Chapter 55. Once More, and Then Once Again
“That was so long ago.”
With a sharp voice, Patricia pulled her hand from Leopold’s. Her attitude toward the emperor was blatantly rude, but Leopold just chuckled. Patricia could be endlessly sweet when it suited her, but just as easily turned thorny. He liked her for that—if it ever annoyed him, he’d just stop seeing her. To Leopold, Patricia Bütein meant little more than that. Leaning on the window frame, Leopold breathed in the crisp air. He liked the peaceful countryside, but Patricia kept complaining about this backwater place.
“Daniel probably doesn’t even remember your name or face, Patricia. The role of tragic, selfless lover doesn’t suit you.”
Whack! A pillow flew at Leopold, hitting him square on the neck.
“Don’t be ridiculous! That’s not true! I don’t even remember that half-blooded bastard.”
“Is that so?”
Leopold ran his hand through his tousled hair and glanced out the window with a grin.
“Then is it just a coincidence that the Baroness Bütein’s house is crawling with dark-haired male servants?”
The emperor’s orders must have gone out; the courtyard outside was getting noisier. Of the two male servants, one had dark hair—and it wasn’t unusual to see eyes just like Daniel’s.
“That’s… well, out here, every servant comes from Lapas…”
“Tsk, Patricia.”
Leopold clicked his tongue, curling his lip in disdain. Patricia quickly realized it. The Emperor’s cold blue eyes—so much like the Dowager Empress’s—were not amused.
“I don’t care who you take to your bed. With your husband dead and your child taken by the Bütein family, you need some entertainment. But…”
Patricia knew better than anyone that he could be even colder than his mother.
“Just don’t do it in front of me. And don’t ever try to pass off some dark-haired child as mine.”
With his radiant gold hair and cloudless blue eyes, he looked like spring itself, but was truly the Dowager Empress Marguerite’s son—no warmth or pity in him.
“You should live like a flower, Patricia. You left your first love behind and chased after a rich husband, didn’t you? Or was it just one-sided love on your part?”
Even under the warmest spring sun, his words were pure frost. Patricia, feeding off that coldness for her own survival, only gave a crooked smile.
“Anyway, take me with you. If I stay here any longer, I’ll go mad. Besides, you’ll be bored without me. Isn’t it even more rural where you’re going? I heard there aren’t even proper noblewomen there. Are you going to bed your maids?”
Ha! Patricia’s crooked smile broke into a wide grin.
“The Dowager Empress will faint if she hears. She can’t even stand to see me, but you’d bring a maid as your mistress?”
The more she thought about it, the more she burst out laughing.
“Oh, it’s too funny. I wish I could see her face.”
Leopold, who had been staring at her coldly, finally laughed too.
“I’d like to see it myself.”
Something told him there’d be plenty of entertainment soon.
“The fifth floor… really?”
He hadn’t even finished preparations for the knighting ceremony, and now he was being told to remodel the fifth floor of Marian Hall for the duchess’s bedroom? Now there were twenty-five urgent tasks to finish before the year was half over. Stefan suspected the Duke was trying to work him to death instead of throwing him to the wolves. Did they even have the money for this?
“Given the castle’s finances, wouldn’t it be better to handle urgent matters first, step by step?”
Stefan was never good at sugarcoating things to avoid offending his lord’s pride. If he had that skill, he would’ve thrived in Chellino, too. As a tutor, he’d been fired more than once for speaking too bluntly to the nobles who hired him. The only difference now was that the Duke of Richard never showed his feelings—he couldn’t even tell if he’d crossed a line or not.
“Of course, preparing a bedroom for the mistress of the house is important. But the ceremony and the duchess’s autumn project will require a lot of money as well.”
And the uniforms—the duchess had chosen purple. Just decorating them with purple thread would cost a fortune, not to mention the cloaks, horse tack, and banners. Stefan began to seriously doubt the duke and duchess had any financial sense.
“Dominic.”
The Duke, back at his desk for the first time in a while, called the name. Dominic Mollie, annoyingly smug, came over with a rolled-up document.
“Read this.”
Stefan, scowling with dread, opened the document—and by the middle, his eyes were as wide as Heinrich’s.
“You own a gold mine?”
Dominic replied instead of the Duke, who was quietly reading Stefan’s report.
“Yes. Of the twenty Lapas mountains the lord owns, gold veins were found in ten, and gold from five of them is stored as coins in the Duchy of Veneto. The paper you’re holding is a withdrawal permit for some of it.”
That wasn’t the question. Stefan glared at Dominic and looked at the top of the Duke’s head.
“Does Schendel Castle know about this?”
The Duke never looked up.
“Now you do—so they will soon enough.”
His tone was casual.
“I don’t care if you tell them. It’s up to you who you serve.”
So it begins. Stefan realized the Duke was testing him and clutched the paper tightly.
“That’ll cover the entire fifth floor renovation, then. Get to it.”
Dismissed. The Duke never once made eye contact, not even by accident. Sometimes Stefan would sense a chill and turn to see the Duke staring at him from a distance, as if he wanted to freeze him solid.
“It’s true I came here to report to the Imperial family, but now my loyalty is to you. Give me an order—should I inform Schendel Castle about the mine, or not?”
He heard Dominic snicker, but Stefan never looked away from the Duke. He was ready to die either way, but as the Duke finally looked up and met his eyes, Stefan shivered involuntarily. Those were the eyes of a predator.
“Testing my loyalty?”
“No, not at all—”
“Just serve the Imperial family, Baron. I don’t need you.”
Dominic’s laughter grew louder. Stefan sighed and made one last plea.
“Please reconsider moving the duchess’s room to the fifth floor. It’s too high and remote for someone as delicate as she is. What if she falls down the stairs?”
“As soon as it’s ready, move her bedroom to the fifth floor. Turn her current room into her office. Anything else?”
He looked ready to throw him out the window if he said one more word.
“…No, sir.”
As Stefan left the study, Dominic finally let out his laughter.
“Haha, what did I tell you? Our new steward’s got a surprisingly sharp tongue.”
Daniel stood and walked to the window.
“Did you get a confession?”
Dominic scratched his head, uncomfortable.
“It’s strange. She keeps insisting she doesn’t know anything, and I almost believe her.”
“Find out. I want to know exactly when she started spying on Frida, and what she leaked to the palace. Don’t leave out a thing.”
As Daniel looked out over the noisy courtyard, he saw a white hat fluttering in the wind. A small hand reached up to catch it, and Ricardo quickly moved behind the petite woman to block the wind. The other mercenaries gathered around Frida. Soon, her laughter and their cheerful voices drifted up to Daniel’s window.
“The tailor must be here.”
Dominic craned to look out.
“Looks like it. The men are excited about the purple uniforms—they say if they wear them into battle, they’ll go straight to heaven.”
Dominic’s chatter faded into the background as Daniel’s thoughts drifted to Frida.
“I love you, too. I want to love you more, every day.”
She’d been afraid of living a life full of anxiety and tears, wondering if he would ever let her go.
“So unless you truly hate me, please don’t push me away.”
Honestly, even if she’d told him she hated him, he might still have clung to her. His longing had already reached the point of no return.
“I want to spend the rest of my life as your wife, Daniel.”
Whether he wanted it or not, she would always be his wife—until her very last day, and beyond.
“Frida.”
It was a faint, almost whispered name—Dominic didn’t even hear it. Yet, as if by magic, Frida looked up at the study window, as if she’d heard him. She held her hat with one hand, and with the other, she waved at him.
“Daniel!”
And with the sweetest voice in the world, she called out to him.
“Daniel!”
Once more.
“Daniel! Over here, look!”
Again, her clear, eager voice rang through Munheim Castle, begging him to look her way.
Frida’s voice danced through the green leaves and carried on the spring breeze, brushing against Daniel’s tousled hair. Like a woman made of spring, she floated to him on the wind. When he didn’t answer, her calls soon faded away.
“Why don’t you answer her? She’s calling for you so desperately.”
Dominic’s nagging echoed, but Daniel only heard her voice—Daniel, Daniel, Daniel—over and over.
After greeting the tailor, Frida stepped into the first-floor hall and took off her hat. She frowned, glancing at Muriel as she took it.
“Where’s Matilda?”
“Adele doesn’t know either.”
“She said her family lives outside the castle, right?”
“Yes. I heard her three younger siblings live by the well.”
Matilda had been missing for three days. At first, they thought she’d just gone home for something urgent, but now they were starting to worry.
“She’s not the type to disappear without a word. Muriel, stop by her house tomorrow, will you? She might be sick.”
“Yes, my lady. Um, the Duke is over there.”
Muriel pointed, and Frida spotted Daniel at the foot of the stairs. She beamed and hurried to him.
“Daniel. Did you see me just now? I was waving and calling for you.”
Daniel said nothing, but reached out his hand.
“Daniel?”
Puzzled, Frida took his hand without resistance.
“Ah!”
With a sudden, strong motion, Daniel swept her up in his arms.
