That act alone had shaped Claire's world. In her darkness, Astra had become light—steady, unyielding, and unwavering.
She had become the anchor to which Claire clung, the purpose that had given her strength to move forward.
So when Claire asked about the Duchy and the Marchioness, it was not out of concern for power or politics. It was simple curiosity, an attempt to understand the wider world surrounding the person who had given her life meaning.
The blood of a princess, the tangled lines of royal marriages, the quiet calculations behind alliances—none of it mattered to her.
What mattered was the person who had saved her from nothingness, who had turned her life without purpose into one with meaning.
After all, those things had never reached out to her when she had been abandoned. They had never offered her a name, a place, or a reason to live. Only one person had.
Claire lifted her gaze to Astra.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, falling gently across Astra's features, illuminating her just as it had on that first day—the day Astra had given her a name, the day she had told her she belonged, that she was one of her people.
The memory was still vivid, untouched by time.
It had been the first time someone had looked upon her without contempt, without revulsion, without flinching at the sight of her black hair.
She remembered those calm eyes, clear and steady like still water untouched by any ripple. They had looked upon her not as something strange or cursed, but as if she were no different from anyone else.
In that quiet gaze, she was not an anomaly or a burden. She was simply… normal.
Claire felt her chest tighten, not with fear, but with something steady and anchoring.
And in that moment, Claire understood it with absolute clarity.
In a world that was dark, cold, and unrelenting, this person was her light.
Her only light of salvation.
Astra regarded Claire for a long moment, her gaze steady and unreadable.
Then Astra leaned back slightly against the couch, the movement graceful and unhurried.
"It indeed has nothing to do with them," she said at last, her voice even and composed.
A brief silence followed before she continued. "The problem lies elsewhere. They do not know this truth. To them, I still possess a claim to the throne."
Claire lowered her gaze slightly, understanding flickering across her face as Astra continued.
"The Valentine Duchy stands among the oldest noble bloodlines within the empire. Powerful, influential and deeply tied to the imperial court for generations." Astra's tone remained even. "As for Marchioness Eldridge… she is known for never involving herself in matters that do not benefit her directly."
Lily blinked.
"So… they're interested in you now because of the banquet?"
"Not really," Astra corrected calmly.
Her eyes lowered, not in hesitation, but in calm reflection.
"The Empress cherishes the Second Princess as one would a treasured jewel. No one at court is blind. They know well where favor lies, and so they know whom it is safest to support."
A faint pause settled between her words. "But the banquet disrupted that balance."
Her gaze lifted once more, clear and unwavering. "I was arrogant before but quite obedient toward my mother. Always polite and meek before her. But now that I have begun to speak against her, I have drawn attention."
Her gaze drifted briefly toward the invitations resting upon the table. "People fear what they do not understand. Nobles, especially, dislike variables they cannot predict."
Her voice remained calm, but the meaning was clear. "So they wish to test me. To weigh my worth… and my intentions."
Ella hesitated before speaking, her voice unusually careful.
"Then… are you going, Your Highness?"
Astra turned her gaze to her, calm and assessing.
"What do you think?"
The question was neither sharp nor unkind. It was simply placed there, waiting.
Ella paused. Her eyes shifted briefly, considering the layers beneath the words. Then she fell silent, understanding dawning on her.
Cassia, however, did not hesitate.
"Her Highness is unwell," she said evenly. "She will be unable to attend any forthcoming gathering."
Her tone was precise, practiced—the voice of someone who understood not only the answer, but the necessity of it.
Astra did not correct her.
She merely inclined her head, the faintest acknowledgment, as the matter was settled without further need for words.
Astra lowered her gaze, lashes casting a faint shadow across her eyes.
So that was how they saw her.
Did they truly think i was some kind of piece on a board—something they could summon, test, and discard at will? That they could simply reach out and pull me into their schemes whenever it suited them?
Astra turned her gaze toward the window, to the vast stretch of sky beyond the glass.
She had remained silent for years, allowed assumptions to settle where truth was never offered.
And now, because she had spoken once, because she had stepped into view, they believed they had the right to measure her worth.
Astra's expression did not change.
If they wished to test her, then they would do so on her terms—not because she was summoned, not because she was expected to comply, but because she chose when and how she would be seen.
For now, silence would serve her better than obedience.
The truth is, she has no interest in the throne—she's far too indifferent to entertain their mind games just for it.
And so, Astra never attended another banquet, never appeared at another gathering. She returned to living like a ghost again, her presence barely noted.
The commotion of that birthday banquet gradually faded, as if it had been no more than a fleeting illusion. Even the most cautious nobles, once wary of her presence, let the memory slip from their minds over time.
Astra lived largely as she had before—withdrawn, silent, and entirely her own, untouched by the schemes of court, untethered from the expectations of the world outside.
And so, Four years passed in quiet seclusion.