"Good. You’re hired. I need a full audit of my household finances going back two years. Everything that was spent, everything that was transferred, every account that touched my budget. You’ll have access to palace archives and my personal authorization. Your salary is four hundred gold monthly, plus discretionary funds for hiring assistants if needed."
Mira’s eyes widened slightly. That was nearly double standard rate for senior accountants. "Your Highness, I—"
"You were dismissed for refusing to participate in embezzlent. That’s exactly the kind of integrity I need." Elara slid a contract across the desk. "Sign here. You start today."
Mira took the pen with hands that trembled just slightly, then signed.
The second candidate was younger—a man in his late twenties with ink stains on his fingers and the cautious posture of soone used to being overlooked.
"Dimitri Orlean. Forr correspondence clerk. Family runs a textile import business."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"You were let go for ’insubordination.’ Explain."
Dimitri swallowed. "I questioned why letters addressed to you from the rchants’ Council were being rerouted to the Empress’s office before reaching your desk."
Elara’s expression didn’t change, but she made a ntal note. "How did you notice?"
"Seal marks, Your Highness. Official council correspondence uses specific wax compounds. The letters you received had been opened and resealed with standard palace wax. Different lting point, different texture."
"And you reported this?"
"To the head steward. Who reported for ’making unfounded accusations.’" His jaw tightened. "Two days later I was dismissed."
"Do you still have contacts in the rchants’ Council?"
"My uncle sits on the trade committee. My cousin manages shipping logistics at the eastern port."
"Then you’re hired as correspondence secretary. Your job is to establish direct communication channels with every major rchant house, guild, and trade organization in the capital. I want information flowing to without palace interdiaries. Salary is three hundred and fifty monthly, plus travel expenses."
Dimitri stared. "Your Highness, that’s—"
"Exactly what I need. Sign."
He signed.
By the end of the day, Elara had hired four people: the accountant, the correspondence clerk, a legal researcher with connections to the imperial court system, and a logistics coordinator who’d worked in military supply chains before civilian life.
None of them were perfect. All of them had been dismissed, sidelined, or pushed out by the previous regi. But they were competent, motivated by the chance to rebuild their careers, and—most importantly—they had external networks the palace couldn’t easily monitor.
As the last candidate left, Lisa appeared in the doorway. "Your Highness, the Emperor has summoned you. He wants to discuss your mother’s research notes."
Elara stood, ignoring the dull ache still present in her shoulder. "Good. I have questions about resonance theory anyway."
"Should I prepare formal court attire?"
"No. This is a research consultation, not a political audience." She glanced at the signed contracts on her desk. "Tell Mira she has authorization to access household archives starting tomorrow. Tell Dimitri to begin drafting letters to the trade guilds."
"Yes, Your Highness."
As Elara walked toward the Emperor’s study, she calculated her position. Four competent staff mbers. One rescued knight. Imperial interest maintained through research collaboration. And Eleana, sowhere in the palace, planning her next move.
The pieces were still unbalanced. But they were moving..
.
.
.
The eting with the Emperor lasted less than twenty minutes.
He’d reviewed her latest calculations, asked three pointed questions about energy transfer coefficients, nodded once, and then slid a silver ring across the desk.
"Your household authority," he said simply. "Full administrative control restored."
It wasn’t a significant reward in the grand sche—every princess normally controlled her own palace independently. But when the Fourth Princess’s mother had died, that authority had transferred to the Empress. Specifically, to Eleana’s mother, the First Empress, who controlled the inner palace networks.
Now, with this ring on her finger, everything within Elara’s palace walls answered to her alone.
She bowed. "Thank you, Imperial Father."
"Don’t waste it," he replied, already turning back to his own research notes.
She left.
.....
Elara walked through the eastern corridor, one hand absently touching the ring on her finger, the other resting against the sling supporting her injured shoulder. The wound still throbbed with each step, but at least it had served its purpose—visible evidence that made her look vulnerable while she maneuvered behind the scenes.
A small price.
One beast knight trailed ten paces behind her—the fox knight she’d rescued, now assigned as permanent escort. His presence was quiet, unobtrusive, exactly as it should be.
Then a figure stepped directly into her path.
Tall. Powerfully built. Lion beastman, judging by the mane of golden hair and the predatory yellow eyes. He wore formal knight’s armor marked with the First Empress’s insignia—which ant he served Eleana’s household, not hers.
He bowed with exaggerated courtesy, one hand over his chest, then extended the other toward her. "Your Highness."
Elara looked at the offered hand with the sa expression she might give a dead insect on the floor. After a calculated pause, she placed her hand in his.
He brought it to his lips. "I am Sir Robin, Your Highness. Knight-Captain of the First Princess’s guard. Congratulations on your... victory."
The emphasis on the last word was deliberate. A provocation.
Elara withdrew her hand imdiately, reached into her sleeve with her uninjured arm, and pulled out a white handkerchief. She wiped her fingers slowly, thoroughly, then dropped the cloth onto the floor between them without looking at it.
Her face remained completely blank. No disgust. No anger. Nothing.
Just cold dismissal.
Robin’s smile didn’t waver, but sothing sharp flickered in his eyes as he glanced at the discarded handkerchief. "It seems I’ve done sothing to offend you, Your Highness."
Elara’s gaze was flat and steady. "Standing in my path without reason qualifies as obstruction, Sir Robin. I assu you have a valid explanation for being here. Did my sister send you with a ssage, or do you have personal business with ?"
He paused—just for a heartbeat—and she saw the recalculation happen behind his eyes. The previous Fourth Princess would have smiled nervously, apologized for the misunderstanding, assured him it was fine.
This one had just treated him like contaminated refuse.
"My apologies, Your Highness," he said smoothly, recovering. "I was simply passing through on my way to attend the First Princess and thought it proper to offer congratulations on your recovery."
"Then you’ve completed your task." Elara’s tone was perfectly neutral. "My sister will be waiting for you. Don’t let delay you further."
A dismissal. Clear, direct, and utterly without room for negotiation.
Robin’s smile widened fractionally—genuine amusent now, mixed with sothing more dangerous. "Of course, Your Highness. I wouldn’t dream of keeping you."
He bowed again, deeper this ti, and stepped aside.
Elara walked past him without another glance. The fox knight followed silently, tail low with tension.
Behind them, Robin remained standing in the corridor, looking down at the discarded handkerchief on the floor. His expression was thoughtful now, the false courtesy gone.
He bent down, picked up the cloth, and tucked it into his belt.
"Interesting," he murmured to himself, then turned and walked in the opposite direction—toward Eleana’s palace.
User Comments
0 comments from readers