“Are you alright?”
There was no deceiving her father, whose eyes were always filled with worry and affection for his daughter. As he approached and asked quietly, Kaella offered him a brave smile.
“I have a bit of a cold. I’m fine.”
“You must have pushed yourself too hard. Do you have any medicine?”
“I’ve already taken some.”
The medicine she had frantically sought out and taken was, in truth, completely ineffective. Her fever spiked, and her body began to ache with heavy, stiff tension. What if she were like this from the very first day of the event? She let out a sigh, but she still did what she had to do. What else could she do? As always, she simply had to endure it.
Whether depressed because of the Empress or using his health as an excuse, the Emperor slipped out midway through, and Prince Elkanan shared a long conversation with Duke Ostain. And Beatrice Lavalle was, once again, clinging to the side of Peon.
“Peon, let me go greet that prince, too.”
Peon snatched a glass of wine from a passing servant’s gold tray and handed it to Beatrice.
“Just drink this for now.”
He stopped Beatrice’s mouth with alcohol, hiding his own look of displeasure. However, Kaella, who had been watching from afar, turned her head away. Everything before her eyes was spinning; it was best not to see such things. It was nothing new. He always took care of Beatrice and no one else, after all.
“I enjoyed today so much!”
“Thank you for the grand banquet, Your Grace the Lady.”
“Think nothing of it, Your Highness the Prince. It was not my doing, but thanks to the care of His Majesty.”
Her breathing began to grow slightly ragged, but Kaella did her best until the very last moment.
Duke Ostain would be working late at the Imperial Palace today. The talks with Kerujan were just beginning in earnest. Leaning against the main gate of the empty banquet hall after the guests had dispersed, she let out a breath that had grown scorching hot from the rising fever.
She had done everything she needed to do. In any case, this event hosted by the Lady of Ostain would be assessed as a continuous success, and the reputation of Duke Ostain would rise. It would be fortunate if her father could at least remain a reliable supporter of the Emperor. That would, at the very least, lower the chances of him being murdered.
“Pardon me, Your Grace.”
She held her head and looked to the side. A knight she knew—though did not know in ‘this’ time—stood there, respectfully offering a cloak.
“I am Renard, a knight under His Grace the Grand Duke of Lyussenford. The Grand Duke sent this, saying he is concerned because the Lady’s attire is too thin.”
It was the soft cloak the Grand Duke had been wearing today, neatly folded and sent through a knight. He had always been like this, even before she died. If she looked ill, he would send word for her to go in and rest immediately, or he would toss one phrase at her and turn away. If she fell ill and was bedridden, he never visited once. If she seemed to need something, he would at least have this Sir Renard or Sir Wilberg bring it to her.
The only person he took care of personally was Beatrice Lavalle. He would hand her a glass of wine himself and give her anything, but to Kaella, he merely sent his subordinates.
That was likely what they called special treatment, and at the same time, it was his way of telling Kaella, ‘You are not the one.’ Kaella bit her lip hard and glared at the cloak.
If she was ‘not the one,’ then he shouldn’t have sent something like this in the first place. He shouldn’t have said those things about her attire being thin or being worried.
“Sir Renard. Guide me to the Grand Duke.”
“Pardon?”
“Hurry. Lead the way.”
She just wanted to collapse and sleep, but she headed toward Peon with Sir Renard—who had always brought her ‘something the Grand Duke told me to bring’—leading the way. It did not matter if he was having a tryst with Beatrice Lavalle. Kaella could not tell if the heat surging through her body was due to the illness or her wounded, twisted sense of victimhood.
It would have been better if Peon had been with Beatrice. She could have clearly drawn a line right in front of the two of them. But unfortunately, he was quietly sharing a conversation with one of his subordinates.
“Your Grace.”
Peon looked at Kaella as she approached with measured, purposeful steps, his eyes wide with surprise. Her face was flushed red from the fever, and he wished she would just go and rest, but she hadn’t even taken the cloak he sent from Sir Renard; she had come just as she was, in a dress that bared her shoulders. She wore a look of intense anger.
“Am I pitiable to you?”
“What?”
In Kaella’s eyes—praised for being so blue they seemed to contain the sky—the moisture of her fever was visible. No, was it that he had made her cry? Seething, Kaella snatched the cloak Sir Renard was holding and thrust it at Peon. No, she simply slapped it against his arm.
Peon was utterly taken aback, as Kaella had never once behaved so rudely toward him.
“I asked if I am pitiable.”
“Kaella.”
What was happening? Sensing the ominous atmosphere, the maid following Kaella and Peon’s knights quietly backed away.
“What are you talking about?”
“Why do you send your inferiors to deliver such things?”
Her voice wouldn’t come out properly because she was ill. Kaella put force into her throat, trying to speak more clearly. Her voice aimed at Peon even more sharply and bitterly. He took the cloak Kaella was pushing toward him.
“Kaella.”
“Did you want to give me something like this through an inferior because you feel sorry for me?”
“That’s not it.”
“Then why do you give it to me?”
The strength drained from her voice as she asked. Exhausted and worn thin by fatigue, Kaella asked.
“Why?”
Why was he kind, yet seemingly unkind? From their first meeting—which she couldn’t even remember as she was so young—he must have been kind. Even though he seemed annoyed, he had waited for Kaella, who chased after him asking to go together; he picked her up when she fell; and after that, he began to hold her hand.
Even after she went to Lyussenford, he had faithfully replied to her clumsy, crooked letters, and even when they met at the Imperial Palace on occasion, he remained her first love, unchanged.
But the heart that had built up through the exchange of such favor and kindness was, unfortunately, extremely one-sided. It was a heart with a line drawn exactly up to that point. The moment Kaella took the seat of the Grand Duchess—a position that should have been Beatrice’s—Peon had treated even the memories they had built in their youth as if they had never existed, whether that was by Kaella’s will or not.
“Are you seeing how I react?”
It was so absurd, so ridiculous, and so laughable. For a man who had imprisoned her without sparing even a shred of courtesy, what on earth had the kindness he bestowed upon Kaella in the past been? Did he treat her well only because she was the Lady of Ostain, and the moment that tether snapped, was she nothing? Was it charity because she was too pathetic?
What kind of memories were there from Lyussenford? It seemed her husband, who wouldn’t look at her, had occasionally provided for her. But that was nothing more than hope-torture. In the end, she had been imprisoned by Peon and met her end. If they had even a single fond memory from their childhood, a person shouldn’t have been able to do that. He should have listened to her claim of innocence at least once.
“Is it fun?”
She had forgotten the days when she affectionately called him ‘Brother’; those memories were gone. The tone she used now, addressing the Grand Duke of Lyussenford who thoroughly sought to exclude her, was more familiar. Perhaps the tones had become mixed together.
“If my good intentions have offended you…”
“Is it worth so little that you don’t think it worth bringing personally, just enough to have someone else send it?”
“Kaella.”
There was a time when she had swallowed her words, terrified of being hated by him, wanting to be seen as a better person even a little bit. There were so many times like that.
“You always have someone else bring me things; you never bring them yourself.”
Perhaps it was because she had died from holding it in too long, but now, the words she wanted to say came tumbling out. No, she felt she could not endure it unless she said them.
“Sending things to someone you don’t want to see is something you do when you’re handing out alms. Even though we were at the same event, if you didn’t want to come yourself, you shouldn’t have sent it at all.”
How far was it from where he was to where Kaella was, that he had to send it through a knight? She had been happy with the small things Sir Renard brought her throughout her time in Lyussenford, but she realized it only later. Peon had simply been playing the part of a husband and avoiding the face of the Grand Duchess he didn’t want to see.
Peon had treated her that way even before they were married.
“You always do that to me; am I that pitiable and laughable to you?”
She felt a chill now, enough to make her teeth chatter, and her head was throbbing, but Kaella forced herself to stare straight at Peon with blurred vision. She knew that, strictly speaking, he wasn’t the husband who had killed her, but the fact that he had been consistent even before they were married made Kaella feel miserable for no reason. Her jumbled memories and the high fever paralyzed her reason.
“Do not pity me. I am not worth your pity!”
She was pitiable; even though she was technically his wife, she had been treated like a beggar outside that door, pathetically pleading for affection. After saying it with all her might to Peon—who was the same now as he was before she died—Kaella turned on her heel. The knight and maid of the Ostain household who were at a distance hid their surprise and hurriedly followed her.
Kaella, who had never once been on equal footing with her husband, the noble Lady of Ostain, dragged her tired, aching body away. Her fever was so high that her vision was dizzying.
Was she upset because she saw the familiar sight of Peon, who had saved her father, seeming to draw a line with Beatrice but ultimately taking care of her anyway? It was laughable that she still hadn’t come to her senses. Even though it was laughable, it was miserable, and the backs of her eyes stung and burned.
“My Lady.”
“I’m going home.”
The world was spinning, and now she had no choice but to go home. She forced her feet to move.
At twenty-one, this was the end for her and Peon. The younger girl who used to smile brightly had turned cold, so he would have no more reason to see her. It was nothing more than that kind of relationship. A one-sided relationship that Kaella, who had so many regrets, had forced to continue.
“That’s not it…”
A different voice calling to her was louder than the knight’s attempt to restrain her.
“…Ella, My Lady! Lady of Ostain!”
It was Peon’s voice, which she could recognize in an instant even from a distance. Was he really trying to challenge her? Kaella, who had bitten her lip, stopped to argue one more time. But before she could turn to face him, a heavy, warm cloak was draped over her shivering shoulders. Her entire body was wrapped in thick warmth.
“My Lady.”
His face, known for being handsome, inherited from the Empress who was rumored to be a beauty, was twisted in great distress as he looked down at her.
“I have committed a discourtesy.”
The man who, no matter whether Kaella cried or argued with logic, had never even looked at her—let alone cared—was at a loss. Kaella, having received his apology for the first time in her life, was too shocked to speak. Even his tone had changed.
“I am sorry. I had no intention of hurting the Lady’s feelings.”
The look of deep remorse was clearly sincere. It was so easy to be apologized to by Peon, to have his attitude change. She realized, too late, that she should have confronted him long ago.
If she hadn’t waited silently in Lyussenford, if she had confronted Peon and gotten angry, would he have understood? No, back then, she was the Grand Duchess who had stolen Beatrice’s rightful place; even if she had gotten angry, he would have thought her arrogant.
As Kaella thought this, Peon bowed politely and apologized.
“I was worried about unpleasant rumors, so I tried to avoid people’s eyes, but my thinking was very shallow. I apologize.”
In an instant, his honorifics, the formality, and his tone were all elevated. Just as Kaella treated him, he treated Kaella the same way. Moreover, the content of his apology was reasonable.
True, a man who loved Beatrice—especially when the Emperor had already hinted that Kaella and he suited each other—would he want to be more entangled with Kaella? She lowered her gaze. Her vision was blurred because of the fever. It wasn’t because her heart was broken.
“If you will forgive me, I would like to escort you to your residence. Please allow me.”
To the Grand Duke of Lyussenford, the Lady of Ostain was a presence he never wanted to be entangled with from the very beginning to the end. She confirmed it once again.
The connection she had desperately clung to slipped out of her fingertips, hollow and complete.
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
Her fever was so high that she was entirely out of it. Her face was surely flushed an unsightly red.
But was it important whether her face was red or pale, now that she had, for the first time, dared to unilaterally rant at Peon? Kaella lowered her eyes. Her husband, who had always ridden his horse outside the carriage, was riding with her in the same carriage for the first time.
Clop, clop. The horses made their way through the city of Krain, which was quietly submerged in darkness. Knights from both the houses of Lyussenford and Ostain escorted the carriage.
The breathing of the Lady of Ostain came out in wheezes. Her body aches were severe, but not a single strand of her hair was out of place. For some reason, she felt as though she had not yet left Lyussenford, where cold winds pierced her to the bone. It felt as if she were trapped alone in an eternal winter.
“I am sorry to have hurt your feelings by sending word separately, fearing that strange rumors might spread if I were entangled with you.”
The apology was offered once again, politely in the tone of a perfect soldier. With this, the childhood they had shared was completely erased. Kaella gave a small laugh.
“No one is spreading such rumors, Your Grace.”
Now, her entire body ached as if she had been beaten. Since she was already in pain, she could say words of pain without a second thought.
“The people of Krania all know whom Your Grace loves.”
Because the Grand Duchess was neglected even after marriage, the Grand Duke’s passionate, bordering on obsessive, devotion to Beatrice was well-known. Kaella felt the needle-like pain behind her eyes once again.
“Who would dare link me, someone like me, with Your Grace and spread rumors?”
Even though she had wished for it so, it was already destined that she would never receive a single glance from this man. She had tried tirelessly, but she had tried so hard that she was now exhausted.
“No one would believe such rumors anyway.”
Only after she died did she finally put a certain end to her foolish, unrequited love. She had been that stupid.