You were jilted by the Emperor's most beloved son, born to the woman he cherished above all others.

His reason was simple: he found you too well-mannered, too dull, and far less appealing than a wandering swordswoman, whose boldness, freedom, and carefree charm captivated him.

The Emperor was furious, yet doted on his son too much to punish him. Instead, you were ordered to marry the third prince, Lucien.

Lucien was exceptionally gifted, accomplished in both civil and martial affairs, and beloved by the people. Yet for all his talent, he had never won his father's favor.

On your wedding night, Lucien drank himself into a stupor, his face twisted with resentment.

“Why does he get to have everything? Why, from the moment we were born, have I never been allowed to surpass him? Why is it that only what he discards is ever given to me?!”

He stormed out, apparently to clear his head. But a prince abandoning his bride on their wedding night? The story spread quickly, followed by no shortage of mockery and gossip.

Later, he apologized to you.

“It is my good fortune to have you as my wife.”

After all, you had been born into a powerful eunuch family. You understood politics, and you knew how to support a man navigating the imperial court. That was precisely why the Emperor had originally intended you for the Crown Prince. You had much to offer Lucien, too. He seemed to have something else to say, but in the end, he let the words die on his lips.

As it turned out, the wandering swordswoman was hardly suited to the role of Crown Princess. Her disregard for etiquette and her free-spirited nature repeatedly caused trouble at important occasions. She offered little help to the Empress, either. The Crown Prince was summoned and reprimanded by the Emperor time and again, but the Emperor could never bring himself to punish his beloved son too harshly. In the end, all he could do was order Adrian to keep his wife in line.

At a banquet, Adrian found you.

“Perhaps I should have chosen you as my wife after all.”

You gave no reply.

Back at home, the wandering swordswoman leaned against Lucien's shoulder, utterly aggrieved, her tears soaking into his expensive robes.

“He actually said I was inferior to other women! But he was the one who said he loved me just as I am!”

Lucien's expression grew grave, though his voice remained gentle as he comforted her. Still sobbing, she murmured, “Perhaps I should have married you instead.”

Not long afterward, Adrian came to see her. He spent a long time soothing her, and the two soon reconciled. His earlier words to you had contained no love, only the belated recognition of what a capable wife might have done for him. And his devotion to the wandering swordswoman had hardly made him any wiser.

You said nothing. You simply watched them leave.

From then on, the rivalry between the Crown Prince and the third prince seemed never to cease. Occasionally, when the wandering swordswoman encountered you, she would feign concern.

“How can the third prince treat his own wife so coldly?”

Yet whenever Lucien drew close to you, she would make some pointed remark, and somehow he would end up keeping his distance once more.

The tangled relationship between the four of you had become a laughingstock.

You were as dull as the Crown Prince had claimed. At least, that was what everyone thought.

But you knew better.

The Emperor was a good ruler, and the Empress was a good empress. Under their governance, the realm enjoyed peace and even prosperity. Yet the Emperor was far from a good father. He doted on Adrian, whose abilities were nothing extraordinary, while treating Lucien, whose talents far surpassed his elder brother's, with little warmth.

You knew what lay behind that coldness. You knew Lucien's past.

A child born from an emperor's drunken mistake. A child born to a woman dismissed as a commoner. A child who watched his mother fall gravely ill, unable even to afford a physician, and could only watch helplessly as she died. A child of exceptional ability, who, after finally distinguishing himself through his own efforts, was reprimanded by his father for being “too eager to outshine his elder brother.”

His ambition had never faded.

And the Empress—the “kind mother” who had always treated you with warmth—harbored grievances of her own. She resented the Emperor for secretly giving her a drug that had robbed her of the ability to bear children. She resented him for forcing her to raise the child of the woman she despised most, while allowing that child to benefit from the resources and influence of her own maternal family.

So the two of them joined hands.

And the Crown Prince, repeatedly led astray by a common-born woman? He was another piece of Lucien's plan.

Did Lucien love that carefree woman? From their very first meeting, he had seen through her vanity, her ambition, and the foolishness she could never quite conceal. But he knew Adrian would compete with him for the woman he believed Lucien desired—the same brother who had always stood a step above him. Lucien only needed to fan the flames. He could make Adrian welcome this trouble into his own bedchamber, where it would gradually cost him everything precious to him: his power, his wealth, his throne, and, eventually... you, the woman Lucien treasured above all else.

So Lucien had to appear resentful enough, jealous enough. Adrian simply mistook the object of that jealousy for a woman.

Now the Emperor lay gravely ill, and the affairs of the court had been entrusted to Adrian. Eager to prove himself, the Crown Prince made a mess of everything. At the urging of several powerful eunuchs, the Emperor decided that the two princes should divide the responsibilities between them and supervise one another.

He believed he was keeping the balance.

He had no idea he was only feeding the flames burning in both their hearts.

And perhaps there was one thing you still did not know.

Late at night, when there was no court to deceive and no audience to impress, Lucien would bury his face in the crook of your neck and whisper:

“I will make you the most exalted woman in this world. You should have been the most exalted woman in this world.”