Chapter 49
“Cecilia, a maid serving the Grand Duchess ought to show a bit more propriety. Why is your mouth hanging open like that?”
“Oh dear, I’d say it’s not nearly as wide as Yours Highness’s.”
“Ugh.”
I cleared my throat and pressed my lips together.
In merely a week, our rapport had deepened enough for such playful banter.
As I’d confessed in our earlier private talk, Cecilia wasn’t exactly the demure type for a maid.
I’d initially pictured her as more restrained, but…
The moment I saw she didn’t object to my informal demeanor, she loosened up in turn.
Her occasional awkward attempts at maid duties sometimes made Whitley’s eye twitch, yet for me, her presence brought a welcome spark of vitality.
“Your Highness!”
Leon’s voice rang out first, as always, spotting me and calling a greeting.
“Your Highness, we salute you!”
One by one, more knights noticed and bellowed their welcomes.
I was grinning at their crisp discipline when I caught sight of a few others slouched against the training ground steps, shooting glances my way.
What accounted for that icy vibe?
Those knights, faces grim as outlaws, eyed me with unmistakable disdain.
One stood out among them: a knight with striking blond locks and a finely chiseled, elegant profile. His stare burned like he might draw steel at any second.
“That’s Tiern Bierri.”
Cecilia, bubbly just moments before, dropped her tone to a hush.
“Is he Blenheim’s mad hound?”
I remembered the caution she’d shared while I prepared handkerchiefs for the 9th Brigade.
—“I’ve heard the 9th Brigade handles the harshest assignments.”
—“So they’re the elite knights?”
—“Rougher is the better word.”
Cecilia had singled out their captain, Tiern, as the real wildcard.
He didn’t match my mental image at all.
That golden hair, fair skin, those keen aristocratic features. Compared to his bandit-like comrades, he appeared almost polished.
“Don’t let those looks deceive you.”
Cecilia warned, brows knitting.
“Steer clear. He bites, and it spells trouble.”
Ridiculous talk.
I nearly brushed it off and strode ahead, but halted at the sight of Tiern’s white-knuckled grip on his sword hilt.
A “mad hound” the size of a pup posed no threat, but this one’s physique…
I scanned discreetly.
Relief washed over me as Hedrick came into view from afar.
“Hedrick!”
If that’s the rabid beast, better summon its handler.
I mentioned wanting to pay respects to the 9th Brigade; with a curt order, he had them fall in line swiftly.
This could turn ugly.
Under Hedrick’s oversight, the ranks bristled like coiled predators, gazes laced with enmity.
Cecilia had mentioned how many in the 9th had lost kin to the monster wars, fostering no fondness for me.
I’d braced myself for it, yet…
Raw animosity like this hadn’t prickled my skin in ages.
When I passed the bundle Cecilia had readied to Tiern, his features hardened at once.
Word of the “Grand Duchess’s present” must have reached him already.
“Pleased to meet you, Sir Tiern. I anticipate a fine collaboration.”
“…Thank you.”
He regarded my extended hand with thinly veiled scorn, but a sharp look from Hedrick prompted him to take the gift with a grudging murmur.
No matter. Gift or no, their barbs would fly regardless. Hand it over and move on.
Since inhabiting this form, I’d sworn a handful of ironclad vows.
Prime among them: steer clear of others’ affairs.
I’d already botched that one.
Next: quit fretting over those who scorned me.
From the instant the Marquis struck me, I’d vowed off pondering their motives or currying favor.
As this tale’s villainess, haters were inevitable.
And for the baseless sort? I’d mirror their contempt without hesitation.
This round, I’d steel myself against every bruise.
Congratulations on topping the hit list.
I tuned out Tiern’s piercing glare—meant to drill right through me—and serenely offered a token to the next knight.
I headed back after distributing gifts to the 9th Brigade knights, who’d accepted them with clear unease.
Traversing the garden, I spotted the Grand Duke and Perel strolling the second-floor walkway.
“Oh? The Grand Duke! Grand Duke!”
I waved with unrestrained glee.
He paused, uncertain upon seeing me, then managed a feeble wave in reply.
How utterly endearing!
Time for a little ribbing?
“Wow! The Empire’s most dashing Grand Duke!”
He’d been on the verge of a polite nod and departure when my shout bounced off the stonework, making him flinch.
His eyes bulged in astonishment.
Perel, at his rear, fought a grin, lips clamped tight.
Delighted by the effect, I called out once more.
“Grand Duke, your radiance is blinding—I can scarcely keep my eyes open!”
Realization dawned; his cheeks bloomed crimson as a ripe tomato.
Please, enough!
Embarrassment etched his face as he mouthed words I could make out even from below.
One more? Irresistible fun.
“Grand Duke! Did you realize?”
He’d been frantically gesturing for silence when he stiffened, peering down the hall.
“The Grand Duke’s fortress requires no statues! Because…”
Before I finished, he seized the second-floor balustrade with one hand and vaulted over.
“Grand Duke? What on earth?”
Too late to halt him—he dropped into the garden.
“Ah!”
He touched down with feline grace, more jolted by my cry than the fall.
“Frightened?”
I clutched my chest, breathless.
“Don’t leap like that! I feared you’d perish!”
“Falling from that height won’t kill me.”
He answered gravely, then halted as he drew near, his eyes flicking past me.
Oh, right!
“Cecilia, give us some space.”
I murmured to her, lingering behind.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
She replied with decorum and retreated a goodly distance.
I’d instructed her to keep clear whenever the Grand Duke appeared—jealousy, I’d claimed.
Absurd pretext, but Norton’s whisper about the Grand Duke’s “extreme fastidiousness” had convinced her without protest.
Satisfied she was far off, the Grand Duke closed the gap.
“No need to rush down. I was projecting so you’d catch every word from up there.”
I flashed a impish grin; he countered with a crooked smile.
“I’m certain it carried over the Blenheim peaks.”
Just then, shadows of officials slipped beneath the distant archway.
“Any slower, and the staff would’ve overheard as well.”
So that explained his hasty dive.
Chastened by my own audacity, I coughed and pivoted topics.
“Off to a council?”
I’d caught wind of a gathering with key houses. He offered no reply, merely studied me.
“Grand Duke?”
“Everything all right?”
“What?”
“You seem a touch subdued.”
He cocked his head, observing intently.
Amazing—a Sword Master senses moods too?
I inwardly admired him, struck by how the Tiern encounter had left me faintly unsettled.
Silent still, he squinted toward Cecilia, distant as ever.
“Trouble with the Grand Duchess?”
“Ah, er…”
That instant, I spied Cecilia’s typical boldness fracturing into alarm.
“Nothing amiss.”
I smiled, thumb to nose.
