Chapter 142

Elena sat on the sofa and looked out the window. She leaned back deeply into the cushions as if trying to bury herself in them.

Rain had been pouring for so many days that she could no longer remember when it had begun. The downpour fell as if the sky itself had been torn open.

The windows rattled violently in the wind, making it seem as though the glass might shatter at any moment. The sound made her uneasy, yet Elena could not bring herself to leave the window.

“Lady Elena, wouldn’t it be better if you lay down now?” Cura said gently. “You haven’t fully recovered yet. If you keep sitting like this, it might strain your body.”

Even while scolding her to lie down, Cura seemed to know Elena would not listen. Instead, she wrapped a shawl carefully around her shoulders.

“I’ve been lying down too much. It’s suffocating.”

“Goodness,” Cura sighed, “I told you already that it was a miracle you survived at all. You absolutely, absolutely must not overexert yourself.”

She emphasized the word absolutely several times as she knelt on one knee and pulled the front of the shawl closed more tightly around Elena.

“Just for a little while,” Elena replied, forcing a light tone as she waited for Cura’s hands to finish fussing over her. “Just a little, and then I’ll lie down.”

“Only while I straighten the bed?” Cura asked.

She rose slowly, not even trying to hide the worry written across her face.

A moment later she walked to the tea table and returned with a cup of tea brewed from herbejo leaves.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“With all these layers wrapped around me?” Elena said with a faint smile. “How could I possibly be cold?”

She accepted the steaming teacup and saucer with both hands and gestured at herself with her chin.

Elena was wearing a velvet robe over a thin chemise, and thick furs had been draped over her knees and shoulders. With the heavy shawl Cura had just wrapped around her as well, she felt almost as though her body were being weighed down.

And though it was the middle of summer, the fireplace in the bedroom burned with a roaring fire, filling the room with oppressive heat.

Cura watched her for a moment, clearly hoping Elena might change her mind and get up, but eventually she seemed to give up and moved away to tidy the bed.

Elena watched her for a moment, then lifted the cup to take a sip.

But as she did, a sharp pain flared in the shoulder where her wound had not fully healed. She flinched without meaning to and quickly set the cup down on her thigh.

The silver cup clattered loudly against its saucer.

“Lady Elena!”

At the sound, Cura’s head snapped around instantly.

“I’m fine,” Elena said quickly, shaking her head and forcing a reassuring smile.

“I’m worried about you,” Cura said, her voice trembling. “And the baby as well. Since you conceived His Grace’s child, you’ve nearly died several times already. Please, don’t push yourself anymore.”

She bit her lower lip, her eyes filled with concern.

“The baby…” Elena murmured.

She placed a hand over her stomach.

The rest of her body had grown thinner, yet her belly had begun to round slightly.

“The baby is fine,” she said quietly. “Leto said so too.”

She could not feel anything through her hand, nor from within her womb. But for some reason she simply knew the child was safe.

“Perhaps the baby takes after His Grace,” Elena added with a faint smile. “Strong already.”

She gently stroked her stomach and looked at Cura.

Even so, the worry did not leave Cura’s face.

Pretending not to notice, Elena lifted the cup again and took a careful sip.

The richly fragrant tea slid down her throat, and warmth spread slowly through her body. The dull ache in her shoulder seemed to ease a little.

“Teacher Leto is completely different now,” Cura muttered as she spread a sheet across the bed with both arms. “He used to talk so easily and laugh all the time. Now he barely speaks at all. I can’t tell what he’s thinking.”

She smoothed the sheet carefully, tugging the edges into place and pressing out every wrinkle with the flat of her palms. Though she was small in stature, her movements were swift and precise.

While watching her work, Elena found herself thinking about Leto.

Even now, chains remained fastened around his ankles, and a knight always followed him wherever he went. Except when he came to check on Elena’s condition, she had no idea where he was kept.

Only recently had Elena learned the truth. Because Leto had once revealed her name to the White Fox Tribe living in Terra Demorte, Kennard had destroyed not only the woman Leto loved but nearly everyone connected to him.

Only then had Elena finally understood the hostility he had once shown her.

And strangely, she even began to feel pity for him.

After all, she herself had been a member of the White Fox Tribe. Worse still, she was the hidden daughter of Rosou, the tribe’s chieftain.

When she had lost her memory, none of it could be helped.

But now that she remembered everything, she found it difficult even to meet Leto’s eyes. Guilt clung to her like a shadow.

“I wonder how long this rain will keep falling,” Cura murmured, glancing out the window after watching Elena sit in silence for too long.

“Of all times for the rainy season to begin early.”

At her words, Elena looked outside again.

She knew exactly what Cura was worried about. Elena herself felt the same unease, and that was why she could not lie quietly in bed.

Yet moving freely was still difficult. All she could manage was to pace slowly within the bedroom.

Not knowing what was happening outside made the anxiety worse, and the relentless roar of the rain seemed to quicken the beating of her heart.

Careful not to disturb her wounds, Elena pressed her palm gently against her chest.

“Has there been any news from His Grace?”

She already knew the answer. Still, she could not stop herself from asking.

She was that desperate to hear something—anything—about Kennard.

“No,” Cura said softly. “The last letter came ten days ago. Of course it’s wartime, so that’s to be expected. But with the rain pouring like this every day, it’s hard not to worry.”

She straightened up after finishing the bed and brushed the wrinkles from her skirt.

The last time Elena had seen Kennard was the day her memories returned.

After entering the river and performing the ritual with her own blood, she had collapsed again. By the time she regained consciousness, Kennard was already gone.

In fact, Elena herself had been moved somewhere else entirely.

According to Cura, Kennard had begun a war in the capital to reclaim the imperial palace from the White Fox Tribe.

When Elena heard that even the emperor had been killed by them—and that Marten had taken his own life—she had thought it must be a dream.

To keep her from being swept up in the chaos, Serin and his knights had escorted her here while she still hovered near death.

And even after she regained consciousness, no one would tell her where she was or whose castle this was.

Serin, Cura, even the unfamiliar servants attending her—all of them repeated the same answer whenever she asked.

Those were His Grace’s orders.

At the height of her frustration, a letter had finally arrived from Kennard.

The pages were filled with nothing but concern for her well-being and instructions for her recovery. Not a single line mentioned how he was faring or what situation he faced.

The final line had struck her hardest.

When I return, call me by my name again. Not Your Grace.

Elena’s chest had ached painfully when she read it.

All she could do was write back that she missed him, that she worried for him, that she wanted to know how the war was going. Then she handed the letter to Serin.

That was all she could do.

***

Submerged up to her chin in warm water, Elena felt her body slowly grow languid.

Cura had gone to fetch more hot water, leaving her alone.

Elena leaned her head against the edge of the bath and closed her eyes.

The flowers floating on the water released a light, refreshing fragrance that seemed to clear her mind.

It had been a long time since she had bathed like this.

Until her wounds healed, Cura had been wiping her body with damp cloths, but it was nothing compared to immersing herself fully in warm water.

“Did you hear?”

The sudden voice drifting from the powder room startled Elena so badly that her eyes flew open.

She turned her head.

The door there was slightly ajar, but she could not see the people beyond it.

Their pheromones were so faint that she had not even noticed they were nearby.

Perhaps they could not sense hers either, because they continued whispering to each other.

“I heard there’s an epidemic spreading in the Baruchella capital.”

“Really? I heard dozens of people are dying every day.”

“They say it’s because His Grace caused the flood.”

“Is that true?”

“Yes. Even before the emperor’s body was hung from the walls, the water level of the Bellad River dropped drastically, didn’t it? They say it was because High Priest Azis blocked the upper river on His Grace’s orders. Then they carved a channel leading toward the city. As soon as the rainy season began, they released all the water they had been holding back.”

“Is that even possible?”

“What do you mean, impossible? His Grace ordered it.”

“Well… if it’s the Grand Duke, I suppose there’s nothing he couldn’t do.”

Then one of them lowered their voice even further.

“But do you know what they’re saying?”

“What?”

Hearing the hushed question, Elena slowly rose from the bath without even realizing she was doing it.

“They say all of this is because of the witch the Grand Duke married.”