The Legend of the Cursed Doll
What — now the story had come around to me? But how on earth did Julia find out I've been coming and going from the royal palace?
Who could have told her? I'd known I would be found out eventually, but this was far too soon. I hadn't had time to prepare.
I could practically hear the time I had worked so carefully to build with Cassion shattering to pieces. My grip tightened on the door handle.
Should I turn back now, or step into the room? If I went in now, it would amount to confirming to Julia's face that I frequented Cassion's palace, and my room to maneuver would shrink in every direction. But if I didn't step forward — if I simply turned and left — Cassion would have no choice but to endure Julia's venom alone.
It would hurt him. He'd be wounded.
I couldn't leave him standing in front of those cruel words a moment longer. My goals matter, but this would be fleeing and abandoning someone in distress. That was how my parents had raised me. Whatever problems came afterward, I could untangle them calmly, one by one.
"Leave that sweet young lady alone. Don't go making her life miserable."
Julia pressed on without granting Cassion so much as a chance to answer.
The one tormenting that 'sweet young lady' isn't Cassion — it's you!
I couldn't listen to any more of it. I steeled my resolve and flung the door open.
In the past, Julia had been utterly indifferent to Cassion from beginning to end.
Anyone in Cassion's position would have fallen ill of the heart. That was precisely what Julia had aimed for — and to a degree, her prediction had proved correct. Just as she wished, Cassion had withered away under neglect and cold shoulders.
Then a variable appeared. Someone had come along who gave him attention. No report had reached her directly, but the moment she laid eyes on the Third Prince's Palace, she knew. A blanket that made no show of itself yet looked far plusher than before, a room brightened by curtains drawn back, and Cassion's lips — smooth now, the chapped flakes gone — were proof enough.
"So don't go ruining the life of a young lady with such a bright road ahead of her——"
"Your Highness Cassion!"
A bright, crisp voice rang out, slicing through Julia's words mid-sentence. Golden hair rippled as its owner swept past Julia, and the girl who had appeared out of nowhere threw her arms around the trembling Cassion.
"Who are you?!"
Julia liked none of it — neither that someone had barged uninvited into the Third Prince's Palace, nor that the intruder ignored her entirely, behaving as though only Cassion existed. At her shout, the girl turned. Julia's eyes widened, and then a strange light flickered in them. She had recognized the girl at once.
"Ehrenberg."
Anyone who knew the Duke and Duchess of Ehrenberg could not fail to know their daughter's face. Diana was that much the spitting image of the couple. At Julia's summons, Diana let go of Cassion, turned, and planted herself in front of him as though to shield him with her own body. She laid a hand over her heart and sank into a deep curtsy.
"I pay my respects to Her Majesty the Queen. How do you do? I am Diana Viola Ehrenberg."
Julia answered only with an idle flutter of her fan, then waited, eyes narrowed, for Diana's next words.
Most people knew Cassion was the discarded prince, but few knew the truth of Julia's conduct. To be precise, no one had ever witnessed her misdeeds — there was no evidence, either. Julia had worked hard to keep up the appearance of a gracious queen in public, all for the sake of putting Dayson on the throne. A stain on her reputation would do Dayson no good whatsoever.
This timing is unfortunate.
Julia fretted over whether Diana had heard what she had been saying to Cassion.
"They say Your Majesty cherishes His Highness Cassion. Have you come to keep him company even in the midst of your busy schedule?"
But her worry proved groundless; Diana's manner toward her was impeccably courteous.
So she didn't hear what I said. If the girl had heard the vicious things Julia had been shrieking, the word cherish would never have touched her lips.
Julia studied Diana. Her bright, guileless smile was every inch a child's.
Then why had she been sneaking in and out of the Third Prince's Palace? The question nagged at her — and at the same time, Julia found Count Kolkos pathetic, floundering helplessly, unable to keep even a child who barely reached her chest in line. Smiling, she said with honeyed warmth:
"That's right, Lady Diana. I came because I worried Cassion might be lonely. We were in the middle of a most delightful conversation just now, in fact."
"Oh! What kind of story? No — wait, don't tell me!"
Julia had been about to cobble together some vague answer when Diana thrust a hand up to stop her. The ill-bred gesture soured Julia's mood, and she moved to reprimand her —
— when Diana, doll-pretty face curving into a silken smile, spoke first.
"I'd like to try guessing. You don't mind, do you, Your Majesty?"
I cannot tell whether this child has manners or not. Unable to read her, Julia decided to watch Diana a little longer.
"Hmm, what story could it have been……"
The girl murmured, knitting her brow as though genuinely wrestling with the answer. Then, as if it had come to her, she clapped her hands together.
"Oh! Could it have been a story about curses?"
It came from nowhere. Julia's left eyebrow lifted.
Diana didn't grant her even a moment to answer.
"You know the kind — like the legend of the cursed doll! That's what everyone around the protagonist says, isn't it? Anyone near you dies. They all die!"
Diana's eyes went wide as a storyteller's, her voice ringing out like someone performing an old fireside tale. And in that performance, Julia saw herself — saw the image of herself shrieking at Cassion.
Did she hear me?
For an instant, a faint contempt seemed to settle over Diana's face. But surely a mere thirteen-year-old girl would never wear such an expression in front of a queen of unblemished reputation. Just as the suspicion deepened — that the child had heard everything and was taunting her knowingly —
"……Was I wrong? Sometimes when my maids tell me the tale of the cursed doll, I find it such fun."
Diana drooped, every bit the sulky girl her age.
Then Cassion, behind her, spoke in a very small voice.
"……What's so fun about curse stories."
Hearing that voice — faint enough to gutter out like a candle — Diana knew exactly how drained he was.
Julia can wait. Right now, Cassion comes first.
Diana turned and took Cassion's hands in both of hers. The rims of his eyes were stained red, and his lips — bitten raw to keep from crying — were red as well.
He's all red.
Diana hid the pity in her gaze and brightened her voice all the more.
"It is fun! Because so many people believe it, even though it's all lies. Honestly, I think anyone who believes that sort of thing is a fool. And besides, Your Highness — do you know how curse stories always end?"
"How?"
Diana stole a glance at Julia. The queen was too busy gauging whether the Ehrenberg daughter had heard her tirade to pay the pair's conversation much mind.
Perfect. Diana dropped her voice to a hush.
"They all die."
"What?"
"The people who pointed their fingers at the protagonist and called her a cursed doll — every last one of them dies."
A killing intent flickered across Diana's eyes, and Cassion, sharp as ever, caught precisely where it was aimed. The cursed doll was Cassion — and the one who would die for pointing fingers at him was Julia.
Her words warmed him, and they terrified him. No one knew Julia's spiteful temper better than Cassion did. When Violetta had been alive, Julia had tormented her with grotesque gifts sent at regular intervals. That wasn't all — she had even sent a tender portrait of herself, Dayson, and King Karman, smiling together like the very picture of family.
And if Julia had just heard Diana's words? She was no fool; she would grasp the metaphor at once. She would torment Diana — just short of killing her.
Cassion felt a fear far greater than any he had known when Julia hurled abuse at him. He caught the hem of Diana's sleeve and tried to pull her back, but she didn't budge an inch. He glanced past her shoulder: whether she hadn't heard or was lost in her own thoughts, Julia was staring off elsewhere, her eyes gone unfocused. So Cassion pressed his nail firmly into Diana's palm, and when their eyes met, he pursed his lips.
Stop it.
Diana read the gentle warning and nodded. Cassion had steadied himself — now all that remained was seeing Julia out. She turned.
"Your Majesty."
"Yes? Go on, speak."
Julia's drifting focus snapped back, sharp and clear, onto Diana.
"Might you tell me one of those delightful stories sometime as well?"
The corners of Julia's mouth curled upward. Diana's abrupt entrance had startled her, true — but she had already been trying to puzzle out what the girl was plotting. She could always investigate afterward, but it was far easier to learn things face to face. And with Diana laying out the opening herself, Julia had no reason to refuse.
Why does she come and go from the Third Prince's Palace — and sneakily, at that, so as never to be caught? I must find out why.
She could bar Diana from visiting at once — but what if, by some chance, there was yet another person behind the girl with designs on House Ehrenberg? Unable to believe a thirteen-year-old would slip in and out of a palace entirely on her own, Julia's thoughts drifted naturally toward a puppeteer hiding behind Diana.
Julia asked in a silken voice.
"And what sort of stories would you like to hear?"
"Oh, this and that."
Diana shrugged as though it were nothing at all. But the words that followed were anything but light.
"Nothing all that grand. Oh! Though it might feel rather grand to you, Your Majesty. You see, there's a great deal I'm curious about — about you, and about Prince Dayson."
Julia's brow twitched. The girl's riddling manner was deeply suspicious. She couldn't tell whether Diana disliked her or not. By the sweet smile and honeyed voice, she seemed like any ordinary child — but by the content of her words, she was no thirteen-year-old at all! Thirteen in years, yes, but in her tricks she was her father all over again, sly beyond all measure.
Julia suppressed the urge to rake her nails across that radiant little face and said:
"What a fascinating subject. Come visit the Queen's Palace sometime, Lady Diana. And — I say this because I know your father very well."
Julia's hand slid out in one smooth motion. She took Diana's small shoulders and bent her head down. Feeling the pressure, Diana tried to pull away — in vain. A heavy scent of lilies stung her nose. Holding Diana down with quiet, insistent force, Julia kept her lips curved in a smile as she spoke.
"Do watch your step as you go about, my lady. If you stray down the wrong path, there will be no one to seize you and set you right — so you had best look after yourself."