Chapter 2
“So, how was it?”
The one who came to find Liberte, still sitting alone in the darkened room, and pulled her out, was Rosemary—her personal attendant since childhood.
When she heard that Liberte had been ordered to attend a tea party with her prospective husband, and had flown into a rage, Rosemary grew worried when her mistress failed to return for a long time.
Finding Liberte sitting in silence, her face shadowed with gloom, Rosemary quickly dragged her back to her chambers, sat her down, and busied herself preparing tea. To ease the mood, the first words she spoke were those.
Unlike earlier, she poured a generous serving of tea into a large, plain cup, filled her own, and then sat opposite Liberte. For an attendant and her mistress to sit at the same table would be unthinkable in an ordinary noble household.
But to Liberte, Rosemary was closer to a friend, even an elder sister with whom she could share anything, rather than just a servant. If etiquette-obsessed nobles saw it, they would wag their tongues endlessly, but Liberte cared nothing for such things.
“What else is there to say?”
Breathing in the rich fragrance of Rosemary’s special blend, Liberte let out a sigh. Drawn out of the dark, cold room and into the bright, warm space Rosemary had prepared, her strength drained away. Pitiful, really.
Was she the only one with such tangled thoughts? The duke’s calm demeanor had been infuriating, and yet it had also given her a chance to sort out her mind. Of course, the object of her anger and pity was not the duke.
It was the chancellor—and herself.
“Since His Majesty has already given his permission, I have no right to refuse.”
Speaking in a quiet murmur, as though only to herself, Liberte’s words made Rosemary frown. What on earth had they spoken of, to leave Liberte so disheartened?
To her, Liberte was not only a mistress, but a benefactor, like a younger sister. If he had said something insulting, she would gladly have considered assassination.
Unlike Liberte, who had to weigh every step with caution, Rosemary had nothing to lose, and thus no hesitation.
“Don’t go thinking strange thoughts. Nothing happened. Just…”
Liberte’s crimson eyes met Rosemary’s green ones. Avoiding that direct gaze, she fixed her attention on the teacup clasped tightly in both hands. Waiting for her next words, Rosemary silently watched her mistress’s face.
“Just… I wanted to sort out my thoughts.”
She could not refuse. It was the emperor’s command. Had Duke Frosta truly accepted that? Well, even if he hadn’t, there was nothing he could do. And yet she was the only one who had made a scene, as though she alone could reject it.
Pitiful. Again, she thought herself pitiful, and sighed softly. Her frequent sighs etched worry onto Rosemary’s face.
“In that case, since there’s no retreat, I’ll have to take the initiative in what comes next.”
As if reaching a decision, Liberte straightened her back. She smiled reassuringly at Rosemary, rose from the tea table with her cup in hand, and moved to the wide desk.
Sitting before its neatly ordered surface, she picked up a pen and began to write. Seeing the familiar firmness in Liberte’s eyes, Rosemary grinned and began tidying the table.
***
“Elder Sister!”
Not like that, Your Majesty, she thought inwardly.
Liberte smiled faintly as she entered the emperor’s audience chamber. How long had it been? Placing both hands at her left hip, she bowed to her younger brother, whose face was bright with cheer. At his side, as always, stood the thorn in her eye—the chancellor.
One glance at those pale green eyes, smiling with oily pretense, and she wanted to strike him. But for dignity’s sake, she restrained herself.
“It has been some time, Your Majesty. I am gladdened to see you well.”
Unlike Liberte, who had trained in martial arts from childhood under their father, her younger brother—the emperor Oderi—had been frail, raised in the palace like a hothouse flower.
Their father, originally only the fourth prince and far from the line of succession, had enjoyed relative freedom in raising his children. Though a son, Oderi’s weakness meant that their father had instead taken Liberte everywhere, educating her himself.
In truth, one might say he favored her. Even after he became emperor, it was not Oderi but Liberte who had sat beside him at the council.
“Sister, why do you visit me so rarely! Please, sit closer. I have longed to see you!”
After their father’s sudden death, it was perhaps inevitable that those blinded by ambition would seize upon Oderi as the malleable successor.
Their father had only become emperor himself because his two elder brothers, after the death of the late emperor, had fought bitterly over the throne.
Liberte had chosen not to fight her only brother for a crown that might have been hers. Perhaps it had been a mistake. The chancellor now made the unprepared emperor dance to his tune.
“I heard you met Duke Frosta of the North yesterday.”
Leaning forward eagerly, his eyes shining, Oderi spoke. He shared her black hair and crimson eyes, yet in many ways he was different. He reminded her of a child seeing a fairy tale come alive before his eyes, and she could not help a faint smile.
“Thanks to Your Majesty’s ‘special’ and ‘exceptional’ arrangements, it was indeed a pleasant meeting.”
She stressed those words so the chancellor would hear. The man coughed awkwardly, but Oderi noticed nothing, only grinning all the more.
“The chancellor says he arranged it for your sake. How was it? I found the duke rather impressive!”
So guilelessly honest. Liberte chuckled. No wonder the chancellor sought to drive them apart. As much as she cared for Oderi, he adored his sister in return. He was a child who knew nothing of deceit, who had only learned of the world from books.
“Of course, I’ll feel lonely when you marry and leave for the North…”
How endearing, to speak even what she herself had wished to say! She sensed the chancellor flailing at his side, trying to stop him, but she ignored it.
“On that matter, there is something I wish to say. Your Majesty, with your permission, I would like to include the duke in this discussion as well.”
***
“Your Highness!”
As Liberte left the audience chamber and made her way toward her quarters, the duke called after her in a loud voice. She turned slowly, her posture stiff and upright. Unlike yesterday, he looked flustered, unsettled.
At last, she could return to him the very words he had spoken to her. He was, indeed, a rather amusing man.
“Why would you set such conditions, Your Highness? That way…”
“This is hardly the place for such talk.”
At the sound of his raised voice—something she had not heard before—Liberte nearly laughed. But quickly she silenced him in a low voice.
They were still close to the audience chamber. At any moment, the chancellor’s ears could be lurking, ready to carry tales. Truly, that man left nothing to like—save a little talent for politics.
If only her brother had learned more, the man would have been banished far away by now.
“My apologies, Duke.”
Both the emperor and the duke had seemed to expect a wedding next year. But Liberte thought differently. The more the matter dragged on, the more it played into the chancellor’s hands.
Thus she had set conditions. Bowing her head, she offered an apology. Neither the duke nor his land could possibly be prepared. But she had no choice.
For herself, and—for now unspoken reasons—for him as well.
The duke was silent. When she looked up, his face was grave, lost in thought. Perhaps it was her imagination, but his blue earring seemed to glimmer faintly.
Noticing her gaze, he sighed quietly, loosening his expression.
“Are you truly certain of this? To depart with me at once, without even a wedding ceremony?”
Liberte had set two conditions. First: the wedding ceremony would be omitted. Second: she would depart with the duke when he returned north from his report.
Not only the duke, but the emperor and the chancellor had been shocked. Yet Liberte had said she would not yield. Oderi had begged, promising her a splendid ceremony and a rich dowry, but she had firmly refused.
“Will that not leave you with much to prepare?”
Liberte only smiled and shook her head. The duke could not leave the North for long amidst its war with monsters; at most, he stayed in the capital a week. That one week in the capital already meant losing time to the long journey there and back.
For that reason, for the sake of mobility and defense, he traveled with only three to five companions. It was exactly what she wanted.
A small, trusted group. A swift departure. Only the barest baggage, and they would leave the capital behind. Such was the purpose of her conditions.
“I am sorry to burden you so. For your land’s sake, I ought to bring a dowry. Surely my thoughtless demands must displease you.”
“No, not at all. That is not the issue.”
The duke waved his hands in alarm, looking flustered. His expression, his gestures—so lively, so unlike the man she had met yesterday. Liberte found herself smiling naturally.
She had thought him a stolid, taciturn man, yet today she had seen many other sides. For a moment, she even wished to see him more openly, more honestly.
