The palace was in a flurry of activity. Word of mouth traveled quickly within the servant’s grapevine, and by the afternoon there wasn’t anyone within the walls of the palace that wasn’t aware of the latest piece of news – the Lady Consort was with child!

The news sparked discussion of the rarely seen consort, and as was expected, speculations and rumours started to sow their seeds. Most, if not all of them, were baseless. However, it became a past-time of amusement.

“I heard that she is so beautiful that his majesty keeps her locked away, so that no one other than him lays eyes on her.”

“I heard that she never wanted to be a royal consort… but his majesty fell in love at first sight during the selection process and made it so she was chosen.”

“Are you sure? I heard it’s because she’s hideous but had seduced his majesty through vile means and thus secured her position.”

“No, no. She has the face of an angel. In fact, it is the Empress keeping them apart!”

The rumours and speculations were not contained to only those in the palace. As noble families learned of the news and spread it themselves, the speculations grew only more convoluted.

“My husband saw her, and said she was bewitching enough to steal hearts! The Dillon family must be so proud to have raised a temptress that has captured his majesty’s attention. The poor young Empress…”

“Well my sire said she was pitiful. Delicate enough to be blown away in a gust of wind. His majesty is torturing her, hiding her away in a dark tower and demanding she provide a child or be killed!”

“No, no! Not torturing her but hiding her away for her own good. I heard a foreign royal had heard of her beauty and demanded to have her or would wage war!”

If Rayyan heard what was being said she would be in stitches with laughter. However, there was no laughter as she sat across from her father, watching a myriad of emotions flit through his eyes. Despite the silence, she felt warm familiarity towards the man who was her father in this life.

Clearly, she was the only one feeling that emotion.

Vira trembled as she served tea, wishing to be as far away from the imposing nobleman sitting across from her… mistress? She was completely unaware of where she stood in relation to the Lady Consort. Just this morning she was an ordinary and low-ranking maid, but by the afternoon she had met some of the most imposing figures in the empire! The Duke’s attendant faired no better, resisting the urge to nervously pace as he stood rigidly behind his master.

Vira finished pouring tea, moving to stand up.

“You are dismissed.”

The strong voice had her almost stumbling, but she straightened herself enough for a sloppy curtesy and quickly left.

“My lord, maybe I too should leave,” Alan suggested helpfully, inching towards the door.

“Indeed,” the Duke intoned, turning to task his attendant with a job. “Take the young maid and find Sir Lenin, I wish to have an audience with him after.”

Alan froze in his attempt at escape, weeping internally at the thought of having to find the Emperor’s right-hand man for a second time that day. He confirmed he would do so miserably, shutting the door behind him.

Rayyan busied herself with her tea, noticing the serving plate ware was much nicer than what she had in her rooms. The parlour rooms were elegant and tasteful, a far cry from her living quarters. She smiled wryly, wondering how her father would react if he saw her living quarters.

The space next to her dipped with additional weight, and she turned to look at the man that was her father. Up close she could see the worry in his eyes, but also the fatigue tugging at his face. There was more white in his hair than from her last memory of him, both on his head and in his beard. He was slimmer, but that didn’t hamper the elegant and noble air around him.

A large, calloused hand grasped her smaller one. She put down the teacup and covered the warm hand, offering comfort to the one trying to give it to her.

“Lady Consort…no – Rayyan,” he started quietly, not meeting her eyes but instead staring at the frail hand covering his own. His jaw clenched, seeing that large adornment on her ring finger.

“I am sorry.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she tried to tug her hands away. He firmly held on, and a moment later she felt a wet drop land on the back of her hand.

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“Papa…” she murmured quietly, emotion swelling in her throat.

In her old life, she had lost her father quite young. Sorting through the memories of her predecessor though, she knew that had he been alive he would be like the man seated before her.

The unfamiliar address had him looking up at her. She tried to smile, but the wave of emotions washing over her made her eyes redden. In that moment the Duke of Dillon broke the rules of propriety, pulling his daughter into his arms.

Strong and warm comfort surrounded her, and Rayyan allowed herself to cry in that moment.

She cried for herself. For her untimely death and consequent rebirth in this unfamiliar world.

She cried for her predecessor. For the injustice the young woman faced as a result of the world around her.

She cried for the man that held her. For not knowing his daughter had suffered and died before he could have been with her one last time.

The small cries turned into heaving sobs as she soaked the front of his shirt with tears. At no point did he stop her or pull away, stroking her head and murmuring that same apology over and over again.

Some time passed before she could compose herself, taking in hiccupping gulps of air. She pulled away and another wave of tears entered her eyes seeing the mess she made of her father, and his own red eyes.

He mustered a weak laugh as she attempted to clean him up. Shaking his head, he pulled out a silk handkerchief and gently wiped her face. Tucking her errant strands of hair behind her ears, he grasped her face with both hands, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Father is sorry Rayyan,” he repeated again. The Duke composed himself and stood up, striding to the windows and opening them to allow fresh air to circulate the room.

“You’ve suffered, and there is not a moment where I don’t regret sending you to be a Royal Consort,” he explained. “My sense of duty blinded me to the fact that you were too young to assume these responsibilities. Even though you had agreed, I know it’s because of your mother and I. More so… so much happened. Your mother perished in that horrid fire just before you entered the palace… and in my grief I failed you. I thought it would be better for you to enter the Palace…I was a fool.”

Rayyan stood up, squawking awkwardly as the train of her dress got caught. Freeing herself, she hurried over.

“No father,” she corrected her address of him from her previous slip of tongue. “It is not your fault! I had wanted to enter; you and mother gave me a choice. It was my choice to assume this duty. I just… lost my way with all that happened. It is my fault for not trying hard enough, but please rest assured I will be better!”

The Duke smiled helplessly, looking down at his daughter as she tried to comfort him. He affectionately rubbed her head with a large hand.

“Silly child,” he lightly admonished. “Father will help you in anyway he can. Had you not been with child, I would have petitioned to dissolve the marriage. But, things will have to run its course. You must be diligent in taking care of yourself and child.”

She nodded seriously, committing his advice to memory. Grabbing his hand, she tugged him back to the seating area.

“Tell me what has happened since we last saw each other. How is my brother?”

“Caesar has been busy…”

The father daughter duo conversed happily, catching up on time lost and strengthening bonds. Time would have slipped by, but a gentle knock broke their discussion.

“Enter.”

The previously warm father was replaced once again by the imposing Duke. Alan entered, bowing as he addressed his master.

“Sir Lenin is available to meet you. He has asked to meet in the central palace’s office.”

“Very well.” Rayyan’s father turned and bowed towards his daughter. “This subject will take your leave, Lady Consort. We shall remain in discussion; this subject is available for whatever your ladyship needs.”

The formal goodbye left Rayyan uncomfortable, but she understood the need for it. She tilted her head gracefully and stood to dismiss him and Alan.

“Farewell Duke Dillon, I look forward to seeing you once again.”

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In the Empress’ palace, Calista nervously swept around her rooms. She had dismissed her lady’s – in – waiting and took to pacing the length of her rooms as she waited for the person she had requested.

The door opened without ceremony, and she turned in alarm. Seeing the familiar face, reprieve washed over her. Grabbing her skirts, she rushed towards the person, crying in relief.

“Mother!”

Smack!

The sudden blow had her crumpling to the ground. Clutching her reddened cheek, she stared up mutely at the woman, her mother, standing above her.

“Compose yourself Empress,” Duchess Verena Galen commanded coldly, “I ask that you remember decorum.”

Calista’s eyes dimmed, and she nodded as she stood herself up. “Yes, Duchess Galen,” she agreed softly.

The Duchess none too gently grasped her daughter’s wrist and pulled her to a chair. Grabbing an available cloth, she dipped it into the cold-water basin and came to stand before her daughter.

Pressing the cold cloth to her daughter’s reddened cheek, she began admonishing her.

“Empress, are you so incompetent that you could not handle this one matter?” she questioned disapprovingly.

Calista winced as the cold cloth pressed against her hot cheek. The show of weakness earned her an icy glare and she straightened to compose herself.

“I followed the instructions of the Duchess, however these circumstances were out of my hands,” she explained herself steadily.

“Evidently you did not Empress,” she rebuked. “Had you properly executed what I advised, that tramp would not be with child, much less have all the court and kingdom be aware. Did you use the medicine I gave to you?”

Calista remained silent, staring past her mother’s head and fixating on a painting on the wall behind her. Lips tightly pursed, she ignored the pressure against her cheek, focusing on the trail of water making its way down her neck.

Duchess Galen scoffed, tossing the cloth aside and striding away from her daughter.

“This is your own fault. The day you came crying to me that she was pregnant, I provided you with a solution. It is your own weakness that had brought you here today.”

There was a heavy silence between them, broken only by Calista’s soft voice.

“I thought…I thought it would be enough to have her live in those rooms… and with little food,” she explained quietly, “Pregnancy…it is so unreliable. I thought that would be enough for her to lose the… baby.”

The Duchess gave a mocking laugh, striding back and stooping to eye level with her daughter.

“Empress, did you think by doing it so, it would absolve you of the crime of murder?”

Calista flinched back at the word, cringing her eyes shut. Her mother tutted, leaning in closer.

“You are Empress, mother of the world; second only to the Emperor. Who you choose to live, who you choose to die – that is your right as Empress,” she cooed, trailing her fingers across the beautiful face and grasping her daughter’s chin in hand. “As such, there is no meaning to the word crime for you. So long as what you do is not found out.”

Shaking her head in disappointment, Duchess Galen moved away from her daughter and seated herself across from her. Helping herself to a cup of tea, she assessed the young woman sitting across from her.

“Empress, you did however say one thing right. Pregnancy is unpredictable.”

Giving a sharp smile, she questioned her daughter. “You have only a few months… what is it that you will do?”