RAMHM Chapter 152

The Young Duke of Pirreta

Gregory found Duke Pirreta without difficulty at his villa in the capital.

He did not bother explaining anything about his sisters having exchanged souls.

He simply looked around the sofa—which showed all the evidence of someone who had done nothing but read newspapers—and noted the damage.

The ashtray held the remnants of cigars the Duke had quit on the orders of his physicians when his health declined. He frowned. His father reached for a cigar only when he was anxious. Or excited.

"Gregory, good timing. The capital's out of cigars, apparently. Go get me some. The useless country bumpkins I've brought from the east can't manage to locate a single cigar, apparently."

The attendants standing guard at the entrance turned red. Gregory said nothing and examined the newspaper his father was reading instead. It was an article arguing that Second Prince Rhodness should become Crown Prince.

"And Bliea?"

"You're not asking about Adrienne? Not worried?"

"Bianca will be looking after that girl, she always has. We can find her a second marriage once we bring her back east. But Bliea—how are things with the Second Prince?"

"Is this about Bliea becoming your heir and taking my place?"

The lips that had been working over an unlit cigar went still.

The Duke's sharp gaze moved across Gregory's face. He regarded his beautiful son for a long moment, eyes narrowing slowly.

"What?"

"Did you think I wouldn't know? I have eyes and ears. Why is it that I—the heir of Pirreta—was taught only half a history? Why was I never to know that for generations, heirs who carried the bloodline's power had passed the house through the female line?"

"That is a relic of an older age!"

"Is that why you ordered Bliea killed? To sever the matrilineal line? For my sake? Whatever means you used—you sensed the magic in her, didn't you?"

The Duke dismissed the attendants quickly and lit the stub of his cigar.

The hand that shook with the progression of his chronic illness looked precarious.

Gregory stared at the ring that gleamed incongruously on the Duke's aging hand. The ring of house headship that their mother had given him when she entrusted him with the family's affairs.

The moment Bliea was born, that ring—which recognized new bloodline power—must have blazed.

He had just been told by the Grand Mage called Rotsy that most heirs of Pirreta had carried the gift.

"In ancient times, heirs with magic were necessary. The empire hadn't yet banned it. But Ronteaux, having become an empire, banned magic throughout its history—do you understand what that meant? The heirs of Pirreta concealed their power and stayed buried in the east, never coming out—and what sort of nobility is that? I despised your maternal grandmother, who had a vast territory and chose to stay shut away in her corner rather than come out."

"Or perhaps you wanted to flee to the capital to escape the title of son-in-law who married into the house?"

The Duke's brow twisted fast.

"Mother's health was fragile, yes—but not so fragile that she couldn't oversee the estate. You know better than anyone what pregnancy and childbirth do to a woman's body—"

"I loved your mother. But I also loved Pirreta. Antiquated traditions must be broken! You are my heir! As I have led Pirreta well without the gift, so can you! You are the one who must lead Pirreta!"

That was the end of the conversation. The Duke flicked his last cigar out the window with irritation and straightened his clothes.

"You came looking for me to take you to see Bliea, I assume? She made me a promise. That she would make me father-in-law to the Crown Prince."

"…"

Gregory's fist closed tight.

The Duke crossed to him quickly and gripped his son's strong shoulders with a weathered hand.

"For a man to be born and not seize power in his hands—that is a disgrace. My son. That is what I have been trying to teach you."

The drawing room was crowded with unexpected visitors.

I had stepped back slightly with Epero, who happened to be there, to observe matters from a distance; Bliea, Father, and Gregory had settled around the circular table.

Epero, who so far only knew that the two of us were twins, reacted with visible awkwardness when I greeted him the same way I always had, and fell silent.

Which made sense. He had never met the late Grand Duchess Adrienne in person.

The people around the table spoke more quietly than I'd expected.

Given Bliea's character, I had braced for her to throw something at the Duke the moment he walked in. I was mildly surprised.

Bliea listened to Father's opening moves—how I've missed you, it wasn't truly in my heart to have you killed, I knew all along that the nanny would take you in—wearing a composed smile throughout. Both arms rested on the armchair, posture entirely at ease. Each time Father spoke, she offered only the slightest tilt of her chin.

"I've heard His Highness the Second Prince is staying at the estate. Where is he? What I want to know most is whether you can become the Crown Princess."

Bliea's composed expression didn't change, but her brow had begun to pull together at the edges. Father caught the shift, recalibrated slightly, and corrected himself.

"That is—what I want to know most is what you want. If I'm to be a father to you, even belatedly—"

"Rhodness and I are done." Bliea put a finger in her ear and worked it idly. "Turns out he wants Adrienne."

Father went rigid.

His gaze moved toward me and then away.

"As long as you exist, that cannot be. You must be the one to end up with His Highness the Second Prince!"

Father was beginning to talk nonsense. My own brows drew slowly together. If he said anything worse, I was going to have to step in.

It was at that moment that Gregory, who had been listening in silence, spoke as the Duke began directing his words at Bliea with increasing frustration.

"Father. That's enough."

"Stay out of this, Gregory!"

"I will step down from the Young Duke's seat."

Silence descended on the drawing room in an instant.

Father tilted his head as though he'd misheard. Then, as Gregory rose without another word and moved toward the door, Father seized him—and dropped all pretense.

"Ungrateful fool! Don't you see that if Adrienne becomes Crown Princess and Bliea comes east, your place could be taken from you?! Helene's health meant she left the house to me—but if she'd known her daughter carried the gift, she wouldn't have been passing it to you, trained heir and all—she'd have given it to Bliea, you idiot!"

"I have never, not for a single moment, thought that seat was mine as a matter of right. What's more—when Mother was pregnant with twins, she never once said a word about me stepping down as Young Duke. You say you were breaking Pirreta's outdated tradition. But it was Mother, more than anyone, who had no interest in those old rules—she simply wanted to pass the house to whoever loved Pirreta most."

"Gregory!"

"Then you are not qualified, Your Grace."

Father reeled as though he'd taken a blow. One hand went to the back of his neck. Then, as if something occurred to him, he turned to Bliea.

"Bliea! Stop your brother. If you want to become Crown Princess, having solid family support from your birth house is essential! What could you possibly do, coming east with nothing learned, nothing to offer? With His Highness the Second Prince's favor—and your brother supported and positioned in the capital—do you understand what I'm saying? Tell me what you want. I'm giving you the choice."

He said it with a slight air of self-congratulation, as though certain she would say: I want to become Crown Princess.

Bliea regarded him in silence for a long moment.

Then she rose slowly to face him—and the color came back into Father's face.

"I want to become Duke of Pirreta."

"…What?"

Father's expression collapsed the way a child's does when something it considered its own is taken away.

"What—what was that?"

"I'd only heard Olivia's warning not to come back to Pirreta. Listening to you now, I realize there were things there that were mine."

"You—!"

"What I want?"

Bliea gave a cold little smile, and with her magic, closed the windows that had been standing open.

The small windows that had been letting in sunlight shut in sequence—thak, thak, thak—one after another, until the light had gone out of the room. With each one, Father's eyes filled a little more with something that looked like fear.

"I find it unpleasant to see an unqualified son-in-law occupying my mother's land. Step down, Your Grace who has no right to the title."

"You—you—!"

"Step down, Duke."

Every eye in the drawing room swung to the half-open door.

Rhodness stepped into the room, his blue cloak sweeping behind him, and Father froze—unable even to bow—his breath stopping in his chest.

Vincento stood at Rhodness's side, expression grave, one arm holding a thick bundle of documents bound with a file cord.

"Abandoning natural duty. Evidence of redirecting the Pirreta family's assets into personal accounts has also come to light. What is there to be done."

"Your Highness!"

Father cried out as if the word had been torn from him.

"Step down quietly—or stand before a judge alongside the Castagna clan of the west. I'd advise choosing one of the two."

"A—Adrienne. Adrienne—!"

Father finally called my name.

I did not answer.

The cold that ran down his spine was real. The Second Prince—whom he had always dismissed as a wastrel—had a presence that exceeded anything he had imagined. Under the weight of it, he found he could not draw breath.

"Bliea, Bliea—you made me a promise."

The promise that he would be made father-in-law to the Crown Prince if he supported the Second Prince.

I glanced at Bliea. Bliea already knew of that promise—I had told her.

"I said I'd make you father-in-law to the Crown Prince," Bliea said. "I never said it'd be me."

At those words, Father crumpled. Gregory moved to catch him as he began to fall.

"I apologize for the family matter intruding on your attention, Your Highness."

Gregory bowed to Rhodness, his expression complicated.

"If that is Bliea's decision, then I will take responsibility for removing Father from his position and giving it to her. The seat matters less to me than the sister who has only just come home."

Gregory shouldered the Duke and carried him out through the drawing room door. Bliea stayed where she was, turning Gregory's parting words over—warm and certain—with an expression that had gone still.

Then she glanced at me and smiled, slightly crooked.

"Well, that works out. When Count Acacia comes back, I won't be Countess Acacia anymore anyway. Sick of playing the old man's wife, too. Eating well, dressing well—no way I'm going back to being a commoner."

Bliea let the tension out of her body and allowed herself, at last, a slightly mischievous expression.

I advised her that she couldn't become the Duke immediately. She would need to learn the estate's situation, receive instruction as an heir—she should go east and study under Gregory.

"…You don't mind if I become Duke?"

"You have the right to be heir, too. Bliea Pirreta."

Bliea absorbed my answer and was still for a moment. Then she grinned.

"If I become Duke of Pirreta, do you think I could keep two or three men?"

My brow drew slightly together. Across the room, Epero—who had caught the remark—tried to muffle a laugh and failed.

When Bliea's gaze turned his way, Epero cleared his throat with great urgency. But there was no hiding the expression of someone fighting not to laugh.

Bliea studied him with an appraising look, then leaned over to whisper to me.

"Who's that? Why haven't you introduced us? He's not bad-looking—maybe I'll try my luck."

I looked over at Epero while Bliea murmured in my ear.

The corners of his eyes had gone faintly red—for some reason. A different red than the startled flush from when he'd heard Rhodness wanted Adrienne instead of Bliea.

The next day.

Another piece of news shook Ronteaux—already braced as if before a storm—arriving through the Empire Daily.

Pirreta in the east, honoring the tradition of matrilineal succession, had named Bliea Pirreta as its new Young Duke. For the present, her brother Gregory Pirreta would serve as acting head of house and guide the Young Duke in her duties.

The newspapers added more for the bewildered public.

Grand Duchess Adrienne and Countess Bliea Acacia were twin sisters. They were the first pair of saints in the empire's history to share a bloodline.

"A Miracle! The Empire's First Sibling Saints, Joined by the Hand of the Gods! Grand Prelate Telrn's Tearful Testimony: 'It Was Snowing That Day, Too.'"

Around the same time, that headline ran alongside news that the marriage between Crown Prince Bardenaldo and Doris Castagna—standing trial—had been declared void.

Then came the article that followed: the woman Crown Prince Bardenaldo had truly intended as his Crown Princess had been Adrienne all along.

And that news found Doris, too—where she waited below, in her cell, for the trial to come.