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CHAPTER 50
Five days have passed since I arrived at the imperial palace.
The maids have grown accustomed to my presence and often greet me, even delivering my letters. One of them––Sienna, a noble maiden of the Brontë family––handed me another letter with a bright smile. I returned her grin.
“Thank you. You always do so much for me.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. But… this one is from Lord Orca Sorcier—isn’t he a candidate on the shortlist for palace physicians next year?”
“Yes, he’s right.”
Sienna’s eyes sparkled.
“Forgive me for asking, Your Highness, but do you know Lord Sorcier quite well?”
“Not particularly. Why? Is there a reason?”
She covered her cheeks with her palms, blushing scarlet.
“Well… since I saw him, I’ve been utterly smitten. I know it’s improper to say so as a noble maiden, but truly… he’s exactly my type…”
I barely held back a smirk. Lord Sorcier might be handsome, but once you talk with him, you learn how frankly blunt and surprisingly earnest he can be. Not necessarily a man everyone would recommend. Still…
“He’s not exactly someone I’d recommend—but if you truly wish to meet him, I’ll arrange it when next he visits.”
She gasped in delight.
“Really? You’ll introduce me to Lord Sorcier?”
“…If that’s what you want.”
She radiated gratitude—and perhaps some very premature regret. I gently bade her farewell and opened Lord Sorcier’s letter.
Inside were dense research notes detailing progress: new herbal compounds discovered, combinations to use with Nocturne, and how to process them so their synergy would be optimal.
Reading through it, I could sense how much blood and sweat he’d poured into this. With the final passage absorbed, I smiled, extricated myself from the bed, and quietly slipped out of the Emperor’s chamber.
“Perhaps I should visit Evgeni soon.”
First, I need permission—from His Majesty. Also, to arrange with Duke Elliette regarding my dwelling.
Later:
“Sir Renald! Sir Renald!”
As I exited the Emperor’s office, I called after him. He turned with startled eyes and hurried over, kneeling at my side.
“Your Highness, His Majesty has not yet granted permission for you to move about. To come here while still unwell…”
“I meant to request permission to relocate my living quarters to the First Princess’s residence. I’m finally feeling well.”
He frowned.
“That’s quite sudden. Adhering to a longer recovery may be better—for both the Emperor and Your Highness.”
“Then His Majesty would have to extend his work hours even further.”
That gave him pause.
“He’s accustomed to working late nights anyway, but you are not.”
“We’ll see how he fares. Please, once you assess the Emperor’s condition, relay it to me.”
He sighed.
“His Majesty is far improved. He’s reposed the regency powers from Prince Dimitri and resumed affairs of state, though sleep remains elusive.”
“That settles it—moving as soon as possible is wise.”
“Even if your chambers relocate, His Majesty’s rest may not improve… Please try to dissuade him if you can––he no longer heeds my counsel.”
“Then—luncheon is nearly upon us. Could you arrange refreshments in the garden?”
I proposed it to prepare some courtesy before speaking with the Emperor.
He nodded, tapped his communication stone, and within moments, arrangements were underway.
Walking through the palace corridors, I reached the imperial gardens. The familiar white marble chairs and tea table awaited. My chest tightened with unease––unless Evgeni was absent here, there was no risk.
Seated, I watched as maids wheeled a trolley toward us, bowing in graceful greeting.
“Good afternoon, Your Highness. Sir Renald informed us you will have lunch here with His Majesty. It’s rather chilly today; may we bring you a shawl?”
“Are you feeling well, Your Highness? You still appear pale.”
“Thanks to your attentive care, I’m much improved.”
They set down an elegant afternoon tea set: finger sandwiches, macarons, petite cakes, canapés delicious enough to tempt a recovering appetite.
One explained:
“I understand you favor strawberries, so our court patissier prepared a strawberry shortcake for you.”
“The sandwich includes a special apple jam the chef made—it should suit your taste.”
“What would you like to drink?”
Before I could choose, a familiar voice commanded:
“Bring the orange juice. That’s what she likes most.”
Sir Renald proudly escorted the Emperor over. The maids all shifted and bowed toward him. I followed suit, though oddly startled. How did he know I liked orange juice? I rarely drank it, but when I did…
“Enjoy your luncheon, both of you.”
The maids withdrew; I sipped the juice, stole a glance at the Emperor—almost frail, leaner than last I saw.
Offered a sandwich, I said:
“I prepared this for Your Majesty. Please try some.”
He waved it away.
“Step back twenty paces.”
Sir Renald looked crestfallen and retreated exactly twenty paces.
“He’s just that sort, ignore him.” The Emperor dismissed me with a slight smile.
“Why did you summon me here?”
“Straight to the point, Your Majesty.”
He narrowed his eyes: “You never like long conversations.”
Caught.
Clearing beside my throat, I replied:
“I came to request permission to move my living quarters to the First Princess’s residence.”
“You wish to return there, in your condition?”
“Though I seem pale, I’m resilient. You needn’t worry.”
“Fine. Do as you wish. Return today or tomorrow—it’s your choice.”
“Once this tea ends, I will depart immediately.”
“Is that all?”
“There is one more matter…”
His attention sharpened. He raised an eyebrow.
“May I visit the Elliette dukedom?”
He replied flatly:
“Denied.”
I blinked, shocked.
“Why—?”
“Why go to Elliette? Networking? Seeking alliances?”
“Perhaps… to build connections?”
“Which side? Duke, Duchess, Marquis, or his sister?”
“Naturally, the marquis…”
“Denied.”
“Even his sister—I’ve grown acquainted with her—so I intended to visit her naturally, as well.”
“Still, your real reason is the marquis, yes?”
“….”
If he knew I meant to speak with the young duke himself—
And then I realized:
The young man I intended to see… was Richard.
So with royal permission, I relocated to the First Princess’s chambers without issue. Once settled, Ilia and Mullin rushed to my side.
They checked me thoroughly—temperature, pulse, every spot. When relief showed, they embraced me with tears.
“We were so worried!”
“We couldn’t safely come to see His Highness. I felt helpless!”
I regarded them, then quietly asked:
“Could one of you borrow a carriage… and the other help fool Sir Checil for a time?”
They exchanged confused glances, my intent utterly opaque to them—
Unable to anticipate what I was planning.
Their protests grew urgent:
“Your Highness, this is reckless—even with a guard escort.”
“If His Majesty learns, he will punish more than disobedient maids—he will punish you.”
“Can’t you try again? Persuade him once more?”
I let out a bitter laugh.
“Do you think I haven’t tried? All diplomacy, all reasoning—and yet. Nothing works.”
Their shoulders slumped. Mullin and Ilia exchanged troubled looks.
“Even if we secure a carriage, Sir Checil will immediately sense any change in your presence.”
I produced a palm‑sized artifact from my pocket. Their eyes widened.
“A mirror artifact? One that duplicates someone’s magical aura so they seem unchanged?”
I nodded.
“Yes—that could work.”
“Well then—who lends the carriage? Ilia, it should be you.”
“Why me?”
“You’re less expressive. Mullin, you’re too dramatic—Checil would see right through it.”
“I agree with Mullin.”
“B‑But I can act!”
“Still, I think Mullin is better suited to fool Checil. Ilia—you arrange the carriage. I’ll compensate for your leave afterward.”
Ilia brightened.
“Actually, my family carriage is very comfortable. I’ll ensure your journey is smooth.”
“When shall we go?”
Mullin’s question made me thoughtful. I swallowed.
“First, I must confer with the marquis. Bring proper stationery and a messenger. A mere letter may arouse suspicion.”
If only I could discuss it face‑to‑face with Richard.
I watched Ilia and Mullin leave to fetch supplies, smiling softly into the distance.
They think I’ll be stopped—the grand Ducal residence is still forbidden. But I’ll go. No matter what.
