-


    Able to easily distinguish between politeness and sincerity, Carissa could tell that Marjorie wasn''t being dismissive.


    "Madam Marjorie, the queen is your daughter. If Skye Embroidery is something the queen is spearheading, then that would be the best possible oue," Carissa said.novelbin


    Marjorie paused for a moment, slightly startled. "Your Grace, if Skye Embroidery seeds, it will certainly be remembered for generations. You''ve already started working on it, and although there will be obstacles, I believe it won''t be too difficult for you." Carissa smiled. "It''s easier said than done. In the end, it''s a matter of changing mindsets."


    Marjorie nodded slightly, resuming her walk. "Indeed, it''s difficult. But since you''ve already borne the criticism, why should you share any credit with Her Majesty?"


    Carissa chuckled lightly. "I believe iming credit for this would be too shallow. The real aplishment is ensuring that it benefits the people."


    There was a brief pause before Marjorie responded, her voiceced with admiration, "You have a rare and broad-minded perspective, Your Grace. It''s truly remarkable."


    Recognizing the moment for what it was, Carissa gently suggested, "Perhaps you could speak to Her Majesty about it."


    Carissa had a clear purpose in mind. If Victoria took the lead in backing the women''s academy, while Kylie took charge of the workshop, many of the thorny issues would be alleviated. Marjorie nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Your Grace. I will mention it to her."


    Hearing her calm, unhurried tone, Carissa knew the chances of Kylie getting involved were slim. So, she didn''t waste time and asked directly, "If Her Majesty isn''t interested, would you be?" They reached a pavilion and sat down slowly.


    Marjorie gave a faint smile and said, "My household affairs keep me busy. I''m afraid I wouldn''t be able to live up to your expectations, Your Grace."


    Carissa didn''t press her. "There''s no need to live up to anything. Just follow your heart."


    Marjorie''s eyes seemed to lose focus for a moment.


    Follow her heart?


    Women couldn''t follow their hearts. This world was ruled by men.


    In the main hall, the atmosphere had grown tense after Rafael spoke.


    "Skye Embroidery is my princess consort''s hard work. I don''t want anyone ruining it-anyone at all," he said, blunt and direct.


    The words hung in the air, almost tantly stating his intent. Malcolm had expected some subtlety, perhaps a few pleasantries first, before getting to the matter at hand.


    Instead, it was brought up directly with no buildup, leaving no room for tact or grace. It was downright awkward. If anything, it would''ve been better to just be upfront at least then Malcolm could''vee up with some excuse. Rafael, ever considerate, didn''t leave the tension hanging. When the atmosphere hit an all-time low, he took the chance and made things clear, as Malcolm wanted.


    "As for the troublemakers among the schrs, I''ll be keeping an eye on them for now. But if they cause any more trouble, I won''t show them any leniency, even with your intervention," the prince dered. Malcolm''s lips twitched. He had no choice but to swallow his frustration. There was no longer any room for exnation or debate. Rafael wasn''t here to ask for anything; he was here toy down thew.


    Seeing Malcolm''s silence, the Hell Monarch pressed on, saying, "Given the damage they''ve done to the reputation of the workshop, they need to make amends. They''ll need to publicly correct their lies.


    "Of course, their earlier nder was


    done in secrecy. I have no patience for underhanded methods. If they''re going to make things right, it has to be done openly-by signing their names to the articles, which must first be submitted to Jacob for review. If he approves, they can be published."


    He set down his cup, eyes sharp and serious. "That''s the purpose of my visit today. I expect you to handle this thoroughly, Lord Quinton. Make sure I don''t have toe back again."


    Malcolm''s face shifted between


    shades of anger and disbelief. "Your Highness, are you forcing my hand? They have the right to voice their opinions. You can''t say the


    workshop is your princess conset


    project and forbid anyone from speaking against it. Remember,


    under the weight of power, there will always be resistance."


    Rafael took another sip of coffee, his expression unchanging as he spoke in a warm and calm tone, "I understand, but you and those schrs need to understand this: If they don''t follow my instructions, they''ll soon learn what real power feels like." Malcolm''s face darkened with fury. "Are you threatening me, Your Highness?"


    Rafael nodded, setting the cup down with deliberate calmness. His gaze was unwavering. "If you have anyints, you''re wee to voice them, Lord Quinton. We can settle them slowly. I can find a hundred mistakes in you, but I doubt you''ll be able to find even one in me."


    His words hit like a hammer, the weight of them pressing down on Malcolm''s chest, making it hard to breathe.