The Rose and the Returning Duke
Winter had deepened, and a faint frost had begun to cloud the edges of my window. Whatever the weather outside, I was living a comfortable, warm daily life.
“My lady, a royal banquet will be held before long.”
The news Henrik relayed to me over our usual meal was something new.
“Bwendia's Grand Holy Day is celebrated with great splendor, so invitations have been sent to Francia as well. The Duke himself is coming, it seems.”
At his calm voice, I gave a light nod. I'd suspected Antoni would make a move himself.
Whatever he comes here to do, I won't sit back and take it. I made the vow firmly as I looked at Henrik.
Henrik, for his part, was hardly a man to endure things quietly either. I didn't trust him privately, but standing on this battlefield felt as though I had a stalwart ally at my side. My hands clenched without my meaning them to.
“You wear a rather resolute expression.”
Henrik murmured it. Only the knights he trusted were nearby, so I let my true feelings show.
“It's the moment I've been waiting for, Your Highness.”
“Haha. And here I thought you'd say that. Should I have summoned you sooner?”
His gaze fixed on me, he wore that familiar smile of amused interest.
“Thank you simply for telling me in advance, Your Highness.”
While I outwardly humored him, scene after scene flashed through my mind.
Selena might well come along with him.
Long ago, when I'd had a private tea with Selena, I remembered how Antoni had made a point of showing his face. Why hadn't I understood it then?
On days like that, a nameless anxiety used to sweep over me. Because standing in the same room, the two of them seemed—somehow—to fit together so naturally.
“Your Highness, this time I will find out in advance through magic. I don't believe the Duke would travel all this way carrying nothing but a fine pretext.”
Henrik's amethyst eyes gleamed toward me.
“If there's a hidden agenda, I'm curious myself.”
“If I learn anything, I'll tell you at once, Your Highness.”
Even if it cost me blood, even if it dredged up memories better left buried, this time I would use the mirror without fail.
That night, I caressed the mirror—one I could finally hold without it feeling awkward—and made my plea.
Come now, mirror. If there is anything at this banquet I should be watching for, show me. Who Antoni is bringing with him, and why he's coming. I only want the day to pass without incident.
A rich green light surged across the mirror's surface, then bloomed outward. Dressed immaculately, Antoni appeared, surrounded by Francia's knights.
“Why isn't Selena at his side?”
I tilted my head. Even without asking the mirror, there were things I could predict on my own.
“He'll want to cage me again. That much is certain.”
Through the diplomatic delegation he'd sent earlier, he would have confirmed that I was living well here, eating and thriving. He would never simply stand by and watch that.
Henrik had brought me here with a suitable pretext and lavish gifts, but this peace between the two nations, visible on the surface, could not last forever.
“What clever scheme will he devise to torment me this time?”
I laid out one possibility. He might pin some disgraceful charge on me and force me into divorce a second time.
“Whew… that's all I can see.”
All at once my chest felt stuffed full, my breath thinning. I set the mirror down and drew in long, deep lungfuls of air.
No matter how earnestly I wished it, I couldn't read beyond that. As I thought—my power was still lacking.
“It doesn't seem anything will go wrong, but in the end, I'll have to speak with Antoni myself……”
The most important thing before me now was preparing well for the coming banquet. I resolved to set regret aside, to mingle with him just enough, and to steel my heart for drawing out whatever information I could.
The day of the banquet arrived faster than I'd expected. Poznan, who attended my dressing in the morning, wore a rather stern expression.
“Lady Attilenta, you must wear this jewelry box today.”
Since no less than a Duke was coming from Francia, Poznan seemed to want to lend the occasion some extra weight. She had laid out the excessively ornate accessories she rarely touched in ordinary times. I probed at her, ever so gently.
“Poznan, have you heard something? You seem unusually full of zeal today.”
“Lady Attilenta, I felt the same way when the delegation came from Francia. I presumed, humbly, that you would wish to show your best self to people you once knew well.”
The courtesy Poznan kept toward me did not waver in the slightest. Reading her mistress's heart was, after all, well within a personal maid's prerogative, so I said nothing and turned to gaze at the elegant mirror adorning my vanity.
“My best self, is it……”
The glass was polished so impeccably clean that my reflection showed itself with brutal honesty.
“My complexion doesn't look terribly bright.”
The gaunt, wasted look was gone, but still. Perhaps it was the magic I'd been casting lately—something about me seemed pale. I was far from the picture of a healthy, flourishing woman.
All I'd done was a scrying to confirm Antoni, and yet I'd coughed up blood again, and spent a good deal of effort secretly erasing the stains.
“Lady Attilenta, please don't worry. I will make you the most radiant presence at the banquet. I won't let a single blemish touch your dignity—you'll be pleased, I promise.”
True to Poznan's confident vow, the dressing took a considerable while.
When I stepped out of the dressing room, Henrik was waiting, with three or four of his guards in attendance.
“Your Highness, my apologies if I've kept you waiting.”
At my measured courtesy, Henrik let bloom a fresh smile that suited his handsome features well.
“The waiting was a pleasure. Given that this is a banquet you yourself have longed for.”
Then, as if to escort me, he offered his large hand without hesitation.
“You look rather like a dried rose.”
I couldn't deny that shell of a compliment—because this went beyond merely adorning myself with rose ornaments as I had at the last banquet.
I usually wore quiet, muted colors, but today was different. The hem of a deep crimson gown spread out in generous folds, like rose petals unfurled.
The great lace draped over my shoulders and the green leaf-shaped ornaments were scattered with tiny golden pearls, glittering whenever the light caught them.
Poznan looked satisfied, Henrik responded with approval, so I offered my thanks with graceful ease.
“It truly makes me happy to hear you say so, Your Highness. Thank you.”
“Then, shall we go, my lady?”
I took his hand lightly and walked toward the banquet hall.
The sound of grand trumpets rang out from beyond the elegant white palace hosting the feast. A majestic, festive melody swelled through the air.
“His Highness Prince Henrik and Lady Attilenta are entering!”
Being midday, the sun blazed bright. The air was so warm it hardly felt like the season of falling snow.
The banquet hall, drenched in that white-gold sunlight, glittered like an enormous jewel.
As I made my way to my seat, I glanced around—tables dotted here and there, adorned with all manner of decorations, even salt that gleamed pink like gemstones.
The largest, most brilliant table belonged, as always, to the royal family and their foreign guests. This time, too, neither the King nor his consort was to be seen.
Which meant the highest-ranking person present would be the First Prince, Leszyca.
“Prince Leszyca, I pay my respects.”
“Brother. I trust you've been in good health.”
“Ah, you've come. May Bwendia watch over you.”
After exchanging greetings with Leszyca, the first person my eyes found was, inevitably, Antoni. He was already deep in conversation with Leszyca.
“Brother, Lady Attilenta. So you've arrived.”
Warsza was there as well, still holding her cat like the star of the show. Leszyca and Warsza guided the two of us naturally to the seat of honor.
“Henrik, I hear the Duke of Francia has something to say.”
Antoni's appearance still carried that striking contrast—eyes like spring water, brown hair the same shade as Selena's.
Exactly as he'd been when I loved him. That fine build, that clean and impeccable countenance—all of it unchanged.