# 3
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“I should have at least wrapped a handkerchief around my wrist before I hit him... The reality seems to be much more difficult than imagined.”
Grace swallowed this bloody thought as she walked down the dark corridor. She stopped suddenly, then turned towards the dark window in which her face was reflected.
Long, wavy golden hair, delicate features that blend with a small, oval face, soft light green eyes, and her height is not short, but it seems shorter than it is because of her slender figure.
The maids complimented her beauty every day, but Grace did not like her appearance for long. She tried to apply strong powders to appear more solid, but the result was nothing more than a child imitating adults.
When she was complaining: “If my looks alone were enough to paralyze my opponents’ feet, it would be easier,” her hunting teacher laughed and said to her:
“In my opinion, Your Majesty, you indeed have an excellent weapon.”
"Weapon? You mean my appearance?"
“When you hunt prey that is larger than you in body, you should not show strength. The one who looks scary usually gets killed first. You have to make your opponent relax all his guard, and then strike him in the head.”
From that day on, Grace made her looks her weapon. She pretended to be a sweet, naive miss who knew nothing about the world; She smiled meekly, acted solemnly, and whatever insults she heard, she turned them inside into a dog barking and moved on.
Thanks to this, the Duke and Duchess of Taylor viewed it as a “paper” that could be used and then thrown away whenever they wanted, and they even left the papers that required the head of the house’s signature and decision in her hands so that she could deal with them as she wished. In light of this complete reassurance, Grace waited for the opportunity and patiently collected information.
Just as she was about to continue walking, a sarcastic voice rang out from the end of the corridor:
“Your future husband… really excellent.”
Rosette Taylor arrived, a clone of her mother, the Duchess.
“He is Her Majesty the Empress’s nephew, isn’t he? Indeed, how lucky you are, Grace.”
Every abuse translates into dogs barking.
Grace repeated her familiar rule in her mind, while Rosette smiled widely.
“From tomorrow onwards, you will become the wife of Her Majesty’s nephew, what an honor!”
Inside, Grace wanted to scatter ashes on the smiling face, but she couldn't ruin anything now. She tilted her head slightly and smiled:
“Thank you, Rosette.”
Her voice was soft and solemn, and it seemed to carry genuine gratitude, and Rosette's face suddenly twisted.
No matter how harsh or harsh the words were, Grace always responded with a smile, and this was what drove Rosette crazy. How many times had she had the desire to throw a stone at this noble face! I came closer and stared at her harshly:
“Yes, smile that foolishly all your life. This particular husband suits you perfectly, so live in his service and endure until death.”
Grace listened to her words, thinking that she had just been waving a wine bottle over that same man's head.
Rosette continued:
"And even after you're dead, don't think about going back to the Taylors. This isn't your home, Grace."
“……”
“It's my home.”
She imitated Grace's calm tone, then turned violently and left. Grace remained standing, looking at the void she had left behind.
Her face, accustomed to being still, did not show any emotion even at such moments. Even the slight laugh that escaped her seemed more like a calm smile than a sarcasm. But one sentence she could not bear, so it cut her chest like a blade:
“
My house
?
She bit her lip and resumed walking.
Really funny...all in the house of the Taylor Dukes. People, things, even a drop of water from the river that passes through its lands, and a gust of wind that passes over it...
“None of this is for you.”
The words were more like a movement of lips than an audible sound, and they were drowned out by the creaking of the wind behind the window.
●●●●
Meanwhile, a stranger was arriving in the lands of the Taylor Duchy.
His dark black hair was arranged in a way that did not befit a man who had traveled in darkness, and his features were remarkably handsome, but the sharpness in his eyes made his entire frame appear as sharp as a blade.
The Duchy Gate Guard, dazzled by the extraordinary aura emanating from the broad-shouldered man, did not even dare to look directly at his face. He just checked his ID card, then opened the gate for him.
The companion who was walking beside him murmured in a low voice:
“What was the need to forge a complete identity? As long as you received an official wedding invitation, you could attend in public.”
This was Joseph Rexton, his assistant. Walter Richmond laughed lightly as he took out a small card from his pocket.
[To the Honorable Duke Walter Richmond.
From Grace Taylor.]
The sender's name and elegant handwriting wove a strange harmony with this card.
Walter said:
“I don’t know… I wondered if this was really a wedding invitation.”
“She invites you to her wedding. Isn’t that an invitation, then?”
Walter shrugged his shoulders and put the card back in his pocket, then raised his head towards the dark Taylor Palace and said:
“How many brides in the world send themves a wedding invitation like this?”
He was silent for a moment, then continued slowly:
“In it she says... If I attend her wedding myf, I will get...
A sword spent protecting my secret
“
Joseph frowned as he scratched the back of his head, unable to understand the significance. As for Walter, he wiped his chin with his fingertips and began to think.
A sword spent protecting my secret.
What exactly is this woman talking about?
What do you know about its secrets?
●●●●
At dawn the next day, the great door of the palace chapel within the Duchy of Taylor opened.
Silvery white fabrics, symbolizing holiness, covered the walls of the church, and bouquets of lilies - a symbol of purity and love - were distributed everywhere. The servants were rushing to complete the final touches for a perfect wedding, while the priests coming from the temple were busy performing the religious rituals that preceded the marriage ceremony.
As for the invited guests, they were preparing in their rooms, both men and women, with the finest clothes and jewelry they owned. Wedding in the ancient palace of the Dukes of Taylor! The groom is the Junior Count of the House of Saxony, the Empress's own family. It was natural for expectations to rise, and for whispers of enjoyment of the upcoming event to be heard around every corner.
Meanwhile, in the Sachsen suite:
“How dare you treat your master’s son like this?!”
A sharp scream rang out from the Countess, Sachsen's wife, followed by the sound of a strong slap on the cheek of the deputy butler. The Countess's anger did not subside after the first blow, so she followed it with another.
“I'm sorry, ma'am...”
The Countess, panting with exasperation, turned to her son. In an instant, her features changed, and anger turned into deep regret as she looked at his face:
A bruise on that handsome face! And on this very day!!
Jack Sachsen's right eye and forehead were blue with a huge bruise. The doctor came quickly and applied ointment to relieve the swelling, but the shiny material only made the bruise more prominent. In addition, he had a heavy headache crushing his head from the effects of the drink, to the point that he almost wished for death.
“How… how did this happen?!”
asked the countess, with a face almost in tears.
Jack himf did not know, the blank in his memory - as always happens after a drink - was complete. He frowned from his annoyance and said sharply:
“I said don't worry about it.”
The Countess stared at the bruise for a long time and murmured:
“It doesn't look like a fall...more like a direct hit.”
“I told you not to care!”
Here Count Sachsen rose from the sofa with sudden anger:
"How could we not care when you're walking into church like that? It looks like you fell over the table drunk! Or smashed a bottle of wine, you idiot!"
He gave him a sharp look and then suddenly stood up:
“Anyway, what happened can no longer be hidden! Time is up, stop smearing your face with those ridiculous ointments and get ready! And you, stop stretching and come!”
Jack's face became angry, while the Countess bit her lip in anger.
“They call themves dukes, and they don’t even know how to protect their guests! How could they allow the face of an important guest like my son to be exposed to this injury! Then what about that bride of theirs?! What is this behavior?! The Sachsens are not an ordinary family! How can she not go out to receive her in-laws?!”
She was shaking the fan nervously to cool the burning heat on her face, then she followed her husband outside, muttering to herf:
“As soon as you return to our palace, I will instruct that girl above all in the traditions of the Saxons!”
All the way to the church, she repeated in her head the phrase: “The Saxons are the family that gave birth to Her Majesty the Empress.” Her f-confidence and pride in her family were so great that other noble ladies made way for her silently.
But as soon as she reached the long hallway leading to the church door, her steps stopped slightly.
Conversations slipped from the lips of the guests gathered in small groups, and even the eyes of Duke Taylor, his wife, Rosette, and the young heir William were all fixed on one point.
At the end of the hallway directly connected to the main door of the church, under a roof bearing between its stones the history of the Taylor family, the heroine of this wedding was approaching with steady steps.