The Debt Of Fate
Chapter 212: No offense

Chapter 212: No offense

"Master," the man who had come to report was surprised by the question.

"Answer," Ernest said impatiently.

"Master, the king has not taken an official mistress, but I have heard that the physician who serves the queen is carrying his child," the man replied, bowing.

Ernest frowned. He understood the rules well—a mistress should not become pregnant before the queen.

"What about the queen?" he asked. Although he had seen Anastasia and she hadn’t looked pregnant, he still inquired.

"The king is truly blinded by love. That little physician nearly made the queen barren, yet I heard he protected her. He even tried to link her actions with the king’s poisoning. In the end, she was merely sent to a secluded courtyard, and she still has servants caring for her," the man said, his tone laced with disbelief.

Why would the king protect a mistress who had harmed his wife?

He had investigated personally—after all, his master wanted to rebel, and nothing stirred unrest better than scandal.

Ernest’s frown deepened. He regretted helping Dorothy earlier. If only he had let her fall—perhaps the child in her womb would not be safe, and he would have unwittingly solved a problem for Anastasia.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

"Master, his throne is not yet secure. Shall I spread this news? Stir a little trouble?" the man asked.

"No," Ernest replied. "The people of Gube are here."

Then he walked away. Nixel could not afford to fight two wars at once, and since King George’s death, Ernest no longer felt so inclined to rebel.

---

In the adjoining hall, laughter and music mingled with the clinking of goblets as noblewomen gathered for a more intimate celebration. The atmosphere here was lighter—free from the eyes of courtiers and lords. Tapestries adorned the walls, and silver trays offered candied fruits, honeyed pastries, and rose-petal tea.

Princess Katrina stood in the center of a small circle, graciously answering questions and accepting compliments. Though only a guest, she carried herself like someone already at home in the palace.

Not far off, Queen Anastasia spoke with a few elder duchesses, her bearing composed, her voice soft but assured.

This time, she had arranged good seats for Duchess Anita and her mother, Lady Robert. Though she did not intend to align with them politically, she understood the value of small gestures—to prevent desperation.

Elizabeth, though not chosen as one of the queen’s lady in court, had still been seated among the court women.

When she saw the arrangement, her grandmother’s words came to mind: "Even if she dislikes you, you’ll still get the best seat at formal gatherings. She has no choice—unless she no longer values her reputation."

Their seats were just behind the queen’s. Elizabeth tried to build rapport with the other ladies, but their responses were cool. Of course, they understood the queen’s sentiments toward her sister.

This dampened any satisfaction Elizabeth had felt. She believed Anastasia had deliberately placed her there to humiliate her.

Meanwhile, Lady Thorne observed the queen from a distance before gathering her courage. She glanced at Amber, who sat quietly, hands folded in her lap. Then, with cautious steps, she approached Mary.

Mary sat beside Lady Howard, an old ally, sipping from a delicate porcelain cup. When she noticed Lady Thorne, her smile thinned, but she maintained it.

"Your Grace," Lady Thorne curtsied warmly. "It’s been a while since we last spoke."

Mary nodded politely. "Indeed, Lady Thorne."

The other ladies also greeted her, but it was clear from Mary’s demeanor that their relationship had cooled. After all, Lady Thorne had once held the seat beside Mary.

Lady Thorne waited a moment, then pressed on. "I was wondering if we might speak privately. Just for a moment."

Mary raised an eyebrow but gestured toward the empty seat beside her. "Speak freely."

Lady Thorne thanked her and sat down. She felt more confident now that Mary hadn’t refused her.

"I wished to ask about Amber... She is of age now and well-mannered. I thought, perhaps, if there were an opening in the queen’s court, she might serve Her Majesty—even in a modest capacity."

There was a pause. Mary didn’t respond immediately.

"I understand these things take time," Lady Thorne added quickly. "But Amber has long admired the queen—especially after hearing of her bravery during the war against Gube. Being in her presence would help her grow into the kind of lady our court needs."

Mary finally turned her head. Her smile was gone.

"Lady Thorne, the queen’s court is not a place to repay old friendships. It is a space for loyalty, discretion, and usefulness. Her Majesty already has ladies who meet her needs." Her voice was low—she still valued their former friendship.

Lady Thorne paled slightly but did not relent. "I assure you, Amber will prove herself. She—"

Mary cut her off, her tone firm though still measured. "I remember when you used to say the same about our friendship becoming family."

A few nearby heads turned, sensing a shift in tone.

Mary leaned in, her voice now a whisper. "You would do better to reflect, Lady Thorne, on why such things never came to pass—rather than trying to force your daughter into places where she is not welcome."

Lady Thorne stiffened. "I meant no offense, Your Grace. I only hoped—"

"I know what you hoped," Mary said coolly, leaning back. "But hope without humility is merely ambition wearing perfume."

She turned away, signaling the conversation’s end.

Mary still believed that her son Lucan’s marriage to the Gube princess was a sacrifice. If Lady Thorne had agreed to marry their children, Lucan wouldn’t have had to marry Katrina. Though the Thornes were prideful, at least Mary would have rested easier with that match.

Now that things had come to this, why should she lower herself to ask a favor for someone like Lady Thorne?

Several ladies were curious about the exchange, but only fragments of the conversation had reached their ears—and none dared to ask.

Lady Thorne remained seated for a moment, her gaze fixed on the polished floor. When she rose, her dignity remained intact, but her eyes burned with restrained humiliation. Amber had not heard the words, but she could sense the rejection. She kept her gaze lowered as her mother returned to her side.