The following few days, Remesis lived as if in a fog, unable to make a decision that would determine not only her future but that of the entire North.
The divorce documents constantly lay before her, but she only looked at them, unable to do anything more.
Finally, when the allotted week was almost over, Remesis realized she could wait no longer.
She took the documents in her hands again and looked for a long time at the blank line where her signature should go. One stroke of the pen — and she would be free. No obligations. No responsibility. No North.
Remesis stared intently at this blank line for a few seconds, her thoughts chaotic.
And at that moment, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," Remesis said, not putting the documents away.
The person who entered was Boris.
"Princess," he said, bowing. "I have come to remind you that there is one day left before the deadline. And... there is one more circumstance I did not mention last time."
Remesis frowned.
"What circumstance?"
The knight stepped forward and handed her another document he had not shown before.
"The Lord's will," he said. "There is a clause concerning you. If you decide to dissolve the marriage, you must fulfill one condition before leaving."
"...What condition?" Remesis asked tensely.
"You must choose the next ruler of the North," Boris replied. "The Lord left no direct heirs, except..." he glanced quickly at her stomach, "except for the one not yet born. But a child cannot rule on their own for many years. The North cannot remain without a head. The vassals will demand an immediate decision."
Remesis felt everything inside her grow cold.
"Choose? From whom?"
"From among the vassals," he replied. "The North has several influential families who have the right to claim regency or the throne if the child is not recognized as heir."
He paused.
"The Lord trusted your judgment. She wanted you to be the one to choose who would be worthy to become the next ruler of the North."
Remesis smiled bitterly.
"My judgment? Is it really that important?"
She... clearly overestimated me.
"Perhaps," the knight unexpectedly did not argue. "But the law is the law. The vassals are already gathering at the castle. Tomorrow morning, there will be a council. You must listen to each one and make a decision."
He bowed and left, leaving Remesis alone with the divorce documents and Asil's will.
Remesis sat on the bed, clutching the cold parchment in her hands, and felt the world around her sway again.
In truth, she had already made a decision.
She had decided to divorce Asil.
She believed it would be better not only for herself but also for the North. It would be good if some competent person took this place and ruled the North with dignity. That would be better than if a woman like her, who had already lost all will to live, sat on the throne.
Nevertheless, even she had not expected this.
I was almost ready to divorce, Remesis thought. I almost signed those papers. And now... now I must choose who will become the new lord? Who might, perhaps, raise my child if I leave?
Remesis closed her eyes.
It was too complicated.
But she had no other choice.
***
The council of vassals was scheduled for the next morning in the Great Hall — the very place where Asil used to hold meetings with the northern lords.
But now, the lord's throne was empty.
The ebony chair with a high back, adorned with carved wolves, stood on a dais, and Remesis, entering the hall, felt her gaze drawn to that place. The place that should have belonged to Asil. The place that was now empty.
There were seven vassals.
They sat around a long oak table and looked at Remesis with various expressions — from curiosity to outright hostility.
Remesis sat at the head of the table — not on the throne, but close enough for everyone to see: she was not a guest here, not a casual witness. She was here to decide an important matter.
"Your Highness," began the first vassal — a tall man with a red beard and a heavy gaze, "we have gathered here by the will of the late Lord. She left a will according to which you have the right to choose a successor. Tell us, then — have you decided to dissolve the marriage?"
A direct question. Without beating around the bush. Northerners, unlike southerners, did not like to skirt the issue.
Remesis looked at him — and at the others.
"Yes," she said, her voice sounding firmer than she had expected. "I have made a decision. The marriage between me and the Lord will be dissolved."
A low murmur rippled through the hall. The vassals exchanged glances. Some nodded, others, on the contrary, frowned.
"Then," said another vassal, an elderly gray-haired man with intelligent, sharp eyes, "you must fulfill the will of the deceased. Choose among us who will become the new ruler of the North."
"I know," Remesis replied. "That is why I am here."
Seven pairs of eyes stared at her.
She listened to them for nearly an hour.
Each vassal spoke of his merits, his lands, his loyalty to the North. Each promised that he, and only he, could protect the borders, strengthen power, defend the people from southern invaders and northern savages.
They spoke of taxes, troops, alliances. Of how much grain their fields harvested and how many swords their armies could field.
But Remesis listened and felt a growing nausea inside her.
Not from pregnancy — from the falseness.
Because each of them, speaking of loyalty to the North, was actually speaking of his own gain. Each, promising to protect the borders, was actually thinking of how to expand his holdings. Each, swearing devotion to Asil's memory, was already making plans to rid himself of her legacy.
And how, among such people, was she to choose a worthy successor?
The question proved far more difficult than she had expected.
Finally, Remesis rose from the table.
"I have heard you," she said. "I will make a decision within three days. For now... excuse me."
Without waiting for an answer, Remesis left the hall herself.
The doors closed behind her.
In the corridor, Remesis leaned against the cold stone wall and closed her eyes.
After the council, her head was spinning.
She wanted only one thing now — silence. A place where she could be alone and think.
And she knew where to go.
It was not her study. Nor even her room.
The necropolis greeted Remesis with the same cold as on the day of the funeral.
But now there was no one here. No priests, no servants, no curious eyes. Only gray tombstones and silence — deep and all-encompassing.
Remesis walked slowly, carefully placing her feet on the uneven stones. Her cloak billowed in the wind, her hair had come loose from its style, but she did not care. She did not feel the cold — only emptiness inside.
Asil's grave was at the very end of the necropolis. The tombstone was simple — a gray stone on which her name and dates were carved. No statues, no wreaths, no inscriptions praising her deeds.
Because that was Asil's wish. She did not want pomp, even in her death. As if she hoped that the more inconspicuous her grave, the sooner her name and existence would be erased from history. A truly strange wish.
Remesis knelt before the grave and ran her hand over the cold stone.
"...Asil," she whispered. "I have come."
Standing before the princess's grave, Remesis felt a very strange feeling.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
"I have made a decision," she said. "I will sign the divorce papers. As you know, I always wanted freedom... So the best decision will be to pass this place to someone else."
Remesis's face was cold and lifeless. She fell into a heavy silence.
"I don't know if it's right. I don't know what to do about the vassals... I don't know if I can truly leave my child here to be raised by other people..."
Remesis did not finish.
Because at that moment, when her fingers touched Asil's tombstone, something unforeseen suddenly happened.
The very same amber brooch she had put on that morning suddenly flickered with a bright light.
The amber brooch.
After that strange incident when Remesis saw those unusual visions, she had tried to find the cause. And she had finally managed to get to the truth.
This amber brooch, given to her by Iliana Alseid, was not actually an ordinary trinket. As it turned out, it was a valuable heirloom of the very first Emperor. This brooch was not just an ornament.
Remesis had no idea why Iliana Alseid had given it to her, or whether she even knew the true origin of the object... But in any case, she could no longer ask her now. And she already knew the truth.
The first Emperor, a wise ruler who united scattered lands and created the great Nadal Empire. He had created an artifact capable of reading the thoughts and intentions only of those with royal blood — so that members of the imperial family could not abuse their power.
In other words, it was an artifact that, upon contact with a member of the imperial family, could allow any person to look into their soul and learn the truth.
When Remesis first read about it in the ancient chronicles, she had not even believed it. No matter how you looked at it, the existence of such a magical artifact seemed more like a fairy tale for small children.
But... Now she knew — it was no fairy tale.
Because at that moment when her fingers touched the princess's tombstone, the world around her exploded with images.