Chapter 16 Aug 18, 2025 Celeste "Some women enter the palace as wives. Others as scandals." Duchess Evelyne sat at the head of the tea service, her silver hair arranged in elaborate coils that spoke of old money and older power. Her dark eyes surveyed me with the cold calculation of a merchant appraising damaged goods. I set my teacup down with deliberate care, the fine china making barely a whisper against its saucer. Around the circle, the other ladies held their breath. Lady Catherine's embroidery needle froze mid-stitch. Lady Marguerite's fan snapped shut. "And some remain relics," I replied, meeting the Duchess's gaze without flinching, "until the throne no longer has use for them." But Duchess Evelyne merely smiled, and I realized with growing dread that I had walked directly into her trap. "How… spirited," she murmured, stirring sugar into her tea with movements so controlled they looked rehearsed. "Such fire from someone in such a delicate position." "My position seems quite secure, thank you." "Does it?" Her laugh was like winter wind through bare branches. "How fascinating. Tell me, dear, what gives you such confidence?" Lady Catherine cleared her throat. "Perhaps we should discuss the upcoming charity auction-" "Oh, but this is far more interesting," Duchess Evelyne interrupted, never taking her eyes off me. "After all, the kingdom is so eager for an heir. Though I suppose the question on everyone's mind is rather… specific." My hands wanted to tremble, but I forced them still. "I'm afraid I don't follow your meaning." "Don't you? How curious. I would have thought such an intelligent young woman would understand perfectly. But perhaps pregnancy affects the mind as well as the body." The attack was surgical in its precision. Everyone in the room understood exactly what she was implying. "You seem remarkably interested in my condition," I said, my voice steady despite the way my heart was racing. "Should I be flattered by such attention?" "Interested? Oh my dear, we're all interested. The succession depends on it, doesn't it? Though I suppose there are… questions of legitimacy that some might raise." Lady Marguerite gasped softly. Lady Catherine's face had gone pale as parchment. But I kept my composure, even as I felt the walls closing in around me. "Questions?" I tilted my head slightly, as if genuinely confused. "I'm married to the Crown Prince. What questions could there possibly be?" "Well," Duchess Evelyne leaned forward conspiratorially, "timing can be such a delicate matter, can't it? Especially when certain… irregularities come to light." "I'm not sure what irregularities you're referring to." "Aren't you? How remarkable. Though I suppose discretion has never been your particular strength, has it, dear?" The barb hit its mark. I felt heat rise in my cheeks but fought to keep my expression neutral. "I think," I said, rising gracefully from my chair, "that I've heard quite enough speculation for one afternoon." "Of course, dear. Do take care of yourself. In your condition, one can never be too careful about… associations." I walked out with my head high, but I could feel their eyes burning into my back. I could sense Duchess Evelyne's satisfaction radiating behind me like heat from a forge. The campaign began immediately. "I'm terribly sorry, Your Highness," Lord Beaumont's secretary explained the next morning, his face a mask of apologetic concern. "There seems to have been an oversight with the invitations. Lady Beaumont is simply devastated." "Of course," I replied smoothly. "These things happen." But they were happening with increasing frequency. My name disappeared from committee lists. Invitations stopped arriving. Conversations died when I entered rooms, replaced by polite nods and carefully averted gazes. "Perhaps it would be best if you stepped aside from the garden committee this season," Lady Fontaine suggested with false regret. "Given your condition, of course. We wouldn't want to overtax you." "How thoughtful." "And the charity board feels they have sufficient representation at the moment." "I see." Each slight was small, defensible when viewed individually. But together, they formed a pattern of systematic isolation that was impossible to ignore. The whispers followed me through every corridor. "Have you noticed how she glows? Strange for someone so early along…" "The timing is rather convenient, isn't it?" "Well, they do say certain indiscretions have a way of revealing themselves…" I began taking meals in my chambers to avoid the weight of their stares. Hannah brought my correspondence each morning with increasingly worried expressions. "Perhaps you should speak to His Majesty," she suggested one morning as she arranged fresh orchids on my writing desk. "About what? Gossip?" "About protection." But protection from what? Whispered accusations? Meaningful glances? The slow, methodical destruction of my reputation through a thousand tiny cuts?