Life was never kind. And for Ignacia, the toils of the world have tripped her up yet again.
She stares at the kit in her trembling hands, watching as the dreaded double lines appear against a plain backdrop. The result, which seals her fate, has been decided.
Ignacia presses a hand against her mouth in disbelief, her red eyes filled with horror. "It can't be..."
Two lines... I'm pregnant?
No. There's no way.
This has to be a lie.
She can't. She can't be pregnant. Not now. Not ever.
Ignacia's chest heaves when she tries to breathe, the panic slowly but surely settling over her like a suffocating dust cloud. Memories flood her mind, of that fateful night that she succumbed to her feelings and shamelessly let herself be ravaged by the man she loves.
Vibrant, golden eyes are all she can see when she closes her eyes in an attempt to calm herself.
Those eyes... The very ones that she is so enamoured with, and which she let herself be bewitched by. They were all she could see of his face in the darkness that surrounded them.
She had stumbled out of the chambers four days after that night, bleary with sleep deprivation and terrified at what she had done. What they had done.
No one could ever know about their tryst. If it had been anyone else, she doubts that she would have been as horrified and frightened as she is now.
Alas, the man she fell in love with was none other than the one she should never have coveted. He was someone too far from her reach. She could never be worthy of standing by his side without fear.
His Highness. What will he think?
Ignacia leans against the wall of the bathroom, sliding down to sit on the ground with her lips bitten raw between her teeth. Her dull canines bite into the flesh of her lower lips, but the pain does nothing to distract her from the regret that wells up in her chest. It crushes the air out of her lungs, making her feel dizzy with dread.
She thought she had it covered.
When she left that morning, she made sure that no one noticed her leaving and another woman taking her place right after. She even managed to find someone with as similar a scent as her own to replace her spot in the prince's bed. They were the same height, of similar proportions, and had the exact same attire down to the embroidery on their silk nightgown.
She had hurriedly rushed home after changing places with the woman she summoned on short notice, leaving her with instructions to do as the prince demanded of her the moment he woke up. Then, she immediately ordered a morning-after pill, the strongest of the ones on the market, and swallowed it down seconds after the delivery was made to her door.
The next time she had seen His Highness after that, she was positive that he didn't suspect a thing.
His only questions about his sudden rut were strictly related to the woman that she sent into his chambers. And he never indicated that he knew otherwise.
She believed that he had forgotten all about her after the haze of that abnormally powerful rut, or that he had simply accepted the fact that he had slept with someone he didn't even know by accident.
Either way, she should have been safe. She should have been able to prevent anything devastating from happening. So how is this possible?
Ignacia clutches at her head with one hand, gripping tightly to the messy locks of hair that have fallen in front of her face. Her impeccably manicured nails dig into the flesh of her knees when she squeezes them with her other hand, but she ignores the flash of pain that blooms under her harsh fingertips.
A knock from outside the bathroom echoes in her chambers, startling her out of her panicked daze. "My lady?"
Ignacia relaxes slightly, recognising the voice of her personal maid, Ezra. "What is it?" she asks after taking a few deep breaths to steady her wobbling speech.
"His Highness has summoned you for the council meeting that is to take place in an hour. Lord Velloni is waiting outside to escort you to His Highness's office."
Right. The meeting.
Ignacia wipes at the corners of her eyes, which had begun to fill with tears, and stands up slowly. "Thank you, Ezra. Please let Count Velloni know that I will be out in a moment."
"Yes, My lady."
When she hears Ezra's footsteps retreat, Ignacia tries to compose herself. Before anything else, she shoves the test kit back into its plastic container and stuffs it into her purse.
She'll have to find a way to dispose of it later without anyone the wiser. Preferably outside of the palace, or when she gets back home.
She washes her hands in the sink, adjusts her smudged make up with a swipe of concealer under her eyes, and checks herself over to make sure that her blouse is tucked properly and her skirt's hem is straight and smooth.
Once she deems her attire impeccable, she moves towards the door, giving herself a mental shake to silence her mind. The jumble of thoughts in her head quieten along with the slow in her breaths.
Internally, she knows this matter will have to wait, no matter how much she wishes she could come up with a plan of action immediately. Right now, she has more important things to deal with.
The council meeting that will commence soon is the most crucial conclusion to this season's events. Following all their efforts to improve the reputation of His Highness, First Prince Aspen, this meeting will be the decisive moment that solidifies his rightful position as Crown Prince. She cannot afford to make a single mistake today.
With a reminder to herself to smile, Ignacia opens the door and leaves the bathroom. She walks with quick but light steps to the entrance of her chambers, calling for Ezra when she reaches the large, heavy-set double doors that lead out of her quarters.
Ezra drags open the doors from the other side, her narrow but kind features turned towards Ignacia in utmost attention. "My lady, you called for me?"
Ignacia nods, giving her a small smile. "I'd like my chambers to be tidied up and locked away for the night. I shall be departing from the palace immediately after the council meeting is concluded."
Ezra bows her head in acknowledgement. This is her routine. The palace chambers that have been bestowed upon her are for the purpose of staying the night when her duties overrun for the day.
Otherwise, Ignacia never fails to return to her own home far into the nearest city, where shiny apartment buildings can be glimpsed from the highest turret in the palace grounds. Ezra has long since gotten used to the bustle of her secretary responsibilities.
As the first prince's advisor and trusted ally, Ignacia always has her hands full. Managing correspondence between the obstinate, sly foxes of the council members and His Highness Aspen is her primary duty.
Of course, as she has proven herself to be a reliable source of current affairs, Ignacia also takes charge of adjusting the prince's schedule while working alongside his aide.
In all her years working as Prince Aspen's secretary, she has always maintained utmost dignity in front of those who frequent the palace, so as to not shame the image of the master she serves. And today is no different.
The moment she steps out of her quarters, Ignacia's face is completely devoid of the emotions that previously haunted her entire being.
Turning to face her escort, who is standing to the side patiently, Ignacia greets him politely, as she always does. "Good afternoon to you, Count Velloni."
Count Velloni nods his head in response, a small smile playing on his lips. His ash-grey hair falls in long locks over his shoulder when he dips his head. "Likewise, Lady Ignacia."
"You certainly seem to be in a good mood today. Has your wife promised to cook you one of her famous dishes tonight?" Ignacia remarks playfully.
Count Ignes Velloni, a beta who holds the position of Prince Aspen's aide, is a meticulous and capable figure in high society. Much of his reputation presents a clean, exemplary side to himself, but after years of working together with the count, Ignacia has witnessed many a time the kindness and compassion that lies beneath his professional exterior.
The deep love that he shares with his wife is a common reminder that marrying for love in high society is possible.
Currently the main caretaker of the Velloni county while Count Velloni works at the palace, Countess Anise Velloni is a famous and widely acclaimed chef.
Born to a lower-ranking noble family, Countess Velloni had been working as a chef in her own restaurant before meeting her would-be husband. Since then, she has left management of her restaurant to her trusted assistant, and moved into the Velloni estate. It was a grand affair that reached even the ears of the palace.
All of Ignacia's research about high society has always yielded fond opinions of the smitten pair. Count Velloni's undying love for his wife's dishes is a well-known quirk of his among the people in the First Prince's party.
With his ears pink like the petals of azalea blooms, Count Velloni dips his head further down to hide the wide smile that spreads across his face.
"Why, indeed. The past few months have been, admittedly, the busiest period we've had in a long while. It has been ages since I've found the time to return home to my wife in such high spirits. I pray that today's meeting will be the start of a mundane season. If not for the sake of peace, then for the continuity of my happy marriage."
Ignacia gestures for the count to walk with her as she chuckles, and he obliges easily. They fall into step with each other, conversing light-heartedly, as friends and comrades do.
It is rare for a nobleman to be so open about his love for his spouse in public. Ignacia has always appreciated the count's honesty and sense of humour.
When they arrive at the entrance to Prince Aspen's office, their conversation has flowed smoothly into talk of their family.
"Lady Ignacia, please send my regards to your father. I will be sending a formal letter of invitation to my estate in the near future, as I'd like to thank him for the gift he sent me on my birthday. It was truly magnificent. Marquess Rencalle's eye for liquor has once again astounded me."
Ignacia's smile brightens a little more at the mention of her father. "Why, of course. My father may drink a little too much for someone his age, but his tastebuds have only seemed to sharpen over time, much to my sister's dismay."
Count Velloni hides an amused look behind his fist, disguising his expression as a cough while he waves his hands to have the guards outside the doors open them.
"That I can certainly imagine. Please convey my sincere congratulations to your sister as well for graduating from the Royal Academy. Lady Tihana will surely become a distinguished figure of high society in a few years."
The doors before them creak open slowly.
"I shall inform her that you said as such. She'll be thrilled to know how highly you praise her potential." Ignacia replies, feeling more than proud of her young sibling.
"My lord. My lady. His Highness is ready to receive you."
With that single announcement, both Ignacia and Count Velloni straighten their backs and return the seriousness to their features.
Usually, meeting His Highness Aspen would be a friendlier affair. They are, after all, fighting on the same side of the succession war.
However, Ignacia senses that her liege will be far more worked up today because of the council meeting, and she decides to respect the sombre atmosphere unless instructed otherwise.
When the door closes behind them, Ignacia immediately pulls her tablet from her purse.
She flinches inwardly when her hand brushes the plastic box containing the pregnancy kit that she plans to throw away later away from prying eyes. But she holds steady, preparing for any questions that Prince Aspen might throw her way about the meeting.
Approximately eight metres in front of them sits a large, mahogany desk strewn with paperwork, a cup of what looks like unfinished tea, and an expensive laptop and monitor.
Furnished with dark blues and bright golds, Prince Aspen's office is the epitome of the alpha's taste for design. Simple but statement-worthy.
Much like the colours of the clothes on his back, Prince Aspen's indifferent but explosive personality shines through the minimalistic set up of his office and the occasional punch of an abstract painting on the wall.
The man in question, is sitting behind his desk, looking utterly exhausted but still maintaining a picture of impassiveness even as Ignacia and Count Velloni approach him.