The Duchess noticed her daughter’s furrowed brow.

"You probably don’t remember her."

A faint smile crossed her lips.

"The last time the two of you saw each other, you were still a pup." Her mother looked back down at the map. "She moved to the coast because of her stingray husband."

A warmth entered her voice.

"She always told him that one day, when she was no longer needed here, she would return to the sea with him."

’The coast?’

Mirabelle stared at the map spread across the desk.

Then her gaze shifted to the measuring tool her mother had used a moment ago. She roughly estimated the distance.

About nine days of travel.

That meant her grandmother had set out almost immediately after Mirabelle had awakened in this body.

Mirabelle knew that flying Beast males with high cultivation levels — and perhaps even a wind affinity — could travel three or four times faster than someone on foot.

Which meant...

Her mother had planned all of this ever since she ended her hunger strike.

This woman was terrifying.

She hadn’t manipulated Mirabelle.

She had manipulated the future.

Days ago.

Perhaps even weeks.

Every move had quietly prepared the next one until there had been only a single path left to walk.

Mirabelle wasn’t sure whether to admire that...

...or be horrified by it.

"She is vastly superior to you when it comes to political intrigue."

Pebbles looked up from the crystal glass into which he had just dipped a tentacle.

Mirabelle believed him immediately.

The more she got to know this woman...

The more impressive she became.

She simply would’ve preferred not to be the center of those schemes herself.

"Shouldn’t a mother protect her daughter?"

The question escaped before she could stop it.

The Duchess looked up from the calendar she had been scribbling notes into. Then she laughed.

As always, she understood immediately what Mirabelle truly meant.

She felt a quiet sense of pride. Her daughter was finally recognizing increasingly complex connections.

That alone reassured her she had made the right decision.

She still didn’t know exactly what had happened in Mirabelle’s room during the hunger strike. But it seemed as though her daughter had reached some kind of resolution.

And perhaps...

Just as Logan had suggested...

She really had met the Beast Goddess.

"I am a Duchess before I am a mother." Her voice softened. "I know that sounds harsh."

She folded her hands atop the desk.

"But I will always do what is best for the land entrusted to our bloodline."

Her golden eyes settled firmly on Mirabelle.

"And the best thing for this territory..." She held Mirabelle’s gaze. "...is you."

Mirabelle understood her.

She truly did.

That was the problem.

The Duchess wasn’t forcing her because she was cruel. She was doing it because she genuinely believed it was the right thing.

That made arguing with her infinitely more difficult.

Even so...

There was still a stubborn part of her refusing to accept having so little control over her own life.

"And what’s best for me?"

Her mother sighed quietly and folded her hands together.

"Mirabelle.

The Territory Management Trial made your talents abundantly clear.

Every decision you’ve made recently has benefited the duchy."

A small smile appeared.

"You may not have said it with words... But your actions have shown that you’re ready."

She fell silent. Lost in thought.

Her upper body turned slightly as her gaze drifted toward the window.

Outside, birds crossed the brilliant blue sky.

Their calls echoed around the castle.

Mirabelle didn’t know where her mother’s thoughts had wandered. So she simply waited until the Duchess was ready to continue.

"Now that Queen Asena has personally invited you...

...it is important that you inherit the duchy before the Royal Hunting Party." Her eyes returned to Mirabelle. "That way, the duchy becomes your shield...

...just as you become its shield."

Asena.

Queen of Bergheim.

Wolf female.

Mirabelle remembered a portrait one of the original Mirabelle’s tutors had once shown her.

It depicted a young woman with copper-colored waves cascading over her shoulders.

Sharp eyes outlined in black.

A stern mouth.

Upon her head rested a crown forged from copper-colored metal.

Instead of spikes, it bore stylized leaves.

Tiny white gemstones had been set into delicate blossoms.

The painted copper leaves of the crown caught the sunlight.

Even in memory, they seemed to shimmer.

The Queen’s gaze had followed the viewer no matter from which angle the portrait was observed.

It had been deeply unsettling.

She looked exactly as Mirabelle had imagined a queen would.

Cunning.

Calculating.

Ambitious.

Only... Much younger.

Though perhaps the portrait had simply been old.

She had to be somewhat older than Mirabelle’s mother.

Interestingly enough...

Mirabelle felt neither fear...

Nor even much respect.

She found herself smiling.

Apparently

...her grandmother was far more intimidating than the Queen herself.

Pebbles drifted lazily around the study, curiously reading the titles on the bookshelves.

His presence no longer bothered Mirabelle nearly as much as before. Perhaps that, too, was a side effect of the body adjustment.

Mirabelle released a slow breath.

There was no point resisting.

Not anymore.

She straightened in her chair. She turned her attention back to her mother.

"All right...

What exactly do we need to prepare?"

The Duchess reached for another sheet of parchment and began writing while she spoke. The feather quill scraped softly across the parchment.

"We don’t have much time."

She made a short note.

"First, we need to determine who will accompany you to the Royal Hunting Party."

Her hand continued moving with calm, practiced strokes.

"You, your three mates, Owen, Tara, an appropriate number of attendants, cooks, and a military escort. Perhaps Lonan as well."

She paused.

"The exact size depends on what we can spare without weakening Luchsenstein’s defenses."

Mirabelle watched in fascination as her mother’s mind worked. Every topic seemed to flow effortlessly into the next, as though she had already played through this conversation dozens of times in her head.

Another note.

"We’ll also need to prepare gifts for Queen Asena."

The future Duchess tilted her head:

"What kind of gifts?"

"The kind that remind everyone exactly why Luchsenstein matters."

The Duchess didn’t even look up.

"Your bread."

Mirabelle blinked in surprise.

She hadn’t expected her mother to share such valuable knowledge with the Queen so willingly.

As though reading her thoughts once again, the Duchess clarified,

"Not the flour or the dried Thorn-grass grains. Preserved baked goods. Perhaps Lonan can create something worthy of a queen."

Mirabelle made a mental note to give the eagle Beastman a few more baking tips.

The Duchess continued writing.

"Every noble territory presents gifts." She paused just long enough to underline the next sentence. "They are never merely gifts.

They are statements."

Mirabelle nodded slowly.

That... actually made sense.

She had seen the same thing countless times in aristocracy novels back on Earth.

"Before your grandmother arrives, you’ll visit the Temple.

The priests will formally acknowledge your existing mate bonds before the Beast Goddess."

She looked up briefly.

"And while you’re there..." Her expression became pointed. "...stop behaving like a stubborn cub."

Mirabelle frowned.

"What?"

"I’m referring to Lucien."

Silence.

Ah...

"You’ve made your point." The Duchess resumed writing. "Now fix it."

Before Mirabelle could protest, her mother continued.

"I don’t particularly care whether you were angry.

What I care about is that you leave for the Royal Hunting Party as well protected as possible." Her golden eyes met Mirabelle’s.

"If you have already accepted him as a mate, then complete the bond before you leave.

The stronger your bond becomes, the safer you are."

Mirabelle looked away.

She knew exactly what her mother was implying.

And she had absolutely no intention of discussing that topic with her.

"...I’ll think about it."

The Duchess smiled knowingly.

Behind Mirabelle, Pebbles quietly giggled behind two raised tentacles.

"That wasn’t a suggestion."

Her mother continued outlining the schedule.

Mirabelle wisely decided to remain silent.

"The day after tomorrow, your grandmother arrives.

She’ll evaluate whether you’re truly prepared to inherit the duchy."

’Oh no!’

Mirabelle grimaced.

She wasn’t looking forward to that.

Especially not considering the sheer panic her own body seemed to associate with her grandmother.

"I don’t like the sound of that," she muttered.

"You aren’t supposed to."

The Duchess’s smile widened.

She vividly remembered her own evaluation.

She couldn’t quite decide whether Mirabelle or her grandmother would be more surprised.

"Afterward, you’ll return to the Temple.

This time, not as a bonded mate.

But as the future Duchess.

The High Priestesses will perform the Rite of Purification. They will determine whether your spirit is worthy of governing a territory entrusted by the Beast Goddess."

Mirabelle instinctively straightened in her chair.

That sounded... important.

Pebbles dismissed the concern with a lazy wave of one tentacle.

"No need to worry, Host. Of course you’ll pass. That’s what you have me for."

Naturally, the Duchess noticed none of the interruption.

Mirabelle would’ve loved to question Pebbles further, but right now listening to her mother seemed considerably wiser.

"After the purification, you’ll meet the military."

She made another note.

"They deserve to know the woman they’ll one day fight and die for.

Following that, you’ll stand before the Council of Women."