Since that encounter in the royal garden, Cyrus had kept Vera's words close to heart. He began dedicating himself wholly to matters of state, devoting his days to the affairs of the kingdom.
He attended privy council meetings, deliberated border and trade issues with the aristocracy, inspected the city's defenses, met with foreign envoys, and studied court etiquette and diplomatic protocol. His presence became a constant fixture in the council chamber, the royal archives, the reception halls—even the stables and the armory.
Never before had he been so diligent. The once carefree prince of the seas was now displaying the makings of a future sovereign—steadfast and resolute.
But as his sense of duty grew, his visits to Lia became increasingly rare.
She lived alone in the castle's remote northern wing. Though the scenery there was beautiful, it was largely unfrequented. Every morning, she would wait by the window, and every evening, watch the sunset until nightfall chased her back inside, alone. Occasionally, Cyrus would arrive late in the night, with tired eyes and kisses full of apology. She would still smile for him, but that smile was softer now, dimmed with unspoken longing.
"I know I've neglected you lately," he whispered, gently brushing her hair as he held her close. "But everything I'm doing is for our future. Only when I have true power can I protect you… Only then will you be able to stand beside me in the sun, without shame or secrecy."
Lia looked up at him with a smile, but her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
Before Cyrus could speak again, a quiet knock came at the door.
"It's me. May I come in?" came a familiar, gentle voice.
The door opened to reveal Vera, poised and composed, carrying a silver tray in her hands. Her smile was polite, perfectly measured.
"You have been working so hard lately, Cyrus. I thought, since you've had so little time for your lovely companion here, I'd offer a small gesture on your behalf."
She held up the tray. Upon it were delicate rose cream cakes, pink and fragrant.
Lia rose and gave her a slight nod of greeting. Vera approached, taking Lia's hand with soft fingers and a smile that reached neither cheek nor eye.
"Poor Lia. It must be so lonely these days, hasn't it?"
Her tone was all gentleness and sympathy, but beneath it shimmered something sharp.
Cyrus, unaware, felt a wave of gratitude. "Princess Catherine, your thoughtfulness means a great deal."
Vera laughed softly, a sound as graceful as spring wind. "It's a wife's duty, after all, to ease her husband's burdens—not to trouble him with trifles."
At those words, Lia's expression flickered. Her fingers curled slightly.
But Cyrus only felt more warmth for Vera. "You truly are considerate."
He didn't see Lia's downcast gaze, or the smile that no longer touched her lips.
——
A few days later, Cyrus was sent on a sudden diplomatic mission to a neighboring kingdom. He departed in haste, without time to bid Lia farewell.
Before boarding the carriage, he handed a sapphire-and-white-gold brooch to Vera—a royal heirloom that symbolized sincerity and vow.
"Please give this to her for me," he said solemnly. "And tell her… I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye myself."
Vera took it with a gracious smile. "You have my word."
——
Three days passed.
Lia sat by the window, waiting anxiously. Cyrus hadn't come. No one had told her anything.
At midday, sunlight streamed through the window—and at last, footsteps approached. She leapt to her feet and rushed to open the door—
Vera stood there.
Clad in a pale gold silk gown, she stepped in with poised elegance. "Miss Lia, it's been a while."
Lia's eyes shone with hope and questioning. She couldn't speak, but her gaze asked everything.
Vera smiled, lips curving just so. "Cyrus won't be back for some time."
Lia's expression changed in an instant, eyes wide in confusion.
Vera tilted her head, studying her reaction. "Oh? He didn't tell you he was leaving on a diplomatic trip?"
Lia shook her head.
Vera sighed lightly. "Ah, men… Perhaps he thought it was too trivial to mention."
Lia lowered her eyes, fingers twisting into the fabric of her dress.
"Don't be upset, Lia," Vera cooed gently. From a small box, she drew the brooch—gleaming, ornate. "He gave me this to pass on. Think of it as a token in his stead. Don't hold it against him. He'd be heartbroken if you did."
The brooch glimmered like a frozen drop of sunset.
Lia's eyes misted. She didn't reach out.
Vera leaned in and pinned it to Lia's dress herself, adjusting it with nimble fingers.
"Look at you. So pretty—yet no proper jewelry. What a shame." Her voice was lilting, almost kind. "Keep this one. He's given me so many gifts, I won't miss it."
She patted Lia's shoulder and turned to leave.
Lia stood motionless, eyes fixed on the brooch. She didn't move.
Moonlight poured across the floor, catching the corner of her mouth and the sadness buried in her eyes.