Remesis headed towards the door. Her steps were firm, but nevertheless, she was still worried inside.
She opened the door.
The maid was waiting for her in the corridor to escort her to the dining room.
"Princess," the maid said, concern evident in her voice. "Are you alright? You look... pale."
"I'm fine," Remesis replied. "Just tired."
She took one step, then another. The corridor stretched ahead, lit by the warm light of torches. Somewhere ahead, in the large dining room, Asil was waiting for her.
Remesis clutched the edge of the papers in her pocket and walked faster.
She had to do this. Had to say it. Had to put an end to all this madness before it consumed her completely.
But then why was every step so difficult?
Why was it not relief that grew in her chest, but something else — dark, viscous, like fear?
Or like regret?
She did not know. And, perhaps, did not want to know.
The dining room was close. Remesis saw the light seeping from under the door, heard the muffled voices of servants.
She stopped for a moment, pressing her palm to her chest to calm her heartbeat.
"Your Highness?" the maid looked at her questioningly.
"Let's go," Remesis said.
And stepped forward.
The dining room was bathed in the soft light of candles.
The long table, set for two, seemed almost empty — too large for two people. Crystal glasses, silver cutlery, porcelain plates with the finest patterns — everything looked magnificent.
Asil was already sitting in her place — at the head of the table, as befitted the mistress of this castle. She had changed into simpler clothes, her hair was loose and fell over her shoulders in heavy waves. In the dim candlelight, her face seemed carved from ivory — beautiful and merciless.
Remesis paused for a moment on the threshold.
"Wife," Asil looked up and smiled. "Come in. Sit down."
Remesis took a step, then another. She chose a seat to the side of the princess — far enough to maintain distance, and close enough to hear each other.
The servants silently served the first course. Soup — light, clear, with herbs, steaming. Remesis picked up her spoon but did not eat. She looked at the plate, feeling Asil's gaze burning a hole through her.
"Why aren't you eating?" the princess asked.
"...Not hungry."
"A lie."
Remesis pursed her lips.
"What makes you say that?"
"You ate nothing on the road, did you? Not a single crumb has passed your lips all day. If this continues, you will faint right at this table. And then I will have to carry you to the bedroom in my arms... Which, however, would not upset me in the slightest."
Asil spoke calmly, listing facts like a doctor making a diagnosis. And this calmness only made Remesis feel worse.
"I said — I am not hungry," she repeated, gripping the spoon so tightly her knuckles turned white.
The princess did not answer. She leaned back in her chair, studying Remesis with a long, heavy gaze. The candles flickered, shadows danced on the walls, and the silence in the dining room became almost tangible.
"It seems you have something for me," Asil said finally. It was not a question.
Remesis flinched.
"...What?"
"You didn't come here for no reason. I know that. You came to tell me something important. Right?"
Remesis involuntarily pulled her hand back, as if burned.
She had not thought the princess could see right through her like that. Was her agitation so noticeable? She had tried to keep her face composed, tried not to give herself away — but it seemed all her efforts were in vain.
Asil, meanwhile, smirked.
"Wife, you really are a terrible actress."
Remesis remained silent, feeling everything inside her clench into a tight knot. Well, since the princess already knew anyway, there was no point in continuing to delay this moment. The sooner she spoke, the sooner it would all be over.
"In that case, Your Highness, I..."
"I will listen to everything you have to tell me," Asil interrupted, and her voice suddenly became almost stern. "But before that, let us have dinner first."
"..."
Remesis held her breath.
The princess looked directly at her — and in that gaze, there was not a drop of doubt or negotiation. Apparently, this was a mandatory condition, and she was not going to back down before she saw Remesis eat.
"You can be as picky as you want," Asil added.
Remesis wanted to object — but the words stuck in her throat.
Instead, she had to pick up her spoon.
The soup was warm — not hot, but not cold either. Remesis ate slowly, almost mechanically, tasting nothing. Spoonful after spoonful, gulp after gulp. She forced herself to swallow, although every bite stuck in her throat.
Asil watched her in silence.
The servants served the second course — baked fish with vegetables, then the third — meat with a spicy sauce. Remesis hardly noticed what she was eating. She was simply fulfilling the condition — mechanically chewing, swallowing, washing it down with the wine the maid poured into her glass.
Finally, when the plate before her was empty and Asil nodded in satisfaction, Remesis pushed her cutlery aside.
"Enough?" she asked defiantly.
"Enough," the princess nodded. "Now you may speak."
She took a deep breath, feeling the air scratch her throat, and pulled the papers from her pocket.
Master Luwen's diary.
And the divorce agreement.
She placed them on the table — next to her plate, between the cutlery, on the snow-white tablecloth. Asil's attention first went to the diary, which looked old and worn, its leather binding darkened by time.
"What is this?" she asked, frowning slightly.
"This is Master Luwen's diary," Remesis replied. "I found it by chance in his room, when... when I was there last time."
"Mm... I see." Asil took the diary in her hands, turned it over, examining it from all sides. Then set it back down. "But why are you giving it to me?"
"Because I want you to read it."
"Hm?" the princess looked at the worn diary with a bored expression.
"This diary contains important information. I could not simply close my eyes to it — that would be irresponsible of me, given who I am and what position I hold. And so I decided to give it to you, so that you could read it too."
Remesis took a deep breath as she spoke these words. In truth, she had intended to give this diary to the princess much earlier, but it had only happened now. In any case, the girl hoped the princess would read it.
Asil, however, glanced at the diary with an inscrutable expression. She sighed shortly.
"Alright... I will read it in my spare time."
But her tone was such that she seemed intent on forgetting the existence of this diary as soon as the conversation ended. Remesis vaguely suspected that this was exactly what would happen — the diary would end up on a distant shelf, gather dust, and no one would ever open it again.
And so she could not back down.
"Your Highness, you really should read this diary!" she said. "It contains important information regarding the imperial family."
"Hm?" Asil propped her cheek on her fist and looked at her.
"You know that Master Luwen used to work as a tutor in the imperial palace, don't you?"
"Mm... Yes. That's no secret."
"He was once responsible for teaching the Emperor — back when he was still the Crown Prince. Master Luwen was very close to the imperial court at that time. And his diary contains information that might seem... shocking to you."
Asil continued to watch her — calmly, with slight curiosity.
"In fact..." Remesis exhaled deeply, gathering her strength. "The Emperor and Her Highness Princess Kastrea were not the only children of the imperial family. In truth... Emperor Alexis Cezia Ashelot also had a younger twin brother."
"..."
"I knew nothing about this until I read the master's diary. But it seems it is indeed true..."
At least, Remesis strongly doubted that Iter Luwen would deliberately fabricate false facts in his own personal diary.
"...once upon a time, there were two princes in the empire," Remesis continued, collecting her thoughts. "And Master Luwen was also their tutor — and knew them both well."
Thus, Remesis recounted to the princess in detail everything she knew from the personal diary and from her own research.
She spoke for a long time, trying not to miss a single detail.
To be honest, once upon a time in the Nadal Empire, there truly were two princes. The late Emperor — and his twin brother. The elder, Alexis, was the heir to the throne — strong, intelligent, and charismatic. He was loved at court, admired by the people. Everyone considered him the ideal future ruler.
The younger, Aiden, was his complete opposite.
Sickly, frail, forever hiding in his elder brother's shadow. He possessed neither talents, nor health, nor popularity. At court, he was almost unnoticed — he was like a ghost.
And yet, according to the master's records, the brothers lived quite amicably. At least, until one incident that turned everything upside down.
One day, the brothers went hunting together.
But only one returned.
Crown Prince Alexis said that his brother had died in an accident. And after that, the Crown Prince himself changed greatly.
At first, people attributed this to psychological trauma — the loss of a brother does not pass without a trace. But over time, even his most devoted confidants began to notice oddities. Alexis became more withdrawn and cautious. His health, once robust, suddenly deteriorated. His character also became different — less decisive and more alien.
But who would dare to say this aloud?
Soon after these events, Alexis Cezia Ashelot officially ascended the throne. And one of his first decrees was to erase any mention of his younger brother from history. Rumors were nipped in the bud, documents destroyed, witnesses silenced.
By the time Remesis was born, no one in the empire remembered that the Emperor had once had a twin brother.
This was all the information she had been able to gather from reading the master's diary. For some reason, she had found no mention of these facts in any other official sources — neither in the imperial chronicles, nor in the tabloids, nor even in court records. As if the second prince of the Nadal Empire had never existed at all.
Nevertheless, Remesis came to one conclusion. The man who had been on the throne until recently — the one everyone called Emperor Alexis — was very likely that same second prince, Aiden. And the true heir, his elder brother, had actually died that day in the forest.
At least, based on all the information she had obtained, this theory sounded the most reasonable.
And besides...
For the first time, this vague suspicion had arisen in Remesis after her conversation with Princess Kastrea. Back then, during their first and only meeting, the elder princess had told her a secret. Although at first, the girl had not understood its meaning at all.
What Princess Kastrea had told her then was...
"In truth, an impostor sits on the throne now."
At first, Remesis had not understood at all what the princess meant. But then, when she began to independently investigate any possible information, and also found the master's diary, she became convinced of her theory.
And that was precisely why Remesis also considered it her duty to tell Asil about this. She had to do it before they divorced.
But...
Remesis fell silent, catching her breath.
She had told everything — every detail, every piece of information she had been able to gather. And now she looked at Asil, waiting for a reaction.
But the princess was silent.
The expression on the woman's face had not changed in the slightest, had not even flinched. She had calmly listened to Remesis without interrupting, and Remesis found this cool-headed reaction somewhat disconcerting.
"Your Highness..." Remesis finally could not bear it. "Are you not surprised at all?!"
She was truly perplexed. Of course, she knew that the princess's relationship with the imperial family was far from warm. But should the information that the man she had considered her father all her life was actually her uncle not have affected her at least a little?
"Mm... No, not really." Asil had a bored expression on her face, as if she truly had not heard anything particularly special.
Remesis was taken aback.
"But..."
"In fact, I already knew about this." Asil shrugged. "Nevertheless, I am grateful that my wife spent time and effort to find all this out for me. It is... touching."
Remesis was even more taken aback. She could hardly believe her ears.
"You... you knew?!"
"Yes."
"But how...? How long have you known? From where?"
"Does it matter?" Asil smirked. "In any case, this is all just the past. And the people we are talking about now are dead anyway."
Remesis looked at her, unable to hide her bewilderment.
"Your Highness, does this not concern you at all...?"
"Why would it?"
"This..." Remesis hesitated, searching for words. "Your real father died many years ago. And since then, the throne has been occupied by his brother, who was recognized throughout the empire as your father — despite that being a lie. You were raised under someone else's name, you carried someone else's blood, you..."
"It doesn't matter to me," Asil interrupted, and her voice suddenly became as hard as a knife blade.
"What...?"
"Regardless of anything. Even if my real father had survived and taken the throne," Asil smirked, and there was something cold, almost cruel in that smirk, "would my situation have changed at all? I would still have been an unwanted child. I would still have been exiled to the North. I would still have been someone to be feared and hated. So is there any difference?"
"....."
Remesis remained silent, unable to find the words.
"So I really don't care about the affairs of the past. And even less about the imperial family," Asil looked at Remesis, and something suddenly flared in her golden eyes. "You are the only one who concerns me."
Remesis felt her cheeks flush.
"...You shouldn't say such things so lightly."
"And I am not being light. I am absolutely serious."
For a moment, silence hung in the air.
"Mm, well," the princess leaned back in her chair again. "It seems you had something else to tell me, didn't you? You didn't come here just for the diary."
Remesis snapped out of her stupor for a moment.
She shifted her gaze to the divorce agreement she had placed next to the diary, and everything inside her went cold.
Right. It wasn't over yet.
She slowly pushed the sheet towards the princess.
Asil's face, looking at it, did not change. Not a shadow of surprise, not anger, not even curiosity. She simply looked as one looks at something inevitable — something long awaited and finally arrived.
"What is this?" she asked, though of course she already knew.
"You know how to read, Your Highness. You can see for yourself."
Asil did not move.
"I want to hear it from you."
Remesis met her gaze. The princess's golden eyes looked calmly. Now Asil was like a lion lurking in ambush — tense, ready to pounce, but still patient.
Remesis was silent for a few seconds, gathering her courage.
And then she finally decided.
"A divorce agreement," she said at last. "I have signed it. Only your decision remains."
The words hung in the air, heavy as lead.
Asil did not move. She looked at the white sheet, at Remesis's neat signature, at the seal, and there was nothing on her face — absolutely nothing.
And then a smirk appeared on her lips.
"Divorce..." she repeated, as if tasting the word. "Again. Wife, why do you love talking about divorce so much?"
The princess, staring intently at her, smirked.
In turn, Remesis involuntarily felt a wave of agitation rise in her throat. Something cold ran down her spine — not even fear, but a premonition, vague and troubling.
She did not quite understand this moment now.
What..? Have I ever mentioned divorce before? flashed through her mind.