Chapter 125: Not the Girl You Remember
Mirabelle considered the question.
This time, she didn’t answer immediately. She needed a moment to gather herself.
And, more importantly, to stop herself from saying something profoundly disrespectful.
Because a very small — very rational — part of her understood exactly why her grandmother was asking this. Unfortunately, the much larger part was absolutely furious.
She drew a slow breath.
When she let it out again, a hint of irritation slipped into the exhale despite her best efforts.
Her mother shot her a warning look.Mirabelle ignored it.
"So," she began evenly, "you want to know whether I would choose to let my villagers die... or my mates."
She folded her hands in her lap. Mirroring her grandmother.
"First of all, I reject the premise."
Her grandmother’s eyebrow rose almost imperceptibly.
"I don’t believe my mates would die.
They are among the strongest Beastmen of their respective kingdoms. Together, the three of them possess military strength comparable to that of an entire duchy
I wouldn’t be sending them to their deaths.
I would be sending them to protect our territory... and to defend my family and my people."
She met the older woman’s icy gaze without flinching.
"So no, I don’t see this as a choice between my mates and my citizens. Because I’m certain that if such a day ever came..."
A faint smile touched her lips. "...they would already be marching toward the battlefield before I ever had the chance to give the order.
They wouldn’t ask for permission."
A brief silence settled over the terrace.
"But." Mirabelle’s expression hardened.
"I wouldn’t let them go alone."
Her grandmother rolled her eyes:
"Don’t be ridiculous, Mirabelle. You’re a female. We females do not possess the strength of males.
That is precisely why they fight while we rule."
Mirabelle smiled. Then she rose from her chair.
Without a word, she crossed the terrace toward the low wall surrounding it, built from enormous blocks of pale stone.
Both the former Duchess and her mother followed her with raised brows, clearly puzzled.
Stopping beside the wall, Mirabelle turned back toward them. Her eyes briefly met Owen’s. Her loyal steward understood immediately.
With a subtle gesture, he ushered every servant still lingering on the terrace back inside. Only after the doors had closed behind them did Mirabelle look at her grandmother again.
"Grandmother." Her voice was calm.
"I intend to become the first Duchess who doesn’t leave all the fighting to her males whenever danger appears."
A heartbeat passed.
"I intend to become the first Duchess who doesn’t hide safely inside her castle while her people are being slaughtered outside its walls."
Then she turned toward the terrace wall.
It rose to her hips, built from enormous rectangular blocks of pale stone, each one nearly as long as a man’s forearm. The wall encircled the entire terrace, broken only by the broad staircase leading down into the gardens below.
Mirabelle rested her fingertips against the warm stone. The very kind of wall people believed would always be there.
Slowly, she drew back her fist.
The morning breeze stirred the leaves overhead. Somewhere in the gardens, a bird began to sing —
Then her fist came down.
The impact exploded across the terrace like a clap of thunder.
Stone screamed.
A deafening crack tore through the courtyard as a web of fractures raced through the massive blocks with terrifying speed.
For the briefest heartbeat... Everything stood perfectly still.
Then the wall gave way.
One block split cleanly in two.
The next shattered. Another followed.
The fracture ripped through the entire section of masonry, racing downward until it reached the foundation itself.
With a violent roar, the stone collapsed.
Chunks of rock crashed onto the garden path below, sending dust and splintered fragments erupting into the air. The ground trembled beneath their feet.
A flock of birds burst from the surrounding trees. Silence followed.
Fine dust drifted lazily through the golden morning light.
Mirabelle slowly lowered her fist. Tiny grains of powdered stone slid from her knuckles.
"If my people are in danger..." Her voice was calm enough to make the destruction seem even more unreal. "...then I refuse to be the Duchess who watches from behind walls."
Only then did she turn to face her grandmother.
"I will be standing where my people are."
Her grandmother shot to her feet.
For the first time since arriving, genuine astonishment broke through the iron composure etched across her face. Her mouth had fallen slightly open.
Miranda rose as well.
Unlike her mother, however, she hurried straight toward Mirabelle.
Without a word, she took her daughter’s hand.
Carefully, she turned it over.
Her thumb brushed across Mirabelle’s knuckles. Then her palm. Her wrist.
She searched for torn skin. Bruising.
Instead...
There was nothing.
Nothing but a fine layer of pale stone dust clinging to her fingers.
Miranda stared.
Slowly, her eyes lifted to meet Mirabelle’s.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then something in her daughter’s expression seemed to answer the question she had never voiced.
A quiet breath escaped her. With the corner of her skirt, she gently brushed the remaining stone dust from Mirabelle’s hand, carefully wiping each finger clean as though she had done so a thousand times before.
Only when she was satisfied did she take her hand.
"Come."
It was little more than a whisper. She led Mirabelle back to the breakfast table without another word.
Behind them, fragments of the shattered wall still tumbled into place with the occasional dull clack of stone against stone.
Her grandmother had already resumed her seat. The surprise had vanished from her features.
She sat perfectly straight once more, her hands resting neatly in her lap, as though splitting a terrace wall in half with a single strike was simply another matter requiring careful consideration.
Judging by the distant look in her ice-gray eyes...
She was already reorganizing everything she thought she knew about her granddaughter.
"Who knows about this?" she asked.
Mirabelle looked up.
"About this."
She reached for her teacup and took the last sip, letting the warm liquid linger for a moment before setting the cup back onto its saucer.
"You two. For now.
I have no intention of making a spectacle of it. But when the time comes I won’t hesitate to show the world that the females of Luchsenstein are different."
Only then did her grandmother reach for her own teacup.
As she lifted it, her hand trembled.
Barely. The movement was so subtle that Mirabelle almost missed it.
The elderly lynx Beastwoman took a long sip. She drew in a slow, measured breath.
"Keep it that way.
The moment people learn what you can do, they will stop seeing you as a Duchess...
They will see you as a threat."
Mirabelle had been well aware of that.nThe moment the world learned she wasn’t merely a female with authority, but one with strength it would draw the attention of enemies powerful enough to shake kingdoms.
That was precisely why she had no intention of revealing it. But she had made a conscious decision to tell the women of her family.
They, of all people, deserved to know.
Let them think about what kind of Duchess she intended to become.
Mirabelle looked from her mother to her grandmother.
"Mother.
Grandmother.
Even after I inherit the title of Duchess, I won’t carry it alone. I have my mates. And I have both of you.
You’ll help shape the kind of Duchess I become with your guidance and your experience."
She paused.
"I don’t believe any hypothetical question can truly prepare me for the decisions that lie ahead."
This time, she met the elderly lynx Beastwoman’s stern gaze without yielding.
"Because the Mirabelle sitting here today isn’t the same person who will one day have to make those decisions. By then, I’ll have experienced things I can’t even imagine yet.
I’ll know people I haven’t met. I’ll have lost people I haven’t lost. I’ll have learned lessons I haven’t learned.
So the only sensible path is to face each problem when it comes."
A small smile touched her lips.
"At the same time I fully intend to change quite a few things within this territory.
Changes that, I hope, will prevent some of those future problems from ever arising in the first place."
She popped a strawberry into her mouth and savored the taste for one moment.
"Perhaps this afternoon... you’d be willing to hear a few of my ideas."
The former Duchess regarded Mirabelle in silence.
She was impressed.
Not that she would ever admit it so plainly.
The granddaughter she remembered had been a pampered little girl who preferred letting others think for her whenever possible.
Somewhere along the way... That child had disappeared.
In her place sat a young woman who challenged assumptions, questioned traditions, and possessed the conviction to defend her beliefs without losing her composure.
Her gaze drifted to Miranda.
It seemed her daughter had accomplished what many had once thought impossible.
"Miranda."
There was the faintest hint of approval in her voice. "It seems we’re leaving Luchsenstein in capable hands."
A relieved smile spread across her mother’s face.
The former Duchess clapped her hands once. A servant appeared almost immediately.
"Bring us more wine."
She gestured toward both her daughter and granddaughter.
"We have something worth celebrating."
Only a short while later, a crystal glass was placed before Mirabelle, filled with a pale, sparkling fruit wine. Tiny bubbles danced lazily toward the surface.
Mirabelle wrapped her fingers around the cool glass.
After this morning...
She truly needed a drink.