Chapter 21: The Grand Duke Reads the Morning Scandal (1)

The next morning began with an assassination attempt.

Not against my person, obviously. There were few people with the guts to even attempt such a farce.

Besides, if someone in the Capital had the gall to attempt such a thing so early in the morning, I would have admired their courage before having them buried somewhere scenic.

No, the victim was my peace.

The weapon was a paper.

"Your Excellency," Bernard said as he placed a neatly folded broadsheet on my breakfast table with the caution of someone presenting evidence of a crime. "The morning circulation has arrived."

I looked at the paper then at Bernard with doubt.

There were moments in life when one’s instincts screamed in warning. Oftentimes it would be if one is in mortal peril. Other times, it would be because some people did something stupid that it lowered the intelligence quotient of an entire city. This was one of the latter.

A sensible man would have ignored the paper entirely, enjoyed breakfast, and allowed the servants to burn every copy circulating within a ten-mile radius.

Unfortunately, I was not merely sensible.

I was also very curious.

A fatal flaw, truly. It had once led me to pick up an old lamp in the desert, and now I had a Jinn for a brother.

I reached for the broadsheet, unsuspectingly.

William, who stood nearby with his usual composure, lowered his eyes in a way that told me he already knew what it contained.

His silence did not bode well for me. Bernard’s pale face only made it worse.

Abi, seated across from me, leaned forward with sparkling anticipation. Spiro sat beside me, still a little stiff in his chair despite the fact that he had been given a cushion to make the seat more comfortable for his small frame. His spoon hovered over his porridge, amber eyes flickering curiously between the adults.

"Is it bad, Father?" Spiro asked carefully.

"It’s nothing worth spoiling your breakfast about," I replied.

Abi grinned. "That sounds like a lie."

"If you think that it is, then it looks like you’ve had enough for breakfast. I’ll have the maids take away your plate."

"You’re so petty."

"Yes, I am. If you have any protests, you would do well to just eat your eggs, Abi."

"I am not a child."

"Then stop acting like one."

Spiro’s lips twitched before he quickly lowered his head, pretending to be deeply invested in his porridge. A wise child. He was learning. Better than his uncle.

I unfolded the broadsheet.

The title struck me first.

Commentaries on the Scandals of Society

"Your reputation remains spotless, unless it makes a better story."

Volume XIV – The Grand Duke’s Blooming Garden

I stared, well maybe it was more of a glare.

Blooming garden? What blooming garden?

I had the sinking feeling that this particular paper was about to offend me in several creative ways.

My eyes moved lower.

My darlings, the Imperial Palace glittered last night with all the expected jewels, perfumed ballgowns, and fragile alliances.

Yet, as always, one man entered and turned ceremony into theatre merely by existing.

His Excellency, Grand Duke Skandar Aleksandr Konstantin of Sonomi, arrived in midnight black and desert gold, looking every bit like a beautiful calamity with impeccably sharp manners enough to slice fruit and egos alike.

I paused.

Well. That’s one thing I can’t argue about. At least the woman had taste.

I continued reading.

And he was not alone.

Beside him stood the newly revealed Lord Abinatha Konstantin, a man of such striking appearance that whispers immediately broke out across the ballroom. Brother, says His Excellency. Sworn brother, some insist. But my doves, since when did brothers appear from desert winds wearing violet starlight and eyes like expensive sin?

Abi made a pleased sound.

"Expensive sin," he repeated. "I like that."

"I will ban you from reading."

"This woman, she understands me."

"Don’t take that as a compliment."

He placed a hand over his chest, visibly touched. I decided to ignore him before his ego started growing roots through the floor.

The paper continued.

But that was not all. The Capital still trembles from news of the Grand Duke’s mysterious son, a boy with amber eyes said to mirror the Konstantin line. No mother has stepped forward. Yet. No marriage has been announced. Yet. No explanation has been given. Yet. Such restraint from His Excellency is either dignity... or delicious cruelty toward the curious.

"Father," Spiro said softly, "is it talking about me?"

I folded the paper slightly, enough to cover the next lines from his view. "Yes."

His little fingers tightened around his spoon. "Did I cause trouble for you, Father?"

"No."

"But they are writing about me."

"People write about things they cannot understand. It is an old illness."

Abi nodded solemnly. "One with no cure."

I glanced at him. "You are not helping at all. It would be best if you refrain from talking."

"What did I do? I was only agreeing with you."

"That is precisely the problem."

Spiro stared down at his porridge.

I sighed inwardly.

Children should not have to worry about gossip. They should worry about pointless things. Like whether sweets should be eaten before or after meals, why adults insist on naps despite sleep being a gift from the heavens, and how many decorative pillows one could steal from a sitting room before the head maid noticed.

Not whether a nest of perfume-addled vultures would tear into his identity.

"Spiro," I said.

He looked up immediately. Too immediately, almost as if he had been waiting for a reprimand.

I disliked that. It reminded me of unpleasant memories.

"Listen carefully. You did not cause trouble. Your existence is not trouble. The people writing and whispering are the ones making noise because silence does not profit them. Do you understand?"

His eyes wavered, then he nodded.

"Yes, Father."

"Good. Eat first. You need strength."

He obediently scooped porridge into his mouth.

The action was too earnest. Painfully so.

I looked back at the broadsheet before I accidentally crumple the paper too much and ruin my entire morning image.

But apparently, it was hell-bent on accomplishing its task for the next crime came without surprise.

As if the appearance of a brother and son were not enough, our beloved Grand Duke then gifted the ballroom with a scene fit for a romantic theatre.

A young lady in pale green nearly fell, wine in hand, poised to stain an honored ambassador in unforgivable red. Yet before disaster could bloom, His Excellency moved.

He was swift. He was elegant. He was impossibly gentle.

He caught the lady, saved the wine, and left half the ballroom wondering whether they too might trip for a chance at such rescue.

My hand tightened around the paper.

Impossible.

Absolutely impossible.

This woman had indeed written it as The Grand Duke’s Blooming Garden.

What hell of a garden?

Was I watering scandals now?

Abi made a strangled sound that developed into full-bodied laughter. He leaned back in his chair, shoulders shaking.

"Oh, this is glorious."

"I’m treating this a smear to my reputation."

"It is not. It is a fantastic piece of literature."

"It is another slander added to my name."

"She praised your elegance."

"She implied noblewomen will start deliberately falling near me."

"They might just do that, you know."

I lowered the paper and gave him a cold look.

Abi, shameless creature that he was, only laughed harder.

Spiro, however, looked confused. "Father saved someone?"

"No," I said.

"Yes, he did," Abi said.

I glared at him.

He smiled back, delighted.

"The lady nearly fell," I explained with great patience. "I simply prevented what could be a mere minor accident."

"Wow. Father is so kind," Spiro said with absolute sincerity.

I froze. Abi turned away, but not fast enough to hide his annoying grin.

William looked like he was staring at a distant wall with the discipline of a man fighting for his life.

Bernard coughed on his hand.

Even the maid pouring tea lowered her head suspiciously.

I see. This whole room was against me.

"I am only being practical," I corrected.

Spiro nodded. "Yes. Father is practically kind."

I closed my eyes.

There were battles one could win through strength. Others through wit. And then there were battles lost the moment an earnest child opened his mouth.

This was the third category. That much is obvious.

"Eat your porridge, Spiro," I said helplessly.

"Yes, Father."

Abi finally lost his composure again. I decided he could be dealt with later. Perhaps by starvation or by banning his favorite desserts. That seemed more humane than a lamp, though regrettably less satisfying.

I continued reading, because apparently I enjoyed suffering.

The most intriguing matter of all, however, came after the first dance. His Highness the Crown Prince excused himself, as is customary.

Yet, dear readers, one must ask why the Grand Duke of Sonomi soon after disappeared toward the eastern gallery, accompanied by his violet-eyed brother.

Did politics also bloom beneath moonlight? Did the future emperor reach toward the distant East? Did the desert finally decide to step into imperial affairs?

The palace smiles. The court whispers. The East remains ever silent.

And silence, my doves, is where the best stories breed.

Until next time,

The Lady of the Crimson Quill

I lowered the paper.

The breakfast room was quiet.

Abi was still smiling. I am contemplating whether to finally try my landing my knuckles to his mug.

William, on the other hand was watchful.

Bernard looked increasingly like he wished to disappear into the wallpaper.

Spiro blinked up at me, waiting.

I folded the paper neatly and placed it beside my plate. Calm and composed.

"She writes better than expected," I admitted.

Abi slapped the table once.

"There it is! I knew you would appreciate her."

"I appreciate competence. Not the harassment it entails."

"Well, she called me expensive sin. I don’t find that the least bit harassing."

"Her credibility lowered the moment she wrote that into her article."

"On that contrary, I think it raised it."

"No."

William cleared his throat delicately. "Your Excellency, should we suppress the circulation?"

I considered it. Suppressing the circulation would be easy. Buying every copy would be easier. Burning the printing house would be satisfying but a bit too excessive. The article itself was dangerous in certain ways, but it was also useful in others.

The rumors regarding Spiro would spread regardless. At least this version framed him as a mystery tied directly to my bloodline rather than a weakness. Abi’s public introduction as my sworn brother also took on a theatrical quality that made him less of a security concern and more of a scandalous curiosity.

As for my meeting with the Crown Prince, it being noticed was expected.

No, more than that. It was beneficial.

Let the court wonder whether the East had taken interest in the heir.

Let the factions squirm. I liked watching them squirm. It was as amusing as watching worms wriggle helplessly.

It would let the Crown Prince feel the ripple of my presence before I even made a move.

A villain lord is someone who understand the value of atmosphere.

"Do nothing," I said.

Bernard looked surprised. William did not.

"Nothing, Your Excellency?" Bernard asked.

"Nothing," I confirmed. "If we suppress it, we appear defensive. If we protest, we will be giving it undeserved weight. If we ignore it, we will remain distant and untouchable."

Abi hummed. "And what if noblewomen begin tripping near you?"

"I will step aside this time."

Spiro looked alarmed. "But what if they get hurt, Father?"

I stared at him.

This child.

Why was his first concern so genuine?

"Well, if they fall deliberately, that is their responsibility."

"But if they fall accidentally?"

"Then I believe someone else may catch them, this time."

"What if no one does, Father?"

"Then the floor will do the honors."

"Father."

He looked up at me with such serious disapproval that I actually felt accused.

Me.

Accused by a child over hypothetical falling noblewomen. Such undeserved injustice. This was a pot meant for Abi, not me.

Abi, the deserving one on question, buried his face in his hand, shoulders shaking again. Thereby, proving my point.

I took a slow sip of tea.

"Fine," I said. "If someone falls accidentally and I am nearby, I will prevent injury."

Spiro smiled, finally satisfied.

"That’s good. Being kind is good."