Five more years had passed. Amelia had turned fifteen. The war remained in the past, leaving behind scars on the northern lands and a new, tense tranquility in the capital. For the Princess, these were years of a double life: days dedicated to the fine arts and sciences, and misty early mornings given over to sweat, steel, and the twang of a bowstring under the secret guidance of Sir Leon.
A golden autumn day enveloped the palace garden. Queen Isolde and her ladies-in-waiting sat in the shade of a spreading oak, conducting a leisurely conversation over tea. Their silk dresses in pastel tones resembled the buds of exotic flowers. Nearby, on a perfectly manicured lawn, the youth played croquet.
Over these years, everyone had changed. Prince Damian, now twenty, preferred a book to the game, settling himself at a distance. His friend, twenty-year-old Tristan Hawke, on the contrary, played with a predatory zeal. He put excessive force into every strike of the mallet, never taking his heavy, possessive gaze off the Princess.
Sir Leon himself, now the youngest Captain in the history of the Palace Guard, stood slightly apart—tall, silent, and unbending as a rock. A scar above his eyebrow, earned during one of their "night sessions," only added a rugged masculinity to his face.
But Amelia had changed most of all. From a charming child, she had transformed into an elegant, graceful young woman. She played croquet with the cold precision of a strategist; every strike was calculated and effective. A hidden strength showed through in her movements, and that same non-childish wisdom still dwelt in her dark-gray eyes.
The ladies at the tea table could not take their admiring eyes off her.
"How she has blossomed!" one whispered. "The true rose of the kingdom."
"And only one year left," chimed in another, an elderly duchess, gracefully setting down her cup. "Her debut next season will be the main event of society life. I suspect, Your Majesty, your Chamberlain's casket is already overflowing with heraldic seals from the most noble houses wishing to join families. Especially after the young Marquis Tristan has been demonstrating his intentions so openly."
Queen Isolde merely smiled enigmatically, as if she had been waiting for these very words. She made a slight gesture to the nearest page.
"Summon the Princess."
Amelia, noticing the signal, gracefully left the game. Passing by Tristan, she felt his gaze on her—sticky and searing—but didn't even bat an eyelash. She approached her mother and executed a perfect curtsy.
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"You called, Mother?"
"Yes, my dear," the Queen looked at her daughter with tenderness. "The time for games is coming to an end. In a year, your first ball will take place—your official debut in society. I have found you the best tutor in the kingdom—Madame Eloise. Starting tomorrow, your intensive preparation begins. You must become the most precious diamond of this season."
Amelia smiled politely, hiding thoroughly cynical thoughts behind a facade of meekness.
Project 'Diamond'. Sounds ambitious, she thought. Let's see what the KPIs are.
"What shall I be learning, Mother?"
"The subtleties of court etiquette, so that not a single gesture of yours is misinterpreted. The art of conversation, to charm allies and disarm enemies with a single word. Gallant dances, in which every step is part of a complex diplomatic game. And," the Queen leaned forward slightly, her voice becoming quieter and weightier, "most importantly: the art of heraldry and political alliances. You must know the crest, history, strengths, and weaknesses of every noble house in Ethergard and beyond. Your smile will be your shield, Amelia, and your knowledge—your true weapon. You are entering marriageable age..."
Amelia's face reflected only polite submission, but in her mind, dry business terms immediately translated her mother's words into a language she understood.
Entering marriageable age... In the corporate world, this is called launching an IPO. Initial Public Offering—placing shares on the market in search of the most profitable investor. Well, since I am the main asset of this company, I need to ensure I retain the controlling stake.
Dropping another curtsy, she walked away.
So, my task is not just to marry well, she reflected with cold clarity, walking along the garden path. My task is to conduct a full asset valuation before the merger. Mother is preparing me not for a ball, but for tough negotiations. Well then... this is familiar territory.
A plan began to form instantly in her head, clear and structured like an annual report.
Madame Eloise will give me official, filtered information. That is insufficient. I need real data, insider info. I need to start my own audit of all the influential houses of Ethergard. Their real financial standing, military power, secret debts, illegitimate children, and hidden ambitions. And, of course, psychological profiles of their heirs—character, habits, vices.
Her mind’s eye cast its gaze beyond the kingdom.
And I cannot limit myself only to Ethergard. I need to know everything about the unmarried princes and dukes of Arden and Solaris. Expand the target market, so to speak. Analyze the potential ROI of an alliance with each of them. When the time comes, Father and Mother will present me with a shortlist of candidates. But I will be ready. I will come to that meeting with my own analytics and counter-proposals. After all, this merger concerns my life first and foremost. They won't be able to ignore my findings.
Her gaze met Leon's, who was standing at his post. The Captain of the Guard gave a barely perceptible nod, his hand resting habitually on the hilt of his sword. He read her mood without words.
Amelia smirked almost invisibly.
Time to get the business suit out. And it seems I already have an employee for my new analytics department.
