Cosette Fief. One of our Grand Dukedom's most valuable assets, a rich, bountiful land granted to our house by the Emperor himself. It was the one territory that should be eternally prosperous, yet instead, it failed and failed again, prompting the chilling question: was the current Lord the sole, intentional source of the rot? The entire case was a compelling mystery that ignited my analytical mind. The mathematics in the reports were illogical, and the vassal lord had made the amateurish mistake of clearly establishing an alias account for diversion of funds.
My instinct screamed for immediate investigation. Cosette, after all, was rumored to be the very first property my father gifted my mother. I would not stand by and allow anything to happen to it.
I wandered alone in the vast, formal garden, the scent of damp earth and late-season roses doing little to soothe my agitation. I pleaded for any notion that would assist my father and solve this legal predicament, but my thoughts circled in vain. What was my place in this? I was a lady, and the strict regulations of the Duchy dictated that only males should be schooled in such high-level fiscal management. I felt confused and slightly resentful; why had my father subjected me to that humiliating, public test in his office if he expected me to remain in the parlor?
"Lady Eliana…"
I turned sharply toward the sound. How could I fail to recognize that deep, resonant voice? It was the voice that had already, and quite unreasonably, caused a furious blush to spread across my cheeks twice this week.
"Lord Heinley," I said, a deliberate coolness in my tone to mask my surprise. "What an unexpected call. Pray tell, were you following behind me all this time, practicing some form of espionage?"
"I truly apologize for my rudeness, My Lady," he said, performing a gentle, faultless bow before straightening up. He was devastatingly handsome in the afternoon light, and the sight solidified my irrational conviction: I must have him.
"It is quite alright, Lord Heinley. I am merely bothered that I failed to notice your presence. I should apologize for my distraction."
"You were deep in contemplation. How could I interrupt such focus?"
"You could have simply made your presence known! I would have stopped and listened to you, Lord Heinley. My word, I feel I've made a terrible mistake. Why didn't you tap my shoulder instead?" I asked, affecting a tone of high, comedic exasperation.
A slow, utterly captivating smile spread across his face. "Because you looked so exceptionally beautiful deep in contemplation, My Lady. How could I miss capturing such a moment and appreciating Your Highness's exquisite form? I apologize once more for my lapse in etiquette."
His remark struck me dumb for a split second, and the way he held himself—poised, articulate, and charming—made it impossible to view him as merely a Marquess's bastard son. He was a natural gentleman who deserved the highest recognition. Heinley locked his gaze with mine, and I fought desperately to control the deep, tell-tale flush rising in my neck.
He stood there, still smiling, studying me intently. Was he interested in me as well? Or was I simply projecting my own, rather forward, desire onto him?
"Lord Heinley, if I may ask, is there anything specific you wished to discuss with me?" I finally asked, needing to cut through the heavy romantic tension.
"Oh yes, pardon me, My Lady. I wished to inquire about the reports I submitted to His Grace. You seemed to have spotted something that entirely escaped the notice of myself and your father. How did you manage to do so?"
"I simply assumed there was a problem with the reports based on the sheer size of the grants requested," I stated, allowing a flash of defiance. "Are you surprised a woman is also knowledgeable in accountancy, Lord Heinley? I hear such matters are often dismissed as 'man's work.'"
"I wouldn't dare," he replied, his eyes sparkling with sincere admiration. "I am merely impressed that you are not only blessed with beauty, but also with remarkable intellect. I wish all the women in the Empire were as talented as you are."
"I am not talented at all, Lord Heinley. I just took some few lessons from my father, and that is the entirety of my skill."
"Well, His Grace must be a very proud father, because actively seeking knowledge is a talent in itself, My Lady."
His expression held genuine warmth, and he did not dare to judge me as others of his class surely would. I knew from the moment I first saw him that he was an odd, compelling character, and perhaps that was precisely why I needed him by my side as my spouse.
"Do you perhaps have any plans for tomorrow?" I asked, the words tumbling out before I could censor them.
His eyes widened in genuine surprise, as if he couldn't believe what I had just asked. He smiled happily before replying, "I do not think so, My Lady… would you perhaps wish to spend the afternoon with me tomorrow?"
"Be extra careful with your words, Lord Heinley. One might think we are courting if you are overheard! I simply wanted to invite you for some afternoon tea and perhaps ask you to share some of your advanced accounting skills with me."
I tried to maintain an air of aristocratic composure, but my face betrayed me entirely. If blushes were fire, my entire face would have already been reduced to ash. He smiled tenderly, moving impossibly closer, and took my hand again.
"I would be delighted to court you, My Lady, should you wish it. It pains me to simply agree to a mere tutoring session. I do not only seek the consent of your sharp mind. If you do not mind, I would very much like to take your heart as well."
He bent down and pressed a fervent kiss to my glove before releasing my hand.
"I shall see you tomorrow in the afternoon then, My Lady. Have a splendid remainder of your day."
I was completely dumbfounded as I watched him depart. He was interested, truly interested, and wanted to court me! Was my charm working so effectively and so quickly? I was overwhelmingly overjoyed at the success of my marriage prospectus.
I turned to leave the garden, my mind spinning with romantic plans, but walked directly into a solid, immovable mass. I looked up at the familiar tall figure and instantly recognized the man I had collided with earlier in the day—the one with the cloaked, unforgiving aura. He looked as grumpy as ever, still staring down his nose at me.
"It's you!" I exclaimed, my romantic mood immediately replaced by righteous fury.
**************
I stormed into my father's study, the strange man trailing behind me. I was so furious that I completely forgot to knock.
"Papa, who is this insufferable man?" I angrily demanded, pointing an accusing finger at the stranger.
The stranger simply laughed—a short, harsh, contemptuous sound. "So, this is your daughter, old man. No wonder she behaves like a spoiled child." He then turned his cold, chartreuse gaze on me. "Don't you know it's rude to point at people? Do you wish to lose your finger, Your Highness?"
My father sat in his chair, holding a document, completely ignoring us. Sanders, who had quietly slipped back into the room, ignored us as well.
"I can point at whomever I want, and you are no exception!" I challenged him. "You deliberately bumped into me and left me lying on the ground, and didn't even bother to help me up! Why should I not point my finger at you? I—"
I was interrupted by a deafening, echoing thud as my father slammed his fist, or perhaps a ledger, onto the massive table. He rose from his seat, his face now a mask of pure, unadulterated rage.
"Sanders, get me my sword!"
"As you command, Your Grace." Sanders bowed and left the study without a word. The atmosphere had changed entirely; the air felt thick, charged with the threat of immediate violence.
"How dare you physically harm my daughter?" Matthew roared, his voice shaking the windows. "Do you have a death wish, boy?"
"How dare you talk to me like this, you old man," the stranger sneered, entirely unafraid. "Do you think I'm scared of you?"
"Then what are you doing here if you're not? Do you want me to teach you the rules of conduct?"
Sanders returned to the study and passed a wickedly long, heavy broadsword to my father. The two men squared off, radiating a dangerous, aggressive tension.
"We shall go to the training grounds," Matthew declared, his voice dangerously low. "It seems I need to teach you some manners."
"No, Papa! Please! You're going to get hurt! You don't need to fight this unruly person. Please stop all this!" I cried, terrified for my father's safety.
Sanders merely smiled, picking up a tray of refreshments before following the men toward the training yard.
I watched, horrified, as the two men began to fight—a furious, aggressive dance of steel. The loud, metallic clangs of the broadswords were terrifying. My father fought with a terrifying ferocity, fueled by his outrage.
After what seemed an age, the stranger collapsed to the ground, his blade flying uselessly away. My father stood over him, breathing heavily but utterly triumphant. I couldn't believe I had secretly expected him to lose.
I rushed to him, my concern overriding my shock. "Papa! Are you hurt? Are you alright?"
"Are you alright, Eli? My poor Eli. I hope you are not hurting anywhere," my father asked, his hands immediately cupping my cheeks. He was anxious and still livid, but I was just profoundly relieved that he was uninjured.
He immediately turned back to the downed man. "I don't have all day, child. I am going back to my study. Stop lying there and follow me immediately. I need to speak with you about a matter that is far more pressing than your insolence."
I walked back to the study, hand in hand with my father, Sanders following behind. My father was so physically strong, no wonder even the Emperor held him in respect. I had never seen this side of him before.
"Eli, please take your seat," Matthew said, his voice instantly softening, the rage vanishing as if it were a mask removed. "There is something of great import I wish to discuss with you."
I sat down, paying close attention. His grave tone piqued my interest. "What is it, Papa?"
"I have made a decision. I am sending you to Cosette Fief. This is not a request."
He leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "I trust that you have gone through the reports and already understand the gravity of the situation there. I am confident that you, and you alone, possess the necessary intellect to solve this entrenched problem as the new Lady of the Fief."
"Is... is this a test?" I stammered, unsure if I had just been given the greatest honor or the greatest burden.
"This is not a test, Eliana," he stated firmly. "This is an assignment. I can only assign you because I am confident you will clearly solve the profound difficulties there. So please, do not disappoint me. Your mother's legacy rests on your shoulders."