How had things co to this? Queen Harriet II's clasped hands trembled.
"You just need to stay still."
Daria said with a thin sneer. Though she maintained courtesy, there was sothing crude about her manner. She didn't even try to hide it.
It was the queen who had to conceal her discomfort. The scales of power had never once been balanced.
'But even so.'
Enduring petty humiliation was completely different from this.
"Avondale will co. Wait here quietly. Don't worry, it's not like this can be undone anyway, right?"
Those words were correct. Unfortunately, it was now irreversible. But of all people, the assassination of Count Avondale.
The count was arrogant as befitted a young man who had achieved at a young age what others couldn't accomplish even dedicating their lives to it, and though his body might bow, his temper never would. The queen didn't particularly like him, but she acknowledged he was necessary for present-day Osdern.
The deaths of republicans, the deaths of political enemies, the deaths of colonial people—the queen could skillfully pretend not to know about these. She could feel proud placing them under the great shadow of a greater cause. But this assassination plan had not even a trace of greater cause to be found. Daria didn't even bother to package it. She would kill because killing was profitable.
It would be profitable for Daria. It was a loss for Osdern. A morally and politically undeniably wrong choice. But there was no choice. The mont she voiced opposition, Daria didn't try to persuade her any further. Instead, she dragged out the Grand Duke who had been sitting beside the queen.
'This seems to work better on Your Majesty. Though this is more comfortable for
too.'
Having been caught scheming once, she wouldn't be forgiven a second ti. The queen had no choice but to submit. Even while thinking it couldn't be helped, guilt weighed heavily on her head.
Daria, who had thrust the sin before her eyes so she couldn't look away and then offered hollow comfort, brandished her sword threateningly.
"Good. We can't miss an opportunity like this."
Daria looked very pleased. Watching through the window as Duchess Schodny brought in Cider Claiborne and an unknown red-haired man, she twisted up her lips.
"Haha... they really ca together."
It was chilling. When the queen flinched, Cyrus fixed the queen's shoulders with both hands. Though his face still retained boyish features that could be called a youth, the force pressing the queen down into her chair was brutish.
"Let, let go. I won't move."
Cyrus didn't respond. He didn't remove his hands either.
"Enough, let her go. Actually, whether she runs or not doesn't really matter. As long as Duchess Schodny does her job."
That's right. The queen bit her lips. She had always been in the role of observing from above the board, but had fallen to being a single chess piece. Moreover, a chess piece that had outlived its usefulness. Daria grinned wickedly.
"Your Majesty. Still, please stay put for now. You mustn't leave until he cos before the audience chamber. After that, do as you please. I might not have the leisure to protect Your Majesty as well."
"...When will you release the Grand Duke?"
"Ah, well. He should be coming this way by now."
Daria, who had turned completely around, turned the audience chamber door handle. Through the slightly opened door gap, an empty corridor was briefly visible. Daria pressed her ear to the door and held her breath. Her bulging eyes were chillingly eerie as if possessed.
"What are you doing?"
"Seeing as he brought that guy along, he must have noticed sothing. I can't yield the first strike."
The queen looked back at Cyrus. Cyrus was staring at the closed door with his boyish face hardened.
"Count Avondale, really..."
"Will be killed."
Cyrus replied in a blunt tone. He too lowered his body and headed toward the door, ready to rush out at any mont.
The queen clasped her clammy hands together. Once Cyrus left too, she should flee. Anywhere, to a place beyond the reach of battle's aftermath. And...
"They're here."
Cyrus muttered. The queen perked up her ears. Footsteps climbing the stairs could be heard very faintly, then stopped. Cyrus gripped his sword hilt tightly. Tension spread across his face whose thoughts were unreadable. At that mont, the audience chamber door opened wide without a sound.
"You ca all this way only to turn back?"
Daria called out cheerfully. The quiet corridor instantly transford into a battlefield. As Cyrus went out the door, the queen simultaneously ran for the back door.
'Our eyes t.'
Cider Claiborne's gray eyes. Those arrogant eyes that remained haughty even before the queen had definitely looked this way. Goosebumps rose.
She had aided in killing that brilliant and promising young man. Even if threatened, even if hostages were taken, Harriet clearly knew. If he died, she could not escape that sin.
With each step she took in flight, it seed Cider Claiborne's eyes—those eyes that seed to expect nothing—followed her.
Her breath rose to her chin. As she descended the spiral staircase, her lofty pride was chipped away.
She had endured harsh days with the resolve that she was acting for Osdern, for the royal family. She had thought so. But now she knew. Harriet had simply been afraid.
To hold the devil's hand and yet expect salvation.
She walked quickly down the empty corridor. The portraits hanging on the walls seed to look down at her. Harriet didn't know where she was going. Despite having lived in this palace her entire life, it felt strange. Perhaps because she could no longer call herself the master of this place.
"Your Majesty."
Harriet, who had stopped abruptly, raised her head. The queen's face hardened. The man bowed at the waist.
"I happened to co to have an audience with Your Majesty."
"Without notice."
"It's that urgent a matter."
The queen couldn't even manage a smile. Raymond Tempton at a ti like this—the worst. Could she even hide her expression?
"What is it?"
"I heard news that certain villains are planning an assassination in this palace, Your Majesty. It would be better for your safety if you took refuge."
"Tempton!"
He knew everything when he ca. Harriet gritted her teeth. He was mocking her while knowing.
Are you satisfied seeing my pitiful state?
She wanted to lash out. That she couldn't was because she didn't want to acknowledge her own wretchedness. At least not in front of Raymond Tempton.
"Your Majesty."
The man who bent slightly to et her eyes showed not a trace of the resentnt from when his marriage proposal was rejected long ago, but...
"You would have been the sa."
"Perhaps so, Harriet."
"You too would have had no choice."
"I couldn't subdue the assassins myself. But unlike Your Majesty, I have no weaknesses."
Whether Daria won or lost, now was the right ti to take Raymond Tempton's hand. She knew with her head that she had to seize the opportunity he was offering. If she knew the wrong of driving Count Avondale into a deathtrap, if she knew this might be the last chance to stop Daria, she should put aside pride and such things.
The queen looked up at the Pri Minister. Had it been this corridor that day too? How coincidental. The young princess who lacked the courage to lose everything had rejected her lover's proposal that day. She had never regretted it until now. But.
'What would you sacrifice for ?'
'Everything I could achieve.'
Princess Harriet of that day didn't understand those words. Even when the boy who was ultimately rejected left, and when he returned as a young man to lay the crown of the Paolun Emperor at the princess's feet, and by that rit beca the greatest power holder in this country.
Harriet feared him. She was certain that the proud Raymond had returned for revenge after being rejected. But even though Harriet was wary and distrustful of him, the Pri Minister fulfilled his duties. Sotis he showed favor beyond his duties. It would have been better if he had been openly hostile.
There was no favor without a price. Harriet feared what he would demand. She had spent eight years trembling in fear.
If at least he had had a wife, or even so sordid scandal, she wouldn't have been so terrified. But his pristine private life—unmarried even in his forties, without even a mistress—made Harriet even more fearful.
So Harriet antagonized him for her own sake. She mustn't show weakness. And if possible, she had to bring him down. Because she didn't know when he might turn and bring Harriet down.
But Raymond Tempton was still extending his hand. She didn't know why, but despite her long fear, perhaps the ti had co to take that hand.
"So, where is the count now?"
The scales wavered. Wouldn't this one statent earn Daria's resentnt? Wasn't she giving Tempton ammunition? Her nails dug into her palms.
It was just one statent. If she couldn't even manage that, what could she do going forward?
"...In the audience chamber. Move 'without being detected.'"
As she gasped out as if being strangled, the Pri Minister's eyes widened. But soon returning to his usual expression, he nodded.
"A carriage entered through the west wing's back door. It says it's going up to Princess lissa's room."
Daria had said she would release the Grand Duke. That he was on his way back. A carriage that entered through the west wing's back door. lissa's room. The procedures wouldn't have been so simple, yet for a carriage to have entered already was certainly Tempton's doing.
"I'm in your debt. Tempton... good luck."
"Don't worry."
Tempton walked away with heavy steps. The queen took a deep breath. And forgetting all about dignity, she ran toward the west wing.
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