Previously
Baldur insists Jeanne learn to ride for the winter, dismissing her concerns about costs and her past trauma with horses. Jeanne meets her new horse, a small caramel-colored mare she names Brûlée, and quickly forms a deep bond with the animal.
Places I could never have reached on foot—the lakeside, the deer habitat, the deep woods—were suddenly just moments away.
Life truly is unpredictable. At this time last year, I never could have imagined I would be here. When the sentence of exile came down, I simply wanted to die, and when I first arrived in this forsaken land, I nearly did. Even until recently, I had been submerged in sorrow.
Yet what about now?
Incredibly, I had grown fond of this place. Though autumn in the Skadi Territory was fickle enough to turn three times a day, there were rare moments when the clouds parted, pouring down an almost flawless warmth. Today was just such a day. Throughout morning lessons, it had been gloomy and overcast as if threatening rain, weighing down my spirits, but the moment class ended, lovely sunshine broke through to bathe the entire courtyard.
Seeing the sun drying the wet grass, I took a book and headed outside with Brül before the weather could turn again. Back in Franc, days like this were an everyday occurrence, so I had never cherished them. Now, however, the appearance of the sun filled me with helpless delight.
Upon reaching the hill, I untied Brül and settled beneath the shade of a tree, heedless of the damp grass. I intended to read a little while here.
The book was absorbing. Yet the mellow sunlight soon coaxed forth a gentle drowsiness, gradually blurring the printed words until my head began to nod.
‘If I fall asleep out here, I might catch a chill….’
Still, the sun was so comforting, and even the light breeze brushing the stray hairs against my forehead felt so pleasant. Everything was perfect. Opening my heavy eyelids became impossible, and standing up felt wholly out of the question.
In the end, I leaned my back against the tree trunk and closed my eyes. Just as I felt the volume—my forefinger still marking my page—slip gently from my fingers, my awareness plunged into unconsciousness.
How long had passed?
“Gasp!”
I woke with a start. I had slept so deeply that for a fleeting second, I had no notion where I was. Was this my chamber, the hilltop, or the capital? Could my exile have merely been a bad dream? What if everything that had happened to me in the Skadi Territory was nothing more than an illusion conjured by my mind?
Blinking sluggishly, I rubbed my face with both hands and took in my surroundings. Then my eyes found someone standing near me, staring down at me intently. Catching sight of his face, I froze where I sat. The shock stole my voice before I could even scream.
“…Your Grace?”
Just how long had he been watching me? Was this moment, too, a dream? Scrambling, I rose hastily to my feet.
His eyes lingered on me a moment longer; then, with a casual shrug, he lifted his gaze to the sky.
‘What about clouds?’
The abrupt remark left me bewildered.
He seemed to have stumbled across me while out for a ride. At his warning, I hurried up to look for Brül. Fortunately, she was tied to a nearby tree. But had I really tied her there myself?
The moment I got to my feet, the Duke spoke again.
A cold stray droplet from the heavens struck my cheek.
He gave a brief nod and let out a whistle. At the summons, a tall, sleek black stallion—a magnificent steed by any measure—cantered toward him. Vaulting effortlessly into the saddle with fluid grace, he gathered the reins. The Duke rode off without lingering, while I frantically unfastened the leather tether from the tree, mounted Brül, and urged her after him.
He glanced back at me once before turning away.
Sure enough, the rain burst forth in a torrential downpour. By the time I reached the stables, the Duke’s warning had come too late to keep me dry; I was soaked to the skin. Handing my mare over to the stableman, I trudged back like a drowned rat, only for a sudden realization to strike me cold: I had left my book behind.
‘If it gets ruined in the rain, I am finished!’
The second the thought crossed my mind, I borrowed Brül once more and galloped back to the hill in frantic haste. But no matter how hard I searched, the book was nowhere to be found, and I had no choice but to return empty-handed.
It was not as though the book had grown legs and walked away, so where could it have vanished? Soaking in a tub of hot water, I clutched my head in despair, but fretting did nothing to bring it back.
I never should have taken it outside. To handle a prized asset belonging to the ducal estate so carelessly, and then lose it altogether—how was I any better than a maid caught stealing silver plate?
‘What do I do?’
The answer came quickly enough.
‘I must tell the truth.’
The only right thing was to inform Madame Pauline and offer to pay for the lost volume. Even if it meant forfeiting her trust and returning the library key for good.
‘Still, before that… shouldn't I look just a little harder?’
Had I fallen into such a deep slumber that my own memory was playing tricks on me? In truth, I could scarcely remember whether I had actually carried the book outside. Could it be tucked away somewhere else? If I had truly left it on that hill, it ought to still be there, even if soaked through and wrinkled from the downpour. It was merely one volume among thousands. Since it would not be missed immediately, I resolved to search once more.
Yet over the days that followed, though I scoured my bedchamber, the schoolroom, the hill, and every likely corner of the estate, the book was nowhere to be found.
* * *
Autumn was a period of overwhelming labor. Upon returning from the summer campaigns, a backlog of neglected duties always lay waiting to greet Baldur. Not only was tax collection—the most critical duty of the year—carried out during this harvest season, but minor lords from across the Skadi Territory arrived at the manor throughout the day, clamoring for audiences over various disputes.
For these reasons, Baldur found himself run ragged throughout the entire autumn. His typical routine began at five in the morning, went straight into military drills until midday, and kept him bound to his desk in the study until nearly midnight.
His study occupied the very center of the manor’s facade, looking out upon the front lawn, the manicured gardens, and the forest beyond. Whenever his mind and body grew exhausted from labor, he would stand before the window commanding a view of the grounds and gaze out as though contemplating a landscape painting.
In those moments, the view outside appeared as still as a canvas. Almost entirely motionless.
This year, however, proved different. Suddenly, a cantering horse and a governess had entered the frame.
The Duke had recently gifted a horse to his ward’s governess. Part of it had been the approaching winter, which would curtail outdoor activity, but it was also to resolve an issue that had arisen from her morning runs. The ardent glances his soldiers cast her way had gradually become impossible to ignore.
Granted, the governess merely jogged across the training grounds for a brief spell and departed while training continued long after. Yet Baldur knew all too well: his soldiers were young, hot-blooded men who grew weak around women.
Strict rules forbade them from speaking to the manor’s maidservants, yet he was well aware that several soldiers and maids were sneaking secret trysts. Telling a horse in heat not to mate was an exercise in futility. The attraction between men and women was an undeniable law of nature.
Unwilling to see his governess tangle herself in an affair with one of his soldiers, Baldur had urged her to take up riding instead. Soon after, she began appearing in the inner courtyard alongside her pony. Both were small of stature, so rather than looking absurd in the saddle, she made quite a harmonious picture. At first, her awkwardness riding out in the open had been plain to see even from this distance, leaving Baldur tense enough to clench his fists without realizing it.
Before long, she was roaming everywhere atop that horse. On some days, she was seen ambling in a circle around the gardens; on others, perched upon the crest of the hill; and on still others, lingering beside the brook trickling down from the forest.
‘I gave it to her for that purpose, but she certainly puts it to good use.’
She seemed remarkably fond of sunlight. Often, she would settle where the rays fell warmest, engrossed in reading.
‘That is likely my book.’
Was she not adjusting rather too well?
‘One would think she came here for a holiday rather than exile.’
While such behavior grated on Baldur, her settling in was, after all, what he had intended. And so he had simply stood by, watching Jeanne treat his front grounds as though they were her own.
Until one day.