Found Her (2)
"Hey... what in the world is that?"
"I... I'm not sure, either..."
"Good grief... a procession this size, and at such an early hour..."
Considering the sun had yet to climb anywhere near its zenith, it was early indeed. And yet the main street was already seething with people — packed wall to wall with carriages of every shape and color, all the way down its length.
"Hey... is there some kind of event on today?"
"Now that you mention it... I think I heard something about a banquet being held at the palace..."
"A banquet, you say...?"
A word that left one mouth slipped straight into another's ear, and before anyone noticed, that small scrap of gossip had spread thick and fast through the crowd.
"A banquet? You can bet it's just another feast for those noble leeches to— mmph!"
"Watch your mouth, will you? Keep that up and you'll cross someone high and mighty, and then what will you do..."
"Still, has anything happened lately that would even call for one? Things are unsettled enough as it is, what with one of the dukes and all..."
Banquets at the palace had always been exceedingly rare. A banquet was, in essence, a stage on which the nobility each cemented their own power and connections — and for the imperial family, still locked in an ongoing struggle against those very nobles, there was not a single thing to gain from watching their factions grow any stronger.
"The Emperor can't possibly be blind to that..."
A single voice drifted out from within a white carriage whose opulence was obvious at a glance. It was, without question, the voice of a lovely woman — and yet, for some reason, it made the skin crawl.
"What do you think, Isabella?"
Her voice brushed past the girl sitting meekly across from her — calling the name of her own daughter, the one whose blue hair was her most striking feature.
"Y-yes?!"
Startled by how abruptly she'd been called, the girl flinched like a frightened cat. Mother and daughter or not, wasn't she wound far tighter than the moment called for?
"Honestly, what good does all that tension do you? You're allowed to relax a little, you know."
"Yes... Mother."
She had meant, in her own way, to put the girl at ease with a gentle stroke of the head — but if anything, it only seemed to deepen her unease. Even as her hair was being petted, her eyes darted every which way, like a cat trembling in fear.
...How cute, my daughter...
"M-Mother, but... are we really headed to the palace right now...?"
At her daughter's sudden question, she slowly withdrew her hand — the hand that had been so diligently stroking that lush blue hair.
"Why? Is something the matter?"
"N-no, it's not that..."
Isabella would sooner have died than say it — that the reason she felt so unbearably ill at ease right now was the woman sitting in front of her.
Had anyone overheard, they would have scorned her outright: what kind of daughter squirms at her own mother's touch? And yet she truly didn't want to feel this way.
...If it were up to me, I'd get along with Mother as well as anyone else does...
All it took was a flick of her eyes upward, and there she was in Isabella's sight — her mother, wearing an expression on which no smile, however faint, could be found.
Come to think of it, her mother had always worn that same face. The day Isabella first succeeded in casting a spell. The day she brought news of entering the Academy with better results than all her peers. The day her mother learned she had become the disciple of one of the most renowned masters in the Empire. Her expression never changed.
...I know Mother doesn't hate me...
Objectively speaking, she didn't believe her mother disliked her. The woman had just been stroking her hair, after all.
And yet... there's a distance. Something...
It was a distance that should never exist between family — and feeling it stretch between herself and her mother, how could she possibly not be unsettled?
Whether she read her daughter's heart or not, her mother's lips slowly began to part — as though she had just realized something.
"...Ah, yes. Isabella. I am truly sorry about how the engagement turned out."
"Y-yes?!"
"...Wasn't it because of that? The reason you've seemed so uncomfortable."
"Ah... w-well, that is..."
Out of nowhere, her mother dropped the one topic Isabella had never expected, right into her lap. And yet the expression of the woman who had raised it didn't look particularly pleasant, either.
Then again, judging by appearances alone, their family had been unilaterally cast off. And by House Reinhardt, no less — the very house her mother despised most in all the world.
"Tsk. I did everything in my power to preserve harmony between our houses, and it has come to this... I have no face to show."
"N-no, Mother, you have nothing to apologize for—"
"This is only what I heard afterward, but... they say you were fonder of Allen than of that boy."
...
"...So it must have been a marriage you never wanted."
For some reason, her mother's gaze — bitter as it settled on her — felt terribly, terribly uncomfortable.
Allen? She had certainly liked him once. To a degree that bore no comparison with now.
Then what about now? Did she still like him?
...
She couldn't answer. She didn't know why. She just... couldn't answer.
"My lady, we are nearly at the palace."
"Very well."
The coachman's voice cut into a silence that had stretched uncomfortably long, and only then was she finally able to release the breath she'd been holding — doing her best, all the while, to ignore the strange weight in her chest.
"Found her."
The words burst from Charlotte's mouth as she barged unannounced into Jenison's room first thing in the morning. No warning, no explanation — and yet that single word explained everything.
"Where is it?"
And that one word was enough. Enough of a reason for Jenison to move.
His eyes gleamed black — like a dark swamp steeped in killing intent. Those black eyes that made the spine of anyone who met them shudder of its own accord. Those beautiful, dangerous eyes were now trained on Charlotte.
"...Um, could you promise me just one thing?"
"As I recall, I already kept my promise — by not running off yesterday."
"Th-that's true, but... c-couldn't you... just this once... make an exception?"
...
Uuugh... come on, just say yes this once, would you?!
Did he have any idea who was standing in front of him right now?
The daughter of a ducal house who had never once carelessly bowed her head to anyone — who, if anything, made others bow theirs. Daughter of the notorious House Charlotte, sheltered by the crown, sweeping the Empire clean of its filth. A woman who led the ghosts that dwelt hidden in darkness out to carry out her purges.
All of these were the epithets and nicknames of Shino Charlotte.
...And here I am, cooperating with you in every way I possibly can... honestly, this is just too much of—
"...I'll hear you out. On the assumption that Aria's safety is not in danger."
"Oh, really? You mean it?"
"But first, let's move somewhere else. There's someone here who mustn't hear this."
"Ah... right, her. Got it..."
Hardly the sort of request a mere commoner had any right to make of a duke's daughter — and yet she accepted it without complaint. She was simply grateful that he was willing to entertain her proposal at all.
With my family possibly in danger, his giving me even this much time is more than I deserve, really.
"So. What is it you wanted to tell me?"
"Ah, right... well, we did find your sister."
"Where is she? Is she safe? Is there nothing else wrong with her condition—"
The instant his sister came up, the questions poured out of him like rapid fire. He really did treasure that girl, Charlotte thought. Far more than she had imagined.
"Hah... can you calm down for just a second?"
"...My apologies. Please, go on."
"So... we found the people who took her, and we located where she's being held."
"...Then what is the problem? All we need to do is go in and bring her out—"
"Because the place she's being held is one that even we can't set foot in without leave. That's why."
His black eyes widened — slightly, but unmistakably. Surprise, most likely. For in this Empire, there were scarcely any places the Charlotte ducal family could not come and go as they pleased.
"...You're telling me it's impossible, even with House Charlotte's name behind it?"
"Yeah. They will never let us in."
"...Then tell me. Where is it."
His wavering pupils locked onto her once more. Eyes that seemed to say, plainly: refuse to tell me, and I'll carve the answer out of you.
"...No. I can't tell you."
...
"W-wait, just calm down a moment...!"
...
"It's not that I'm withholding on purpose... it's that I know you'd bolt the second you heard it!!"
...
"Besides, right now she doesn't have so much as a scratch on her, so even if we move after the banquet ends, it won't be too late to— EEEK!!"
His arm swept toward her without warning, and in that instant — though only an instant — she heard it, clear as day: the whistle of a blade cleaving through air.
It wasn't that she had failed to catch the movement. It was simply far faster than she had anticipated. Even though she had snapped her body backward in that split second, she couldn't be certain she had actually evaded it.
"...?"
"...Can you swear to it?"
But there was no pain. Because he had halted the strike just short of her body.
"...Huh?"
"Can you stake everything you have on it — swear with certainty that the girl is in no danger?"
Was it because of that black puppet of his? The blade, gleaming bright in the lamplight, looked colder and bluer than ever today.
"...Yes. I can swear to it."
It was half a gamble. However merciless and cold-blooded Duke Reinhardt's reputation, she hoped he wasn't so far gone as to lay hands on his own daughter. On that hope, she had staked everything. To survive.
"If anything happens to Aria... I will kill you. However I have to do it."
"...Uh, sure... fine by me."
The moment the words left his mouth, he turned his back on her and went back inside his room. And in the same breath, her legs — which had held her perfectly steady until now — buckled beneath her.
"Aaargh... you absolute lunatic... what the hell was that, out of nowhere?!"
And she realized, once again: this one was not to be trifled with.