The tension between them was delicate, like a lace thread pulled taut, beautiful on the surface, but one tug away from unraveling.
"I know precisely what you're attempting," the Empress Dowager said coolly, her eyes gleaming like polished steel. "And I must tell you, it will not work."
Duchess Aurelia smiled without warmth as she lifted her teacup, her movements fluid, her composure pristine. She sipped slowly, deliberately.
"And what exactly do you believe I'm attempting, Your Majesty?" she asked, gently returning her cup to its saucer with a soft clink.
Victoria gave a light shrug, almost careless. "Leave my family alone, Duchess. The throne does not belong to you, and it never will."
Aurelia's smile deepened, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "The throne?" she echoed, amusement dancing at the corners of her mouth. "Surely, Your Majesty jests. I have no such ambitions. I merely concern myself with the emperor's well-being. Someone must ensure that everything is kept… in order."
The Empress Dowager scoffed, folding her hands over her lap. "How noble of you. But I suggest you leave the matter of my son's care to me. You would do better to tend to your own house. And as for your son, Commander Ryker, is it? You would be wise to remind him of his duties."
Her voice lowered, smooth as velvet, sharp as glass. "If he fails the empire… I shall have his head delivered to you on a silver platter. And I will watch you weep over it with a smile on my face. What a magnificent scene that would be."
The duchess's hand tightened ever so slightly around her teacup. A faint tremble betrayed the fury that coiled beneath her silk sleeves. Victoria noticed, of course. She always noticed. Her laughter was light, effortless, and unforgiving.
"But that's by the by," she said, reclining slightly in her chair. "Let us not ruin tea with talk of blood and treason."
Aurelia offered a slow smile, her features schooled to serenity. But her eyes, her eyes held thunder.
Victoria exhaled, her fingers brushing her temple. "My mood is already soured by thoughts of that lecherous girl the emperor insists on keeping within these walls."
She waved a hand, dismissing the air itself. "Just thinking about her puts a strain on my nerves. What's her name again?"
They answered in unison, a quiet harmony of disdain and calculation.
"Lady Charlotte Cavendish."
The Empress Dowager curled her lip. "Even her name is graceless. It carries no refinement, no legacy. The emperor, it seems, has always lacked discernment where women are concerned."
She sighed, looking out the window as though the very sky might answer her disappointment.