The Only Place She Could Be Weak
And so she fastened a reason to herself.
A wedding so splendid that even royalty would covet it. Just once, she thought, it might not be so bad to step onto a stage like that.
When the care of her nails was finished, Odelli sat quietly and watched Freya examine the proofs of the invitations. Hair bound so tightly it never rose above the line of her neck; a head maid's uniform without so much as a crease; fingertips moving like the nib of a pen while she stood in flawless posture. The sight kept threatening to press the courage out of her, and yet—
"What if we changed the arrangement... like this?"
Odelli indicated the placement of the ornament on the sample invitation.
"If we used a little less gold leaf here and laid blue thread along this edge, I thought it might look cleaner."
Freya answered without a single second of hesitation.
"It would lack dignity."
"...I see."
Cut off so cleanly, Odelli closed her mouth, looking crestfallen. She was just about to draw her hand back when—
"...Your opinion was not a bad one, my lady."
Freya added the words, unexpectedly. Judging by her expression, she seemed startled by her own unplanned reply.
"However, the archduchess must accept nothing short of the very best."
A somewhat clumsy explanation. It soothed, and yet it still drove the point home in the unyielding tone of a perfectionist. Odelli found that manner of speaking quietly funny. A small laugh escaped her before she knew it, and only then did Freya's face turn stern.
"What, precisely, is so amusing?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
Odelli composed her expression into the greatest seriousness she could manage, but the corners of her mouth were still lifted.
Little by little, the day of the wedding was drawing near.
Day after day, the whole of the castle turned at a breathless pace. The days left until the wedding could now be counted on one hand.
The curtains had been changed to a new color, and even the angle of the silver candlesticks had been altered. Dozens of revisions went into the smallest ornament, and servants hurried at a trot down every corridor. A tension hung taut through the halls, like the eve of a battle.
It had felt burdensome at first, but she was growing used to it now. Odelli recalled the brief exchange she had shared with Ludville not long before.
"Is there really a reason to go this far?"
"Many eyes are watching."
"You never seemed like someone who cared about such things."
"...If anyone comes to think lightly of you, my lady, I will find it inconvenient."
Because of Cardel.
He had not spoken the name, yet Odelli understood at once what lay beneath the words. Through the wedding, Ludville meant to issue an open warning: that she was now of House Exepsion, and that anyone who laid a careless hand upon her would pay the price.
True enough. This is the first time I have stood so directly against House Cardel.
In her previous life, she had been the one who ran. She always had. This life was different. She had not avoided them; she had met them head-on, and she did not regret the choice.
Ludville, too, stood on her side more firmly than anyone—not with words, but with action. From behind her. Quietly.
She said nothing.
"My lady, your face looks a little flushed. You don't have a fever, do you?"
"...No."
When Leona asked in worry, Odelli answered at once. She cooled her cheek against the back of a cold hand for a moment, then fixed her gaze again on the papers she held. She had been memorizing the route she would walk on the day of the wedding, and the lines of the ceremony.
It's strangely quiet today...
By now, the scolding ought to have started. A peculiar feeling came over her, for the person who had always stood at the center of the noise was nowhere to be seen.
"...Where is the head maid?"
Odelli turned her head to ask. Leona, who had been smoothing a dress hem beside her, faltered and looked up.
"Now that you mention it... I think she said she was going to the ceremonial wardrobe earlier, but she still hasn't come back."
At those words, the servants began to murmur among themselves.
"She didn't even inspect the decorations today."
"Only yesterday she was telling us to treat the rehearsal as if it were the real wedding."
"Do you suppose something urgent came up?"
"This is the first time the head maid has ever been absent, isn't it?"
Listening to them, an ominous feeling began to stir.
Surely not...
A memory from her previous life rose. Freya had never been in good health. She never once complained, even beneath crushing work, but the moment she pushed herself too far she went pale. Even so, she never let a trace of it show, and she drove the work through to the end. Whenever that happened, she vanished without a word, only to reappear hours later with an utterly ordinary face, perfectly composed, brushing it aside with the claim that other duties had called her away.
...That habit of hers hasn't changed, has it.
Odelli rose slowly from her seat.
"Leona. I'm going to step out for a moment."
"What? My lady, where are you—"
Instead of answering, Odelli walked quickly down the corridor toward a remote place the ordinary maids did not know. Once a laundry, it was now long closed with age—the one secret space where Freya could remain a weak person.
Please, let her be safe...
Anxious, Odelli quickened her steps, and the moment she arrived she flung the door open. She drew in a sharp breath.
"...Freya!"
Freya was leaning against the wall with her knees drawn in, her upper body slowly folding forward. Her skin was nearly the color of blank paper. Her breathing was shallow and irregular. Her pulse was weak, and there was almost no warmth left in her fingertips.
Cardiac syncope. The chronic illness Odelli had come to know in her previous life. Then, it had ended as a simple faint. This time her condition looked far more grave—prolonged overwork, the pressure of the wedding preparations, and the trauma of the past. This was not mere exhaustion. If the moment for treatment was missed, it could truly be dangerous.
Odelli knelt without hesitation.
"It's all right. I'll make sure you never have to hurt like this again."
She reached out and laid her palm close to Freya's chest. A quiet golden current bloomed at her fingertips, but this time the method was different. She focused on the irregular tremor of the heart beneath her hand. Deep under the skin, in the vessels bound to the heart, she sensed the dark, old residue of pain clinging there. Odelli began to draw it slowly into her own body and erase it. She did not rush. She tried to hold on to her calm. She had to call forth her power far more slowly than usual, and with exquisite care.
She felt the energy of purification spread, as if it were wrapping the heart and the vessels, and there a soft, warm pulse began to flow anew—as if worn, damaged gears were being replaced with new ones. It was only an instant, yet it felt long, as if time itself had stopped.
And at last—
Freya's chest rose, quietly.
"Haa..."
Only then did Odelli let out a sigh of relief and carefully take her hand.
Tearing the chronic illness out by the root had cost her a great deal of magic. Cold sweat beaded on her brow, and her whole body began to ache. Strength drained from her little by little, and the Contract Marriage Articles she shared with Ludville rose in her mind, but...
I kept the promise of only once, didn't I?
Besides, this time she had not coughed up blood, and her mind was clear. In its own way, hadn't she managed rather well?
...Quietly, and all alone, Odelli rationalized it to herself.