Chapter 94

Odelliana moved all her belongings into the inner quarters of the poorhouse, while Rosan Cobalt returned to the place he had once called home. The quarters were small and the conditions harsh, so she brought only one servant—Malena. Yet the woman, long hardened by years of mercenary life, showed no sign of discomfort. The narrow room, the threadbare blankets, the faint smell of damp stone—all this seemed to her a luxury compared to sleeping under bridges or on open fields.

“Just endure it until the prince and my eldest brother leave the castle,” Odelliana said quietly.

“Endure? There’s nothing to endure, my lady,” Malena replied with a shrug, her tone cheerful. “I used to come to the poorhouse every day. Now I don’t even have to make the trip back and forth. I’d call that a blessing. And besides,” she grinned mischievously, “I finally get the honor of sharing a room with you.”

“Do you never regret following me?” Odelliana asked, her voice soft but probing. “You’ve done nothing but wear yourself out cleaning up after me.”

Malena snorted, the sound halfway between a laugh and a scoff.

“This? This is easy living, my lady. I don’t have to sleep in the streets, I don’t have to worry about my next meal, and I don’t have to fight anyone for coin. Sure, the volunteer work is hard, but at least it’s for something good. Helping people—well, that gives the days a bit of meaning. I feel… fulfilled, actually.”

“If it ever becomes too much, you don’t have to force yourself,” Odelliana murmured. “If you wish to leave, you can. Truly.”

“Why would you say that?” Malena frowned. “You’re the one who begged me to come with you.”

Odelliana smiled faintly at the exaggeration. “Perhaps I just wanted to say it once. You’re a great comfort to me, Malena, but I know your heart might not mirror mine. It can’t be easy serving a crippled woman. I’m hardly docile either. Sometimes I worry I’m working you too hard.”

Malena straightened, then gently pushed Odelliana into a chair. Without a word, she began to untie her mistress’s hair and run a comb through it, long, slow strokes that spoke of habit and care.

“You’re thinking foolish things again,” she said finally. “If I were unhappy, I’d have left long ago. I love money, true, but not enough to stay somewhere I hated. I’m not that desperate.”

“Even so…”

“A cramped room doesn’t bother me, and the food here tastes just fine. You don’t have to feel sorry for me. I’m not miserable, not annoyed, not anything of the sort. And besides—”

She hesitated, clearing her throat before continuing in a softer tone.

“I think… I like being able to help someone. For a long time, life was too harsh. It made me harsh too. I never knew what it felt like to give anything to anyone. But now,” her voice grew steadier, almost tender, “just hearing a thank you, even for something as small as handing out food, makes my chest feel full. It’s strange, isn’t it? Like even porridge tastes better afterward. It’s as if, by giving, I’m filling some empty part of myself. I’ve learned that here, and I think I’ll keep learning it. So really, my lady, I should be thanking you.”

Odelliana fell silent. The truth in Malena’s words struck her with quiet clarity.

Perhaps that was why she herself had come to the poorhouse so often. It wasn’t obligation, not truly. Supplying food and winter clothing, ensuring that the destitute didn’t turn to banditry—those things would have been enough. But she had insisted on coming daily, forcing her frail body into service among the tired and sick, until exhaustion left her hollow. She had often wondered why she couldn’t stop.

Now she understood.

Was it penance?

To place Jocelyn on the throne, she had waded through rivers of blood. Maybe this instinct to serve, to care for the very people she had once condemned to suffering, was her way of atonement—an unconscious effort to balance the scales. Or perhaps it was simply a longing to become something better than the wretch she once was.

“Do you think,” she murmured, “that someday I’ll find peace?”

Malena tilted her head. “Aren’t you peaceful already?”

“Not yet. My life’s still stagnant. It hasn’t begun to flow again.”

Malena didn’t seem to understand, but she wisely let the matter drop.

Odelliana looked into the mirror. The face that stared back was softer than before, color returning to cheeks once gaunt. The gloom that had clung to her seemed thinner now, almost translucent. She was living better, undeniably. But peace? That was still far away.

There was too much left unresolved: the Duke of Grüsewald, Odette, Jocelyn… the curse of the beast, the heart, the sacrifice, the secret of rebirth, and the soul of the true Odelliana. All of it weighed on her like a chain. Until those burdens were lifted, she would never be free.

“Milady!”

A shout came from outside, snapping her out of thought. Malena, who had just finished brushing her hair, turned toward the window.

“Sounds like a knight’s arrived,” she said.

“That voice… it sounds familiar.”

“Let’s go see.”

With Malena’s steady arm supporting her, Odelliana stepped out of the poorhouse. Two familiar figures were waiting.

“Sir Liam? Sir Martin?”

“It’s been too long, my lady!” Liam greeted her with exuberance, while Martin bowed more formally, apologizing for their delay.

“There was an incident on the road we had to resolve,” he explained. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long. Have you finished settling in?”

“Yes, just now.”

“My apologies for not arriving earlier,” Martin said gravely. “We should have helped you move.”

“It’s fine,” Odelliana replied. “I didn’t bring much anyway. Still, I didn’t expect you two to be assigned as my escorts.”

“I volunteered!” Liam announced, raising his hand like an eager schoolboy.

Martin rolled his eyes and pushed him aside. “We both volunteered. Before leaving, Matthias asked us to look after you properly.”

Odelliana blinked. “Matthias did?”

“He heard you were attacked in the market some time ago,” Martin said. “We were concerned as well. So, when this mission came up, we offered to take it.”

“I see,” she said softly. “Then I’ll be in your care.”

Truthfully, she felt relieved. Liam and Martin were young, but capable. Being newly knighted already spoke of their skill, and their presence promised familiarity and ease.

“As knights,” Liam declared, puffing his chest, “it’s our honor to serve a lady as gracious as yourself. I’ll defend you with my life, my lady!”

Martin covered his face with one hand, sighing, while Odelliana laughed outright.

“All right,” she said, still smiling. “I’ll be counting on you both.”

And just like that, life at the poorhouse became livelier than expected—filled with small commotions, laughter, and voices that made the cold walls seem less empty.

***

“The expedition has returned!”

A thunderous cry rose as the city gates opened. The procession of knights entered amid roaring cheers, banners snapping in the wind. At its head rode two men who commanded every gaze: the prince himself, and the eldest son of House Grüsewald. Their armor gleamed, their posture regal; together, they seemed almost carved from the same unyielding stone as the empire’s monuments.

Jocelyn surveyed the city as he rode, his tone one of pleased surprise. “Your brother has quite a gift, Hermann. I didn’t expect the place to look this… prosperous.”

Hermann’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly. “It seems so, Your Highness.”

“I’m impressed,” Jocelyn continued, a lazy smile playing on his lips. “I feared a desolate ruin after years of misrule, but this—this is remarkable. Choosing this city as our waypoint was an excellent decision.”

Hermann forced a thin smile. “Better late than never to find one’s true calling.”

The words were polite, but the flicker of distaste on his face betrayed his irritation. Jocelyn, well accustomed to the duke’s brittle pride, only smiled wider, sunlight glinting off his golden hair.

“This should be interesting,” he murmured, gazing toward the distant fortress. His eyes gleamed with amusement—and something darker.

That bothersome woman, and the remarkable knight who accompanied her. Both here. Both within reach. The thought sent a small thrill through him.

“By the way,” Jocelyn said suddenly, “I hear one of the newly knighted locals has been making quite a name for himself—a prodigy, they say.”

Hermann’s jaw tightened. “Is that so? I hadn’t heard. This is a backwater, after all.”

“A pity, isn’t it?” Jocelyn mused. “A man of such promise, wasting away in obscurity. A talent like that belongs in my service—or yours.”

Hermann’s face darkened, though he kept his tone even. “No doubt the rumors are exaggerated. They always are.”

“Perhaps,” Jocelyn said with a faint smile, “but if they’re not, I mean to recruit him. You know how I am.”

Hermann studied the prince’s face, trying to read the intent behind those words. There was something in them—something pointed. But Jocelyn’s expression was as effortlessly pleasant as ever.

“Of course,” Hermann said at last, voice flat. “Your Highness has an eye for exceptional men.”

A collector of talent, he thought bitterly. That was Jocelyn’s obsession—a compensation for his tainted birth. The bastard prince, forever denied legitimacy, sought to surround himself with brilliance and polish, to prove that he, too, could shine. Every man of talent he gathered was another jewel in his fragile crown of pride.

And now, rumor had reached him of a young knight of extraordinary skill—a name that stirred something venomous in Hermann’s memory. The ragged boy who had once shadowed his detested sister.

So the brat was here. Which meant she was too.

Odelliana.

Hermann’s gaze hardened. He had found her at last.

“Be sure to look after that promising young knight,” Jocelyn said lightly.

“Oh, I intend to,” Hermann answered, his voice a quiet blade.

He already knew Matthias had joined the allied forces. He had watched closely as Eisenwald’s troops were deployed, noting every name and every movement. The moment he saw the boy—taller now, sharper, stronger—Hermann had understood. A dangerous one, this child. If sent to the front, he would distinguish himself, win praise, draw eyes.

And that could not be allowed.

If Jocelyn took interest in Matthias, Hermann’s own standing would wither. To be compared with some upstart child—no, that humiliation he would never permit.

The brat will never have his moment of glory, he thought coldly. Not while I draw breath.

The orders had already been given, the arrangements already made. Whatever promise the young knight once held would die with him on the battlefield.

By the time Hermann rode through the gates beside the smiling prince, everything necessary to ensure that outcome was already set in motion.