“I intended to take advantage of that. The odds were fifty-fifty. If an assassin came in, they wouldn't kill me, so I had a decent chance of success. And if they did try to kill me, I was ready to scream right away.”
“Why on earth would you gamble like that!”
“Even if an assassin never appeared, I thought there was nothing to lose. We held several of Sierra's vulnerabilities, and that was enough to fulfill His Majesty the King's will.”
In truth, however, I was nearly certain an intruder would show up. That was why I deliberately told Celine to revise the list. If an assassin came, ended up failing, and wounded me in the process, it would hand us even more leverage to press against Sierra. Then we could push through our requested terms to the letter.
“And in fact, just as I anticipated, the assassin stepped out of the closet. Now that everything has come to light, I'll tell you why I sent the maids away: by keeping attendants to a minimum, I made it easier for the assassin to feel comfortable slipping into my room.”
Looking around at my colleagues, I saw rather peculiar expressions on their faces. I understood why. Even I might have shot a pitiful look at a comrade who gambled with their very life.
Yet it had felt like an inevitable choice. In a way, I had laid everything on the line.
To repeat myself, this was my corner. The desperate corner where I was willing to stake myself to achieve my goal. My pride.
As silence settled over the room, I moistened my dry throat with tea. It's all right. You did well, Scarlett. I bit down slightly on my lip. Whether they swore at me or scolded me, it didn't matter. Even if faced with the same situation again, I would make the same choice.
“You did well.”
Trichel spoke as he looked at me. Pello seemed to notice that I had naturally braced myself for a lecture, and he gave a dry smirk before chiming in.
“Berating a leader who put their life on the line isn't something decent people do.”
“That's right. As your colleague, I'm proud of you.”
“I'll respect your choice, Lady Scarlett.”
Seeing their response, I offered a relieved smile. Beside me, Celine looked on with reddened eyes, though she held it in and simply smiled back.
Duke Prodiad's gaze fell upon me. I stared straight at his face before giving an awkward smile. Yet his eyes held not a trace of resentment toward me, and without realizing it, my heart eased.
The Lord of Sorel was hauled away by the 4th Knight Order under charges of high treason, colluding with the enemy, and an assortment of other crimes. Following the principle that a traitor should not travel with the negotiating party, they were escorting him to the capital ahead of us. In my eyes, death was his only end; he wasn't even worth defending. Selling his country for coin—it was just the kind of idea that foolish brain of his would conjure.
Yet the moment I had stepped into my room earlier, the tension had snapped, leaving me collapsed on the floor staring blankly up at the ceiling for an hour. Then, as reality rushed back in, an overwhelming thrill welled up, and I spent a wild few moments celebrating all on my own.
The following day, two letters arrived at Sorel Castle—letters poised to shatter the high spirits my hard-won victory had brought.
With the talks concluded, we planned to stay at Sorel Castle for two more days. Since the 4th Knight Order that had escorted us here departed for the capital with the Lord of Sorel, we had to travel alongside the 1st Knight Order and their vast troops. Thoughtful of my comfort, Duke Prodiad had arranged our lodgings in Sorel Castle rather than military tents. I assumed he would return to the army camp, but he appeared to have chosen to stay in the castle as well.
Now that the negotiations were over, the entire world felt refreshing. In a burst of high spirits quite uncharacteristic of me, I enjoyed a leisurely shower, washed my hair, and sat before the vanity to comb through it. Marina, one of the few maids left in the castle, was attending to me under Duke Prodiad's orders.
Whatever her reasons for remaining in this ramshackle Sorel Castle, she proved remarkably capable; taking the comb when my hair tangled, she untangled and smoothed it with effortless ease. I almost doubted whether it was the very same hair that had been catching in my fingers just moments ago.
I pouted slightly.
“Why is combing hair so difficult for me?”
“A noble lady doesn't need to be good at combing hair. Besides, Lady Dirnant excels at far greater things than running a comb.”
“Still, I can't cook either. Delicate tasks like embroidery or needlework… I'm completely hopeless with them. I just can't do it. I'd rather spend the whole day memorizing books.”
I meant every word. I had never possessed any talent for fine handiwork. Even Mother had been adept at sewing and embroidery, but having inherited none of that, I seemed destined to spend my life at a distance from a needle and thread. Embroidery in particular? Forget it. Years ago at the Academy, I took an embroidery class just to pass the time, and after the instructor took one look at my ‘masterpiece’ and asked if it was a bear, I distanced myself from it forever. I had definitely stitched a tree.
“Only in the distant past did people expect such skills from a noble young lady; these days, hardly anyone knows how. Where would you find the time for that? There are chefs and maids, so there's no reason to make a lady do such work.”
No, my case is a bit more severe.
Of course, Marina wasn't wrong. Hearing her words brought me a sliver of comfort, and with a faint smile, I left my hair in her hands.
“My Lady's hair is truly lovely. It's as though it were spun from threads of platinum.”
“My hair is the prettiest feature from head to toe. Father used to tell me, ‘Our Scarlett's hair is like the sun,’ whenever he—”
“Why say that? You are beautiful, My Lady. Elegant, slender, and with such lovely eyes. They look just like amethysts.”
“Thank you. You really are the first person to ever compliment my face.”
Marina's praise was flattering, but my own words hadn't been a lie either. Standing alongside Isabel or Violetta, whose looks transcended mere mortal beauty, I rarely heard anyone call me pretty.
To me, the loveliest person in the world was Isabel. It wasn't just my subjective opinion; her beauty was renowned even in foreign nations. Silken brown hair flowing softly, sapphire-like blue eyes, skin pure and fair as fresh snow, a swanlike neck, a bountiful bosom, and a slender waist that seemed fitted for a single hand's grasp. The saying that hers was a beauty to incite the gods' envy hadn't come from nowhere.
Beside someone like that, I might as well have looked like Fly Number One passing through the background. Having Violetta stand next to her made it even more tragic. If Isabel was an elegant swan, Violetta was a rose in full bloom. And me in the middle of them? Perhaps a honeybee busily struggling for the continuation of its species.
“Royal bloodlines carry remarkable beauty, but I take after my father. Oh, not that Father was unattractive, of course.”
“Then the late Marquis must have been handsome.”
“Well, rather than strikingly handsome, he was clean-cut and warm.”
People said that back during Mother's days as a princess, the men who pursued her could have filled an entire castle. Even now, the beauty of her youth lingered, leaving her elegant and polished in her middle years. As for Father, having lost him when I was twelve, my memories of his face were a bit hazy.
When she finished combing, Marina picked up a ribbon laid out nearby. At my request to ‘put it up,’ she worked with delicate, practiced hands before finishing with the ribbon, styling my hair beautifully.
“Thank you for your hard work.”
“What would you like to do about breakfast?”
“Bring it to my room. I want to rest a bit today.”
Once Marina bowed and left, I sat blankly before the vanity, gazing at my face. Looking back from the glass was a person who could hardly be called pretty, yet not entirely plain either. No, I'm decent enough. For a bare face, this is perfectly fine! No acne, no freckles—it's fine. A person just needs to look neat!
…Ah, how depressing.
Wondering why on earth I was letting my thoughts wander like this, I reached for my cosmetics to shake the useless notions away. One thing was certain: with a bit of makeup, I looked quite presentable. Probably? As Olivia had once said, as long as magic and gold exist in this world, no one is truly ugly.
After dabbing this and that on my face, I ate a light breakfast from the tray Marina brought and crawled right back under the bedcovers. Mother had drilled into me that beds were meant only for sleeping, and she had scolded me countless times for retreating beneath the blanket with a book in hand. Yet curling into bed was warm, comfortable, and above all, reading a book there made it feel as though all worldly cares were forgiven. What was it about this simple blanket?
Naturally, a well-bred aristocrat didn't spend the entire day sprawled in bed, but since no one was watching anyway, I figured it hardly mattered. Still, it was rather funny for someone of my standing to behave this way.
Yet that wonderful little indulgence was thoroughly shattered around lunchtime, broken by the letters Celine carried when she came to suggest eating together.
“A knight from the 1st Knight Order stopped by just now. He said they arrived at the army camp and brought two letters… and one of them is for you, Lady Scarlett.”
Taking the envelope she handed me, my brow furrowed deeply the moment I saw the sender's name.
“Isabel.”
Just when I was on the verge of forgetting her, she never failed to turn up.
