It was a house surrounded by a forest and close to a town, so even if she might be looked at strangely at first—after all, she would be a stranger there—she should be able to adapt.
Astrid fell to the ground, looking around and rubbing her eyes, not understanding what had happened. At one point, she searched for my gaze, hoping I would explain what had just occurred.
"We're in Pradiles," I said in a flat voice. "You'll live here from now on." I pointed to the house—humble, but large enough that she wouldn't lack anything.
She frowned.
"Pradiles?" she murmured. "But Pradiles is thousands of miles from Demor… How?" Her voice faltered with doubt. "How did we get here? In an instant…"
She looked at me again, trying to understand, feeling as if she didn't know me at all. As if a realization had dawned on her, her eyes grew watery, a mix of helplessness and even a bit of anger.
"So you were hiding it all this time? How can you? Do you have some rare affinity?"
Her mind kept analyzing, thinking, searching for answers she didn't have.
"I don't have magic, Astrid. I didn't hide anything, but that doesn't mean I'm powerless."
Her eyes widened.
"You're not going to explain anything to me, are you? You just did something I've never heard of even a ninth-circle mage doing, and you're just going to leave me here… Are you leaving because you don't care about me?"
I lowered my gaze. Why would I do anything different? You owe me, not the other way around—I thought, considering everything I had done for her, whether she knew it or not.
I didn't continue the conversation. I took Adela's hand and returned to Demor.
I threw myself onto the bed, exhausted.
Adela looked at me, a little worried but also seemingly relieved.
…
The next day, in Elizabeth's office.
She lifted her head and put on a professional smile as she received her guest.
"Marquis of Lothe, I must say I was surprised you accepted my invitation."
He was practically a carbon copy of his sister, though his gloomy gaze and unkempt appearance didn't make the best impression.
"I know why you're saying that, Marchioness," he replied. His voice was raspy, dark, and dull.
But… he looked around at the people in the room with hesitation. Elizabeth, understanding that what the marquis wanted to discuss was best done in private, signaled for them to leave.
"Please," Elizabeth gestured with her hand, "have a seat and let's talk. I can assure you that whatever we discuss will not leave this room," she added with that cunning cat-like smile.
The marquis sat down and, while fidgeting with his hands as if considering how to say what he wanted, he blurted out:
"You know, I don't like my nephew… Ever since he was born, my sister hasn't returned to our home, not even to say hello."
Although his words seemed to explain the reason for his dislike, the way he behaved made it clear that wasn't all. He clenched his hands tightly, hurting himself with his own nails from the force he used.
"My sister…" His eyes showed a possessiveness that should never exist in a brother. "Ever since she had a son and married that… that useless man," he hesitated for a second when referring to the emperor, "she no longer pays attention to me the way she used to."
His eyes seemed to drift to a moment in the past when he was happy with the empress. The expression of happiness mixed with morbid desire on his face disgusted Elizabeth, but she didn't break her poker face; she kept her composure without showing her true emotions.
"I don't understand, Marquis. Why are you telling me all this? What do you expect me to do?" she asked coldly. "Supporting Elara would certainly bring down Leonardo, but it would also make your sister hate you."
Upon hearing her words, the marquis seemed to snap out of his trance. He straightened in his chair and looked at Elizabeth. Although his face flushed with shame, he didn't back down from his intentions.
"You know? I've been collecting paintings of Caelia since she was a child, but lately, with her so far away, it's become very difficult to get them. And I know there's nothing Nexus can't obtain."
"So you would sell out your nephew for a painting of your sister?"
Her words visibly affected him, and he answered angrily:
"Not just any painting. And I don't want just one; I want all her expressions: in lingerie, in her gala dresses… I want everything you can get."
They continued discussing for a while longer until, finally, the marquis left. At that moment, Elizabeth's calm completely shattered. She immediately called one of her employees and ordered, in a sharp voice, that everything the man had touched be cleaned and replaced.
"To think he would be such a disgusting person…" she whispered to herself, her expression pure disgust. "But to have overlooked such a clear weakness… it seems this marquis isn't as simple as we thought."
…
While reading Elizabeth's report, Adela's face couldn't have been more comical.
"What's wrong, Adela?" I asked, watching as her face twisted into a grimace that mixed nausea with disbelief. "Don't tell me the great secret of Marquis Lothe is that he collects the imperial family's used socks… or something like that?"
I let out a small laugh, leaning back in my seat with total nonchalance.
"Because if that's the case, I hope they're at least silk."
Adela didn't answer right away. Instead, she placed the report on the table with the tips of her fingers, as if the paper itself were contaminated.
"I wish it were socks, Master," she hissed, her eyes gleaming with a dark spark of her black magic. "Marquis Lothe doesn't want clothes; he wants his own sister. Or at least, images of her…"
My burst of laughter filled the room. I couldn't stop, to the point that tears came out. Adela looked at me reproachfully:
"Master, this is not something you should laugh about."
Still laughing with every word, I replied:
"It's just that, Adela…" I said between laughs, wiping away a tear that had fallen. "I've met many people with strange tastes, but this type never fails to surprise me."
She frowned in disapproval.
"Master, given the relationship you have with your sisters, you shouldn't be mocking…"
I stopped and looked at her. She had a point, I thought.
"Adela, technically they're not my sisters, it's different; besides, it's not because of their relationship that it amuses me," I tried to defend myself, catching my breath as the laughter finally faded.
I settled back into my seat, setting aside the jokes to recover the cold, lazy tone that belonged to me.
"Anyway, fulfilling what he's asking for is easy, but tell Elizabeth we won't need the Marquis. We're not going to sell pictures of a woman to get his pathetic support. Our next target will be Leonardo directly. With two dukes on our side and Sylvia breaking the limit, there's no reason not to go straight for Elara's only competitor."
…
In another room of the Imperial Academy of Demor, two figures wrapped in black robes discussed in whispers.
"Are you sure?" one of them asked.
"There's no doubt. It's her; she's identical," the other replied coldly.
"Mmm… And what about him? What do you think?"
"For now, he's not our priority. She seems to be the greater threat."
The first one nodded silently. The room fell into an ominous silence, like a harbinger of what was to come.