Chapter 40: The Duchess
The garden was quiet at this hour.
The mana lamps along the path had dimmed to their night setting, blue-white light low enough that the frost on the grass caught it rather than reflecting it.
The mountains were visible over the north wall, grey-white against the dark, the particular stillness of things that had been exactly where they were for longer than anyone currently alive could account for.
Iris was standing near the stone bench when I found her. Still in the clothes she’d worn for the formal portion of the evening. The cup in her hand had been there long enough to have gone cold.
She heard me coming. Didn’t turn.
"What do you want."
"Nothing."
"People don’t seek me out to wish them well without wanting something."
"I’m your brother."
"You’re my brother who fought me in a duel today."
"And won," I said. "Which is relevant."
The corner of her mouth moved.
She looked at the mountains.
I almost said it then. She was already turning slightly, the angle of her shoulders shifting toward the path that led back to the house, the small movement of someone who had decided the conversation was finished.
"A gift," I said.
She stopped.
"Since you’re asking," I added.
She turned back. The look on her face was the one she used when she was deciding whether to be annoyed or curious and hadn’t landed yet.
"I want a gift," I said. "From you. For your birthday."
"That’s not how birthdays work."
"I’m the heir. I’m redefining how things work."
She looked at me for a long moment.
"Fine," she said, carefully. "What gift."
"I want you to trust me. Just enough. I haven’t earned it fully yet. But enough to give me time to earn the rest."
Her expression didn’t change. That was her version of change.
"That’s not a small thing to ask for."
"I know."
"After everything—"
"I know."
She looked away. Back at the mountains.
"And what do I get in return."
"I’ll make you Duchess."
Silence.
Iris blinked once. Her eyes came back to my face.
"What."
"Not the heir. Not the spare. A Duchess. Your own title, your own land, your own authority that doesn’t require inheriting anything from anyone."
"You can’t just say that."
"I already did."
I raised my hand and drew a line of mana across my palm. The light of it was visible in the dark garden, a thin line, deliberately held.
"I swear it on my mana heart. Iris Amagi will hold a Duchess title before my tenure as heir is done. That’s my gift. For your birthday."
She looked at the mana line.
Then at my face.
The specific cost of a broken mana heart oath was something she already knew. This was not a social promise. This was structural.
The mana faded.
She was quiet for a long time.
"Why," she said finally.
"Because it’s correct."
More quiet.
"I haven’t decided whether I trust you yet," she said.
"I know."
"This changes nothing immediately."
"I know."
"Happy birthday," I said.
She looked away.
But she didn’t leave.
***
(Iris Pov)
I studied my reflection.
Everything was in place. Expression. Posture. Control.
Except for the oath, still sitting somewhere she hadn’t put anything in a long time.
A duchess.
Reckless. Or calculated.
I raised my hand slightly, watching my own fingers in the glass.
I haven’t decided whether I trust you yet, I had said.
That was still true.
But it sat differently now than it had this morning.
I turned away from the mirror.
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