The Queen's Bargain

​Chapter 8: The Vine's Stranglehold

​Chapter 8: The Vine's Stranglehold​

Lian, dripping and shivering, was hauled out of the lake only to be ordered to kneel on the frozen ground by his furious father. His teeth chattered uncontrollably.

"Mercy, my Lord!" his wife pleaded, her own knees sinking into the cold gravel. "The cold will kill him!"

Lady Luo arrived swiftly with Bianca in tow. Even in distress, Lady Luo maintained an air of elegant composure, a white fox fur stole accentuating her graceful neck. "My Lord," she said, her voice a practiced melody of concern as she too knelt. "The chill is bitter. Let him change his clothes first. Punishment can wait. He is a scholar, not used to such hardship."

The Marquis wavered. He held great expectations for his handsome, educated heir and cherished his beautiful wife. They were the public face of his success.

Eleanor stood silently, her small retinue behind her. Stewardess Kong listened, aghast. Lady Luo's words—"the gong must be struck by two hammers," implying shared blame—were a masterclass in manipulation. She was subtly shifting the fault to Eleanor while pretending to acknowledge her son's minor role. Kong's last doubts about Eleanor's assessment of her mother vanished. The bias was not just real; it was brazen.

"Go! Change your clothes!" the Marquis finally relented after a moment's hesitation.

Lian bowed stiffly. "Yes, Father." As he rose, he shot a venomous glare at Eleanor.

Eleanor met his gaze with a serene smile. "Brother, why do you glare at me? Do you dispute Father's judgment?"

All eyes turned back to Lian, who quickly lowered his head. "I dare not."

Lady Luo's attention then fell upon Eleanor, her expression one of profound disappointment. "Eleanor, you are too proud. The Marquis's favor has spoiled you." She then urged Lian, "Hurry back, the wind is rising."

Eleanor's smile brightened, a stark contrast to the memory of her near-fatal hour in the cold water after her first fall. "Father and Mother have always doted on me," she agreed sweetly. "But it seems Brother holds the household rules in such low regard. To come and pay respects to Grandmother while carrying a live blade?"

She held up the sword her whip had disarmed from Lian. She knew her father's deepest sensitivities. As a military man, protocol was sacrosanct; entering a superior's presence armed was a grave insult, one he strictly observed himself. To strike a nerve, one must hit where it truly hurts.

She also knew the blade was sharpened, not merely decorative. A scar on her hand from a previous life testified to that. Lian had never hesitated to hurt her for Bianca's sake.

With a swift motion, she drew the sword. The steel gleamed wickedly in the morning sun, the reflected light flashing directly into the Marquis's eyes.

"You disgrace!" the Marquis roared, his anger now white-hot and personal. Bullying a sister was one thing, a familial squabble. But flouting the core tenets of military respect and endangering his mother? That was an assault on his authority. "On your knees!" he bellowed, his face flushing crimson.

Terrified of his father's legendary temper, Lian's legs buckled instantly.

"You will kneel here for two hours and reflect on your disrespect!" the Marquis decreed.

Lady Luo's face lost all color. "My Lord, please—"

"Beg again, and you will join him!" the Marquis snarled, turning on his heel and striding away toward the Dowager's quarters.

Left alone with her half-frozen son, Lady Luo turned her gaze back to Eleanor. The resemblance between mother and daughter was striking—the same captivating eyes, the same delicate features. But the emotions within them were now mirrors of cold defiance.

"Eleanor, you have gone too far," Lady Luo said, her voice sharp with a fury she no longer bothered to conceal. "This is your own blood. How can you be so vicious?"

Eleanor feigned shock, her lips parting in a perfect imitation of her mother's own theatrics. "Mother... you call me 'vicious'?"

The performance was flawless. Lady Luo felt a wave of nausea. "It seems in your heart, only Lian and Cousin Bianca matter," Eleanor continued, injecting a note of wounded sadness into her voice. "My younger brother and I are so unloved. Are we not your true-born children?"

The words, delivered as a plaintive sigh, struck Lady Luo like a physical blow. The specific mention of her younger son, You, sent a jolt of pure panic through her. Did Eleanor suspect the truth? Her eyes flew to her daughter's face, searching for confirmation.

Eleanor's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, soft and vulnerable. "Is that it, Mother?"

A cold sweat broke out on Lady Luo's back, the winter wind chilling it instantly. "Foolish child! Enough! You children will be the death of me! I risked my life bringing you into this world!" She dabbed at non-existent tears. "And Bianca... she is pitiable, motherless since birth. Must you be jealous of her too? Especially you, Eleanor! The birth that nearly killed me, that left me bedridden for half a year! I bear the pain to this day!"

Eleanor listened, her soul a frozen lake. Yet, a sharp, involuntary pang clenched in her chest—a final, dying echo of the seventeen-year-old girl who still yearned for a mother's love. But the ghost who had lived for eighteen years was unmoved. She had repaid her birth debt with her life. The account was settled. There was nothing left.

She turned and walked toward the Dowager's quarters, pressing a hand to her still-aching heart.

Inside, the Dowager was gently persuading the Marquis to reduce the sentence. "Let him kneel for half an hour. The New Year approaches; we cannot have the heir fall ill. You need his help."

Eleanor knew her grandmother cared for her. But in the Dowager's world, the eldest legitimate grandson, the legitimate eldest grandson, was the future of the bloodline. His status was immutable. What the Dowager failed to see was that Lian's loyalty had long ago been severed from the family. He was a vine that had latched onto the great tree of the Luo manor, and his purpose, like all such vines, was to strangle the host and take its place. Eleanor's blood had merely watered their ambition.

"Very well. Send a maid to ensure he kneels for half an hour, then he may go," the Marquis conceded.

Eleanor took her seat beside the Dowager. One by one, the relatives arrived for their morning greetings, each passing the scene of the disgraced, soaking-wet heir kneeling by the lake. The whispers were a constant hum.

Her cousin, Wan, whispered to the Second Lady, her eyes shining with admiration. "Elder Sister is truly formidable."

The Second Lady, however, was lost in deeper thought. How has the rift in the main family grown so wide? she wondered. What is so special about that cousin? Beyond her beauty, wealth, and social grace... she is still just a relative. How can she possibly outweigh a true-born daughter and sister? A sense of profound unease settled over her. There was something deeply unnatural about the hold Bianca and Lady Luo had on the household. The vine was tightening its grip, and only Eleanor seemed to see it.