/
Pepe clicked her tongue as she tapped on Lia’s back.
“You really didn’t know? He was there for quite a while.”
“Why?”
“It was the Duke who told me that you were sick. I had gone to the market for a bit.”
Lia touched her forehead in disbelief. It was only for a moment that she had a high fever and that she was under the influence of medicine. But, she didn’t think that he would come back so quickly.
LIa held her thin pajamas tightly. Then Pepe stood up and draped a blanket over Lia’s shoulders.
“It’s monsoon season so the air is cold even though it’s summer. Why are you worried? That you might have been caught?”
She readjusted the blanket that Pepe had given her and slowly lifted her gaze.
“Wasn’t he acting odd?”
Pepe considered this and answered, “No, not at all. He was scary, as usual. He said, ‘Take care of your master,’ and left. He seemed very worried.”
Lia, who was serious, laughed at the words “scary, as usual.” But the moment she started laughing, a forgotten sorrow returned.
“No. It probably wasn’t because he was worried.”
“Why? What?”
“The Duke doesn’t like me.”
Lia stood up with difficulty. Her head was hazy like she was getting another fever.
Pepe stood up with her and carefully supported her.
“Pepe, do you think a war will actually take place?”
“Duke Maximilian passed away. The people of the North have already prepared weapons. He was so beloved. I have heard that they prepared a funeral so fancy that the one in the Capital doesn’t even compare,” explained Pepe.
“Then the Duke will go personally right?”
“I’m not sure, but won’t he go with the noble generals?”
Lia nodded. Then she went back to her room and lay down on her bed. Where would he have sat? Would he have sat on the chair and looked at her? Why did he do it? He had said mean things and yet—
Lia brushed the sheet. It held a trace of lavender scent. Then she felt something. She got up and lifted the sheet. There she discovered a brooch. The brooch bore a flower, the clematis, a symbol all too familiar to her—the symbol of the Ihar family.
Lia blankly held it in her palm.
Could he have left it here by mistake?
Lia considered the possibilities. It was too important for him to leave it by mistake, so it was probably an excuse for him to return. Lia covered it in a cloth and put it in a dresser drawer.
Even though she didn’t know when Claude would come back, it was something she had to return to him. If an opportunity didn’t present itself, then she could ask Kieran.
She stared sadly at the brooch shrouded in a black cloth. She uncovered it and ran her fingers over the top. It was the brooch that he always wore on his collar as it was rusty.
Lia shone a lantern light on it. But the jewel didn’t let any light through.
Is it because it’s a clean and pure jewel? It is like its owner who doesn’t show his thoughts at all? How am I supposed to forget you if you keep leaving traces of yourself?
The moonlight shone on her as she stood in front of the dresser. Her pale toes trembled.
***
Kieran, dressed in a robe, quickly rushed down to the drawing room at the sudden appearance of a guest. He was sweating. Since the day Duke Maximilian was assassinated, he couldn’t meet Claude for a very personal reason—he felt guilty for helping Prince Ian and his men get away. Kieran knew full well that Claude would be chasing them.
Kieran couldn’t believe that Claude would arrive now. He figured the Duke would have already left for the North.
Kieran calmed his breathing as he walked down the hallway leading to the meeting room. Kieran entered the meeting room and Claude, seated on the sofa, lifted his head, looking exhausted.
Kieran showed proper respect to Duke Claude. The Duke scoffed at the absurdity of Kieran mustering respect while clad in pajamas.
“It’s been a while,” said Claude.
“I thought you had left for the North,” said Kieran, maintaining formality.
“At ease, Kieran. It’s only the two of us here.”
Claude handed him a glass half full of a dark red alcohol. Kieran’s eyes shook—it was the same color as the tea Duke Maximilian had drunk.
Nevertheless, Kieran chugged the drink that had been given to him. As he didn’t enjoy drinking, he was overwhelmed by the burning sensation the drink had produced in his throat.
“You’re both so competitive,” mumbled Claude.
Kieran, his face red from the alcohol, sat down, wiping his mouth.
“Is this about Canillian again?”
“He’s sick. He has a fever.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
Did Claude visit Canillian before coming here? Kieran had a stern look on his face and stared at Claude. Then Claude leaned against the arm of the sofa with a mouthful of alcohol.
“It was Eren Sergio that planned the poisoning.”
“How can you be sure?”
“One of the pieces of trash that you tried to help run away to Geore admitted it. Of course, it could be a plan to harm Eren Sergio. But that’s Geore’s problem.”
Claude leaned his head back as he spoke: “So tell your friend Ian Sergio. This war is going to be tenacious and long.”
“Claude. You’re really going to start a war? There will be bloodbath in our Empire too. What about the nobles and anarchists who are after territories while the power is weakened? What about the people who have to put their lives on the line?”
“Do you think this is as simple as revenge, Kieran?”
“No, I know it’s not simple. But—”
“There’s already a war going on in the neutral ground. Do you know how many of my soldiers died from Geore’s archers?”
Kieran stayed silent with his fist clenched.
It certainly won’t be easy. The neutral ground, already in a stalemate, would be ruined.