess yet, Anastasiya."

"I know that."

"Do you? Because you’ve been talking like Father is already incapable of making his own decisions."

The words stopped her.

For only a second, Anastasiya said nothing.

Then her expression changed.

"Don’t."

"Don’t what?"

"Don’t use Father to win an argument with me."

"You brought him into this."

"Because somebody has to!"

The answer came louder than anything she had said before.

Ilya’s eyes narrowed, and Anastasiya seemed to realize what had escaped her mouth only after it was already too late.

She looked away for a moment, breathing through her nose as she tried to regain control of herself, but whatever restraint she had managed to recover lasted only until she looked at him again.

"You know exactly what I mean, Ilya."

"Then say it."

"Don’t make me."

"Why? You had no problem questioning him a minute ago."

"Because questioning Father and humiliating him are two different things."

"Who said anything about humiliating him?"

"You’re trying to make me say it aloud!"