A Farewell
On the way back to the imperial palace after viewing the portrait, rain began to fall from the sullen sky that had hung overcast all day.
Staring at the raindrops racing endlessly down the windowpane, I felt a strange hollowness. No tears came. Instead, I spent the night listening to the steady downpour, calmly sorting through my thoughts.
When Illid had called me by another woman’s name, I had dimly sensed that a day like this would come.
I had known it, yet I was afraid. Terrified of facing the truth, I had turned away and pretended not to see. But I could no longer do that. Having witnessed everything with my own eyes, I now had to pay the price for my willful blindness.
When I looked outside again, the rain had stopped and dawn was breaking. In the once-silent imperial palace, the diligent maids had begun their morning tasks.
A short while later, I summoned Abigail and Esi.
“I will be staying at the Lilche Marchioness’s residence for the time being. Please prepare my things.”
The image of my grandmother from yesterday kept haunting me. Her recent poor health weighed on my mind, and I could not remain in the palace any longer.
A quiet premonition told me I might need to prepare for a final parting with her. I instructed Abigail to load roughly two weeks’ worth of luggage into the carriage.
“Esi, I have a separate task for you.”
Once Abigail had left the room, I called for the girl. She came trotting eagerly to my side.
“Bring His Grace Archduke Illid to me.”
“His Grace the Archduke? Yes, at once.”
Knowing nothing of what lay ahead, Esi hurried off with light steps to fetch him.
Before long, Illid entered my quarters behind her.
“Ishtel.”
The faint smile Illid offered me stirred memories of the day we first met—the same gentle curve of his lips, directed at me.
It felt strangely poignant. On the very day I had to speak our ending, the memory of our beginning rose unbidden.
I asked Esi to bring warm tea, then sat across from Illid at the table.
After she poured for us both and bowed respectfully before slipping away, Illid watched me with tense, searching eyes.
“Drink before it cools.”
I lifted my own cup, but he merely touched the rim of his. His face was tight with strain. Those blue eyes tracked my every movement, every breath.
“I asked to see you because there is something I must say. Dragging this out any longer would serve no purpose.”
When I set my cup down, Illid asked in a low, heavy voice.
“What is it you want to tell me, Ishtel?”
“I told you before. That I would look into you and the Whierton family. That once my decision was made, I would meet you again.”
Illid’s lips began to tremble. I continued before he could speak.
“I saw the portrait of Miss Sierra Whierton.”
His blue eyes widened in shock before I had even finished. All color drained from his face until it was deathly white. With visibly shaking lips, he barely managed to whisper.
“How did you…”
“It was sold at the capital auction house under the belief that it was my portrait, then discarded when they realized it was a fake. That is how I came to see it. I also learned just how closely she resembled me. Even I could see the likeness was remarkable—enough to understand why you called me by that name.”
I paused, steadying my breathing that had grown rapid and shallow. Though I had rehearsed these words through the long night, speaking them aloud made my heart hammer violently inside my chest.
The portrait I had seen in the cabin yesterday kept flashing before my eyes, and my body trembled harder.
Unlike what I had expected—that he would offer excuses—Illid remained silent. The uneasy flicker in his gaze that had been present since he entered the room had now settled into a strange calm. Like a man who had already accepted his fate, he simply waited for me to continue.
“I don’t even know what I should say. I’m not sure I fully understand what we were to each other. So I will only speak what must be said.”
I drew in a deep breath and released each word slowly, deliberately.
“I will not marry you.”
Illid sat motionless for a long time, staring blankly. Then, without blinking once, he let out a hollow laugh and dragged a hand down his face.
“What are you saying, Ishtel? You love me.”
“I did. But the one you love is not me.”
He did not love me. Accepting that truth had been difficult; saying it aloud was even harder.
“From the first day we met at Primos’s grave… all the tenderness you showed me afterward… it was because you saw another woman in my face.”
Each word felt like a needle stabbing into my flesh.
My cold hands trembled uncontrollably. I hid them beneath the table, barely holding my body steady. There was one thing I had to say.
“I am not Sierra Whierton.”
It was Illid who broke first. Tears slipped from his blue eyes before he could stop them.
The shattering of his heart reached me as clearly as if it were my own. Yet I did not soften. In this moment, what I had to protect was not his heart, but myself.
“If you strip away the shadow of a dead woman and remove the label of the daughter of silence, what is left of me? To you, I am nothing.”
“No, Ishtel. What are you talking about? The daughter of silence—how can you say such a thing!”
Illid shook his head fiercely, his voice cracking as he cried out. Tears still glistened in his eyes. He kept shaking his head, refusing to accept my words.
“I have never once thought of you that way—”
“Don’t lie. I have already heard everything. When your father sought to become crown prince, when he tried to make you crown prince as a child, our family opposed him.”
I cut him off coldly.
“It would be better if you simply hated me. Like your uncle, who has treated me the same way for over ten years. I am well accustomed to such feelings. It is far better than watching you search for another woman’s traces in my face.”
“Ishtel, it isn’t like that. It isn’t.”
Illid’s voice broke into a plea, thick with tears.
“I am not my father. I have fought so hard to escape his shadow… I have lived my entire life trying to break free…”
“Then why did you repeat every word I said to Ebony Bladin? So you could hold yet another weakness over me?”
At the mention of Ebony’s name, Illid’s words died in his throat. His silence became my confirmation.
“So it was true after all.”
The moment I had first leaned on him, trusted him—that was when everything had begun to twist.
“When I opened my heart to you, you were already calculating. Even now, the thought of it makes my skin crawl.”
Illid covered his eyes with one hand and wept in stifled gasps.
I did not believe every emotion he had shown me was false. But they could not have matched the sincerity of my own heart in every moment. That truth hurt beyond bearing.
The Lilche Marchioness had promised to issue a public statement supporting Hellion as crown prince once her health recovered. Learning of Illid and Miss Whierton at this particular time was almost merciful. It gave me a clean reason to sever him from my life without regret.
I rose from my chair. Abigail would have finished preparing the luggage by now. Leaving Illid behind, I walked toward the door.
“Ishtel.”
Two arms reached from behind and wrapped around my shoulders. Illid pulled me against him, burying his face in the curve of my neck.
“It’s all my fault. Whatever you have learned, I will offer no more excuses.”
Still holding me, he confessed in a broken murmur.
“I… was nothing but my father’s puppet. Coming here was because he pushed me forward. Being kind to you in the beginning was only to secure your help in becoming crown prince. It is true that I saw Sierra in you.”
He paused, struggling to steady his emotions. His body against my shoulder still shook violently.
“But as time passed… the more I stayed by your side… my original purpose began to blur. I kept forgetting why I had come here, what I was supposed to do. I realized it while we were apart. I need you.”
The words I need you. They did not sound like a desperate attempt to sway me. Perhaps this was the truest thing he had ever shown me.
I slowly lifted my hand and grasped his arm. His body trembled like a frightened child’s. Part of me wanted to hold that hand. Had I been a more sentimental person, I surely would have.
But I could not be that person. Even now, wrapped in his arms, I kept remembering the moment he had called me by another name.
“Illid, I cannot forget. The way you pushed me away in the plaza. You will never know what I felt in that brief instant when you shoved me aside. You will never understand.”
That was why I could not take his hand.
“Even if you truly saw me from now on, I would live in constant fear that you were still searching for someone else in my face. Why should I have to live like that? I don’t want to.”
I took his hand and gently lowered it. Only then did his arms, strengthless, fall away from me.
I left him there and stepped outside. I heard his sobs behind me, but I did not turn back.
My chest felt hollow, scraped empty. Like sand slipping through my fingers, all the feelings I had gathered seemed to pour out of me without resistance.
How ironic that I only realized it on the day I spoke of farewell—how very much I had loved him.
But from now on, I would have to forget. Even if I turned my back and wept, I would no longer keep him in my heart.
When I stepped through the door, Abigail handed me a wide-brimmed traveling hat. The moment its lace veiled my face, the tears I had been holding back finally fell.