Count Greythorne lounged in his overstuffed leather chair, a smug grin curling at the corner of his mouth. Everything was falling into place. Soon, the Vermont Barony—and the genius that is Rae Vermont—would be his. All it took was a little patience and precision.
---
Harold Vermont, Baron of Carmine, stared at the royal summons for the fifth time, his fingers curling tighter around the crinkling parchment. You are summoned to the Royal Capital immediately. Just that—short, cold, and about as comforting as a blade against the ribs.
Without wasting a minute, Harold threw together what little he needed and left that same day. Five days later, he rode through the massive gates of the Royal Capital, his boots caked in dust and his cloak stiff with travel grime. The city, on the other hand, glittered. All marble towers and silk banners, like a gaudy dream that didn't know when to end.
Harold pressed on toward the palace, his thoughts spiraling. This has to be about the monster attacks, he reasoned. His lands had been hit hard, but his people held on. Maybe the crown was about to commend him for keeping it together, or… his thoughts darkened. Maybe this was about strategy—a meeting with Marquis Grandol of Lothwyn, whose lands also bordered the wilds.
But the moment Harold stepped into the royal court and spotted Count Greythorne lounging near the throne, smug as ever, a cold weight settled in his gut. Greythorne wasn't here by coincidence.
---
Before Queen Rose Wimberly, Greythorne's voice cut through the room—silky smooth but sharp enough to slice.
"Your Majesty," he said, dipping into an exaggerated bow, "I come to you today out of duty. I am deeply troubled by the state of the Vermont Barony under Baron Harold's care. Monsters roam unchecked. Villages are ruined—except, of course, for Carmine, where the Baron himself resides. Crops fail. His people starve."
Harold's fists clenched hard at his sides. "That's a lie!" he shot back, his voice echoing through the vast marble chamber.
Queen Rose's glare pinned him in place. "You will hold your tongue, Baron Vermont."
Greythorne continued, unbothered, his words oozing confidence. "As proof, Your Majesty, I present receipts. Baron Harold has relied on my surplus stores to feed his people. Worse yet, he has failed to protect them."
Harold's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
Greythorne's smile was thin, deadly. From his coat, he produced a sheaf of papers. "Adventurers were called in to fight the monsters—but when they weren't paid, I covered their debts. Here are the quest requests, signed by none other than Rae Vermont herself. Rewards promised, but never delivered."
Harold's heart dropped like a stone. Rae? Yes, she had rallied adventurers to defend their lands… but he hadn't known she promised rewards, let alone that Greythorne would get his claws into it.
"This is nonsense," Harold said, though even he heard the falter in his voice.
Greythorne stepped closer, his voice a low blade. "Your Majesty, the Baron may mean well, but his actions are failing his people. A fine soldier, yes, but he is no ruler." He turned toward the Queen with a dramatic sweep of his hand. "I propose a solution: let Rae Vermont be betrothed to my son. Under my guidance, she will learn how to govern the Vermont Barony properly. The lands will thrive—and the crown's interests will be protected."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the court. Harold's face burned with fury.
"This is madness!" he roared. "You are twisting the truth and forging lies, Count! You wish to steal my Barony!"
Queen Rose's voice cut through the noise like a whip. "Enough, Baron Vermont. Compose yourself."
Harold turned to her, desperation leaking into his voice. "Your Majesty, this man—he's scheming to take everything from me. This proposal is a trap!"
Greythorne didn't even flinch. Instead, he produced yet another document—a letter stamped with Harold's own signature. "Is this not your request for economic aid, Baron? I offered help when you needed it most. Or would you now refuse support and let your people suffer?"
Harold felt his breath catch in his throat. He technically had asked for aid… but he never imagined it would be used to corner him like this. His gaze darted to Greythorne's smug face, then to Queen Rose's stony expression.
His mind raced, desperate for a way out. He could tell the truth—reveal Rae's true lineage and the royal blood that ran through her veins. But the risk was too high. If that secret got out, it could ruin them both.
"Your Majesty," Greythorne purred, ever the perfect courtier, "as a loyal servant of the crown, I seek only to assist my fellow noble in his time of need."
Harold took a step forward, his voice cracking. "Please… Your Majesty. Don't do this. I beg you."
Queen Rose's gaze hardened. "The court has heard enough. For the good of the Vermont Barony, I decree that Rae Vermont will be wed to Count Greythorne's son."
The words landed like a hammer to the chest. Harold's knees threatened to buckle, but he forced himself to stand tall.
Greythorne turned just enough to catch Harold's eye. The glint in his gaze was unmistakable: I've won.
Harold remained frozen, his mind a whirlwind of helpless fury. Greythorne had played him—maneuvered him like a pawn on a board. And now, his daughter… Rae… was the price of his failure.
He had to come up with a solution of how he would solve this