"Artemesia, you didn't have to-"
"I didn't have to put them in their place and let them walk over you?"
Artemesia walked back to her room. She sat down on her couch a little too hard and picked up the teapot, refilling her cup.
Thedosia watched her daughter, and sighed. "You know we need this, right?"
She sat down next to her daughter, "Ties through matrimony are not easily broken. Plus, we could use the financial support."
"And they need it as much as we do, Mother. If I agreed to this marriage, let my own reputation be tarnished. I have no intention to drag you and John down with me."
Her Mother paused, then laughed bitterly.
"You've always been like this, haven't you?"
Tia's eyes softened, "I... I'm only doing this for my family."
Thedosia reached out and caressed her cheek, "Sometimes... you remind me of Michael so much."
She lowered her gaze and covered her mother's hand with her own wordlessly.
"Is... that a bad thing?"
"...Absolutely. If he listened to me and appointed a new second-in-command, he wouldn't have been backstabbed on the battlefield. I don't want you to lose you that way too."
Michael Montclair. Artemesia's late father, the Duke of Montclair.
"They need Montclair's political support, while we need the financial support," Artemesia argued, "we both benefit. Nobody gets to take advantage of anyone. Let the alliance be balanced."
Thedosia sighed, "You know, you could have let Jonathan marry for this. He would need a wife soon too."
She shook her head, "John needs to find someone he is happy with. If he does not, it may be emotionally damaging."
The Duchess looked at her daughter, "Tia... it's okay to be a little selfish sometimes, you know?"
Tia stared at her hands, "Right now, I can't afford selfishness. For everyone's benefit."
. . .
Knock knock knock.
"Come in," The Emperor called.
The door swung open, and Leander stood in the doorway, arms crossed and brows raised.
"Good morning, Father."
"Oh, Leander. What brings you here?"
"I received word that the Emperor has once again made it to his study," he announced, stepping inside and closing the door.
Gregor smiled sheepishly, "Oopsie daisies."
The blonde sighed, "Father, I told you I'll handle it. Why do you keep insisting? You are in no condition to work."
Gregor's eyes softened, "I just can't help it. I've been doing this my whole life. It feels unusual if I spend a day without looking over paperwork."
Leander closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again, "Alright. For the sake of your habits, you can do a little work each day. But please, for Mother's sake, avoid strenuous tasks."
Gregor chuckled, "She worries too much."
Leander smiled softly, then spun around, "I'll return in thirty minutes to take you back to your bedchamber."
"Wait, Leander."
He halted, then turned, "Yes?"
"Now that you're here, there's something I need to talk to you about," he gestured to the armchair in front of his desk.
Lee raised a brow, but obliged. "What happened?"
His father took a deep breath, and started, "You already know the specifics of my condition. I won't waste time on that."
Leander nodded, getting nervous.
"I'll be blunt. It's time for you to take the throne."
His eyes widened, "What? So soon?"
The man nodded, "I don't know how long I'll last, so I want you to get used to it as soon as possible."
Leander's fists clenched, "What do you mean 'don't know how long you'll last?' You'll be perfectly fine, and there's no rush-"
"Lee." he said softly, "please,"
Leander froze. "I..."
"Be realistic, just for a few moments. Isn't adapting to your duties with me here better than doing it in grief?"
"There is no grief. And there will be none in the future either."
"Leander. I know it will take time, but please, try to cooperate."
His jaw clenched, his expression one of restraint. "...Fine. But I'm only doing this because I want to."
Gregor smiled, "As you wish, dear Prince."
. . .
"Tia, we have guests." Jonathan announced.
He was back from his trip to the south this morning.
"I'll see to them, you should go and rest," Artemesia got up from her desk.
"I'm not tired," he insisted, "Besides, it's the Blackridges."
She paused, setting down her quill carefully.
"Didn't you say I needed to be present for the next meeting?"
"I did," Tia said slowly, "But you just came back-"
"Oh come on. I'm fine-," Jonathan waved a hand as he walked out of his sister's office.
He'd recently given Tia that room, and decorated it as a study for her, since she was in need of it.
"You are absolutely not fine, coming back from a long journey," she turned to the butler standing nearby. "Take the Lord back to his room,"
Simon nervously looked between the two figures of authority, who were staring each other down.
Finally, Jonathan sighed. "You're impossible."
The woman called for a maid as her brother left. "Let Mother know that the Blackridges have arrived."
She got up after giving the instruction and walked to the sitting room.
When she reached the grand doors to the room where her in-laws were sitting, she suddenly stopped.
Voices. Low. Urgent.
Since the floors were carpeted, she moved closer, careful, breath held.
"For the last time, do not make it so obvious!"
A sharp laugh followed. Light. Almost playful.
"If I don't, that wench Artemesia will make some dumb excuse once more! She thinks she's so high and mighty, it won't be long till I twist that nasty smile of hers into a cry of agony."
Artemesia's fingers curled into her skirts.
"My love," Julian said softly, indulgent, "please be patient."
Her breath hitched.
No.
"But Julian-"
"Shh, Florence" he coaxed her into calming down, "Once we get married and secure Montclair's patronage, they won't be able to take it back."
The name landed like a blade between her ribs.
"But is marrying that witch absolutely necessary?" The redhead whined.
"Obviously. How else do we obtain what we require? Besides, if they're so eager to leech off the Blackridge coffers, we can do the same. Use their name everywhere. Even in our plans."
Plans?
Florence huffed, "Ugh. I just want it to be over quickly. Suck them dry, and snatch the throne before that princeling ascends."
Oh. Plans for treason.
"Hey, shouldn't someone be here by now?" Julian pointed out.
"Who can say? They seem to consider themselves too important to present themselves before a guest within the first half hour." They laugh in unison.
Artemesia stood just outside the door, rooted in place.
Then she bolted.
Her heels struck the floor as she rushed toward her room, barely registering the confused, worried glances thrown her way. She did not slow. She did not care.
Only once she slammed the door shut and turned the lock did her body finally give in.
She pressed her back to the wood, forcing herself to breathe. Her heart raced. Her chest ached. Tears burned at her eyes, threatening to spill.
They want to treat me like a slave. Erase the Duchy. Drag us into treason.
Her hand flew to her mouth as she slid down the door, disbelief hollowing her out.
Her shoulders caved. A sob broke free.
"Oh God," she whispered. "What is happening?"