The Debt Of Fate
Chapter 219: mistress changes nothing

Chapter 219: mistress changes nothing

What did you say?" Ernest’s voice was cold. He had not been in a good mood since the news of the king taking a mistress became public. He had overheard a few people mocking the queen, saying that although she was newly married, she was already forgotten.

He didn’t need to think hard to realize that someone was controlling the narrative. After all, it was the king who had done wrong. There were no written rules, but it was customary for a man to take a mistress at least two years after marriage—usually after the main wife had produced an heir. Yet here was King Edward, taking a mistress barely a year into his reign, and somehow, the people blamed the queen.

Especially now that rumors had begun to circulate—that the queen had been poisoned and might not be able to bear children. Ernest’s mood grew darker, though he wasn’t sure how to help Anastasia. Causing trouble for the king might also hurt her, so he had refrained.

But unexpectedly, the queen herself seemed to be pushing back—spreading rumors about the king and his mistress.

"Master, the queen has sent her men to spread whispers through a few inns," the man repeated.

"Help them. Make sure the news spreads as loudly as possible," Ernest said coldly. "Let the people know that the king is a man whose heart is entirely set on one woman. That he even helped his mistress poison his queen. If she wants to refer to the incident at the military camp, then emphasize it. You don’t need to do much—just spark the narrative."

"Master..." The subordinate was surprised. He had assumed Ernest had given up on challenging the royal family since the former king’s death.

"Do as I say," Ernest ordered, unwilling to explain. He had thought there was no need to rebel—but if Edward was going to rule foolishly, perhaps rebellion would become necessary after all.

The subordinate said nothing more and left to carry out the order.

---

Duke Thompson’s Residence

Elizabeth had been in a cheerful mood since hearing of the king taking a mistress. From the gossip she heard, the king seemed deeply fond of the woman. As long as things continued to go poorly for Anastasia, she was more than delighted.

"Mother, do you think Anastasia will soon become a forgotten queen, like the rumors say?" Elizabeth asked.

"It’s possible," Duchess Anita replied coolly. "Anastasia lacks strong backing. She even refused your grandfather’s support. If that mistress bears a son, Anastasia might be queen in name only."

Though she didn’t show it openly, Duchess Anita was pleased. She had never truly wanted to help Anastasia. The queen hadn’t chosen Elizabeth to serve in her court and had even spoken back to her. Secretly, Anita believed that Anastasia might not last long on the throne—especially now that the king was clearing a path for his mistress.

"Your Grace," a maid named Lala entered with a curtsy.

Duchess Anita looked up.

"There’s an invitation from the queen. She is hosting all the noble wives in the royal garden three days from now. There’s also a public feast planned for seven days later. Invitations have been sent to both you and the young lady," Lala said, handing over the envelope.

Duchess Anita was surprised. She had not expected Anastasia to still have the courage—or the will—to host a feast at such a time. Especially not one on this scale.

Looking at the invitation, a small smile tugged at her lips. Perhaps her stepdaughter was not so foolish after all. Now that a mistress had become just as popular as the queen, Anastasia was likely feeling desperate. But hosting the noble wives was a clever—if risky—move. It was a double-edged sword.

Those wives would mock her in whispers and likely try to take advantage of her weakened position. After all, what could the queen do without the king’s support?

"Prepare yourself well," Duchess Anita said, turning to Elizabeth. "This may be your opportunity to shine."

Elizabeth didn’t fully understand what her mother intended, but she nodded obediently.

---

That night, news of the king and his mistress spread across the kingdom. Usually, no one dared to speak ill of the king—but he had only just ascended the throne, and many royal bloodlines remained ambitious and greedy.

Whispers began to circulate that Edward was unfit to rule.

The idea took root quietly at first—then gained momentum. People called him blind and dishonorable for failing to manage his household, for allowing scandal, and for allegedly helping his mistress harm the queen.

Even noble ladies, who had first mocked the queen’s situation, began to complain. The notion that the king used his queen as bait to win a war while sheltering his mistress deeply unsettled them. Many feared that their own husbands might start to follow the king’s example.

---

Meanwhile, Dorothy had no idea how dangerous the atmosphere outside the palace had become. With her status now established, she spent her evening carefully dressing for the upcoming feast.

"My lady, I advise you not to attend this feast," the nanny by her side said with concern. She feared the queen might try to harm her.

"Why?" Dorothy asked, touching her slightly rounded belly. With the king’s affection and favor, she didn’t believe Anastasia would dare to touch her.

Besides, the seer had assured her that she was destined to become queen in a few years.

"Feasts can be messy. What if the queen hurts you?" the nanny repeated.

"She won’t dare," Dorothy said with full confidence. In fact, she was hoping Anastasia would try something. The seer had said she was favored by heaven. If the queen made a mistake, it might give the king reason to divorce her—and then Dorothy could truly ascend.

Seeing her so confident, the nanny kept silent. After all, only days ago, they were still living in a forgotten corner of the palace. Now they had moved into better quarters. The seer, it seemed, truly knew what he was doing.

.....

At the same time the royal garden was transformed.

Fresh flowers bloomed in every corner, their fragrance carried by the late morning breeze. Silk banners in the queen’s colors fluttered gently among sculpted hedges. Silver trays lined with fruits, sweet cakes, and wine were arranged with precision, and skilled musicians played soft melodies in the background.

Anastasia stood at the center of it all, dressed in a gown of pale gold that shimmered beneath the sun. Her hair was pinned high with emerald combs, and not a trace of anxiety showed on her face. She wore the mask of a perfect queen—poised, elegant, untouchable.

One by one, noble wives arrived—each greeted with grace, each given a seat according to her husband’s rank. Most curtsied respectfully, though their eyes lingered, searching for signs of weakness.

Duchess Anita and Elizabeth arrived late, drawing curious glances. Elizabeth’s gown was a touch too extravagant, the color too bright for a formal garden event. Anita, ever calculating, wore a knowing smile as she greeted Anastasia.

"Your Majesty," she said with a practiced curtsy. "The garden is even more splendid than the last I saw it."

"You are welcome, Duchess. And you as well, Lady Elizabeth," Anastasia replied with serene politeness.

More women came, and whispers followed behind them. Some murmured about the queen’s appearance how composed she looked despite the rumors. Others speculated whether she would bring up the king’s mistress, or pretend as though it did not exist.

Dorothy arrived halfway through the event.

She wore soft lavender silk, her growing belly barely concealed. Her steps were slow but confident, her chin lifted. As she entered, silence rippled across the garden like a dropped stone in water.

She curtsied, stiffly. "Your Majesty."

Anastasia’s gaze met hers calmly. "You are welcome to the garden, Lady Dorothy," she said, her voice light as air. "It gladdens me to see you well enough to attend."

Dorothy felt a prickle at the back of her neck, but she smiled anyway. "Thank you, Your Majesty." Miss Magdalene step forward and lead her to her seat.

When Dorothy saw her table, she was furious. She was lead to the Conner of the table and could only share table with the wives of small nobles.

She thought that with her identity this women would try to be friend her but they neglected her.

For the next hour, laughter and pleasantries filled the garden—at least on the surface. Beneath it, the noble wives whispered in corners. Some praised Anastasia’s boldness in hosting the feast, while others mocked her silence on the mistress scandal. But the most uncomfortable one was Dorothy, after all this woman kept looking at her with disdain.

Eventually, the queen stood. Her voice rang clear over the music and chatter.

"I am thankful to each of you for attending today," Anastasia began, folding her hands in front of her. "In times of unrest or uncertainty, the strength of the court lies not only in the king, but in its women its noble wives—who guide their households with dignity and wisdom."

Some nodded. Others sat still.

"I am aware," she continued, eyes sweeping the crowd, "that many have heard rumors, unfortunate and exaggerated things—regarding matters within the palace."

Dorothy’s fingers clenched around her cup.

"But let it be known: I remain queen, chosen by law, blessed by the temple, and loyal to the crown. His Majesty, is picking a mistress just like any man. Or could it be that a wife loses her status after her husband gains a mistress?

Her voice had sharpened subtly.

This question made all this wives present nod in agreement.

"A noble wife knows her place, she defines it." Anastasia was reminding them that she, was the queen, a mistress changes nothing

There was a long pause before the wives applauded, polite and restrained. But the message had been sent.

Dorothy’s smile faltered.