Chapter 8
The maid led them to a wide room—not overly fancy, but neatly arranged. It had a small sitting area, study, bath, bedroom, and dressing room, all laid out with balance.
Small white flowers decorated corners of the room. Next door, connected by a single door, was Rosemary’s room.
When told hot bathwater had been prepared, both women brightened at once. Though they had wiped themselves with cloths on the road, their clothes were stained with dirt and blood, and they longed to soak in hot water.
The water was slightly hot but soon felt pleasant; it was brought in from a nearby hot spring.
Servants offered to attend them during bathing, but both refused. Apparently, in this castle it was normal to leave them alone, so the servants simply left towels and clean clothes.
If this had been the capital, servants would have been scolded for daring to leave their mistress unattended. Sharing the same thought, Liberte and Rosemary exchanged a smile, then each went to bathe.
Liberte folded her dirty clothes aside and sank into the tub. A sigh escaped her lips. The journey had been exhausting, worsened by the ambush.
She chuckled, imagining the chancellor’s face twisting when he heard they had slipped away. She almost wished she could see it.
Her mind wandered. Without the airship, they would still be running from pursuers, unable to rest. Truly, it was fortunate Nortr had such a ship hidden.
From the sky, Nortr had seemed far more prosperous than she’d expected—the airship, the hot spring water supply… How wrong the capital’s people were about the north. She herself had once been one of them.
That thought brought a bitter smile.
Her thoughts drifted further, back to the first day of departure. Ordering the twelve wagons of treasures returned had made the chancellor’s face turn red—it had been satisfying to watch.
She wondered if they really were all returned properly. Still, better that than losing everything to raiders. Poor Oderi had looked disappointed, but she could not allow her dowry to be snatched away.
Oderi. Thinking of her only brother softened her expression. He had acted foolishly, but it was “for his sister.” She understood. Was he worried now, with her traces vanished?
She hoped nothing bad would happen to him. Perhaps she should ask the duke if there was a way to send word back to the capital.
Eventually, the bath was over. Wrapping herself in a large towel, Liberte put on the clean dress the maid had left—a simple cream-colored gown with a high waist, narrow skirt, and light fabric.
It was plain but pleasing, though a little short on her tall frame.
A knock sounded. When permission was given, Rosemary entered from the adjoining room, cheeks flushed, damp hair darker than usual. Her own dress was also short, making Liberte laugh softly.
“They actually bring hot spring water into the castle. I almost fell asleep in the tub,” Rosemary said, amused.
Liberte nodded. Sitting before the mirror, she let Rosemary comb her long black curls. The gentle strokes nearly put her to sleep. Rosemary smiled quietly—perhaps only she ever saw Liberte’s face this peaceful.
Then came another knock, from the hallway door. A warm female voice asked to enter. Liberte nodded, and Rosemary answered for her. The door opened, and in stepped a plump, middle-aged lady in a green dress. Her smiling face radiated warmth.
“I am Adelia Runos, head maid of Nortr Castle. My clumsy son must have caused you trouble.”
Her red hair streaked with white, her eyes smiling—it was clear who she meant. Alexis’s mother. She bowed, thanking them for helping him. But her expression quickly grew serious.
“My, you’re both so tall! None of the dresses we have will fit you.”
She fussed anxiously, pulling out a measuring tape from her pouch. While measuring, she chatted endlessly—about how she longed to try sewing the capital’s newest fashions but her son never brought back any fashion books.
Liberte and Rosemary couldn’t help but laugh. She had the same cheerful energy as Alexis, making people feel comfortable.
Once she finished measuring, she promised, “While you rest this morning, I’ll finish new dresses for tonight’s banquet.”
With a signal, maids rolled in a wagon laden with food. Soon, soup, bread, butter, jam, and tea were set on the table. After bowing, they left the room.
Liberte and Rosemary sat opposite each other, happily eating. The soup of potatoes, carrots, and squash was delicious, the bread coarse but filling, the butter fresh, the berry jam sweet, and the tea soothing. Comforted, Liberte nearly dozed again.
Afterward, Rosemary cleared the table, then braided Liberte’s now-dry hair. The casual, everyday gesture made Liberte feel at peace. Sleep overtook her; she lay down and drifted off, Rosemary soon after.
***
When Liberte awoke, it was already late afternoon. She stretched, feeling refreshed. Rosemary soon joined her. Both wanted tea, so Rosemary rekindled embers in the brazier, heating water.
A knock. Lady Runos entered proudly, carrying dresses. For Liberte—a red gown with golden ribbons. For Rosemary—a deep green gown with glossy black ribbons.
Though a bit out of date in style, the stitching was excellent, and they fit well. Liberte pinned Oderi’s brooch to her chest. Lady Runos praised its beauty, making Liberte smile gently.
“Forgive us for troubling you when we brought no dresses, Lady Runos.”
“Oh, please, call me Adelia, Your Highness. My son teases that it’s an old-fashioned name, but I love it.”
She cheerfully waved away apologies, excitedly asking for notes on capital fashions. Rosemary whispered a few tips, and Adelia eagerly jotted them down.
Soon, a message came: the Duke requested to speak with Liberte in his study before the banquet. Liberte pinned her hair up, finishing with a glass butterfly pin that shimmered blue.
Rosemary quickly did her own hair. Smiling, Adelia offered to guide them to the study.
Through halls and corridors, they reached a large door near the central hall. Bowing, Adelia excused herself, likely to check banquet preparations. Liberte and Rosemary thanked her warmly.
Liberte sighed, bracing herself. At Rosemary’s knock, the Duke’s gentle voice granted entry. The heavy door opened. The Duke rose from behind his desk, bowing. Another tall man beside him also bowed.
A sharp-featured, handsome man looked up with a smirk Liberte recognized. She stared, then noticed the scar across his face.
“Sir Levitt?!” Rosemary exclaimed.
Iseris raised his hands helplessly, grumbling—who did they think he was? Clean-shaven, he looked completely different, far younger. When Rosemary asked his age, his answer—twenty-six—made her slap her forehead.
As Liberte watched the scene, she felt the Duke’s gaze. He was looking directly at her, smiling faintly. She did not look away.
