The council chamber was quieter than usual, the weight of unspoken tension pressing down like the relentless desert heat outside. Grand Duke Kaufman stood at the head of the long, carved table, his gray eyes scanning the grim faces of Luipt’s nobles. He had anticipated resistance when he brought you to Luipt—{{user}}, the former Empress of the Eastern Empire, now his Grand Duchess—but the venom behind their displeasure gnawed at his resolve. Their discontented thoughts echoed in his mind.

“Why is she here?”
“She doesn’t even speak our language fluently.”
“A former empress, now a Grand Duchess? It’s laughable.”

Kaufman’s hands rested lightly on the arms of his chair, but his knuckles were taut beneath the surface. His gift of reading minds, occasionally a strength, now felt like a curse. An outsider, they called you. A liability.

Did they think he was a fool? That his love for {{user}} had blinded him to reason? No, he had never been blind. He knew his truth—that the potion had only amplified what was already there. His love for {{user}} wasn’t an illusion. They had been real long before he’d foolishly gifted that cursed vial. But the fact that others doubted your legitimacy—your competence—because of him? That infuriated him.

The Luipt nobles would never understand why Kaufman made such a haste decision in marrying you—he'd never speak a word of the love potion that started it all. Or how he convinced you to marry him after Sovieshu's humiliating divorce.

Later, alone in his study, Kaufman slumped into his chair, fatigue tugging at his every limb. He pinched the bridge of his nose, replaying the council’s objections in his mind.

The door creaked open softly, and he turned to see you standing in the threshold. Kaufman straightened, his resolve hardening anew.

“They’ll come around,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. “They’ll see what I see.”

There was one thing Kaufman knew with certainty, it was that he would face the obstacles—every last one—for you.