Fini and her friends took the stage, combining their street-smart insights to thoroughly explain the potentially severe consequences of the "tulip mania" to the audience.
Of course, the children's "speech" lacked the polish of an adult's, but the flower girls' firsthand accounts from the street lent it a raw authenticity. Their insights, secretly penned by Jenkins, offered a unique perspective on the impact the tulip mania was having on the city.
It was an angle entirely different from a formal address. Even with Jenkins's "embellishnts," the novelty and authenticity resonated more deeply with the audience than any dry presentation of data ever could.
With Jenkins absent, it fell to Miss Windsor to explain his connection to the group of girls. As for the so-called "Flower Girls' Guild," the audience remained oblivious to Jenkins's true intentions.
But the girls' presentation had to end eventually. After they finished, Fini and her friends left the lectern. Miss Windsor, forcing a calm deanor, stepped forward once more, and as she looked up, her eyes t Queen Isabella's.
In her own reality, J-Miss had personally shoved Queen Isabella down a flight of stairs. In Miss Windsor's world, however, the queen had died during a rampage of Cursed Items. Consequently, Miss Windsor had never savored the thrill of revenge. Now, seeing the Queen before her, a voice cried out for vengeance deep within her, a cry she imdiately suppressed.
"And so, the price of tulips is like a carriage careening down a steep hill," she recited chanically. "The person who set it in motion only needed to provide that initial push. As the carriage continues on its path, it completely disrupts the market price..."
She chanically recited words she didn't fully comprehend, silently admitting that Jenkins, who understood it all, was an absolute genius. She knew her delivery was lacking, but there was nothing to be done for it.
Thankfully, she finally made it to the last intermission. After the break would co the climax of the presentation—a summary of the tulip mania's consequences, which would then be used to advocate for reforms in the financial sector.
It would also reveal the masterminds' reasons for orchestrating the event and speculate on their identities.
Miss Windsor felt she might not be able to handle so much, but she had to see it through, ready or not.
She announced a brief recess and slipped out through a side door, where she found Fini waiting.
Fini smiled and offered her a flower. Looking at that smiling face, Miss Windsor felt as if she were seeing an angel, and her mood suddenly beca tranquil.
"You did a wonderful job, ma'am," Fini said.
"You and your friends were the truly impressive ones."
Miss Windsor replied, bending down slightly.
"Don't worry about what cos next," Fini assured her. "He'll be back very soon."
"Is his business over there finished?"
"You an the 'Human Jigsaw Puzzle' affair? No, that's just beginning. But he'll be back any mont now."
Miss Windsor couldn't fathom the source of the little girl's confidence, but being in her presence was like standing before an angel; no matter how turbulent her inner emotions, they would gradually settle into a state of peace.
Fini soon departed to wait for Jenkins with her friends. Miss Windsor made her way to the washroom, aware that her ti was running short. She planned to head upstairs to connect with Jessica, to briefly return to her body and rest.
In the corridor, however, she ran into Queen Isabella and her entourage.
The queen didn't threaten her with the Duke of Windsor's scandals as she had with Jessica earlier, nor did she even question Miss Windsor's presence in the lecture hall.
Queen Isabella dismissed her servants and asked the accompanying duke to give them a mont, then walked alone to Miss Windsor's side. Unconcerned, Miss Windsor simply stood and waited for her to approach.
"Is there sothing I can help you with?"
she asked.
"Jessica," the queen began, "you... you seem very different today. Very different indeed."
The old woman stood close, scrutinizing Miss Windsor from head to toe. After a long mont, she asked, her voice trembling slightly:
"You truly are Jessica, aren't you?"
"Of course. I am Jessica Windsor."
"When you were nine, what was the na of the maid who ran away from ho with you?"
the old queen pressed.
Miss Windsor squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to keep her expression neutral. The trembling corner of her mouth betrayed her inner turmoil. It took a long mont before she answered:
"Heloise Sophie."
With that answer, Queen Isabella seed convinced. This young woman, who so strongly resembled her own younger self, was indeed the child she had watched grow up—Jessica Windsor—and not so impostor conjured by Enchanters and their supernatural powers.
She reached out and grasped Miss Windsor's hand. Miss Windsor fought the urge to pull away, knowing this was not the ti to make an enemy of her.
"What is it you want? The intermission will be over soon."
"Forget the intermission," the queen insisted. "Jessica, do you truly not want the throne? If you say yes, I can announce my abdication this very instant. I will pass the crown to you."
She clutched Miss Windsor's hand, her eyes shining with an intense light. In Miss Windsor, she saw herself—the spitting image of her own youth. During the presentation, there were monts when she truly believed she was watching a younger version of herself on that stage.
And so, a powerful conviction, stronger than any she had felt before, took hold of Queen Isabella:
"Let Jessica take the throne. She is . After my death, this kingdom will continue to walk the path I have laid."
"No. I'm sorry, but I have no such desire."
A look of undisguised disgust crossed Miss Windsor's face. She forcefully pulled her hand from Queen Isabella's grasp and took a small step to the side.
"I have no desire to be queen. I don't know what it is you expect of , but please, do not force a responsibility that is not mine to bear upon my shoulders."
The real Jessica would never have spoken to Queen Isabella in such a way. But Miss Windsor was different. She felt not an ounce of affection for the old woman before her. Even knowing that this Queen Isabella was an entirely different person from the one she had "known," she could not bring herself to feign the fondness Jessica would have shown.
A flicker of astonishnt crossed Queen Isabella's face. Her hand remained poised in the air, still shaped as if it were holding Miss Windsor's, though the hand itself was long gone.
"Not... your responsibility?"
"Yes. Who would want to be queen? Isn't it better to be free? I despise such responsibility."
She was speaking the truth. In her own possibility world, Miss Windsor's entire family had perished. After inheriting the throne, she was left with no one to trust, forced to bear the weight of the entire nation on her own.
She had long grown weary of that life. Power held a certain allure, of course, but if Jenkins beca king, that power would still be hers to share. The three Windsors managing the kingdom together was a far better prospect than struggling to hold it all together alone.
Reviews
All reviews (0)