Rain and Ill Tidings

Only after escaping the Raiwens Grand Duchy and climbing into the waiting carriage did Eleanor finally let out a long breath.

As she smoothed out her wrinkled dress and mulled over what lay ahead, she lifted her head at the piercing gaze fixed upon her. The Grand Duchess Prihoson, seated across from her, was staring at Eleanor with an utterly expressionless face.

Meeting the Grand Duchess's unblinking stare, Eleanor grew a little awkward.

Could Mother be about to tell me I overstepped?

But she couldn't bring herself to believe she had gone too far. Grand Duchess Raiwens was an arrogant woman. Even back when she held the position of Imperial Consort, she had never missed a chance to seek out Helena and pour out slander about Eleanor.

She had merely repaid a small sliver of that old discomfort, that was all.

And yet, faced with the Grand Duchess's gaze, Eleanor couldn't help wondering whether she had done something pointless after all. Perhaps she shouldn't have provoked Grand Duchess Raiwens. A tiny flicker of regret stirred in her. After a moment's agonizing, she bowed her head abruptly toward Grand Duchess Prihoson.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, Mother."

"Sorry?"

"Yes."

"Sorry for what, exactly?"

Startled, Eleanor's head snapped up.

"...I'm sorry?"

"What could you possibly have done wrong?"

Eleanor studied the Grand Duchess's face carefully. What had she done wrong? There was nothing but sincerity in those eyes — the look of someone who genuinely had no idea what Eleanor was apologizing for.

The corners of Eleanor's mouth curled upward. Grand Duchess Prihoson, catching her smile, turned away with studied indifference and gazed out the window.

"Pay no mind to anything Ariel says. That girl has said whatever she pleased ever since she was a child. If she didn't, it would be as though she'd fall ill from holding it in."

Ariel?

At first Eleanor couldn't place who the Grand Duchess meant, but it dawned on her quickly. Ariel was Grand Duchess Raiwens's given name.

The two of them had been childhood friends, once. One a neglected, pitied imperial princess; the other a lonely young lady who had lost both parents and been raised under her uncle's roof. Thinking back on their girlhood, it was perhaps only natural the two had grown close.

But now they were utterly estranged. Something must have happened between them, surely... Eleanor did not know the full depth of that history.

"You did nothing wrong today, so set your heart at ease."

At those words, Eleanor felt warmth spread through her chest. Before the Grand Duchess could react, she shifted into the seat beside her and latched onto her arm. The Grand Duchess's puzzled gaze landed on Eleanor's face. Undeterred, Eleanor only tightened her grip.

"Thank you for saying that, Mother."

"I merely stated the facts."

"If I were ever being wronged, you wouldn't just stand by and watch. Am I right?"

Grand Duchess Prihoson gave no answer. She simply, docilely, offered up her arm. When Eleanor clung to it even more firmly, the Grand Duchess merely glanced down at her — and did not pull the captured arm away.

"And just how long do you intend to hold on?"

"Until we reach the estate."

"...Don't joke with me."

"I'm not joking, though?"

At that reply, Grand Duchess Prihoson looked down at Eleanor for a long moment — then turned her head away.

Hin gazed out the window and murmured, "The rain just doesn't seem to want to stop, does it?"

Eleanor, who had been reading a book over her tea, turned her gaze toward the window. The drumming of rain against the glass echoed through the quiet room. It had begun in the early hours of the morning and was still falling, hard and relentless, well past midday. Watching the downpour thicken, Eleanor nodded in agreement.

"I know. It looks determined to fall all day long."

"It does."

There had been no rain for quite a while, and judging by the ferocity of the downpour, it didn't look likely to let up any time soon. Watching it pour down, Eleanor felt as though the confusion that had clouded her mind these past several days was finally being washed clean.

Why I came back. Why I was given life again. Eleanor had no wish to repeat the same regrets a second time. Less than a year remained until her marriage to Joshua. Within that time, she had to break the engagement — no matter what.

And she had no intention of quietly watching Joshua take the throne, either. If he coveted the crown again this time, she fully intended to drag him down from it. She would teach him that coveting what was never his was a grave sin indeed.

Lost in such thoughts, Eleanor raised her teacup to her lips again. Hin, who had been pulling back the curtain to watch the raindrops streaming off the roof, turned around.

"Oh, that's right — Viscountess Belvoir is running late! She's the sort who always arrives a good half hour before lessons are due to begin."

Viscountess Belvoir had been Eleanor's private tutor since childhood. In her early forties, she had one young son, and after losing her husband in an accident, she had been raising the boy on her own.

She was a good woman. Even when Eleanor, shattered by the discovery that she was not the Grand Duchess's own daughter, had nearly come apart — it was Viscountess Belvoir's presence at her side that had held her together. Eleanor's eyes darted to the clock hanging on the wall. Hin was quite right.

"Could something have happened to her?"

"Shall I go and find out?"

"Yes, please. She's always so scrupulous about punctuality. I'm worried."

"Of course. One moment, please!"

Hin pushed a plate of assorted fruit toward Eleanor and was striding briskly toward the door when someone beat her to it, throwing the door open from the other side.

Eleanor frowned as she saw the young maid rushing in behind Hin. A bad premonition prickled at her. The girl was gasping for breath — she must have run all the way up from the second floor.

With Eleanor's approval, Hin, who had escorted the girl in, handed her a glass of water. The young maid gulped it down desperately and finally caught her breath.

"Thank you, my lady. Thank you, unnie."

"Sanli. What on earth made you run all the way up here?"

Hin pressed the girl, who was still setting down the glass. The young maid glanced nervously at Eleanor before speaking with great care.

"Forgive me, my lady — it's Viscountess Belvoir. She's been gravely ill since last night. A servant from the Belvoir Viscounty rode over just now to bring word. As soon as I heard, I ran straight here to you."

"What did you say?"

Eleanor shot up from her seat. Her knee cracked against the table and a dull ache bloomed, but that was the least of her concerns right now. She pressed urgently.

"How bad? How ill is she? Has a physician seen her?"

"Yes, my lady. The physician from the area has already called on her twice. But he says it's only a common cold. He says her fever hasn't broken once through the whole night."

"What? All night long?"

Viscountess Belvoir was a woman who prized her commitments above nearly everything — for her to send word only on the very day, saying she couldn't come, could not possibly mean anything ordinary.

Good heavens — a fever that would not break from dusk till dawn was no small matter at all.

It was all the more alarming when Eleanor remembered that the viscountess's husband, years ago, had likewise taken to his bed with a fever no one could explain, and when he showed no sign of improvement, had died in less than a month.

Viscountess Belvoir was keeping her family intact and raising her son alone. Even as Eleanor worried for her, she could not stop thinking of the boy.

The mischievous child the viscountess was forever scolding, now six years old. There were servants to look after him, of course — but it had been barely two years since he lost his father, and now even his mother lay gravely ill. How could she not worry for him?

In her past life, that child had vanished without a trace. The shock of it had felled Viscountess Belvoir, and she had passed away soon after. The memory surged up, and Eleanor's impatience sharpened. After a few restless turns around the room, she collected herself and turned to the young maid.

"The servant. The one who brought word from the Belvoir Viscounty — where is he now?"

"He delivered the message and returned at once, my lady."

"What? You sent him back out into rain like this without so much as asking him to come inside?"

As Eleanor scolded with a scowl, the young maid forgot all deference and shook her head vigorously.

"I did offer, my lady! But he said he had to get straight back. There was no stopping him."

Tears welled in the small face, so plainly frightened of punishment — and there was nothing false to be seen in it. Of course. What fault could this little one possibly bear? Eleanor's expression softened.

"All right. I understand."

"Yes, my lady."

Watching her sniffle, Eleanor thought the girl finally looked her age for once. A faint smile crossed her lips, and she beckoned to Hin, who stood waiting with a face full of concern. Hin came over at once.

"I can't stand the worry any longer. I need to go and see for myself."

Hin nodded, plainly in agreement.

"Yes! Even I'm this worried — I can only imagine how you must feel, my lady. And there's still the young master at the viscountcy, so small and all."

"Exactly. He's been on my mind too. I'll go to the viscountcy, check on the lady's condition, and see how the boy is doing as well."

"Shall I have the carriage prepared?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Of course, my lady."

With that, Hin took the young maid and slipped out of the room.