Diana sat at the back of the side alley, her gaze fixed on the rows of people being apprehended before her. Chains clinked as guards marched criminals forward—smugglers, thieves, and accomplices from the infamous Detrius group. The scene was grim, and yet her thoughts were elsewhere.
Her mind wandered to a man with unruly black hair and piercing black eyes. No matter how much she tried to dismiss him, his image lingered—his skill with a sword, his sharp tongue, and his complete lack of decorum. He was both infuriating and intriguing, and Diana couldn't decide whether to admire his audacity or loathe his insolence.
Theodore approached and handed her a stack of reports. "Your Grace, these are the names of the apprehended criminals, along with their charges and recommended punishments."
Diana nodded, flipping through the pages without a word. Her calloused fingers brushed against the parchment, a reminder of how much she'd changed. The soft hands of an innocent girl were long gone, replaced by the hardened grip of a ruler.
The Witch of the East. That's what they called her now.
She glanced again at the documents, her sharp eyes catching a few familiar names among the culprits—aristocrats who had supported Detrius from the shadows. Smuggling, illegal trade, and funding criminal activities—it was clear they'd used their wealth to keep the organization alive.
Diana sighed, her weariness evident as she closed the file. "Detrius wouldn't operate on this scale without noble support. They've been emboldened by the power behind them."
Theodore frowned. "Do you suspect more names are missing from the list, Your Grace?"
"Undoubtedly," Diana replied. "But we will start with these." She stood, her presence commanding. "Gather the vassals. It's time we addressed this rot."
Moments later, the grand hall was filled with the duchy's vassals, their chatter and murmurs filling the air. Despite her marriage to Julian, there were still whispers of dissatisfaction among them—noble families who had hoped to secure the Duke's favor for their daughters. Diana's gaze swept the room, calm yet cold, as she took her seat at the head of the table.
Theodore stepped forward to announce her arrival, and the room fell silent.
Diana wasted no time. "You all know why we're here," she began, her tone sharp. "Detrius has been apprehended, but their roots run deep. It's clear some among us have offered them support—knowingly or otherwise."
The murmurs rose again, but Diana's voice cut through like a blade. "Do not feign ignorance. The evidence is here." She gestured to the documents in front of her. "Names, payments, transactions—all tied to this organization."
She stood, her piercing gaze silencing the room. "I have tolerated much in the name of maintaining peace, but this betrayal will not go unpunished."
With precision, she stabbed a dagger into the wooden table in front of her, the blade sinking deep. The sound echoed in the chamber, silencing the murmurs entirely.
"You," she said, pointing at a trembling man in the corner. "And you." Her finger moved to another. "You thought your titles would shield you? Guards."
At her command, armored soldiers entered, seizing the named vassals. Protests erupted as the accused were dragged from the hall.
"This is outrageous!" one of them shouted, struggling against the guards. "You're just a woman! You have no right to—"
"Enough," Diana interrupted, her voice icy. She didn't raise her tone, but the authority in her words was undeniable. "You forget that you serve this duchy. And this duchy serves the empire. Anyone who threatens its stability will answer for it—man, woman, or otherwise."
Her gaze swept the room, and no one dared meet her eyes.
As the hall emptied of the accused, Theodore approached her cautiously. "Your Grace, shall I prepare the letters to the Emperor regarding their punishments?"
"Yes," Diana replied, her voice softening now that the tension had dissipated. She sat back down, her hands resting on the table. For a moment, she stared at her reflection in the polished surface of the dagger.
"Theo," she said quietly, "do you think Julian will still love me after all of this?"
Theodore hesitated, not because he doubted the answer, but because he understood the weight of her question. Finally, he spoke, his tone firm. "Of course, Your Grace. He loves you for who you are. You've always been his sanctuary, and nothing will change that."
Diana's lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "A sanctuary," she murmured. "I wonder if I'm still that to him."
"You are," Theodore said without hesitation. "And you always will be."
Diana nodded, straightening her posture. The burdens of her position were heavy, but for Julian's sake—for their future—she would carry them.
As she dismissed Theodore and the remaining vassals, she allowed herself one final glance out the window, where the blooming gardens stretched into the horizon. For now, there was no time for doubt. She had a duchy to protect.
*****
The news of victory reached the Empire, and the northern border was declared safe. The Empire celebrated the achievement, lauding the Prime Minister's strategic brilliance that not only secured peace but also ensured favorable treaties and benefits for the Empire. The announcement was met with cheers and celebrations across the land, and nowhere was the excitement more palpable than in the Edelline mansion.
Diana hurriedly mobilized the household. Servants bustled through the halls, scrubbing floors, polishing silverware, and hanging festive banners. She oversaw every detail, ensuring perfection.
"Move those arrangements to the central hall," she directed, her tone brisk but not unkind. "And make sure the dining table is set with the gold-trimmed plates. Nothing less than the best for the Duke's return."
Excitement filled the air, infecting everyone with a contagious joy. The mansion, which often held an air of solemnity due to the Duke's absence, now felt alive.
"Make sure the garden is pristine," Diana reminded the head gardener. "Julian always loved the roses in full bloom."
"Yes, Your Grace," the gardener replied, bowing before rushing off.
As the preparations unfolded, Diana returned to her chambers to change. She carefully selected her most elegant gown, a deep burgundy dress with intricate golden embroidery. Around her neck, she wore a diamond necklace—Julian's wedding gift to her.
Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she gently touched her cheeks, pinching them lightly to bring a flush of color. Will he recognize me after all this time? she wondered, a soft smile playing on her lips. She missed him terribly, her beloved husband who had been both her partner and her childhood friend.
Finally, the awaited moment arrived. Diana stood at the grand entrance, her heart pounding with anticipation. The mansion's gates opened, and the sound of horses trotting echoed through the courtyard. She straightened her posture, her hands clasped in front of her, her excitement barely contained.
The carriage halted, and servants rushed to assist the Duke. Diana's breath hitched as she caught sight of Julian. He descended the steps with his usual grace, his black hair slightly disheveled from the journey, and his piercing gaze as commanding as ever.
But before she could rush to embrace him, another figure stepped out of the carriage.
A beautiful blonde-haired woman with striking blue eyes appeared, her delicate features radiating a warmth that immediately drew attention. She held Julian's arm as he guided her down with a smile—a smile that Diana knew all too well.
"Diana," Julian greeted, his voice as gentle as she remembered. But his gaze wasn't entirely on her. "It's been a long time."
Diana froze, her heart shattering into a million pieces. She could feel the blood drain from her face as she stared at the woman who stood by her husband's side.
"Julian," she managed to say, her voice trembling despite her effort to stay composed. "Welcome home."
The woman, noticing Diana's presence, offered a polite smile and a slight curtsy. "You must be the Duchess of Edelline. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Diana's throat tightened, but she forced herself to respond. "And you are?"
"This is Lady Evelyne Alden," Julian explained, his tone unnervingly casual. "She's been instrumental in helping secure the northern treaty. I couldn't have managed without her."
Lady Evelyne laughed lightly, her hand still resting on Julian's arm. "The Duke is too kind. It was his leadership that led to our success."
Diana's hands clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to scream, to demand an explanation, but years of training in composure kept her from breaking down in front of everyone. Instead, she smiled—a fragile, practiced smile that concealed the storm raging within.
"I see," she said softly. "It seems the Empire owes you a great debt, Lady Evelyne."
"Not at all," Evelyne replied, her tone humble. "It was my honor to assist the Duke. The northern border's safety is what matters most."
Diana's gaze flickered to Julian, searching for some sign of reassurance—some indication that he saw her, that he remembered her. But his attention was on Evelyne, his expression relaxed and his smile... too familiar.
"Shall we head inside?" Julian asked, gesturing toward the mansion.
"Yes," Diana replied, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. "I've prepared a feast to celebrate your return. I'm sure you both must be tired after your journey."
Julian nodded, leading Evelyne forward. As they passed her, Diana stayed rooted to her spot, her mind spinning with questions she couldn't voice.
The butler approached her cautiously. "Your Grace... are you all right?"
Diana blinked, her mask of composure slipping for a brief moment before she pulled herself together. "Yes," she said firmly, though the crack in her voice betrayed her. "Let's ensure everything is perfect for the Duke and his... companion."
As she followed them into the mansion, Diana couldn't shake the image of Evelyne's hand on Julian's arm. Something within her had shattered, but she knew she couldn't afford to let it show.
For now, all she could do was smile and play the role of the perfect Duchess. But inside, a storm was brewing.