Chapter 43
After the new head maidservant had introduced all her children to the ducal couple, she inspected the duchess’s office and bedroom, as well as the duke’s bedroom and office—rooms that all needed “attention"—before finally linking arms with her husband and departing.
“Bee.”
At his call, Kaella looked up at Pheon, who was so much taller that she had to crane her neck.
“Don’t pay any mind to what the new head maidservant said.”
“What do you mean, Your Highness?”
“I mean about children.”
Ah, the “good news.” Kaella knew full well that such talk had nothing to do with her, so she hadn’t given it a second thought from the start. But it seemed to weigh heavily on Pheon.
“They’re just saying the usual things, but right now, your health is what matters most. And…”
He glanced around, confirming that everyone was standing well back, then lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Everything regarding our marriage will strictly follow the contract.”
Ah, the contract. The prenuptial agreement she’d already dismissed as having no further effect and promptly forgotten.
“My issue with an heir…”
“Your Highness’s issue with an heir…”
Kaella cut him off. Pheon immediately fell silent, holding his breath to listen intently to her quiet voice.
“…is for Your Highness to decide. Not me.”
What would this lately affectionate man say to that? Would he just let it pass? Or think she knew her place?
Kaella stood still for a moment, curiosity flickering, before pushing the thought aside. Whichever it was, as long as it brought even temporary peace to their fragile marriage, it didn’t matter.
“Then if I decide to seek my heir from you, will you go along with that decision, Bee?”
His usually even voice sounded strangely sharp, almost snappish. As if he were bristling.
Kaella couldn’t understand it. Pheon was saying things Pheon would never say, in a tone that didn’t suit him at all. In the vast, crude, barren hall of Lüsenford Castle, the two castle lords stood facing each other.
Pheon’s violet eyes shimmered with suppressed emotion, but Kaella couldn’t tell if it was anger or irritation.
A tangle of feelings too complex to pin down poured toward her alone. Before her instincts could make her step back in self-defense, Pheon spoke swiftly, as if seizing her.
“Don’t say it like that if you don’t even want it. And my heir isn’t just my decision to make—it’s something you and I must decide together.”
“Then will you seek your heir from me?”
This time, Pheon stared at her as if he couldn’t comprehend. He seemed startled by the unexpected response.
Kaella felt a thrill of satisfaction at having shut down his words.
The powerless Kaella—who to Pheon was merely an object of indifference, an obstacle blocking his marriage to his lover—had struck at his blind spot. He never would have imagined that her emotions, always meek and subdued like a tongue trapped in the mouth, could produce such a retort.
It was far from appropriate, but she had simply wanted to say it once. Even knowing exactly how he’d react, she wanted to shake him, just this one time.
“People’s common sense dictates that I should bear Your Highness’s heir, which is why Sir and Lady Sirenster said such things.”
It was strangely novel to hear words like that, even if she had to die and come back to life to do so. They had nothing to do with her at all.
Before her death, everyone knew the duke cold-shouldered the duchess and never visited her bedchamber. No one had ever expected the duchess to bear the Duke of Lüsenford’s heir.
“But just because others see it as natural doesn’t make it natural between Your Highness and me. I don’t care about talk of good news or whatever. I have no interest in what people chatter about.”
She was sick of hearing what others said. She could keep a straight face through most insults by now. Would he—whose face now bore the look of a criminal, though he had committed no crime—ever understand that?
Kaella laughed. She laughed while clutching the pocket of her dress where the vial of poison lay.
“So handle the heir business yourself, Your Highness. If you go out and sire one, bring the child here when it’s born. Your heir ought to be raised in Lüsenford. I’ll raise it as long as I can.”
She wouldn’t be able to for long anyway, since she was going to die soon.
Was it the wine she’d drunk today that was too much? Or had facing death burned away some of her fear? Seeing Pheon’s flustered face, words she’d barely managed to swallow before her death—words that had lumped in her throat—now spilled out freely. It felt refreshing to say them.
“And if even that doesn’t please you, I won’t interfere, so don’t worry.”
A child. In Kaella’s memories, those past four years were still vivid, but at this point in time, they hadn’t happened yet. During those four years that no longer existed, Kaella had lived in constant dread, wondering when she’d hear that Beatrice was pregnant.
When the news came that she was expecting, she’d think, so it’s finally here.
When the child was born, she’d pathetically wonder what it was like. Knowing Beatrice Lavalle all too well, she’d uselessly worry if the child was being raised properly.
How much it resembled Pheon, she’d want to see it just once—and even if it ended up being her who raised it, she’d certainly feel a small joy.
She’d search the child’s face for traces of Pheon. She’d be glad just to have the chance to raise it. Glad to be able to do something for Pheon, even indirectly.
If insignificant her could claim even a tiny positive place in his life, she could do anything. Truly. She could have done anything. There had been days like that. But her own child…
No. No.
“Then I’ll head in firs—”
“I’m not interested in any other women but you, Kaella.”
Her drifting thoughts cut off abruptly as she turned to leave, her words snapping short. The smile vanished from her small, pale face. She even flinched in surprise.
“Bastards disgust me.”
The words that followed shook out roughly, turbulent.
“But if you want a child, I’ll do everything in my power to cooperate.”
His eyes, always indifferent and cold toward Kaella, now churned with a storm of emotions. They weren’t empty and unreadable—they were so overflowing that she couldn’t even begin to parse them, swept away before she knew it.
“Good thing you don’t care what people say.”
He bowed his head, swallowing many unspoken words. His pitch-black cloak enveloped the white fur, hiding her. In an instant, the petite duchess was swallowed up in the duke’s embrace, out of sight.
“Then you need to get healthy soon. So we can make an heir, right, Kaella?”
*
There are times when thinking too much leads to things you can’t take back. Or perhaps they were simply pointless thoughts with no answers. All futile—she needed to bury them deep in distant memories and never unearth them again.
But Pheon had forced her to confront it.
“Change the furniture however you like, Your Grace. I’m sorry, but it’s truly a disaster. How could they use such cheap trash, how…”
Even the common Lüsenford households don’t use things like this anymore, the new head maidservant, Fabriola Sirenster, said in dismay.
“The wallpaper is all wrong too, Your Grace. It all has to be redone. It’s so embarrassing and shameful.”
Kaella smiled.
“I’ll hand over the furniture orders to you.”
It was finally time for her to step back. She could delegate most matters to the head maidservant and focus on sending away the maids she’d brought with her. The opportunity Kaella had been waiting for.
A chance to handle just one issue without doing anything else, then face death in calm repose. To reach a state of lightness where she could die without regrets whenever crisis struck.
“Yes, Your Grace. I’ll prepare everything with utmost sincerity, but I’ll still have you approve it all before proceeding. I’m a Lüsenford native, after all, so I’m sorely lacking when it comes to hosting envoys from Kline.”
But that path felt too distant now. Even farther away. If put kindly, the new head maidservant was resolute and reliable; if bluntly, she firmly believed the duchess would properly fulfill her role as duchess.
Thus, Kaella had to prepare personally to receive the emperor’s investigator, who would arrive soon, and she had no choice but to inspect the kitchens Pheon had begun renovating after the banquet.
And one more thing besides.
“You’re here too, Your Highness.”
The kitchen renovations tied into the castle’s plumbing systems, and receiving the investigator was a matter the duke himself had to oversee deeply, so Kaella ended up running into Pheon several times a day.
Led by the head maidservant who greeted him with a smile, Kaella’s maids bowed their heads toward Pheon as well.
“The duchess mustn’t overexert herself.”
Pheon checked that Kaella’s attire wasn’t too thin before speaking curtly to the head maidservant.
“Of course. Her Grace’s health is the top priority.”
Fabriola answered with a beaming look at the ducal couple. Her face made it plain as day that she saw them as a happily matched pair. Which they decidedly were not.
With the emperor’s investigator coming, Kaella needed to appear even healthier for Lüsenford’s sake.
As for her well-being after the investigator left… well, who could guarantee that? Especially since she’d said things to Pheon she shouldn’t have—he was surely holding back his anger right now.
“The renovations are too extensive. We’ll have to touch the sewers too.”
In the meantime, the steward approached with a report.
“Are the sewers intact?”
“No, they’re not.”
“Then rip it all out and redo the sewer work as well. I don’t know much, but I do know the kitchens need to be clean.”
Pheon stated flatly. Kaella, who had been listening quietly, spoke up.
“Then the work will still be going on when the investigator arrives.”
It would look chaotic.
“We have no choice. The plumbing is a vital foundation of the castle. And…”
The tall man murmured as he surveyed the workers clearing out the dim kitchen. It was dark overall, with poor ventilation.
“If we do a thorough job this time, it’ll benefit generations to come.”
But the kitchen renovations were ballooning. With the head chef executed, the cooks working in the temporary kitchen must be terribly inconvenienced and exhausted.
There were no more banquets planned before the investigator arrived, but as the castle’s lady, Kaella worried that the work extending to the sewers was going too far.
Did Lüsenford even have the funds for that? Even if it did, they poured it all into military funds, leaving even the lord with shabby furniture for decades.
Was he planning to repurpose the Kerban series differently this time? Kaella’s thoughts drifted involuntarily to the diamond ring he’d given her. What was Pheon thinking? Even after her words she shouldn’t have uttered, he remained as he always was.
“Shall we go up? The air here’s heavy and stale.”
He still took her hand on the stairs, his voice showing no trace of anger.
No, what Kaella was actually seeking wasn’t anger, but indifference and coldness. A gaze that didn’t look at her at all, a turned back, silence in response to her words—something like that.
“Watch the steep stairs.”
But Pheon never did it, not once. He remained kindly affectionate even to the silent Kaella. At this point, she couldn’t help pondering her words to him.
What she’d said after sending off the Sirenster couple was pure insult. Telling a bastard it was fine to sire a bastard of his own—small wonder he’d reacted with a rough voice. But did the current Pheon deserve to hear such things?
“How’s your walking? Can you manage?”
“It’s not that taxing, Your Highness. I’m fine.”
Kaella answered softly, once more reflecting on what Pheon had done since she’d died and returned to the past.
Before her death, he’d cooperated in killing Duke Ostein—or so Beatrice had said. But the Pheon she’d met after death had prevented Duke Ostein’s death. She’d seen it herself.
Before her death, Pheon had ignored her so completely that all of Lüsenford followed suit. Now, they were merely cautious, but it wasn’t the same.
Before her death, despite her unjust accusation, he’d confined her and cut off her food until she starved. Perhaps he’d even orchestrated the accusation. But now…
“Shall we walk a bit more? A stroll will do you good.”
“Aren’t you busy?”
“There’s always time for a short walk with you.”
Even though he must have been displeased and angry, was it right to hold him accountable for crimes he hadn’t committed? Was that justice?
As someone who had died so unjustly, Kaella’s heart felt heavy and uneasy. She didn’t know how she’d come to relive this moment, but feeling so vividly alive made her wrestle with such dilemmas.
Stepping outside, the sunlight stung her eyes a little, but Pheon drew near to shade her, and it eased.
“You’ll be able to ride soon. We’ll go slowly, no galloping.”
“I know how to ride as well.”
“Yes. That’s why I said walk with me instead of riding.”
Should she apologize? She probably should. No matter that she’d married a man famous for his romance, telling him in advance it was fine to have a bastard beforehand must have hurt. So she ought to apologize.
Just a bit farther, until the maids fell back and the knights withdrew—then she’d apologize. It might make the evening inspection of the silverware a touch less awkward.
Kaella resolved as much and stepped into the sunlight.
“Bee, step back.”
But suddenly Pheon blocked her path urgently. His large arm wrapped around her. Bewildered, Kaella looked at him, then followed his gaze. Golden lights were gathering. That was the power of the emperor’s magical artifact.
“Phe-on!”
And as the light faded completely, Beatrice Lavalle appeared with a lively voice and piles of trunks.
“Whew, it’s still so cold here. Good thing I wore my fur coat. Long time no see, Pheon! I missed you!”
Kaella shelved her thoughts upon seeing Beatrice charging toward Pheon with arms outstretched for an embrace.
No apology after all.
