"And yet," Duke Tyler replied smoothly, "she does." He leaned forward, palms braced against the table. "She broke my runic conditioning. Restored minds erased by magic centuries old. Turned mercenaries into loyal workers in the span of a conversation."
His eyes flicked to Milabuella. "Do you know what that means, Your Highness?"
Milabuella's jaw tightened. "It means she's stealing the spotlight."
"AGAIN!" Tyler added.
There it was. The real wound.
"Everywhere she goes," Milabuella continued, voice rising, "people see her. Praise her. Follow her. Even Father speaks her name now—with curiosity. With interest." Her nails dug into the wood. "I was born to be admired. To be chosen. To be acknowledged. Now even the Maden prince was interested in her."
Duke Tyler straightened slightly. "And yet," he murmured, "the kingdom whispers about a woman who arrived from nowhere and builds nations with bread and factories."
