Chapter : 75
“…Who…? Cough…”
Before she could finish the sentence, a fit of coughing burst out. Roxana instinctively covered her mouth and checked her palm. Thankfully, there was no blood. The woman in the white mask gently patted Roxana’s back as her shoulders shook with coughing.
“Careful. You’ve basically died once and come back to life—no wonder you’re not fully recovered yet.”
The mask looked familiar, and the voice sounded vaguely recognizable. It was the voice that had been giving instructions right beside her when she had been hovering on the brink of death. After finally stopping her coughing, Roxana lifted her head.
“Who are you?”
“Tessa. Just call me Tessa. I’m a gypsy with ties to Curtis. How’s your body—feeling alright now?”
“Ah… yes.”
She was the gypsy who had dropped her mask on the day of the festival. Realizing who she was, Roxana nodded blankly.
“That’s a relief. Truly a relief. You almost died for good—your eyes opened again at the very last moment.”
“Almost… died…”
“Do you remember collapsing after taking poison?”
“Ah…”
At Tessa’s question, fragments of her conversation with Curtis surfaced. At the same time, it felt as though cold water had been poured over her head, clearing her mind. Gritting her teeth, Roxana pushed herself upright and leaned against the headboard.
“Be careful, I said.”
“What happened while I was out? Where is this place—and where is Curtis?”
The answer came not from Tessa, but from the woman standing behind her.
“This is the royal castle of the Duchy of Anatole.”
“Your Grace.”
Tessa stood and yielded her seat to Duchess Margaret. Taking the chair naturally, the Duchess continued.
“You arrived here three days ago—without a breath left in you.”
The moment Roxana heard her voice, she recognized her. Her demeanor and manner of speech were entirely different from when they had met at the villa. Back then, she had been a gentle noblewoman who led conversations with ease. Now, she was every inch the dignified queen of a nation. That former image must have been the mask—and this, her true self.
Lowering her head briefly to grasp the situation, Roxana asked again,
“…Without a breath?”
Her mind was in chaos, filled with scattered memories. She pressed both hands to her throbbing temples.
“That’s right. If it weren’t for a medicine passed down through the royal family, you would’ve gone straight to the grave.”
That meant the Duchess was her savior. Even as her head spun with dizziness, Roxana tried to rise to express her gratitude.
“How can I ever thank—”
“It’s fine. You’re a patient.”
Though she had survived, she had still come back from death. The Duchess firmly stopped Roxana from leaving the bed and dismissed her thanks.
“Besides, I didn’t save you out of personal kindness. I merely kept a promise I made to the Marquis of the Borderlands.”
“A promise…”
As if unwilling to elaborate, the Duchess fell silent. At the mention of Curtis again, Roxana urgently asked,
“Him! What happened to him? Why am I the only one here?”
“Well…”
The Duchess turned to Tessa with a troubled expression. After a silent exchange between the two women, the Duchess excused herself, saying she had matters to attend to. Tessa sat back down and asked,
“How much do you remember?”
“That the castle was about to be invaded, and that I collapsed coughing up blood just as we were about to leave.”
Even the conversation she had shared with Curtis while hovering on the brink of death resurfaced faintly.
You are my enemy’s daughter, but even so, I love you, Roxana.
As she replayed his confession, blood surged through her chilled body, and her heart began to race. Though she lay in bed, a strange sensation of floating washed over her. Despite the hopeless circumstances, her cheeks burned uncontrollably.
Watching her, Tessa clicked her tongue softly.
“When I left that place, the war was still ongoing.”
War.
Her rapidly pounding heart plummeted in an instant. Roxana’s face drained of color as she threw off the blanket and tried to stand. A startled Tessa sprang up to stop her.
“No.”
“Please, move.”
“Your condition still—”
“Move!”
In the end, Roxana collapsed after only a few steps.
“So in the end…”
All strength drained from her body, and the color faded from her face. Bracing herself against the floor, she slowly lifted her head.
“Did he send me here? He didn’t, did he?”
“Well—”
“He promised he wouldn’t leave me. He promised!”
Her voice turned into a near scream. Grabbing Tessa’s arm as she tried to help her up, Roxana cried out,
“Then why did he bring me here?!”
“There was no other way! This was the only place where you could be saved. I crossed the border at the risk of my life to get you here—and even this land is still at war. It wasn’t easy!”
Abandoning the attempt to lift her, Tessa bent her knees and met Roxana at eye level.
“He made the best possible choice. Rather than all of you—”
Her voice trembled, unable to finish.
“Rather than all of us dying together?”
Roxana muttered bitterly, her face flushed with rage. Tessa lowered her head and avoided her gaze. Clutching her left chest, Roxana roared, her eyes bloodshot.
“Who gets to decide that? Who decides what’s better and what isn’t?”
“Miss…”
This was the result of him saving her life. He sent her away to safety—and stayed behind himself?
“In the end, he’s going to die because of me. I’m the one who killed him!”
The faces of the people dear to her flashed through her mind—Curtis, Frey, Robert, Alice, Cassie, Shiloh, Hans….
His decision to send her away was the same as offering countless lives as the price, leaving her alone to survive.
“Curtis might win. Without you, it’s as good as having no decisive evidence.”
“I’m not a child. The fact that he stood against the king alone means there’s no way out for him.”
Negotiations might be possible. Considering his achievements and the knights who followed him, he might even save the lives of the territory’s people. But Curtis’s own life would not be among them.
“I’m going back.”
The conflict was brief; the conclusion clear. He said he loved her, yet went off to die alone. Leaving her to live that miserable life again. A life like that was worse than death itself. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t let Curtis shoulder everything and sacrifice himself.
Her fury at the man who made such a foolish choice reignited the fading embers of her life. This wasn’t like when she had lost reason upon hearing the abbess’s death. Her mind was cold—but her heart burned hotter than ever.
“I have to go back.”
Summoning every last bit of strength, Roxana pushed herself up using the bed. Tessa, pale-faced, tried to stop her.
“You’ve lost your mind! How do you plan to do that? Even if you go, what will change? You’ll only make things worse!”
“That’s—”
“You’re awake.”
Roxana was about to answer when the door opened and someone entered.
“Sir Greg.”
Recognizing him, Roxana blinked silently. Striding forward, Greg supported Tessa.
“She’s right. Your body hasn’t recovered yet. You might die on the way.”
“So you’re telling me to sit here and wait to hear that he’s dead?”
The hope that he might be on her side shattered. Disappointment and despair twisted Roxana’s face. Greg let out a small sigh and spoke quietly.
“Curtis will probably surrender. Frey has been taken hostage.”
“Frey…?”
It was news she hadn’t anticipated. Reeling from the consecutive shocks, Roxana collapsed back onto the bed.
“With his sister’s life, the lives of the people, and the soldiers at stake, he’ll try to negotiate with the king. He’s responsible to a fault—and now that you’re safe here, he won’t charge ahead blindly.”
“Then on the other side of the scales…”
“His own life. He’ll confess to every crime the king lays before him and offer his neck without resistance.”
Roxana’s life would likely be exchanged for Count Otis’s. Greg swallowed the rest of his words, recalling the shabby man in the dungeon.
“Even if you return now, nothing will improve. Realistically speaking.”
The air in the room sank heavily. Tessa bowed her head in despair, Greg sealed his lips tight. Roxana turned her face away, biting her lower lip.
Unable to bear the long silence, Tessa finally spoke.
“Miss… for now, you should focus on recovering—”
“If he surrenders, how long will it take until the trial and execution?”
Roxana cut her off and asked Greg. Both Tessa and Greg stared at her in shock. They had expected a broken, despairing face—but instead, she looked calm and composed. Her eyes, once clouded by turbulent emotions, were now strikingly clear.
“How long will it take?”
As Greg stood speechless, Roxana asked again. Clearing his throat, he answered after a moment’s thought.
“They’ll need to transport him to the royal capital, and the Grand Dukes must attend as jurors… It’ll probably take about ten days before the trial.”
“Then leaving from here the day after tomorrow should be sufficient.”
Had that sharp gaze been the glint of madness? The ray of light that had flared in the darkness was now steadily burning down. Reading the concern in their eyes, Roxana added reassuringly,
“Don’t worry. I have a plan.”
“What on earth are you planning to do?”
A horrified Tessa demanded. Roxana turned to her and answered softly,
“I’ll surrender to the king of my own accord—and stand trial.”
