Gradually, thanks in part to a tincture of honey and a glass of wine with dried fruit — which Karina kindly brought me — my condition improved. I must admit, I hadn't expected her to worry so much, or to stay in my room, spending both work and personal time with me. Nor had I expected that on such a composed and serious face, longing and concern would begin to show.
That those green, gleaming eyes, hidden behind rows of black lashes, would tremble as Karina examined her lady, fearing her condition might worsen…
…And how am I to live on with such a vile idea in my heart?
After all, at first, on that day, I had merely spotted a potentially useful ally. I had appointed her to serve me, keeping in mind that I should present myself in a favourable light so she would have no doubts. To draw her close, blindfold her, tie her hands… To ensure the maid would side with me and obey my orders without question. Just a game, nothing more…
Yet it all began earlier — after she spoke of resigning. At that moment, my heart grew clouded and my head felt heavier. I attributed it to discomfort at the time.
Now, I don't understand. Nothing. Is it truly only because finding a replacement would be difficult that I don't want to let her go, or… Is there something more at play?
Setting that matter aside for now — it's worth mentioning that the count hasn't come again. He turns up his long nose, full of pride.
And another thing… I had a strange feeling that while I was unconscious, someone had visited me. There was a cloying, sour aura, one that didn't feel like Bernard's or Karina's. It was as if someone spoke to me — something unpleasant, or incomprehensible.
Or perhaps I'm just imagining it.
In any case, that's beside the point.
While I was still recovering, rubbing the dark circles under my eyes, the commission arrived. A group of richly dressed men from the Imperial Palace, tasked with conducting interrogations. As I was told, the crown prince — Aesk — regained consciousness only several days later, until then murmuring incoherent words about the forest and a certain girl. After waking, he recounted what had happened, and as the Vanos family had been present at the scene, officials were sent to the estate. Their task was to question everyone, including the servants.
"The man sat down on a chair and picked up some papers from the table, shifting his gaze to the pink‑haired girl, who had crossed one leg over the other.
— So, miss…
— Nova.
— …Nova. Please tell me what you were doing on the evening of September 10th, and whether you saw anything suspicious, perhaps?
The girl tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder and looked upward, recalling the events. Then, as the commissioner noticed, with a hint of displeasure, she spoke:
— I didn't see anything. How could I see anything when I spend my days cleaning rooms? If there had been something to see… That evening I was washing dishes and dusting, just as usual, — she exhaled through her nose, folding her arms across her chest.
The man gave a half‑hearted hum of acknowledgement, stretched out a moment, and jotted something down on his sheet. Then he glanced over the maid, his eyes accidentally lingering on her cheek.
— And what is that scar on your left cheek, miss Nova? It looks fresh.
Nova furrowed her brow and pursed her plump lips.
— Is that really important? — Then, as if struck by an idea, she answered more enthusiastically, lifting the corners of her lips: — Though you know… One maid, Karina, has rather loose hands. Nothing but trouble from that little troublemaker.
The commissioner raised his eyebrows and gave another drawn‑out hum, making a new note on his sheets.
— Very well, you may go. Now, please send Miss Karina in.
The man leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. Nova straightened her brows and smiled, disappearing behind the door."
"— Good day, Miss Karina, I presume?
— Yes. — Outwardly, there was no sign she was perplexed. Likely, this was her greatest skill.
Karina sat down on the chair and, back straight, rested her hands on the edge of the table.
The man asked her precisely the same questions he had asked the others: what she had been doing, whether she had noticed anything unusual. Finally, after receiving a negative answer, he looked up.
— Now I would like to ask you a special question. — Karina showed no sign of unease, nothing at all. She sat just as she had at the beginning. Not a single muscle in her face twitched, even after he posed the "special" question.
— Was the reason for your conflict with Miss Nova more serious than the usual rivalry squabbles?
— No, — came the near‑instant reply, not once hesitant. — Ordinary bickering.
Ilissa needn't have worried so much. Unlike her fears, Karina would surely have been the chief enemy of any torture chamber. Alongside partisan silence, Karina kept her lady's secret."
Of course, the interrogation didn't bypass me either.
And in truth… I believe I would have been suspected for certain — if not for one detail. The strange thing was that the imperial commission showed no real interest in the case. A plot against the crown prince's life, no less! Yet it all felt like mere formalities.
Yes, this certainly worked in my favour. But isn't it odd?
— Hah…
With a weary exhale, I tilted my head back, leaning against the wall behind the bed.
***
(Prince.)
Then I barely managed to peel my eyes open, trying to grasp why the familiar ceiling loomed above me — not the snow‑white clouds and a sweet‑faced angel.
Though, most likely, a cauldron would have awaited me. The only upside: a horned jester…
— Hah…
— Your Highness!
Now, alongside the ceiling, my field of vision caught my chalk‑pale attendant.
— Hale.
His fiery ruby eyes darted over my blue ones with a hint of surprise.
— Your Highness, how are you?
I let out a heavy sigh, trying to sit up. Hale's hand immediately slipped under my arm.
— You're at it again… I told you to drop those long‑winded phrases. You're just wasting breath.
Hale straightened his brows and helped me lean against the headboard.
— Sir, how do you feel? The wound hasn't fully healed yet.
— The wound…
I touched the bandaged abdomen. And the pain I'd been ignoring flared up with fresh intensity.
— Hm, not great. What worries me more is whether my precious muscles have weakened.
My palm ran up my torso, tracing the contours. Then I flexed my shoulders, testing the muscles' strength.
Hale grimaced — as he always did — and stepped back a couple of paces, covering his eyes with his hand. He was a young man of sturdy build, with a suspicious nature. A bold stubborn one — that's how I'd assessed him at first, and I hadn't changed my mind.
— No wonder. Won't you even ask what happened?
I tore my gaze from my body and fixed it on the man.
— Why should I ask what happened to me? I'm still in my right mind. Better tell me how long I've been out of commission.
— A few days. The physician says your condition has stabilised. Just don't overexert yourself.
Silence fell over the room. It was rather unpleasant to realise that just days ago, someone's filthy blade had been inside my body.
That day, I was returning from my favourite tavern, having left my sword with the owner as a gift. Who knew I'd be brazenly attacked from behind, driven into a dark forest?
Likely, it was them. Quite unusual that they dared to lay hands on a prince. What goal did they pursue? Filthy bastards — how dare they test their rusty blades… on my perfect body… (Don't call me self‑centred. My main virtue is honesty.)
Speaking of which…
What happened after the wounding I remember only vaguely. Just fragments…
The only clear thing: a blurry figure in a hood. Speaking strange phrases and barely guiding me somewhere. Definitely a woman. But who? Why can't I recall her face? Did she even show it?
Then I asked Hale:
— Hale, do you know anything about who brought me to the city?
As if he'd known I'd ask, he answered without hesitation:
— No. It's a mystery to everyone.
— Interesting…
If they were involved, then likely…
— Will His Majesty cover this up, Hale? — Seeing his calm face hiding something deeper, I confirmed my thought: — How amusing. He'd rather endure an assassination attempt than answer to the people. Coward. — The golden‑shimmering strands of hair fell over my eyes as I lowered my head.
— You murmured something in your half‑conscious state… Rumours have spread like wildfire. Take a look. — Until now, Hale had been clutching a newspaper in his right hand; he held it out to me, pointing at the bold headline with his fingertip.
«The Crown Prince of the Empire Is Looking For a Lady "Of the woods"!»
At first, no one said anything, and I just stared at the paper. Then, either nervously or genuinely amused, I chuckled, bringing my hand to my lips.
— Ha‑ha… Who has such a vivid imagination? "Lady of the woods"? Ha‑ha, ha‑ha! I couldn't have made that up.
I hadn't laughed like this in ages!
"— Your Highness! Can you hear me?!
The man groaned, tormented by fever. Hot sweat rolled down his neck.
— M‑m‑hm… There, in the forest…
— What?! What about the forest? — one of the maids cried out, rushing in with a tray of water and vials. She quickly scanned the crowd surrounding the bed, then the wounded prince — clad only in trousers, with a bandage around his abdomen.
Aesk, still with eyes closed, pressed his face into his burning palm and exhaled.
— There… A girl…
— … — Hale chose to remain composed.
— A girl?! Who are you talking about? Was she the one who did this to you?! — another maid chimed in.
Hale kept watch over his lord, making sure the bandages hadn't come loose and exposed the fresh wound.
— No… Hmf… Not… Not her, — he managed to utter with his last strength, then fell silent.
— Prince?! Oh, dear God!
— Sir! — his attendant was at his side in an instant, slapping his cheek lightly.
And so, word by word, the tale of the one the crown prince had murmured about spread among the servants. From the servants — to the people. From the people — to the press. It didn't take long."
— They tried to suppress the rumour, but the news gained too much traction. His Majesty plans to push the narrative of common bandits, — Hale announced, ignoring my chuckles.
— Well, that's utter nonsense. Though, I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything else.
I crumpled the newspaper and tossed it toward the door — immediately regretting it as the sharp motion stirred discomfort in my stiffened muscles. While rubbing my arm, I turned my head slightly toward Hale.
— Is Taylor here?
Golden rays of sunlight filled the room, illuminating our faces.
— Yes.
- Tell her to come by. At least my younger brother deserves a visit from that ungrateful soul.
— The princess already came to see you earlier.
— And here I thought she'd already mourned me prematurely, ha, — I retorted with good‑natured irony.
"Though, knowing that nitpicker, I might not get off with mere scolding."
***
A brisk breeze bared my sensitive skin, tossing the strands of unruly hair and the fabric of my nightgown. The yellow glow of the sunset was soothing, drawing my tired gaze to its source. The cold floor sent a chill through my bare feet. And I was thinking about everything and nothing at once… Honestly, the jumble in my head had already become more familiar than coherent thoughts. All I could do was admire the twilight, staring off into nowhere.
— My lady, — a quiet but steady voice came from behind, the voice of someone toward whom I harboured extraordinary, conflicting feelings, — don't stand barefoot — you'll catch a cold. — That was what confused me in the labyrinth… Had I strayed from my plan?
Without saying a word, I simply hopped onto the railing, dangling my legs and turning sideways. In three strides, Karina was by my side, standing close but keeping a respectful distance, her hands hovering near me.
— Please don't fall. It's dangerous.
— Spectacular, isn't it? — I asked, lost in thought, as if not really speaking to her.
Karina studied the landscape and replied without her usual emotional reserve. It was clear the natural vista truly captivated her, yet due to her reserved nature, she couldn't bring herself to show satisfaction on her face. Or rather, she could — but she didn't want to. Because that would be a mask. A façade, a lie, a formal pretence. And beside me — the one who smiles only for her, who cares, who condescends and pardons — she didn't feel the need to pretend. Didn't she? That, in fact, was my starting point.
— Beautiful.
I swung my leg and, gripping tighter, tipped backward.
— !
As soon as I did, a woman's arms wrapped around my body, squeezing me. I could hear my heart beating erratically. The girl furrowed her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes.
— What are you…
— You always save me. See, Karina? Who but you pulled me out of that agonising oblivion just a few days ago?
She searched my relaxed blue eyes and let out a breath, pulling me back to safety.
— Don't do that again. You'll crack your head, and no useless maid will be able to help you, my lady.
But she didn't take her hands away.
The corner of my pink lips curled upward, trembling slightly.
She wasn't repulsed, after all. My scheme had worked, albeit with a few flaws. It was just that Karina didn't want to harm me or drag me down. If she were just a little less painstakingly responsible…
— Useless, perhaps not. But do I have any burdens among my maids? Unless my own personal maid doubts her lady's rationality… — the tip of my finger innocently touched my cheek.
— Of course not, — the maid finally stepped back, reassured that I was steady. But she kept glancing at me, as if expecting me to pull another stunt.
And I myself was lost in my own lies. A tree branch swayed slightly, shedding another handful of leaves onto the ground.
*
*
*
«Should she have been honest? Beatrice's very nature didn't allow for sincere feelings. Yet her existence had become a burden. She didn't want to see Charles suffer. Didn't want to keep deluding herself. Didn't want to put those close to her in danger. Didn't want to keep waiting for a miracle. A small amount of fragrant liquid finally put an end to the Lady's torment.
— The Tale of Sinful Beatrice
Chapter 25, The End.»
— …
«A long‑ago fall from grace — Isida and Bela. Angel and monster. One blood, two paths. You are who you choose to be.
— The Legend of the Empire
Fortis-Regum, Section III.
Preface.»
— …
'Sin, sin, sin…'
«Bandit activity — the whole truth about the attempt on the crown prince! Warnings and defence measures…»
— Hah…
I scanned the pile of paperbacks on my bed. Some dubious romance novel borrowed from the maids; some legends and myths; and here, a news magazine. I had nothing to do. My health had nearly returned to normal, but Karina had forbidden me to leave the room. That was… rather presumptuous.
— «Bandit activity»? The antagonist (albeit a minor one) from the novel finished off by common rotten‑toothed bandits? Come on, that doesn't sound like the truth, does it? — I moved closer, then back, then closer again to the newspaper, scrutinising the printed letters. My instinct refused to trust these unsubstantiated claims.
I rubbed my chin with a finger, crossing my legs into a lotus position.
— Smells like bullshit…
I pushed all the papers aside, pressed the back of my hand to my forehead, and leaned against the wall. I was going mad.
I'd been poisoned, tormented, and now I was forced to stare at the ceiling twenty‑four hours a day, meekly keeping quiet. How infuriating.
— Tch.
"Theoretically, if I slit his veins tonight, could I escape and hide among the common folk? Would anyone even bother investigating properly?"
Just as I cut off that thought with a No, he won't get off that easy, voices rose in the corridor beyond my slightly ajar door. Soon, a glimpse of pale strands tied in a low ponytail appeared in the doorway. Karina, having bid farewell to her companion, knocked politely and stepped inside. The girl—Citea, I think—bowed deeply right there in the doorway, then scampered off with a smile.
— Seems you've gotten along? — I asked casually, accepting a pouch of cookies from Karina—she'd hidden it under her clothes, otherwise I'd never have gotten any sweets. — Thank you.
The maid shook her head as if to say It's nothing and replied:
— If you can call it that. She talks nonstop, and I just listen in.
— Oh? It looked to me like you were answering her willingly, — I said with a cunning smile, untying the pouch and hurrying to sample the treats.
Karina faltered and seemed to blush slightly.
— …
*In truth, while the lady was ill, Citea stayed by my side. Despite her own duties, she hovered nearby. Though she clouded my head with her chatter, we truly… made friends? Oh, gods. That's too strong a word, never mind.
I've always been fine alone. I rarely joined the maids' gossip—they chattered about anything and everything, never worrying about being caught, and they never really took to me. 'Poor little orphan,' as if they were the Imperial Majesties themselves. So it became habit… The lady isn't much of a talker either; I respect her for that. But Citea… Citea's no simpleton. Though her tongue runs wild. And yet, there's something about it… No, there isn't.
None of it.
Just nonsense.
Better to return to work.*
I poured half the contents into her palm.
— Take it, eat it later.
Despite a brief protest, she accepted. Then, settling onto a chair by the table, she said something that made me want to die.
— Lady, there's something else you need to know.
— ?
— Your schedule is rather full now. You must attend the ball in honour of the archduke's return, — she coughed awkwardly, — and then, without fail, visit the Novemberg family.
I slumped as if under the weight of my very existence and fell silent for a moment. But not for long: soon I let out an irritated groan and began banging my head against the wall.
— Lady!
The girl immediately sprang up and rushed to my side, slipping a hand under my head.
— Alright, if the first is clear enough, why on earth must we grace the Novembergs? — I said with a heavy sigh, rolling my eyes in helplessness.
— A greeting, my lady, — Karina lowered me onto the pillow, mindful of my well‑being.
Letting out a stunned Oh, mother dear, I propped my head up with one hand.
— Since when have we been so courteous?
The maid sat on the edge of the bed, smirking grimly.
«Wow, is that… an expression?» I thought.
— His Grace understands it's best to follow protocol. The Novembergs are well‑regarded.
— A hypocrite, not «His Grace»! When has he ever cared who's known for what? Especially after what he's done… — I added under my breath.
She merely shrugged.
— You know how it is, my lady.
Indeed, Bernard's mental troubles were no secret—or rather, an open secret. Why else would he go out of his way to paint his own daughter as a despicable wretch? Especially when it only hurt him in the end. No one respected him, no one honoured him—they kept their distance. Yet it all made sense if you assumed he simply enjoyed it. A complete sadist. That was the very least you could call him. But why target only his daughter? Could it be he left his son out of it simply because the boy clung to his skirts?
I began tracing patterns on the bedsheet, lost in thought. Noticing crumbs from my cookies, I furrowed my brow and lazily muttered:
— Damn.
Karina twitched, as if her long cat‑like ears had pricked up.
— My lady!
I met her gaze, noting how rather amusing she looked when she let go of her stone face. Then I pressed my fingers to my lips, mulling it over.
— Forgive me, such vulgar words shall no longer dare escape my sinful mouth. Lips, — I added, realising «mouth» sounded a bit too modern.
The girl let out a heavy sigh, tilting her head.
— Stop fooling around. What if you slip up like that at the ball?
Right.
The ball.
I hadn't even considered it.
— Do I really have to make an appearance?
— Absolutely.
***
The girl twirled her loose black strands around her finger, lost in thought. Her smile, kindled by the light of seemingly ordinary stars, shone just as brightly as they did.
Her nightgown fluttered with the movement of her swinging legs. The shadow from the kerosene lamp on the dresser trembled softly.
Citea had already prepared for bed when she heard a knock on the door behind her. She turned around, puzzled.
— Citea, are you… already asleep? — Karina asked, pushing open the wooden door.
— Oh, no, no, come in, Karina! I wasn't planning to sleep at all, — she lied innocently.
The latch clicked as the girl stepped inside, holding out a small orange tin box to her friend.
— Thank you, I'm returning your threads.
Citea took it and set it aside in a drawer, shifting on the bed.
— Sit here.
Karina sat down somewhat awkwardly, for some reason not declining the invitation.
— …
She could have returned them in the morning. That had been her plan, but… something told her to come now.
— There's something else…
— ?
A purple pouch appeared from under her apron — the one Karina had taken from Ilissa earlier. She poured the remaining cookies into it, and a rather strange thought crossed her mind…
— Take this too. Consider it gratitude for the favour, — the girl said, her tone perhaps sounding gloomy to an outsider. But Citea wasn't fazed at all; on the contrary, she could see everything that lay within, right there in her palm. And at that moment, she saw a person who hadn't had friends before — a slightly bewildered, awkward, and anxious person.
The maid's face lit up, blooming with genuine warmth.
— Wow! Is this for me? Really, really? Cookies? From the kitchen, right? They're probably crispy! Thank you! — she gushed habitually, nearly blowing her companion away with her exuberant exclamations.
— You really don't have to… — the blonde girl clutched her head.
Citea untied the pouch and began to drool — or so it seemed to Karina.
— There's so much here… Have some too! Why should I be the only one to gobble it all up?! — she pushed the pouch closer to the girl and looked into her eyes. So different — like a storm and a calm sea — yet now finding a compromise in each other.
Neither of them would forget that evening — not one, not the other. Until the others finally arrived, they sat together. They chatted (or rather, one of them chatted) without thinking about anything serious. The one who was always reserved and silent found something new in this: when conversation didn't irritate, but instead lifted her spirits.
That thing people call «the seed».
The seed of friendship.
***
«The count is on edge today», — those were the exact words the maid relayed to me early this morning.
— …
And so, with a whirl of thoughts, I make my way straight to his study.