At Duke Glass's estate, Lady Evelyn was fuming, declaring to the whole room that Flora had made a fool of her.
The duke, weary of these outbursts, reminded his daughter to think before she acted on her emotions.
She shot back at him, demanding to know how she was supposed to stay calm when Ottol no longer paid her the slightest attention.
Seeing her frustration, her father produced something from his desk. It was a letter, and he asked her to imagine what the emperor would do if it turned out to contain Nordvein's secrets.
A sinister smile crossed Evelyn's face.
It was pure evil, that smile. She gloated that this letter would paint Flora as a traitor and ensure that she faced the very harshest punishment available.
The duke agreed, pleased that they would not have to dirty their own hands in the business at all.
Then Evelyn's triumphant expression vanished as she actually read the contents.
It was not about state secrets. It was not about anything of the kind. It was page after page about how much Ottol had done for Flora — the shoes, the lessons, the kindnesses, all of it set down in a wife's handwriting for her queen to read.
Absolutely furious that the emperor would go to such lengths for another woman, Evelyn crumpled the paper in her hands and then ripped it to shreds in a fit of jealous rage.
The duke watched in alarm as his daughter's fury boiled over.
Tearing the letter was not enough, she declared. Before he could react, she snatched up a sword from the wall and screamed that she would kill Flora herself.
The duke caught her arm and told her to calm down. A duke's daughter could not simply attack the empress.
But Evelyn was hysterical. She cried that she had known Ottol since she was ten years old, and in all those years he had never taught her to ride. He had never taught her to dance.
He had never once taken her to that flower field, no matter how many times she begged him.
Tears streamed down her face as she struggled against her father's grip. Ottol had promised to cherish her, she cried. So why was he so cold to her now? Why was every scrap of his affection going to another woman?
Completely overwhelmed, she collapsed to the floor, and the sword clattered down beside her.
The duke looked down at his weeping daughter and understood her pain for what it was. This was not only about love. Evelyn's immense pride had been shattered. She simply could not accept that somebody else was sitting in the empress's seat, the seat she had always believed belonged to her.
He knelt in front of her and told her not to cry any more. He reminded her of a promise he had made her long ago — that she would have nothing but the very best of everything.
And as he comforted her, a new realisation dawned on him. Was it Ottol she loved, or was it the title?
It did not matter. He assured her that if she truly wanted the throne, then he would make it happen. A dark resolve settled into his gaze as he said it.
All they needed to do was get rid of the current empress.
With her hope renewed, Evelyn tearfully thanked her father, ready to pay any price at all for what she wanted.
Elsewhere in the palace, the emperor walked the long gallery with his aide and learned that the nobles had requested an audience to discuss the empress.
A smug smile crossed Ottol's face. The rumours he had spread were working perfectly.
He asked Cecil to guess what lies the nobles would use against Flora.
Cecil suggested, nervously, that they might accuse her of treason.
Ottol burst out laughing, thoroughly amused by how predictable their scheming was. He teased his aide that the prediction was every bit as unoriginal as the nobles themselves.
Cecil simply admitted it was the best he had been able to come up with.
Later, the doors of the grand throne room swung open.
Ottol walked past the bowing crowd, took his seat, and told them all to rise. His gaze landed directly on Duke Glass, and he acknowledged him as the man who had organised this gathering.
Calmly, he asked what the duke wished to report.
The duke stepped forward and confirmed that his concern was about the empress — exactly as Ottol had expected.
Then, with considerable drama, he presented a sealed letter to the throne and declared it to be proof that Empress Flora had been leaking classified information to her home kingdom.
The nobles erupted in shocked whispers. Was their new empress a spy?
Unfazed, Ottol asked what made the duke so certain that the letter had come from Flora.
Glass urged the emperor to read it himself, insisting that Her Majesty's kind demeanour was nothing but a facade.
Ottol gestured, and Elon went down to retrieve the evidence.
The whispering rose. The nobles felt betrayed. Pedania's peace offering had been a lie from the start, they told one another; it had always been a knife dressed up as a bride.
Ottol held the letter and coolly observed that for the duke to be this bold about it, he must already have read the thing himself.
The duke confirmed that he had, and claimed that he had rushed straight to the palace the moment he understood the contents.
Looking at the sealed page in his hand, Ottol acknowledged that condemning an empress on the strength of a single piece of paper would be hasty.
Then, with a faint smirk, he announced the solution.
They would summon Empress Flora herself and question her directly.
The heavy doors creaked open and Flora walked into a wall of silence. Every noble in the room turned and stared at her, and the whispering stopped the instant she appeared.
Confused and nervous, she approached the throne, greeted the emperor formally, and asked why she had been summoned.
Ottol leaned forward, holding the letter, and came straight to the point. Duke Glass was accusing her of colluding with her former kingdom.
The word struck her with force. She stared up at him in disbelief, horrified.
Then her eyes widened with recognition, because she knew that letter, and she could not begin to understand how it had come into his hands.
His expression was cold as he held it up and asked whether she was the one who had written it.
She had no choice. Quietly, she admitted that she was.
At that, Duke Glass burst out triumphantly. Her own confession proved his suspicions correct, he declared. He accused her of hiding ulterior motives behind an innocent face.
Panicked, Flora insisted that she was not colluding with anyone — and when he pressed her to explain herself, she could not form the words.
Desperate, she asked whether Ottol had read the letter, certain that its contents would prove her innocence at once.
But the emperor's expression did not change. Regardless of its message, he pointed out, she had sent a letter to her former kingdom without his knowledge.
Unable to deny that damning fact, Flora fell silent.
With that, Ottol declared the discussion over. As of today, he announced, the empress was forbidden to leave the palace.
He walked away, letting the letter fall from his hand to the floor, and the nobles whispered in terror behind him. His anger was real, and they were too frightened even to look at him.
As he went, Flora's mind reeled.
He had condemned her without so much as reading it.
A sudden fire ignited in her chest, and she shot to her feet and called out his first name across the throne room.
The nobles gasped at the sheer boldness of it. Lady Evelyn wondered aloud whether the woman had a death wish, given that the emperor was already furious, and given that this was an enormous breach of etiquette besides.
Ignoring all of them, Flora bent and picked up the letter he had dropped.
She declared to the entire assembly that she would prove her innocence by reading its contents aloud, right there and then.
Ottol paused and turned back to call her a fool.
Across the room, Duke Glass watched with a triumphant smirk, thinking his plan had worked perfectly.
Despite her embarrassment, Flora was determined to clear up this misunderstanding, and she was determined to do it for Ottol's sake. She could not bear the thought of him believing she had betrayed him.
With trembling hands, she broke the seal and began to read.
Her confidence shattered in an instant.
The words on the page were not her own. The handwriting was a perfect imitation of hers, letter for letter — and the message was completely different.
As she froze in shock, Duke Glass stepped forward and mockingly asked why she was not reading it aloud.
Then he snatched the letter out of her hands, declaring that since the empress was too afraid to read out her own crimes, everyone present would simply see them for themselves.
The damning words were passed from hand to hand around the chamber, and the crowd's shock hardened into judgement.
Flora watched in horror, understanding that any attempt to explain would be useless now. Ottol would never believe her.
The emperor stepped close to her, his voice dangerously low, and stated that she had no excuses left.
Completely trapped, Flora could not understand how this nightmare had unfolded around her. She felt the weight of every noble's glare as her reputation crumbled.
She admitted that the handwriting was hers, but insisted the contents were a complete fabrication.
Ottol's eyes narrowed, questioning her claim of forgery.
Duke Glass's allies shouted that she was lying. But another noble pointed out, reasonably, that if Glass himself had already seen the letter, then the letter could very easily have been switched.
The duke denied everything at once. He twisted the situation, painting Flora as a manipulative woman who used tears to bewitch the emperor, and warned His Majesty not to fall into her trap.
Ottol turned back to Flora and asked her for proof that the letter was a forgery.
Then he turned his sharp gaze on Duke Glass and pointed out that the duke, likewise, had no evidence whatsoever proving that he had not switched it.
Cornered by the direct question, Glass stammered that he had no such proof.
With both sides at a stalemate, Count Carl observed that neither claim could be substantiated.
Therefore, Ottol declared, the matter required a formal investigation. Until a conclusion was reached, the empress was forbidden to leave the palace, and her fate would remain undecided.
He announced the potential consequences as well. If the investigation proved that the empress had colluded with a foreign power, she would face punishment under Nordvein law.
His gaze fell on Duke Glass. Did he object?
The flustered duke could only stammer that he had no objections at all.
The other nobles departed. The heavy doors clicked shut, and Flora was left alone in the enormous room with the emperor.
She tensed, her mind racing through every uncertainty at once.
And before she could process any of it, Ottol reached out and grabbed her wrist.