Chapter 222: Happiness

The Capital was a game of deception.

And she had just discovered that one of her most useful pieces was a highly intelligent, stressed, and extremely shiny administrator who was remarkably easy to manipulate.

She would have to be careful with him.

After all, Alistair was clever; he might eventually figure her out.

But that was a problem for another day. For now, there was a banquet in three days, and every major faction in the Imperial Court would be watching.

Seraphina’s dark eyes gleamed over the top of her book.

’Let them come, bring their questions, spies, and their little schemes.’

She turned another page.

’I also have my ducks.’

And somewhere inside the Capital Estate, hundreds of tiny paper wings rustled simultaneously.

***

The morning sun over the Nacht Capital Estate was bright, cheerful, and incongruous with the suffocating academic warfare occurring within the primary drawing room.

Alistair, the Chief Administrative Aide, was currently standing before a massive chalkboard that he had ordered hauled into the elegant, silk-draped room.

He was impeccably dressed in his dark green scholar’s robes, his blonde hair securely tied back, his emerald eyes burning with the manic, exhausted intensity of a man who had stayed up until four in the morning redesigning a curriculum for a child.

Sitting across from him, positioned behind a custom-built, child-sized mahogany desk, was Seraphina.

"Therefore," Alistair lectured, tapping the chalkboard with a piece of white chalk, his voice tight with strain, "when calculating the compound interest of the Eastern agricultural tariffs over a ten-year projection, one must account for the seasonal depreciation of plows. Do you follow the algorithmic sequence, Lady Seraphina?"

Seraphina swung her small, white-stockinged legs under the desk. She rested her chin on her hands, her dark eyes unblinking.

"You forgot to carry the variable for the coastal monsoon season in year four, Alistair," Seraphina pointed out mildly, her high-pitched, childish voice contrasting horrifically with the economic reality of her words. "If the monsoons flood the lower basins, the grain yield drops by twenty percent, which fundamentally destabilizes your entire ten-year interest bracket. Your math is optimistic. It lacks geopolitical cynicism."

SNAP!

The piece of chalk in Alistair’s hand broke in two.

The beautiful, ethereal scholar slowly lowered his hand, staring at the six-year-old.

His chest heaved with a mixture of soul-shattering intellectual awe and intense, burning humiliation.

She was right.

She had mentally calculated a ten-year agricultural projection and spotted a weather variable he had omitted.

’She is not human,’ Alistair’s internal monologue wept, fighting the urge to tear his own perfect hair out. ’She is a demon sent by the God of Accounting to punish me for my arrogance.’

Before Alistair could formulate a defense for his mathematical oversight, the heavy doors of the drawing room did not merely open; they were violently thrown wide, slamming against the marble walls with a thunderous CRASH that rattled the crystal chandeliers.

"KAELUS! YOU MISERABLE, BROODING ICICLE! WE HAVE ARRIVED!"

The booming roar of Archduke Leonidas Valen echoed through the pristine halls of the estate, carrying the volume and subtlety of a volcanic eruption.

Seraphina gasped, her dark eyes lighting up instantly.

The terrifying, geopolitical mastermind vanished in a second, overridden by the pure excitement of a six-year-old who had just heard the voice of her favorite, loudest uncle.

She scrambled off her plush chair, abandoning the complex agricultural ledgers without a second glance.

"Uncle Leo!" Seraphina squealed, her white dress swishing as she bolted toward the doorway.

Duke Kaelus von Nacht had been standing near the fireplace, casually reviewing a military dispatch while listening to Alistair’s lesson. At the sound of Leonidas’s voice, the Archduke’s jaw tightened, an expression of weary irritation settling over his flawless, pale features.

But as Seraphina sprinted toward the door, Kaelus’s demeanor shifted.

He anticipated her trajectory and expected the usual routine.

He automatically turned, lowering his dispatch, and held his black-gloved arms open, fully prepared to catch his daughter as she inevitably launched herself into his protective embrace before greeting the guests.

But Seraphina did not launch herself at Kaelus.

She ran straight past him.

She didn’t even clip his cape.

She bypassed the terrifying Reaper of the North entirely, her eyes locked onto the figures stepping through the grand doorway.

Archduke Leonidas was there, grinning fiercely, his red hair a wild mane. But standing slightly in front of him, radiating an aura of pure maternal warmth, was Duchess Lysandra.

Lysandra was dressed in a stunning, traveling gown of soft gold and deep amber. Her beautiful face lit up with a smile so radiant it practically outshined the Capital sun the moment she saw the tiny girl running toward her.

"AUNTIE LYSA!" Seraphina shrieked, a sound of such pure, crystalline, uninhibited joy that it echoed through the entire wing of the mansion.

Lysandra didn’t care about aristocratic decorum.

She didn’t care that they were in the grand foyer of a rival Archduke’s estate. She immediately dropped to her knees on the marble floor, throwing her arms wide.

Seraphina crashed into the Duchess, throwing her tiny arms around Lysandra’s neck, burying her face directly into the soft, fragrant silk of the Duchess’s gown.

"Oh, my sweet, precious little bird!" Lysandra gasped happily, wrapping her arms tightly around the child, pulling her flush against her chest, pressing fierce, loving kisses to the top of Seraphina’s dark hair. "I missed you so much! Look at you! You look so beautiful in your new dresses!"

"I missed you too, Auntie Lysa!" Seraphina mumbled happily into the silk, practically rubbing her cheek against the soft fabric like an affectionate, attention-starved kitten.

She genuinely, truly loved the Duchess.

With Kaelus, she had protection and fierce loyalty.

With the knights, she had fun. But Lysandra offered a specific, gentle, unconditionally soft maternal warmth that Seraphina’s soul had desperately craved for two lifetimes.

It was a beautiful, heartwarming, incredibly touching scene of reunion.

Three feet away, Duke Kaelus von Nacht was currently experiencing a psychological meltdown of apocalyptic proportions.