Queen of Revenge - Chapter 89

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 89
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After the trial concluded, The King commanded Iolet to his chambers.
“The Princess is to come to my private study at once.”
Seven months prior, when she had first leveraged her marriage to Kairon Winterbark to secure diplomatic negotiating authority, it had been in the Audience Hall.
Four days ago, they had shared a meal in the Dining Room, and today she was summoned to the King’s Private Study.
The location where one received royal commands was itself an indicator of the King’s favor.
Only members of the Royal Family could enter the King’s Private Study, and since the deaths of the queens, Catherine had been the sole exception.
That unspoken rule, maintained for over a decade, shattered today with Iolet’s entry.
This too would spread through the mouths of nobles to every corner of the upper echelons. “The Princess Iolet has received the recognition of His Majesty the King,” they would say.
Yet Iolet sensed instinctively that this, too, was the Late King’s design. It meant nothing particularly advantageous for her.
When Iolet entered the King’s Private Study, The King was smoking a cigar by the window.
“You’ve come?”
“Yes, Father.”
“You must have exerted yourself searching through the Royal Chronicles.”
“You entrusted me with a grave trial, so I had to see it through.”
Iolet lowered her eyes obediently.
The King smoked in silence for a time. Only when the heavy oak scent grew so thick that Iolet felt a headache coming on did he finally speak.
“Catherine rushed the state wedding. There was no need to conduct it so hastily, yet she pestered the Duke as though they couldn’t live without each other.”
It was a topic entirely unrelated to the matter at hand.
The King spoke as though he had completely forgotten that Iolet had been Duke Valer’s long-standing fiancée. Iolet made no effort to reveal her feelings on the matter.
“After experiencing Count Leon’s affair, she must have been anxious. When one acts hastily, even manageable matters become impossible—but one’s innate nature cannot be changed, no matter how much one is taught. She takes after her mother.”
The King’s first wife, Laila, had been a commoner.
Elevated overnight to become the King’s woman and Queen of Elovis, she had struggled with life in the Royal Palace.
She could not comprehend why the nobles rejected her existence, nor why the servants maintained a subtle distance from her.
Though she was the King’s wife and could have carried herself with confidence, she conducted herself like a Royal Concubine while occupying the Queen’s seat.
“Having been born beneath such a mother, Catherine is no different. She constantly seeks to build her faction, anxious to prove her worth. Since you’ve handled this matter well, Catherine’s heart must be burning with envy. No matter how she tries to hide it, it all shows through. Pathetic.”
“Yet you love Elder Sister, Father.”
Iolet received his words with composure.
“Though you speak thus, you cherish her deeply in your heart.”
“Is she not pitiful? I made her mother a queen, not a concubine, so Catherine has no reason to harbor inferiority about her bloodline. Yet she is excessively conscious of you, her younger sister. Even though she possesses nothing less than you.”
Iolet swallowed a bitter laugh within herself.
If Catherine was to be pitied, what of her own wretched circumstances?
Her mother, her perfectly sound residence, her supporters, even her fiancé—all had been taken from her.
Yet still The King paid no mind to what Iolet had lost. Instead, he stared at her intently before uttering abruptly:
“When I look at you, I cannot help but think of Charlotte.”
Iolet felt as though she had already heard the words he deliberately left unspoken.
If only Catherine had been Charlotte’s daughter.
The King murmured as though lamenting.
“What a waste. Such a waste it is….”
“….”
“But the more I observe her, the more admirable she becomes. Catherine grows sharper with each sting of inadequacy. I confess, I find myself anticipating her future.”
Fearing her trembling breath might betray her, Iolet chose to hold her breath instead.
In the end, summoning Iolet to his private study was merely fertilizer for Catherine’s growth.
No matter how brilliantly Iolet distinguished herself or demonstrated her acumen, The King never considered her as a successor. Should she display even the slightest ambition, he would nip it in the bud without hesitation.
That is why Iolet had meticulously orchestrated events to suit The Late King’s tastes. She had removed Duke Uter from the Royal Council by her own hand—quite literally saving only the Duke’s Son from execution.
‘Had I allowed the Duke to remain in the Capital, I would have fallen from Father’s favor immediately.’
In the end, that judgment proved sound.
The King set down his teacup and finally spoke.
“I grant you the credentials of an ambassador to Kalande. Go there and ascertain what titles and territories Commander Winterbark receives, and what arguments the princes wage over him.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Guide the Commander toward the First Prince’s faction, but should matters grow complicated, maintain a position of neutrality. You understand that Elovis must not appear to be interfering in Kalande’s affairs? You must always leave enough of a tail to cut.”
“Of course. You need not worry.”
“You are my eyes and ears. Eyes and ears merely observe—they do not judge or act. So beyond these instructions, attempt nothing else.”
Iolet answered obediently.
“I shall remember.”
“I will personally consider the composition of the Diplomatic Corps. I shall provide you with the roster within days, so prepare accordingly and depart for Kalande.”
“Yes.”
She suspected he would entrust the task of assembling that diplomatic roster to Catherine.
It was his way of saying: do not resent me for favoring Iolet’s hand.
Such a measure would indeed prove effective in placating Catherine.
Iolet marveled at The Late King’s insight. Simultaneously, she pitied him.
How tragic that he could not even suspect that the daughter he had tested and cultivated countless times would ultimately seek his life.
The Late King would take to his sickbed with an inexplicable illness some two years hence. Less than a year later, he would close his eyes for the final time.
Though much had changed from the past, the fact that The King would meet an untimely death remained unaltered.
As always when meeting with him alone, her heart burned hot with accumulated resentment.
‘I will not save you, Father. Just as you stood by while my mother took her own life, just as you turned away from me.’
Had The King shown Iolet even a measure of affection, his fate might have been different.
Yet despite everything, Iolet prayed that he would remain strong until the very end.
That he would be a ruler unyielding until the moment his eldest daughter resorted to her most desperate measures.
So that he might face me when I return, transformed beyond his wildest imagination.
Standing in a place he could never have dared to conceive.
Iolet bowed, her heart alight with anticipation of the approaching future.
“I shall return, Mother.”
* * *
The grand manor of House Uter—now demoted to an earldom—bustled with laborers hauling away belongings.
Count Uter planned to descend to the Uter Estate, near the labor camp where his son would serve his sentence. To pay the reparations to House Montfer, he had been forced to liquidate nearly all his assets.
When Iolet visited, more than half the manor’s furnishings had already vanished.
“You have put the manor up for sale, Master?”
“Disposing of the Capital residence seems wiser than selling the estate. I have already stepped down from the Council of Elders—there is no reason to remain in the Capital.”
Count Uter laughed hollowly. Despite appearing to lose his entire fortune, his complexion was far brighter than it had been days before.
Rather than answer, I surveyed the Manor. This was an ancestral estate boasting two centuries of history.
In particular, Count Uter’s private library at the heart of this Manor rivaled the Royal Library itself. Several rare manuscripts in the Earldom’s collection were more precious than diamonds in the heart of a desert.
“Why not take out a loan instead, Master? It would be a shame to sell this Manor.”
“If your concern is the library, there’s no need to worry. I plan to carefully transfer the important collections to the Main House.”
“No, that’s not my concern. You’ll regain your dukedom next year anyway, so it would be wasteful to sell it.”
“What? Regain it?”
Count Uter doubted his own ears.
I spoke while running my hand over the beautiful grapevine pattern adorning the Column.
“You will be summoned back to the Capital next winter, Master. Perhaps even by autumn.”
“Who on earth would summon me back?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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