As she was all but ushered out of the commander’s office, Sylvia could not shake the sting of betrayal.
“Was it truly an order from Princess Katrin?” she demanded.
Heston merely took her arm and led her away, his lips sealed as if he had resolved to say nothing more.
Inside the office, he had seemed just as displeased with the command as she was.
“Why will you not say anything?
Does this not bother you at all?”
“It could not be helped.”
“What could not be helped?
Does the princess dislike me?
Does it trouble her that your partner of more than a decade is your childhood friend?” She stared at him, biting the inside of her cheek.
The faint pain was a welcome anchor, keeping her emotions from spiraling out of control.
“Do not bite your cheek.”
“And you, do not change the subject.
Tell me the truth.”
Unable to contain the rising tide of his own feelings, Heston turned away.
He wanted to shout, to rake his hands through his hair.
He had been suppressing so much for days—no, for months.
A sacrifice unknown and unacknowledged was a poison that ate at a man from the inside out.
But that did not mean he regretted his choice.
If he could go back, he would still have asked for the princess’s hand.
“It is for this one time only.
The Emperor himself ordered the princess to investigate the matter in Argen.
She wishes for me to accompany her, and because the work is top secret, you were to be excluded.”
‘Excluded?’ Sylvia bit her lip, the word a fresh wound.
Everything he said was so infuriatingly reasonable, which only deepened her frustration.
It meant this crushing disappointment was hers alone to bear.
“It was a matter I could have handled alone, and I requested to do so.
But the commander then said that since you would be free, he would assign you to Owen… I did not want you to hear it like that.
I am sorry.”
He had neatly resolved every issue, leaving her with nothing to say.
Was she to complain that the princess had so easily usurped her role, the one domain that had always been hers?
Was she to rage that her years of effort to remain by his side had been rendered meaningless in an instant?
The words that swirled in her mind were little more than childish grievances.
Before, she might have voiced them.
Their friendship had always blurred the lines, permitting a certain possessiveness.
For a moment, her composure wavered, her expression twisting with the effort of holding back her emotions.
But she managed to force them down, and when she spoke, her voice was painstakingly calm.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“However, in the future, I would appreciate being told in advance.
We are still partners.
I do not wish to be informed of your affairs by the commander.”
“I am sorry.”
“I must go pack.
We depart in the morning.”
“Sylvie.”
But his expression was lost, as if he himself did not understand why he had stopped her.
A dozen sentiments rose to his lips, but he hesitated, uncertain if he had the right to speak them.
“I am sorry,” he said again.
“I told you, there is no need to apologize.”
‘Yes.
This is enough.’ She turned away, shrugging her shoulders as if to cast off a weight, and for a moment, she felt the illusion of resolution.
She told herself not to be so sensitive.
If it was only for this one time, as Heston had said, then it was a concession she could make.
The mission was top secret; it was only natural for the princess to want a trusted companion.
She forced this logic upon her heart as she made her way home.
Alicia’s eyes widened when Sylvia returned so soon after leaving for work.
“Why are you back at this hour?”
Sylvia was in the garden, stroking the fur of a purring cat named Winky, who was basking in the deep golden light of the afternoon sun.
Winky technically belonged to Mrs.
Blanke, who was always eager to find fault with Sylvia, but Sylvia had always cherished the cat’s presence.
‘A cat’s fur, warmed by the sun, smells of fresh bread,’ she mused, then answered nonchalantly, “I am being sent on a dispatch.”
“A dispatch?
Where to this time?
I thought you were granted a year’s leave as a reward for retrieving the Holy Relic.
It has only been five months.”
“To Argen.
I leave tomorrow morning.”
“What?
Tomorrow morning?
Why are you only telling me now?”
“I have asked someone else to pack my things, so do not worry.”
“I believe you have a fever.
You keep speaking nonsense.
My concern is not about packing your bags.
It is about the higher-ups who work you so mercilessly.”
“When does Father return?”
“He said he would arrive before dinner.”
“Very well.
I will tell him then.”
“The Duke did not seem to be in a good mood,” Alicia mumbled, recalling how he had barely touched his meal before storming out, venting his fury on his ever-present aide.
‘I must tell my lady to stay far away from him today,’ she had thought only hours before.
But here was her innocent mistress, calmly preparing to walk straight into the tiger’s den.
“It cannot be helped.
Today is the only time I can tell him.
If he scolds me, then he scolds me.
I can already picture every word.” Sylvia, who had briefly buried her face in the cat’s white fur, lifted her head.
Alicia shivered with a fresh wave of pity.
How terribly must she have been treated to speak of it so calmly, with such a forlorn expression?
Whether she ate or did not, went out or stayed in, Sylvia was scolded by either Mrs.
Blanke or the Duke.
For her, life in the ducal mansion was more treacherous than walking on thin ice.
‘In a way, perhaps it is a relief that she is going on a dispatch…’ The hardships would be difficult, but peace of mind was more important.
Alicia had begun her service when Sylvia was seventeen, so she had only heard rumors of a time when the Duke had cherished his daughter.
‘‘They were always together,’’ the older servants would say with a shrug, speaking of a past that had vanished without a trace.
‘‘He had nothing but praise for her.’’
At first, Alicia had not believed them, but so many told the same story that she had come to accept it.
Her belief was solidified when, while organizing Sylvia’s wardrobe, she had found a gown from her childhood.
The fabric was more splendid and lustrous than anything she owned now.
‘How can such affection simply vanish?
They are family, not strangers.’ Alicia had always wondered, but her own experiences had taught her that some families were worse than strangers, and so she let the matter rest.
“You are going on another dispatch?”
The Duke’s gaze, which had been fixed on his paperwork since she entered, finally lifted to meet hers.
Sylvia hid her tensing hands in the folds of her skirt and nodded.
“Yes.
You have heard the reports of monster sightings in Argen.
I am to accompany the mission.”
“I am aware the Emperor has ordered the princess to investigate, but is there any need for you to go?
It will surely amount to nothing.
You will simply be wasting your time.”
“It is not so leisurely as that.
While it will not be dangerous, there will be battles with monsters…”
“Those damned monsters.” The Duke clutched his head as if in pain.
As he raised his arm, his powerful frame seemed to loom even larger.
He had never been physically violent, but in his presence, Sylvia always felt like a mouse before a cat.
“You seem to think you are doing something of great importance, but anyone could do what you do.
You are no different from the servants who sweep and clean this house.
Am I supposed to be proud of you simply because you have earned a few of the Emperor’s medals?”
“Of course, I cannot be a source of pride for you, Father…”
“That is right.
You cannot.
I never expected you to be.
All I ask is that you do not bring me shame, but is that so difficult?
Heston is engaged to the princess, yet you remain in this state.
Whenever I must mention that you work in such a place while trying to find you a suitable husband, my face burns.
For the Empire, for the Emperor—spare me that gilded nonsense.
Do you think anyone is fooled?
You do it only to live as you please.”
“I am sorry.” Yes.
She could recite his every word from memory.
Why, then, did they still have the power to churn her stomach and make her feel so small?
She did not want to apologize for her life, but to soothe her father’s volatile temper, she had to offer unconditional submission.
As Sylvia bowed her head in silence, the Duke took a deep breath, visibly suppressing his rage.
“You may leave.”
The sigh that accompanied his dismissal was proof that her posture was effective.
But even though the confrontation had ended sooner than expected, Sylvia’s heart was a wasteland.
She was so tired of living in fear.
With a sigh of her own, she glanced up at the high, vaulted ceiling of the ducal mansion before returning to her room.