"People like you are very ambitious," Victoria continued. "They'll do anything to get what they want. And most times, they end up losing their morals for it."
Anne's gaze remained steady. "Are you speaking about yourself?"
Victoria's lips curved in a faint chuckle. "In a way, yes. We are alike in that regard. Both of us would do whatever it takes to achieve our goals. But the difference, Anne, lies in whether you abandon your morals to do so."
Anne's brows furrowed. "I don't understand what you mean."
Victoria spotted a bench close to the pond. She walked over and sat down. Anne, who had been trailing behind, followed and took a seat as well—though not too close.
"Your attitude toward the other ladies."
"What about it?"
Victoria leaned back slightly, eyes glinting. "Your reputation for cutting down other women with your words precedes you."
Anne didn't flinch. "All I've ever said is the truth. That's more than I can say about them."
"Always the truth that hurts," Victoria replied, a quiet note of reproach in her tone.
"But the truth, nonetheless. They, however, muzzle themselves with gossip—both true and untrue. Do you also preach to them? Is that why you came here today? To lecture me on the concerns of your ladies?" Anne asked, her eyes unwavering.
Victoria took a steady breath, though a storm simmered beneath her calm. "I didn't come here to talk about them. Genuinely, I came to make you feel seen—to help you understand that you're not any different from the rest of us. I've noticed how the other ladies treat you, and frankly, it doesn't sit well with me. Lord Baldric's crimes are not yours. You didn't deserve punished for something you had no part in. And no. I am not here to preach, I govern the affairs of Malveria, not the words of the people. Their gossip is of no concern to me—neither are yours."
She paused, then continued, eyes piercing. "But what drives your words—that's what matters. You always aim to hurt, Like you want to remind them—or maybe yourself—that they're no better than you. You hide your pain behind those sharp jabs. You use your words like blades, ensuring everyone is as miserable as you are. But you don't have to be anymore."
Anne chuckled lightly. "I didn't know our queen was so perceptive. What else can you tell me about myself?"
Victoria narrowed her eyes at the sarcastic tone. "I can hear the sarcasm in your voice, Anne. It doesn't suit you."
Anne bowed her head slightly. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty."
"This conversation," Victoria said, "is happening only because I like you, Anne. I would truly appreciate it if you saw me as a friend—or at least an acquaintance. I recognize your struggles, and I'd like to extend a hand. That's all."
"If you really want to help, then reinstate Lord Baldric to the council and lift our exile. That's all I've ever wished for. If he regains his position in Aldenbury, my troubles would be over."
"I can't do that."
"Why not? You're the queen."
"Yes, but the sentence wasn't mine. My grandfather issued the punishment. I can't revoke everything he did. That would be a dishonor to his legacy."
After a long stretch of silence, Anne spoke again, her voice soft but edged with challenge. "And if I were to agree with what you said—about me being miserable—how do you propose to make me... well, not miserable anymore?"
Victoria's expression didn't waver. "Freedom from Lord Baldric."
Anne laughed, short and bitter. "Freedom?" She shook her head, but her laughter faded when she saw Victoria's serious expression. "You're serious."
"Believe me," Victoria said dryly, "I have better things to do than joke."
"That's impossible. Divorce is not allowed in Malveria."
Victoria sighed, her gaze drifting toward the serene pond beyond the bench, where swans glided across the water. "You're a brilliant woman, Anne. From the little I've seen of you, that much is clear. But that brilliance will be wasted with Lord Baldric. Or worse—misused."
Anne's lips pressed into a thin line. "And with any other noble," she murmured, almost too quietly to be heard.
Victoria turned to her. "What is it?"
Anne hesitated, her gaze falling to the ground. "Can I speak freely with you?"
"Of course," Victoria replied.
"Even if it might come off as insulting?"
Victoria smiled softly. "I've sat at the head of a table full of proud men. Insults—veiled or not—are an everyday occurrence. I've grown a thick skin. Say whatever you wish."
Anne hesitated, then spoke quietly. "While I acknowledge your wisdom, your naivety in some matters is... aggravating."
Victoria's eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but thought. She said nothing for a moment, then turned back to the swans.
"I won't deny my naivety," she said at last. "I know I'm clueless in many ways. Believe me—I'm reminded of it constantly."
Anne glanced at her, her eyes softening. "You were fortunate. You grew up in a place where your brilliance was supported—even encouraged. But for most women... the more foolish you are, the better. No man wants our opinions."
Victoria shook her head. "Not all of them. Not every man feels that way. I was encouraged by men. Trained by them."
"Because you were a princess," Anne replied, with a trace of bitter understanding. "You were meant to be queen. You had to be at your best."
Victoria's lips tightened but she didn't argue. She only nodded. "Even so, not every mind is bound by old beliefs. My visits to Belvaris have shown me how far behind we are. For a kingdom to grow, change is necessary."
Anne's eyes widened. "You want us to become like Belvaris? Those people are barbarians."
Victoria's expression darkened. "I'm half-Belvarian. Do I seem like a barbarian to you?"
Anne paled. "No. Of course not. I'm sorry if I offended you."
"It's alright," Victoria said gently.
"My point is… their ways are too..." Anne searched for the word. "Rough. Too vulgar."
"And yet we depend on their military," Victoria pointed out."
Anne's tried again. "Nobility is practically non-existent there."
"And they are more unified than we are," Victoria said.
"You want to dissolve the nobility?" Anne asked in disbelief.
"I never said that," Victoria replied calmly. "I don't want to impose their lifestyle on us. I simply want our women to have more rights."
Anne looked away, her mind racing. "Why are you telling me all this?"
"Because of your determination. Your ambition. You're a force, Anne. You think for yourself and act accordingly. When you set your sights on something, you go after it, regardless of the cost. I admire that. And I want to make an offer to you."
Anne narrowed her eyes. "What kind of offer?"
"A seat on the council," Victoria said. "It would be good to have another woman's voice there."
"Lord Baldric would never allow it."
"You don't need his permission."
"He's my husband."
"He doesn't have to be."
Anne's voice cracked. "I won't be the first Malverian to divorce her husband. It can start with anyone—but not me."
Victoria's voice cooled, her face unreadable. "I'm not talking about divorce."
Anne's breath caught as realization dawned. "You can't possibly mean—"
"I do."
Anne recoiled. "I could be killed. Even if they suspect I considered it, I'd be executed."
"I am still queen. If anyone were to know—which they won't—I could stop it. I'm not asking you to kill him yourself. It would be clean. Professional. You wouldn't be suspected."
Anne shook her head in disbelief. "I can't do that."
"Can't kill," Victoria asked gently, "or can't kill Lord Baldric?"
"Both".
Victoria studied her, eyes unwavering. "I'm offering you an opportunity anyone else in your situstion would envy. I'm not asking for anything in return. The council seat is yours if you want it. This—this is a way out."
"I don't need an escape."
Victoria held her gaze, then said quietly, "I heard what happened between you and Lord Mortimer."