Flora's eyes widened as she read.
The letter was from Queen Mila.
It began with a false sweetness, praising Flora for having met expectations, congratulating her on her survival, urging her to endure the hardship a little longer for the queen's sake.
Then came the true command.
Mila claimed that Ottol was attempting to seize Pedanian territory — the region of Vilpen — and ordered Flora to stop him.
A cold realisation settled over her as she reached the end. She knew perfectly well that Vilpen had originally been Nordvein's land. But that was not even the point. The point was that she was completely powerless to influence, let alone stop, anything the emperor decided to do.
Flora clutched the letter, deeply troubled.
Queen Mila's words painted Ottol as a monster and a thief. Flora knew otherwise. She recalled his moments of kindness one after another — the shoes, the flower field, the shortened stride on the garden path — and none of it matched the man in that letter at all.
Their marriage had been a pact for peace, and Mila's demands threatened to shatter it.
Refusing to be used as a pawn, Flora decided to handle the manipulative queen herself. She sat down at her desk and carefully wrote a response, and she resolved to keep the entire affair a secret from Ottol, so as to protect him from the political games being played behind his back.
A maid came later to collect the letter.
She took it, and her curiosity took her, and she stole a glance at the contents on her way out.
Her eyes widened in shock. She could not believe that the empress had dared to stand up to Queen Mila.
The next day, while brushing out Flora's hair, Vishi began teasing her.
Her lady had not seen the busy emperor in days, the maid pointed out. Did she miss him?
When a flustered Flora denied it, Vishi giggled mischievously and produced a brand-new letter, holding it up and asking, playfully, what this might be.
Flora's face flushed scarlet.
The maid gushed. She admitted she had read it and had thought at first that it was a romance novel.
Flora frantically tried to correct her, explaining that it was a reply to Queen Mila and nothing else. She confessed that while writing it she had started thinking about her time here with Ottol, and the words had simply kept flowing until the letter had grown very long indeed.
Finding this incredibly endearing, Vishi suggested that Flora should simply be honest — that she should convey her feelings directly to the emperor.
The bold idea struck Flora silent, and she found herself seriously considering it.
And then Vishi's words sent her spiralling into her past.
She remembered being a lonely child who watched other children from a distance. She remembered the one time she gathered her courage and asked whether she might play too, and the way they had all simply stared at her until she went away again.
That rejection followed her everywhere, even to the table. Once she had said, quietly, that she did not like a certain food, and her caretaker had scolded her so harshly for it that she never said such a thing again.
She had been taught very early that her feelings did not matter, and that it was better to stay quiet and endure.
The weight of all that came back, and Flora decided against confessing anything at all. Ottol was far too busy to sit and listen to her boring little stories.
But Vishi refused to accept it. She grabbed Flora's hand and insisted passionately that her feelings were a precious memory, not a burden — never a burden — and that she should use this chance to make the emperor open his heart in return.
For the first time, Flora felt a spark of hope. Perhaps Ottol really would listen.
And then, as she agreed to it, Vishi suggested that she read the letter aloud to him, and left her utterly stunned.
Flora's face burned. The idea was mortifying, she insisted. She would get too nervous to speak properly and ruin the whole thing.
Without missing a beat, Vishi suggested that they simply find her a practice partner.
Just then the imperial physician entered the room.
Cecil was immediately suspicious, wondering what information the empress was angling to get out of him this time. Before he could voice any of his concerns, Vishi boldly asked whether he would help Her Majesty practise a speech for the emperor.
Cecil stood there, completely stunned by the bizarre request.
Caught off guard, he admitted that this was unexpected, and asked why he in particular had been chosen.
Flora explained with a sincere smile. It was because he understood Emperor Ottol so well — and, more importantly, because he was someone she trusted completely.
The earnest praise flustered the physician thoroughly. He blushed and stammered that she was too kind.
Seeing his hesitation, Flora said gently that she would not force him.
He interrupted her before she could finish.
Taking her hand, Cecil agreed to help, and instructed her to think of him, from this moment forward, as the emperor.
She had a memory to work from, at least.
Days earlier, Ottol had pulled her into a close embrace and whispered that if it were not for the work waiting on his desk, he would want to stay with her forever.
Flustered, Flora had urged him to go back to his duties. Then, changing the subject, she had asked whether he might bring her something sweet later.
Ottol had smirked and agreed.
Gathering her courage, she had told him she would be waiting for him.
And he had leaned in closer and murmured that whatever she brought him would surely taste exceptionally good — and left her standing there stunned and blushing, entirely unprepared for how smoothly he could turn a thing around.