Chapter 20
Even as she was practically being escorted out of the commander’s office, Sylvia couldn’t shake the bitter sense of betrayal.
“Did Princess Catherine really order this?”
But Heston only held her arm and led her away, his mouth set in a hard line as though he had decided not to say another word. Yet back in the commander’s office, he had hardly looked pleased with the command himself.
“Why aren’t you saying anything? Are you really fine with all this?”
“It couldn’t be helped.”
When she couldn’t hold back the words boiling up inside her and started pressing him, Heston let out a sigh. That defeated, accepting tone only made Sylvia angrier.
“What do you mean, it couldn’t be helped? Does the princess hate me? Is it because she’s bothered that you’ve had a childhood friend as your partner for over ten years? Even so, to just barge in like this and—”
She clenched her eyes shut and bit the inside of her cheek. The faint sting steadied the irrational, raging emotion just a little. Seeing her face, Heston clicked his tongue softly. He knew very well what habit she fell into whenever she tried to hold her temper.
“Don’t bite your cheek.”
“Then stop changing the subject. Tell me straight.”
Heston turned his head away, unable to do anything about the emotions surging through him. If it were up to him, he wanted to shout. He wanted to rake a hand through his hair and tear the frustration out by force. He had been holding back too much for days now. No—days wasn’t right. Months.
Keeping silent, making sacrifices no one recognized, was the kind of thing that slowly ate a person hollow from the inside. And yet that didn’t mean he regretted what he had chosen. If he could go back, he would still have proposed to the princess and accepted the engagement.
Heston swallowed everything down and looked at Sylvia calmly.
“Just this once. The emperor went to the princess directly and ordered her to investigate this matter. That’s why she’s going, but she wants to handle it with me. Since it’s a classified job, they decided to leave you out of it.”
Leave her out of it?
Sylvia bit her lip before she could stop herself. She was hurt by his words, but the fact that everything he said made perfect sense only annoyed her more. Then this hurt was hers alone to swallow. Heston looked away as if checking her expression, then offered another explanation.
“I was going to be able to handle it on my own, and I asked to go alone. But the commander said that, if so, you’d be free, so he’d have you take care of Owen instead. I didn’t want you to have to hear something like that from me. I’m sorry.”
Heston neatly tied up every loose end. After that, Sylvia had almost nothing she could say back.
Was she really supposed to be upset that the one area that was hers—supporting him—had been so easily taken from her by the princess? Was she supposed to resent the fact that years of trying to stay by his side had been brushed aside in an instant as if they meant nothing?
The words drifting through her head were little more than a petulant complaint, and the truth was, under normal circumstances, she probably would have said them. They were the kind of words that carried too much possession for two people who were supposed to be just friends, but their relationship had always hovered on the edge of something vague and undefined.
But now a clear, sharp line had been drawn between them, and she had been the one to suggest keeping their distance. So Sylvia would have to endure this sense of exclusion on her own.
For a moment, the churn of her emotions made her face go a little strange. But she managed to force it back down and answer in a voice she had worked hard to steady.
“It’s not something you need to apologize for.”
“……”
“Still, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me ahead of time next time. We’re still partners. I don’t want to be told news you already know through the commander.”
“Sorry.”
“I should go pack. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”
As Sylvia turned to leave, Heston caught her arm again.
“Sylvie.”
But his face said he didn’t even understand why he’d stopped her. A dozen things rose in his mouth, only to stall there because he couldn’t tell whether he had the right to say them.
“I’m sorry.”
So he apologized one more time. Sylvia forced up the corners of her mouth and slipped her arm free.
“I said there’s no need.”
Yes. That was enough.
She turned away and shook her shoulders as if brushing something off, and for a fleeting moment she felt as though something had truly been settled. Sylvia told herself not to be so sensitive over something so small. If Heston had said it would only be this once, then wasn’t it something she could let go?
He had said it was classified, and from the princess’s point of view, it was only natural to want to work with someone she trusted. Forcing that logic into her mind, Sylvia headed home again.
* * *
Alicia’s eyes went wide the moment she saw Sylvia return right after arriving at work.
“Why are you here at this hour?”
Sylvia was idly stroking Winkie’s fur in the afternoon’s deep gold light. The cat purred against her palm; it was said she’d been named Winkie because as a kitten she’d had trouble opening her eyes. Though Winkie belonged to Madame Blunk, who always seemed as if she could barely stand the sight of Sylvia, Sylvia had always been fond of the cat that had come with her like luggage when Madame Blunk moved in.
The fur of a cat warmed by sunlight smells like bread.
Thinking that, Sylvia answered as if it were nothing.
“I’ve been assigned to a dispatch.”
“A dispatch? Where to this time? Wait, didn’t they say they’d let you rest for a year as a reward for recovering the Holy Relic? It’s only been five months.”
“To Alzen. I leave tomorrow morning.”
“What? Tomorrow morning? How are you telling me this now?”
“I asked someone else to pack my things, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
The conversation was so strangely off-balance that Alicia frowned. She came closer without ceremony, brushed Sylvia’s bangs back, and checked her temperature.
“I think you’ve got a fever. You keep saying odd things. I’m not saying this because I don’t want to pack your things. I’m saying those higher-ups who make the young lady work in such a ridiculous way are what I can’t stand.”
“When is Father coming home?”
“He said he’d be here before dinner.”
“Then I’ll tell him then.”
“You don’t look like the master’s in a very good mood.”
Alicia muttered the words to herself. She remembered how, after half-eating and then leaving, Sylvia had once again had her head bitten off by the aide who always trailed after the duke.
I should tell the young lady to stay far away from the master today.
That had only been a few hours ago, and now the innocent young lady was calmly taking off her shoes to walk straight into the tiger’s den of her own accord.
“It can’t be helped. Today’s the only time I have to tell him. He can scold me if he wants. I can already imagine everything he’s going to say.”
Sylvia, who had been burying her face in the cat’s white fur, lifted her head as she said that. Alicia felt a fresh wave of pity for her—just how badly had she been scolded to make a person speak so matter-of-factly about it?
Now that she thought about it, it had always been that way.
Whether Sylvia ate or didn’t eat, went out or stayed in, she was always being scolded by Madame Blunk or by the duke. For some people, this was the luxurious life of a noble house; why was it so cruel when it came to this one girl?
Still, if she’s going on a dispatch, maybe that’s for the best…
It was sad to think of her suffering outside, of her body being worn down by the work, but maybe keeping her mind at ease mattered more.
Alicia had only started working in the ducal household when Sylvia was seventeen, so everything she knew about how deeply the duke had once cherished Sylvia came from gossip. “He used to go everywhere with her, and every other word out of his mouth was praise.” The veteran servants said it with a shrug, speaking of a past that had vanished without leaving even a trace.
At first Alicia hadn’t believed it, but after hearing the same thing from so many people, she had eventually accepted it. And then, while tidying Sylvia’s clothes, she had once stumbled upon garments from her childhood—far more lavish and made of fabric that gleamed with a sheen impossible to ignore compared with the clothes she wore now.
How could that kind of feeling disappear in an instant? They’re family, not strangers.
Alicia had always wondered, but she also knew better than anyone, from bitter experience, that there were families who were worse than strangers. So she let it go.
* * *
That evening, Sylvia went to her father’s study to finally confess—after much hesitation—that she would be leaving on a dispatch.
The duke lifted his head the instant he heard her, annoyance already sharpening his reply.
“Again? You’re going on a dispatch again?”
Since entering the study, his gaze had been buried in the stack of documents in front of him, but for the first time he looked at Sylvia directly. She tucked her hands, which had stiffened on their own, between the folds of her skirt and nodded.
“Yes. You heard the reports about monsters being sighted in Alzen, didn’t you? I’ve been assigned there as well.”
“I heard the princess had been given the investigation, but is there any need for you to go? It’s bound to be nothing much. You’ll probably just waste time there and come back.”
“It won’t be that idle. There will definitely be danger, even if it isn’t severe. There’ll be combat with monsters, and—”
“Those damned monsters.”
As if he had a pounding headache, the duke pressed a hand to his temple. Raising his arm only made his large, commanding frame seem even bigger. He had never once laid a hand on Sylvia in violence, but she had always been like a mouse before a cat, frightened by even the smallest movement he made.
Frowning deeply, the duke took off his glasses and set them aside, then looked at his useless daughter.
“You seem to think you’re doing something terribly impressive, but that sort of work could be done by anyone. You’re no different from the servants who sweep and scrub this house. Why should I be proud of you just because you dragged back a few medals from the emperor?”
“Of course I can’t be your pride, Father, but—”
“Right. You can’t be pride. I never asked you to be. All I want is for you not to embarrass me, and is that really such a difficult thing? Heston is already engaged to the princess, and you’re still in that disgraceful state. Even if I try to find a marriage prospect for you, I have to start by explaining that you work in a place like that, and it’s so humiliating I can barely stand it. Enough with all that polished talk about the empire and the emperor. Who do you think you’re fooling? You want to live however you please, and you think I don’t know that?”
“I’m sorry.”
Yes. Sylvia could probably have recited every one of these words as if she had read them from a book. But why, every single time she heard them, did her insides still twist and leave her feeling so small?
When Sylvia lowered her head and said nothing, the duke stared at her while forcing down the heat of his anger.
“Go on, then. Get out.”
It wasn’t that he truly understood; more likely, the duke was simply as sick of this fight as Sylvia was and was throwing her out.
She should have been relieved that the dressing-down ended earlier than expected, but Sylvia’s heart still felt like hell.
She was tired of living in fear. Of always staring up at the high ceiling, always feeling herself shrink smaller and smaller beneath it.
Leaving the duke’s study, Sylvia silently tipped her head back to look at the high ceiling of the ducal house, then let out a sigh and returned to her room.