Chapter 7
One of the servants answered curtly, hostility written all over their face. Linthia noticed the insolence but chose not to confront it.
“It is for my lady, so we’ll leave it in the bedchamber.”
The attendants waiting outside began carrying in the gifts. Among them were flowers Linthia had once loved at the palace.
“If there’s anything you actually need, tell us, and we’ll fetch it for you. Most of these are useless anyway.”
A servant handed her a list of the items with a mocking tone.
Jewelry, dresses, even baby clothes and mobiles she had no use for yet—luxuries filled the room one by one.
There was also tea and fruit she had enjoyed back at the palace.
“Oh, and His Grace has said that from now on, you are to come to the dining hall for meals.”
Linthia nodded to show she understood. She thought the servants would leave once their work was finished, but instead they stood right in front of her bed.
“If you’re done, you may go now.”
She was far too exhausted.
“His Grace said that since my lady is with child, we are to attend you.”
Their intent to keep watch over her was blatant. Still, if this eased Harvich’s mind, she didn’t mind.
“…I’ll go out for meals starting tomorrow. And tell him one attendant is plenty.”
Her body sagged with lethargy. She waved them off and turned back toward the bed. But one servant grabbed her arm.
“His Grace said you are to start with dinner tonight.”
Linthia stared quietly at the hand gripping her.
The servant acted as though it were for her sake, but there was no reason she needed to go to the dining room this very evening. If it had been important, Harvich would have told her when he came earlier.
Their lie was transparent. Harvich wasn’t the type to torment her with something so trivial, not even now with their relationship strained by her unexpected pregnancy.
Still, Linthia could only nod.
“Very well. Just prepare something simple.”
There was nothing else she could do but accept. That was the extent of her place here—attended like a duchess, but treated as less.
Some might call her silence foolish, but years of scorn had shrunk her into something small.
Dragging herself up, Linthia dressed lightly and left her chamber.
Though she was gone, several servants remained inside, clearly to monitor the room.
It was unpleasant knowing someone else stayed in her chamber while she was away, but she said nothing. Sensing her disquiet, one of them explained with a flat expression:
“His Grace’s orders. The palace sent so many, we must guard against anyone wandering into your room by mistake.”
It sounded reasonable enough.
But after the palace envoys departed, what excuse would they make to keep staying?
“…”
She accepted what she could not change, though her mood sank lower.
Two attendants followed her as she stepped out into the hall. The ducal estate was in chaos from the imperial gifts and the people who had brought them.
The house had always felt suffocating, but today it was worse.
Whenever she glimpsed a familiar face among the imperial envoys, her stomach turned as though she had eaten something rotten—though she had not yet touched a bite.
Her pace was slow, and the servants hurried her along.
“His Grace is waiting.”
That was unlikely.
She hadn’t always dined alone in her chamber. Before relations with the palace completely collapsed, she had usually taken her meals in the dining hall.
Because, shamefully, Linthia liked Harvich.
A year had passed since their marriage on paper, and though she knew she was a burden to him, her feelings hadn’t lessened.
If anything, they had grown, nourished by his quiet kindness.
To catch even a glimpse of him, she went to the dining hall. Otherwise, chances to see him were rare.
Sometimes, if he was in good spirits, they would walk in the garden after eating.
He still liked small animals, still a quiet man.
They hadn’t spoken much during those walks, but Linthia had been content just being beside him.
She loved those simple, peaceful moments.
And she had even dared to hope—perhaps they could go on like that forever.
But that fragile peace ended the day Harvich summoned her to the study.
At first, she thought relations with the palace must have improved. Otherwise, why would he call for her?
But reality was merciless.
Harvich showed her the emperor’s edict:
[As of this hour, a curfew is declared over the Cassius duchy. Even movement between villages within the territory shall be restricted.]
Linthia’s face drained of color.
Just two sentences, yet enough to choke the North.
Even the small trades between neighboring villages were now forbidden.
The palace’s intent to strangle the duchy into isolation was plain.
“Have you heard anything of this beforehand?”
“N-no… I have no means to contact the palace. How could I…?”
Her heart thudded with unease. She had already noticed the retainers’ sudden shift toward hostility.
Had she been implicated somehow without knowing?
“Does that decree… mention me? Is this… because of me?”
Her voice trembled.
“Yes. His Majesty claims to have received a letter from you, his sister.”
Harvich handed her a sheet of paper.
Written in elegant hand, it spoke of a long illness, of what seemed to be a northern sickness, supposedly contracted while touring the duchy with him.
“They say my sister suffered from an epidemic for some time. And that it happened while she was inspecting the duchy with me.”
Linthia read the letter again and again, but the words were unfamiliar.
“I… I never wrote this. Not once.”
“As far as I know, no one else knew we inspected the duchy together.”
His suspicious gaze made her vision blur. All evidence pointed to her betrayal.
But since coming to the duchy, she had shown him every letter addressed to her.
Though Harvich had told her it was unnecessary, she had never once opened one alone.
And in turn, he had let her accompany him in inspecting the duchy.
“…But why would I? I was never ill. I would never send this.”
Her voice sho
ok as she protested. But when she met his eyes, his expression looked almost weary of her.
“Write it.”
“…What?”
“Copy the sentences written here.”
