No matter how much the two women in the back garden wanted to say, the banquet had to end. After Astrid and Lyra finished another topic of conversation, the head maid timely stepped forward to remind them that it was already late, and they should return to the mansion to rest.

Hearing Elise speak up, Astrid nodded, put back on the delicate stiletto heel that had just fallen to the ground, tied the ankle strap behind her heel, and stood firmly upright.

Lyra also returned the immaculate Sword of Light into her fingernail, gently tugged at the top of her white stockings, smoothed the creases around her ankles, and had just finished adjusting her skirt when she heard Astrid asking Elise.

"Is Amalia still negotiating with the city lord about the magi-airship trade cooperation?"

She remembered that before leaving, Lord Losterling had already talked about the topic of development with Amalia, waiting only for her response.

Upon hearing this, Elise shook her head, her tone calm.

"Her Majesty the Empress was also enjoying the flowers in the back garden earlier. She only returned to the banquet hall five minutes ago."

Five minutes ago... That was precisely when she and Lyra had already exchanged their feelings...

Had Amalia been watching all along?

Astrid fluttered her eyelashes slightly, gaining a rough understanding. The hand wearing silk gloves gently took hold of Lyra’s, guiding the young girl back into the hall.

With keen ears catching the sound of her sister’s footsteps, the white-dressed little girl standing at the center of the hall, beneath the grand crystal chandelier, turned around. Her blue eyes locked onto Astrid and the Lyra beside her.

Lyra’s time... had finally ended...

Because her breathing felt uneasy, Amalia had chosen to leave early. Yet even after returning to the banquet hall, she couldn’t forget the soft, silvery hair spilling over the bench, or the side-cutout stiletto heel that had suddenly slipped off as Lyra moved.

Reason had guided her to make the most appropriate decision, but emotionally, the craving desire of possessiveness kept roaring inside her, like a swarm of ants clinging to her heart, gnawing at her relentlessly.

Stepping forward slowly, the pale blue ribbon wrapped around her delicate white stockings fluttered slightly. Amalia took a high-stemmed glass from a nearby maid’s tray and gently handed it to the pink-haired girl.

"Almost forgot, Astrid," Amalia said, "we haven’t properly toasted with our Imperial Bastion yet."

Her blue eyes met Lyra’s gaze, and the latter could detect the hidden light within those pupils.

Lyra accepted the glass, respectfully clinking it against Amalia’s.

"Thank you for your high regard, Your Majesty. This subject will do my utmost to assist and repay your grace and nurturing."

The glasses chimed midair; the deep red wine inside swayed gently. Amalia gazed at Lyra’s lips moist, glistening, as if they had just kissed something then drained the remaining wine in her glass in one go.

When Lyra arrived, she came alone by carriage. But when leaving, all four rode together.

Aside from Elise, who was still technically an outsider, the atmosphere among the other three was slightly strange.

Lyra watched Amalia sitting across the carriage, swinging her legs while nestled in Astrid’s lap. A scene she once found perfectly normal now felt oddly unsettling, now that she knew the full truth.

Then, right before her eyes, Amalia leaned forward and placed a light kiss on the fabric above Astrid’s hem.

"..."

She was definitely doing it on purpose!

Thinking back to the back garden, where Amalia had overheard all their love confessions and watched her kiss Astridm this was probably her way of asserting her presence. Lyra pressed her lips together, her emotions complicated.

Her joining probably wasn’t a pleasant thing for this white-stockinged little girl, yet she had still chosen, at that moment, to give her a push.

Putting herself in Amalia’s shoes could she, if she were Amalia, facing the only light in her life, have taken that step?

After a moment of empathy, she understood Amalia’s feelings. Lyra didn’t interrupt the sisters’ affection, but silently straightened her own two slender, white-stockinged legs and gently squeezed Astrid’s ankle.

Understanding didn’t mean submission. In the face of her sister-in-law’s deliberate provocation, she couldn’t just do nothing.

She was, after all, the one whose relationship with Astrid was practically just a paper-thin barrier away from being consummated. Yet Amalia had beaten her to everything.

She refused to be the loser, the loser, the loser.

..............

Although their relationship had been formally established, Amalia’s visits were still inconvenient, and she genuinely hadn’t seen her sister in a long time. Thus, Astrid continued sharing her bed with Amalia each night until the Empress’s inspection concluded.

One had to say perhaps youth truly meant boundless energy and strong physique, or perhaps the workload in Losterling City was indeed lighter than in the capital but during these nights sharing a bed with Amalia, Astrid’s hands were almost never idle. She even began to suspect her little sister might have some sort of addiction.

Once they return to the Capital City in the future, such nightly indulgences must absolutely stop.

Regardless, health always came first. One must not continuously drain their body just for the sake of pleasure.

Besides, did Amalia really need to relieve stress every single day?

On the day before the Empress’s departure, Astrid once again declined Amalia’s invitation to return together. She left the mansion in the afternoon for Charlotte’s magitech weapons workshop, leaving the two girls, both now confirmed lovers, to guard the house.

During afternoon tea, Amalia instructed the maids to prepare desserts and pastries, then invited Lyra to gather in the garden for tea and conversation.

This was the first time Lyra had shared afternoon tea with Amalia alone without Astrid as a mediator since she and Astrid had officially become lovers.

Seated on the noble bench decorated with white roses, facing an array of sweets and a warm cup of black tea, Lyra sat upright, her legs neatly pressed together on the seat, gazing across at the white-stockinged girl of noble bearing.

Astrid wouldn’t return until evening, at the earliest by dinner time. They had plenty of time to sip tea and chat about girl things.

Of course, no matter what they talked about, the topic would inevitably circle back to that absent silver-haired Regent.

"Lyra seems radiant today, in excellent spirits?"

Amalia gracefully spooned a few sugar cubes into her porcelain cup, gently stirring the steam with the lid. Her two white-stockinged legs crossed, the ornate metal heel of her open-toe high heels swaying slightly with the motion.

"Love truly brings vitality and bloom. Lyra is the perfect example."

Lyra hadn’t expected Amalia to come straight to the point. Sitting opposite the white-stockinged girl, she didn’t yield in presence, responding in a gentle tone.

"Your Majesty is the same."

Though Lyra had never witnessed Amalia’s loneliness and suffering during her solitary rule in the capital, she knew what it felt like to suppress one’s romantic feelings, to bury them deep inside.

Amalia had once gone through a phase similar to hers. Now, the dark clouds had cleared, and under Astrid’s affection, she had been reborn anew.

Hearing Lyra’s reply, Amalia let out a soft smile, sipped her tea, then spoke again.

"I envy you, Lyra."

Without needing to fight for it, without changing herself, simply by revealing her true self, she could earn her sister’s love.

"Envy me?" Lyra blinked, looking across the table at Amalia.

It was Amalia who first established a relationship with Astrid. It was Amalia who had gone all the way with her. It was Amalia who was doted on by Astrid in the role of a beloved younger sister.

Why... should she envy her...

"Strange?"

Noticing the confusion in Lyra’s eyes, Amalia spoke softly.

"Lyra Beckett... I envy you because you don’t need any schemes to openly enjoy your sister’s love..."

"Unlike me, who had to resort to many tricks, use cunning, just to barely snatch a portion of romantic love from my sister."

Looking back, if she hadn’t seized the time when Lyra left the capital, hadn’t gathered the courage to advance that night, hadn’t laid bare her entire self, her love and her baseness alike. She probably never would have had a chance to become Astrid Calliste’s lover.

But Lyra was different. Even if she used no schemes at all, just acted according to her nature, Astrid would still love her.

One was the noble Knight of Holy Light; the other, outwardly obedient, inwardly possessing a possessiveness so intense it bordered on distortion. The contrast was obvious.

Gazing into Amalia’s eyes, the girl’s words echoing in her ears, Lyra didn’t argue aloud. Or rather, what the other had said was indeed the truth.

Before leaving the capital, they had promised each other to live well. At that moment, Lyra believed she was nearly Astrid’s lover.

Going further back, whether Astrid loved her had already been expressed in countless daily details. It was just that she was too insecure, always doubting herself, and because her nighttime confession had once been skillfully declined by Astrid, she had become so uncertain, so conflicted.

To Astrid, she had always been special.

After a brief silence, Lyra spoke softly.

"But Astrid truly loves you too."

From what she knew of Astrid, if her feelings toward Amalia were purely sisterly, she would never have agreed to a romantic relationship.

[Amalia isn’t just a fictional character receiving my emotional projection. She’s a flesh-and-blood individual who loves me.]

Though she didn’t understand why Astrid needed the role of a younger sister as a virtual emotional anchor, it was undeniable that when faced with Amalia’s confession, Astrid had stepped out of the emotional misconception of seeing her only as a sister.

She did have a portion of love for Amalia though those feelings were buried beneath illusory attachment and genuine familial bonds.

Hearing Lyra’s words, Amalia extended her pink tongue to gently lick her lips, savoring the last drops of tea. Flecks of light flickered in her blue eyes.

Undeniably, hearing Astrid loved her too, spoken from Lyra’s mouth, brought Amalia great comfort.

Sensing Amalia’s mood had relaxed slightly, Lyra continued.

"However... there’s one thing I don’t quite understand..."

"At that time, Amalia... why did you give me a push?"

That night, meeting in the mansion corridor, the post-coital Amalia had openly told her what had just happened, even helpfully adjusting her shoulder strap to expose the strawberry mark Astrid had left on her.

At first glance, it seemed like a declaration of ownership and provocation. Yet in reality, it clearly informed Lyra of the true nature of Astrid’s relationship with her younger sister, denying Lyra any further chance to deceive herself, laying bare the entire truth before her.

If Amalia hadn’t done this, it might have taken a very long time before they finally understood each other’s feelings.

From Lyra’s perspective, if Amalia had truly been that selfish, she wouldn’t have merely revealed the truth and then left things be.

If at that moment, Amalia had taken measures to monopolize Astrid, she might never have had the chance to confront Astrid and ask how she truly felt about her.

Hearing this, Amalia’s delicate brows slightly furrowed, then she spoke after a moment.

"I thought I had already made it clear, Lyra."

"The person Sister loves most is you, Lyra Beckett. Even with my sudden interference, she still couldn’t let go of that foolish knight far away on the front lines."

In matters concerning Astrid, Amalia was both emotional and rational. She saw everything clearly and understood exactly where she stood.

As a sister, she might surpass Lyra. But as a lover? Lyra held a share far greater than hers comparable to moonlight versus firefly glow.

"Because of my existence, Sister couldn’t express her feelings to Lyra, unable to cross the reality of already having a lover."

"But she still liked you so much that she hoped, after you knew everything, you would make a choice true to your heart not as a suitor pursuing the Regent, in a lowly position begging for favor, accepting all unequal conditions."

"She even... hesitated..."

Amalia looked at her reflection in the tea, her usually stern eyes now overflowing with longing.

"Sister has a selfish side too. She wanted to establish a romantic relationship with Lyra, yet she also understood that Lyra was a pure, radiant soul."

"Internally, she struggled, not telling Lyra about my existence, never confirming a relationship with you. She wanted the answer, yet feared the answer might be Lyra choosing to step back."

"Perhaps only for someone she loves as deeply as Lyra would Sister show such hesitation, such indecisiveness. so cautious, so careful."

Until now, whether as Third Princess or Regent, Astrid always acted with clean, swift decisiveness, never dragging things out.

Only for Lyra was she the exception.

"So... since Sister couldn’t do it, I, the wicked little sister, had to tell you everything..."

"After all, no matter what the final outcome, no matter what choice Lyra makes..."

Amalia arched an eyebrow, her gaze returning to calm, continuing to fix on the pink-haired girl holding her teacup.

"For me, it would be the same happiness. The same sorrow."