The servants in the imperial palace rushed to clean and prepare the Empress's waiting room. Not a single speck of dust could be left behind—everything had to be spotless. The Queen of the Amber Kingdom was not one to be trifled with. She was a force to be reckoned with.
"Don't forget to remind the chef—it's rosemary," Jessica, the head servant, said, prompting a few muffled chuckles from the others. But they quickly composed themselves, refocusing on their work. Last winter, the chef had nearly lost his head for mistakenly using honeysuckle essence instead of rosemary in the Queen's iced tea.
That day had been sheer chaos. Most of the palace staff whispered among themselves that Queen Victoria was a bitter woman who delighted in spreading her misery to those around her.
*FLASHBACK*
The queen's sharp gaze bore into the trembling maid holding the tea tray. Her hands shook so violently that the porcelain saucer nearly slipped. The sheer disgust in Victoria's expression sent a shiver down the spines of the maids scrubbing the marble floors.
"Who made this rubbish?" she spat venomously, not even bothering to taste it. The scent alone offended her refined senses.
"T—the head chef, Your Highness," the maid stammered, her head bowed in submission.
"Is something wrong, Victoria?" The Empress's voice carried a hint of feigned concern. With her keen nose, she had already caught the refreshing fragrance of honeysuckle, but as a gracious hostess, she had to ask. Irritating.
"Hmph. Yes. I specifically requested dandelion tea with rosemary essence, not dandelion tea, with honeysuckle extract."
The maid's eyes widened in panic. The chef was doomed. And so was she. She hadn't even noticed the mistake—her ordinary human nose hadn't detected the difference. Now, she needed to find a way out of this mess.
This was a matter of every man for himself. Oh, heavens, have mercy on this poor and helpless one. "She prayed silently, head bowed so low that her nose was nearly dipping into the teacup.
"Bring me the chef," the Empress commanded.
The maid felt an overwhelming sense of relief and hurried to obey. The last thing she wanted was for the Empress to change her mind and direct her wrath toward her instead.
Moments later, the chef was dragged before the Empress, his face drenched in sweat.
"Your Majesty, I—"
"Do you intend to poison the Queen?" Adira's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"N-no, Your Majesty! I would never—"
"Then why did you add honeysuckle when I clearly requested rosemary?" Her fury simmered beneath the surface, barely restrained.
Adira, the Empress, watched silently. In her opinion, Victoria was overreacting—it wasn't as if she was allergic to honeysuckle. But shaming her in front of mere servants would be unwise.
"Take this fool to the dungeons," Adira ordered coldly. "I'll deal with him later."
Guards emerged from the shadows and seized the pleading chef, dragging him away as he begged for mercy.
*END OF FLASHBACK*
Now, the servants could joke about it—but on that day, there had been nothing funny about it. The air had been thick with fear. No one had dared to even breathe too loudly, lest they, too, earn an unexpected "vacation" to the dungeons.
---
"Your Majesties."
Victoria and Arnold acknowledged the emperor and empress with a slight bow of their heads.
"Victoria, Arnold," the emperor and empress responded with a nod of acknowledgement.
They were silently led to the waiting room, engaging in polite small talk while tea was served.
"Victoria, it has been a while since you graced us with your noble presence. I trust all is well?" The empress inquired, her graceful, practised smile never faltering.
Victoria set down her teacup at the empress's words.
"That's right, Your Majesty. I've been preoccupied with various matters—but all is well. I appreciate your concern, Your Imperial Majesty."
The empress hummed in acknowledgement before voicing another thought.
"It has also been some time since we last saw Elisabeta. I hope she is still her respectful and spirited self?" She chuckled lightly.
For the first time since arriving, Victoria allowed a genuine smile to break through her carefully composed expression. Thoughts of her daughter softened the sharp edges of her troubled heart.
"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. She is. I believe she's just been busy, but I expect she will visit soon."
The excuse came swiftly, but neither the empress nor the emperor was fooled. Elisabeta had stopped visiting the imperial palace as soon as their children had left the empire for the outside world.
It had not gone unnoticed how she looked at their son—with longing, with desire. For a fleeting moment, they had entertained the thought of her as their daughter-in-law. She would have been easy to mould, easy to manipulate if it involved Alaric. But fate had other plans. Their fondness for the young princess was genuine, but duty required them to play their roles.
The empress sipped her tea, effortlessly maintaining her air of hospitality. "How was your journey? I trust there were no discomforts?"
"Nothing we couldn't handle, Your Imperial Majesty," Arnold replied smoothly.
The emperor, a man of few words, finally spoke. "Well, I assume you did not travel all this way merely for idle chatter."
The waiting room fell into a tense hush, the weight of unspoken words settling over them like a heavy cloak.
The emperor was a cold and pragmatic man, never one to waste time on idle or meaningless conversation—unlike his wife, who had been trained in the art of diplomacy and hospitality as a good empress.
Victoria let out a silent, heavy sigh as Arnold finally addressed the issue at hand. It was the unspoken elephant in the room that they had all been tiptoeing around. Better to get it over with so I can return to my palace, she thought.
"We've heard the news, Your Imperial Majesties," Arnold said, his voice even. "We are here to confirm whether there is any truth to what we've been told."
The emperor responded first, his tone impassive. "Whatever you have heard is the truth."
The empress followed up with a more measured response, her voice carrying a note of understanding. "The First Princess is to marry our son. We realize this must come as a shock, especially since we did not inform you before making the public announcement."
Arnold frowned. "But why the First Princess? We all know she is my illegitimate child, and our culture frowns upon such unions."
"The prophecy is manifesting," the empress said simply.
Victoria and Arnold exchanged confused glances. The empress, however, merely sighed before continuing.
"But before I explain, understand this—it is not our decision alone. The gods have spoken."
Victoria caught the pitying look the empress cast in her direction. It did not go unnoticed, and it made her skin crawl. How she loathed such looks. But what could she do? Rebuking the Empress of Arthandica was out of the question. Annoying.
The empress continued, her voice calm and deliberate. "Two decades ago, the High Priestess delivered a prophecy—one that the gods themselves commanded to be shared. It was simple, yet absolute."
*FLASHBACK*
The wind howled through the empire, shrieking as if heralding a great war. Dark clouds gathered in perfect formation across the sky, and moments later, the heavens unleashed torrents of rain upon Arthandica.
Within the palace walls, a maid rushed toward the emperor's chambers, her steps hurried, her breath laboured. "Your Imperial Majesties, the High Priestess has arrived," she announced, barely able to mask her unease.
Whispers spread through the palace like wildfire. The High Priestess rarely left the Holy Temple, preferring to send her subordinates when delivering divine messages. For her to appear in person meant one thing—something monumental was about to be revealed.
Panic settled over the palace, thick and suffocating. The servants treaded carefully, their movements calculated, their breaths barely audible. The High Priestess was neither cruel nor kind—she was simply an enigma. No one dared to predict what she might say.
In the waiting room, she was received with the utmost courtesy. A servant offered her a cup of the finest brewed tea in the empire, but she declined curtly. "I do not need tea."
Empress Adira, ever the gracious hostess, greeted her with a poised smile. "Welcome, Akeeva. How fortunate we are to be graced with your holy presence."
The High Priestess wasted no time. "I bring a message from the gods," she announced. "A prophecy."
The empress's smile did not falter, but there was a new sharpness in her eyes. "A prophecy so grave that even you found it difficult to accept?"
Akeeva's lips pressed into a thin line. "For the first time, I doubted the heavens."
A moment of stunned silence followed.
The emperor, ever composed, masked his shock. "And what could be so unthinkable that even you would waver, Akeeva?"
It was no small thing for the High Priestess to question the will of the gods. She had once proposed beheading anyone who spoke against the divine order—a suggestion the council firmly rejected, no matter how many times she raised it. For her to hesitate now meant the message was not merely important—it was terrifying.
A flicker of unease crept into the emperor's heart. If he had his way, he would rather not hear what she had to say. But duty came before personal comfort. Always. Annoying.
The High Priestess finally spoke the words that would shake the empire.
"Unto the Bathory King of the Amber Kingdom, an illegitimate child shall be born… the destined bride of the prince."
A sharp intake of breath.
"What?!"
For a fraction of a second, the empress's poised mask slipped, her flawless jade-like face momentarily betraying her shock. But just as quickly as the emotion appeared, it vanished, replaced by her usual composed expression.
The emperor, however, remained an unmoving force of control. Outwardly, he looked as calm as ever, but inside, his thoughts raced. An illegitimate child… for my son? The implications were staggering. This was not just about marriage—this was about the throne.
If the prophecy held true, then an illegitimate child would one day hold the title of Empress. Even if he relented, others would not. Alaric would not. His strong-willed son would never accept such a bride.
"Is that all?" Empress Adira finally asked, recovering from her initial shock.
The High Priestess's gaze was steady. "No one must know of this prophecy—not even those it concerns—until the appointed time."
"And why is that?"
"The will of the gods."
*END OF FLASHBACK*
There was so much the empress wanted to ask, countless questions lingering on the tip of her tongue. But as much as she longed to satisfy her curiosity, this was neither the time nor the place to question the priestess. Some truths, no matter how unsettling, had to be accepted without protest.
---
"When will you call your daughter back home?"
Victoria's voice was calm, but there was an underlying weight to her words as she settled into the carriage beside Arnold. The imperial palace faded into the distance, bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun.
The empress had offered them accommodations for the night, urging them to stay until morning, but Victoria had declined with polite firmness. She wanted to return home.
"I don't know," Arnold admitted, his gaze fixed on the passing landscape.
It was the truth. A simple, undeniable truth.
Ambrosia was like the wind—untamed, elusive. You could feel her presence, sense her touch on the world, but you could never catch her.
She had left six years ago, vanishing into the vast unknown, and in all that time, she had never returned. Not once.
Did he even have the means to summon her back?
Did she still consider the Amber Kingdom her home?
Did she still… live?
The thought lodged itself deep within him, an unspoken fear he dared, not voice. Because the truth was, he didn't know. Not truly. And that uncertainty haunted him more than he cared to admit.