(Italics are for flashbacks.)

.·。.·゜·༺♥༻ ·゜·。.

Before long, Cal and Olivia rejoined the guests. Their engagement and soon-to-be-wedding were still a heated topic amongst the society, they were all curious to see the person who would reign as the empress one day. Cal was relieved that talking about it had at least made Olivia cheerful and happy, forgetting the previous nuisance.

"...So, for now, my family remains home in Palmerston Estate before I pick them up to join me in Emraullt," Olivia said, proudly. She was keen to show off their preparations for the wedding. "We just bought this beautiful chateau near the capital, it's so divine."

"So, where are you going for the honeymoon?" asked the Earl of Comtois.

"Oh, I would like us to go abroad for sure. My father has prepared a yacht to take us to sail around the world—"

"Praja," Cal answered readily, though then he realized he hadn't even discussed this with Olivia.

"Prajanagara? In the Eastern continent?" The old man looked at him wide-eyed. As Cal nodded in reply, he let out a stifled laugh. "Isn't that too far? What if you get lost?"

"I wouldn't be, I happen to be in a good friendship with the King!" denied Cal, laughing his concerns away. "I've been to Praja once when I was young, experiencing its beauty in real life exceeded the ones shown in photographs. I think this would be a great opportunity to visit Praja again... and the infamous Nusa Dewata Island."

"Oh, I've been to Nusa Dewata," replied the Duchess of Reisse, butting into their conversation. "The whole place was so picturesque you can agree that the island itself is hand-crafted by gods."

"I didn't know that Dewata was a part of Praja," said Olivia.

"You barely travel, dear? Lucky you, your fianceé has a good taste in destinations." The Duchess laughed. "I heard that you can plant anywhere in Praja, you know? Anytime. You can just stick a plank of wood to the ground and it'll grow a sprout."

"I did hear that it's sunny there throughout the year. Live in this country and you wouldn't know there was a sun," The Earl joked, he lived in the north coast. The Imperial Family was lucky, the capital was located in the south where it was sunniest.

Cal only laughed along with comments. It wasn't fairly known that he held a secret fascination with Praja. A country untouched by winter, a place where the flower blooms and the crops flourished throughout the year... While it might be unlikely to happen during his father's reign when it was time for him to rule he was sure they would be able to do something with Praja.

The Duchess of Reisse monopolized the couple with her talks about Praja till the Earl excused himself to get some refreshments.

"Your Highness, I would like you to meet my niece, Madame Belshaw. Her husband was the late Sir Jacques Belshaw," she directed them to a lavishly dressed guest standing near the champagne table.

As Madame Belshaw promptly turned to face them with a drink in her gloved, long-fingered hand, Cal felt shivers run through his body. No, he never forgot a face; and definitely not this one in particular.

It was summer a couple of years ago. He was spending a weekend in La Casaserpia and Adejola had invited a number of friends; one of them was a certain rich widow who was known for her numerous liaisons. She claimed to be a Ballerina during her maiden days, which explained why she was so flexible.

A fantastic weekend, indeed.

Cal gulped.

"We have met each other before, the Prince and I," admitted Belshaw, and Cal's jaw went slack. "We are good acquaintances, or at least were."

"Really? Why haven't you told me, my dear?" the Duchess responded with curiosity.

"It was something very personal," she simpered, batting her eyelashes.

Cal could feel Olivia tensed up beside him, taking her arm out from under his.

"Oh well, then... We shall be off to see an old friend. It was a pleasure chatting with you, Your Highness, Miss Olivia." As if sensing the trouble, the Duchess quickly made up an excuse for herself.

"So, if you ever go north again, Your Highness... You know where to find me." She left after giving him a wink.

Cal rubbed the back of his neck, forcing a smile. "Well that was odd, wasn't it?"

"Odd? Don't you have something to explain yourself?" Olivia fumed, narrowing her eyes at him. "You slept with her, didn't you?"

"Olivia, I haven't seen her in years! It was a random occasion, a long, long time ago!" Cal reached out for her hand, which she hid behind her back.

"You were shagging her for the whole weekend!" She shrieked, trembling with anger as Cal made some futile gestures with his hands to try and keep her voice down.

"...I've never claimed to be a chaste man, or a saint."

"Of all the men who toyed with her, I thought you'd be an exception." Blinking her sky blue eyes, she clenched her fingers as she fought back her tears. "I thought you wanted to be only mine..."

Cal was at loss for words. "Darling, please?"

"I was so stupid—!" She thundered before making it off the hall.

"Olivia!" Cal was ready to chase after her, but as she left he heard the sound of a trumpet, signalling his parents' arrival. Goddammit!

Removing himself from the crowd, he moved to stand closer to the windows, indulging himself with a cigar. If he was going to be reprimanded he should at least deserve it.

His parents must have bothered themselves with all sorts of formalities since it took some time for them to get to him.

Estelle seized the cigarette away from his fingers, and he didn't stop her. "You know I don't like when you do that, Cal."

Cal smiled bitterly, not even trying to hide his sour mood. "The smoking, or the impropriety?"

"Both of them," Her gaze was gentle, and Cal wondered why she was always able to see right through him. A mother's instinct, she said. "Did something happen before we arrived?"

Cal was ready to explain but not before his father cut in. "Where's your fianceé? Is she serious about being a consort or is she not? If she was any decent she'd be present here!"

"Oh, I'm sure she had her reasons, Mon amour."

"Reasons, what reasons? You can't just pop up and leave whenever you please!" Callisto barked. "For goodness' sake, I wished you hadn't sweet-talked me into giving her a blessing, that vulgar nouveau riche!"

Cal pressed his palms over his eyes.

"...Never mind. You stay here, I wouldn't want you to miss an important guest."

As Cal followed his parents to the front of the hall, he heard another trumpet. No guests would ever make their entrance with music unless they were very important.

Lifting his head, he saw what seemed like a very odd couple; a middle-aged man with a youthful girl by his side. She couldn't be older than eighteen, and would have been pretty if only she didn't have a strange, rather grim look on her face that was accentuated by the blackness of her dress. Before he could make any weirder assumption, he noticed the resemblance between them as they came nearer.

"Velius," greeted Callisto. "Thank you for accepting my invitation. It's good of you to come."

"Your Imperial Majesties," the man bowed deeply, bringing his daughter with him. His accent quickly reminded him of something. He thought he had heard it before, but where? "We are deeply honoured."

"This is Lord Velius Corodi of the Southern Isles," Callisto explained, as Velius bent to kiss Estelle's hand. "He has agreed to join me here in our agreement to rebuild the islands."

Cal's brows creased. The old noble houses from the Southern Islands had been in a cold war with the Leroys ever since his great-grandfather Raedan II conquered the land a century ago. If it was true, this would be the first time they set foot in Angletonia.

He might've been wrong, but he caught a glint of fear in Velius's eyes.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Velius," Estelle welcomed kindly. "I see you've brought your daughter. What's your name, chérie?"

"My name is Isleen, Your Majesty," answered the girl as she curtsied to his mother, and the familiarity of the accent heard in her voice struck something inside of Cal.

That voice! Was she—the girl he just rescued today? Impossible!

"Meet my son, Cal, the Prince of Emraullt."

"Your Imperial Highness," Isleen curtsied to him. Nevermore was the fading colours on her skirt, though the redness remained vivid on the paint of her lips. Still stunned, Cal took Isleen's hand and pressed it to his lips.

"Ah, isn't it time for the first dance?" Callisto proposed, giving a signal to the music conductor. "...Cal?" He then threw his son a look before gesturing towards Isleen.

Still astounded, Cal offered his hand to Isleen who gladly accepted, before leading her to the middle of the dance floor. Faintly, he could hear the guests murmuring. The first official event, his fianceé was nowhere in sight, and he was dancing with another woman.

"What are you doing?" He heard his mother ask.

Callisto smiled smugly as he looked at the young couple on the dance floor. "Saving the future of this Empire."

.·。.·゜·༺♥༻ ·゜·。.

Isleen & Olivia's banquet dresses

I imagine would wear anything's available on the roaring 20s latest trends (remember the flashbacks happened during the late 20s, not the 30s), so she'd wear a flapper art deco dress and a pair of conventional heels. , however, went more old-fashioned with a Victorian punk dress, modified- as seen with the shortened skirt, with long-sleeves and a pair of leather boots (fuck heels!). They wore and specifically because this sequence was inspired by the symbolism of the vs , which is very strongly connected to the future turn of event that would change the lives of these two women and Cal altogether.

If any of you have seen as a kid and got the hint from Chapter 37, you'll know exactly what's going to happen in the future.