In the emperor's study, Ottol confronted Duke Glass directly.
He reminded the duke of the oath he had sworn in the throne room — that he had never switched the empress's letter — and then slid a document across the desk as evidence.
Glass looked at it, completely baffled, insisting he had no memory of any such thing.
Ottol called for a man to be shown in.
To the duke's horror, it was Palamar. His own scribe.
With the trap now set, the emperor calmly instructed the scribe to remind his master exactly what that incriminating paper was.
Palamar laid out the facts without a tremor. Three days ago, Duke Glass had ordered him to forge a letter that would frame the empress as a traitor.
The duke flew into a rage, shouting that it was nonsense, and then collapsed to his knees. His own scribe was setting him up, he insisted. It was a conspiracy against him. He had been betrayed in his own house.
Ottol remained a step ahead of all of it. He asked, coolly, about the money the duke had been embezzling for years — and wondered aloud whether that was also something he had never done.
Glass's blood ran cold. He was completely trapped, and a desperate new idea began to form behind his eyes.
Cornered, he played his final card. He begged Ottol to punish him — him alone — and pleaded with him to spare Evelyn, reminding the emperor of a promise he had made in the past.
Ottol was entirely unfazed. He had anticipated this exact move.
He calmly explained what should happen. Framing the empress would normally cost the duke his title, his property, and his entire future.
However, he then offered a twisted deal.
He would officially spin the story that Glass had simply made a mistake — that a poor investigation, born out of genuine concern for the empire, had led an honest man to a wrong conclusion.
Ottol was not merely defeating him. He was taking ownership of him.
Then he added a final, crushing condition. As an apology to Her Majesty, Duke Glass would hand over the mining rights in his Vilos territory to the empress.
The duke paled, realising that the emperor even knew about the secret vein of iron ore.
Ottol's cold gaze dared him to object.
Defeated, Glass agreed quickly.
Later, arriving home, he was met by his daughter, who demanded to know why Ottol had sided with Flora.
He snapped and shouted at her to be silent. He explained that he had come within a hair of being finished for good, and warned her never to speak of the empress again.
As Evelyn seethed in the hall afterward, she came to a decision. Her father's failure meant that she would have to take matters into her own hands.
She would deal with the empress herself.
On the day of the founding anniversary party, a newly freed Flora relaxed in her bath while her maids fussed over her, worried that all the stress of the past weeks had dulled her skin.
They pampered her enthusiastically with oils and rose petals until she was practically glowing.
After she had been washed three separate times, one of the maids suddenly panicked. She had forgotten to bring the special new cream for the empress.
She rushed out promising to be right back, and Flora called after her that the cream really wasn't necessary.
Left alone, she leaned back into the warm water and wondered what Ottol was doing.
Just then his voice said her name.
He was standing in the doorway, already dressed for the anniversary party. He explained that he had come to collect her, and that, seeing the door standing open, he had assumed she was finished.
A huge splash echoed around the room as a mortified Flora sank as deep into the bubbles as she could get, hiding her bright red face.
Flustered, Ottol turned away and told her to put some clothes on.
The only problem with this instruction was that her clothes were outside the bathroom.
Thinking fast, Flora spotted one of the emperor's shirts hanging nearby and decided to borrow it. She slipped it on quickly and stepped out from behind the tub and announced that she was dressed.
Ottol glanced over and was left entirely speechless, because the damp, oversized shirt did very little to hide her figure at all.
A smirk played on his lips as he remarked that her new outfit was, if anything, considerably more daring than the last one.
Then he closed the distance and pulled her tightly back against him.
Startled, she called out his name.
He leaned in and whispered that the party was about to start. He asked her to hold still, and promised it would not take long.
Before she could react, he buried his face in her neck and took in her calming scent, and Flora's face flushed as he murmured that he just needed a little.
Right at that moment, the maid walked cheerfully back into the room and stopped dead.
She stood frozen in the doorway, unable to believe that the emperor was leaving a very noticeable mark on the empress's neck immediately before the biggest event of the year.
Later, the flustered maid did her best to cover the blemish, muttering that such moments really ought to be saved for after the event.
In the end she concluded that a necklace was the only workable solution.
When Flora and Ottol made their grand entrance, the guests admired the empress's excellent taste in jewellery, and not one person noticed what the necklace was actually there to conceal.
As the imperial couple shared a look across the ballroom, the guests murmured among themselves. They agreed that the two of them suited each other, especially now that Her Majesty's innocence had been established. The emperor seemed to care for her more than ever.
But across the room, another woman's eyes narrowed with resentment.
She believed that she was the one who ought to be standing at Ottol's side. Consumed by jealousy, she clutched a strange vial in her hand and promised herself that she would wipe that smile off Flora's face before the night was over.
A sinister plan was brewing in the shadows of the celebration.
Ottol led Flora out to the centre of the ballroom for a dance.
The guests watched, captivated, as the imperial couple moved in perfect time with each other, the empress's feet finding every step exactly where they belonged.
Onlookers whispered that anyone could tell at a glance that their hearts were connected.
The display only fed Lady Evelyn's resentment. Her smile vanished and was replaced by a cold glare.
Turning away from the happy scene, she took up a large golden goblet, ready to serve something far more sinister than a simple party drink.
Her plan was officially in motion.