A Seat at Mother's Table

"Oh, right! My lady, the Grand Duchess is waiting for you in the dining room!"

"It's so late—Mother still hasn't eaten?"

"No, my lady. She said she wanted to dine with you. Goodness, where is my head? How could I have forgotten to tell you!"

The moment Eleanor heard the news, she hurried into her clothes and stepped outside. Though so much time had passed, she had never once forgotten her room, and it was exactly as it lived in her hazy memories.

Her heart fluttered—and at the same time, her nose prickled with a lump of emotion. After marrying Joshua, she had entered the imperial palace almost immediately, and from then on even a brief outing beyond its walls had been nearly impossible.

Only by begging Joshua again and again had she managed to leave once a year. He had never liked her keeping in touch with her family in the first place.

Eleanor was overcome with gratitude. This was the home she had believed she would never see again—and here she was, back beneath its roof! Tears began to well up once more.

But she quickly steadied herself. Now that she was certain none of this was a dream, reason was slowly returning to her.

This is truly a chance the gods have granted me. And yet there's still something I don't understand.

"My lady, please hold out your arms."

Eleanor obediently extended them. As she looked down at the dress Heen was helping her into before the mirror, her eyes glinted sharply.

How did I come back to the past?

She could not make sense of the reason at all. Suddenly, the final scene reflected in that mirror flashed through her mind—the half of the ruby necklace that had tumbled from her throat into Charles's embrace. There had been no mistaking it: light had burst from that necklace... and then.

"My lady?"

"Yes?"

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Mother must be waiting. Let's hurry."

"Yes, my lady."

Heen, who had pulled Eleanor back from her reverie as the girl glanced about the room, nodded and led the way.

When Eleanor came down the stairs and entered the dining room, she saw the Grand Duchess Prihoson already seated.

She wore an A-line dress of deep blue, and a few strands of hair had slipped loose from her neatly coiled chignon to frame her face. Pearl earrings, as lustrous as her fair complexion, swayed lightly at her ears—she was, at a single glance, the very picture of an elegant and beautiful noblewoman.

The moment Eleanor saw her mother's long-missed face, the rims of her eyes went red.

I always believed Mother never saw me as Father's true daughter... but it was all in my head.

In her past life, Eleanor had twisted and distrusted her mother's true heart. And yet her mother, until the very last moment when her life hung by a thread, had told her—insisted—that she must live.

The image of the Grand Duchess as she had last seen her overlapped with the mother sitting before her now. She should never have believed those rumors drifting around the Grand Duchy in the first place.

The Grand Duchess, who had been watching the maids carry in the tableware with expressionless composure, turned her head at the sound of footsteps. Her gaze landed on Eleanor as she entered the dining room.

She looked her up and down from head to toe, and then her eyes settled on Eleanor's flushed face. Something in the Grand Duchess's gaze turned faintly peculiar. Unsure of the reason, Eleanor blinked and met her eyes.

Oh no.

Overcome with joy at returning to the past, she had sobbed her heart out not long ago—her eyes had to be swollen and puffy. Eleanor hastily raised both hands and pressed the backs of them hard against her eyes.

The Grand Duchess's gaze rested briefly on Eleanor's reddened eyes. Her own narrowed, then opened again. She studied her for a moment before speaking, her face giving nothing away.

"So now you arrive."

Eleanor stared at the Grand Duchess, still unable to believe any of this was real, then quickly bowed her head.

"Yes. I'm sorry for being late, Mother."

"So you do know you're late."

A small reprimand, a soft click of the tongue—and yet far from being hurt, Eleanor felt a surge of bitter regret rise up in her throat. For what came to mind was not the composed, elegant noblewoman before her, but the Grand Duchess in a ruined, worn-through dress, kneeling at Joshua's feet and begging him with all she had to spare just her daughter's life.

Eleanor's face crumpled. It seemed she might burst into tears again at any moment, and it took all her strength to force the feeling down.

Back then I was helpless. But not now. This time, I can set everything right!

The Grand Duchess could feel that something about Eleanor was different today, but she swallowed her curiosity. She soon stopped studying the girl and gestured with her chin toward the seat across from her.

"How long do you intend to stand there? Sit, won't you. The food has already been reheated once—I can hardly reheat it again."

Even as she said it, the Grand Duchess bit her lip and stole a glance at Eleanor. But Eleanor, as if nothing were amiss, took her seat without protest.

"Yes, Mother."

The Grand Duchess glanced at Eleanor as she settled into the seat across from her. Somehow, the girl seemed different today. Ordinarily she would barely have answered, and if summoned, would have offered some excuse to avoid sharing a meal.

What wind had blown in today, that she should choose to sit across from her and dine together? It was beyond understanding.

How very strange.

Not long after she had married into the family, her husband had one day brought Eleanor home from outside. All he had said was that the child was his daughter. Of who Eleanor's birth mother was, or why he had brought her home, he had offered not a word—and so she could hardly help her curiosity.

Eleanor had been exceptionally lovely from the very first meeting. No—there was not a single part of her that wasn't lovely. When she was small, mother and daughter had gotten along well enough.

But at some point, Eleanor's attitude had changed. It began after she learned that the Grand Duchess was not her birth mother. For all the care she had taken to keep the household in order, someone in the Grand Duchy must have gone and told the girl.

At a glance, Eleanor seemed docile and obedient toward her, but the Grand Duchess knew. She knew that with every passing year, an invisible wall was rising between herself and the child.

That wall had grown ever more solid and unyielding, until at last not so much as a crack showed. It had been so, surely, only yesterday. Yet today, something felt different.

The Grand Duchess, knife in hand as she sliced into the tender meat, paused for a moment and lifted her eyes to glance at Eleanor's swollen eyes. Her lips worked for a long while before she finally spoke, quietly.

"It isn't good to stay up so late."

Eleanor froze and lifted her face. Then she nodded obediently.

"No. I'll go to bed early from now on. Don't worry."

"Who said anything about worrying? I was merely stating the obvious. Don't misread it."

"Yes."

"..."

Ordinarily, Eleanor would have shoved back her chair and stormed out—but the girl simply went on eating, her expression unchanged and unbothered. When the Grand Duchess, finding herself with nothing more to say after that reply, fell silent, only the sound of silverware rang through the dining room.

Then, when Eleanor took a bite of her cut steak, the Grand Duchess spoke again.

"There is something I must tell you."

It seemed her mother intended to come straight to the point before the meal was even finished. Chewing and swallowing the meat in her mouth, Eleanor opened her mouth.

"Wouldn't it be better to finish our meal first, and talk at leisure afterward? Over tea, perhaps."

At that, the Grand Duchess's brows twitched. The child who, whenever dragged unwillingly to a meal, did nothing but scramble to leave her seat—now she wanted to sit across from her and drink tea? What on earth had gotten into her?

"You aren't curious what it's about?"

"You would never say anything that could harm me, Mother."

"..."

"And I want to spend time with you."

The Grand Duchess's hand stopped cutting her meat once more.

Under the Grand Duchess's stare—so direct it seemed bent on seeing straight through her—Eleanor felt as though sweat were trickling down her back.

Then as now, whenever her mother fixed her with that unwavering gaze, she never knew what to do. The look fairly shouted its intent—to crack open her skull and see exactly what she was thinking—and it made Eleanor's mouth go dry.

The Grand Duchess lowered her head with perfect composure and, a moment later, put a neatly cut piece of meat into her mouth as if nothing had happened.

"Do you have anything you must do today?"

Eleanor blinked in bewilderment. How could a girl who had only just returned from the past remember what she was supposed to do today? And it wasn't as though she could answer, Well, I did die and come back, so I haven't the faintest idea.

Eleanor stole a glance over her shoulder at Heen, who stood behind her. Feeling the look, Heen gave a small shake of her head.

Eleanor swallowed drily and shook her head too.

"No. Nothing in particular that I'd planned."

"I see."

"..."

"Well then. Eat. Your food is getting cold."

"...Yes."

Whether she simply had nothing more to say, or truly meant to continue after the meal as Eleanor had suggested, the Grand Duchess opened her mouth no further after that.

Before long the meal was done, and the Grand Duchess, having elegantly dabbed her lips with her napkin, looked at Eleanor. Expressionless, the two women—alike and yet not alike—regarded each other in silence. It was the Grand Duchess who looked away first, tossing out a remark as though in passing.

"I have a social gathering today."

"A social gathering, Mother?"

"That's right."

Back when they resided at the ducal seat in the south, the Grand Duchess had barely attended so much as a simple tea party, let alone a banquet. But since following her husband, Grand Duke Prihoson, up to the capital, she had been attending one particular gathering on a regular basis.

The only social gathering she attended, Lirangteli, was famous among the capital's nobility. It was renowned as a traditional, intimate assembly that admitted only noblewomen of Countess rank and above.

Did she want to let me know she'd be attending?

"I hear they are holding a family banquet there today."

"...A family banquet?"

"That's right."

Bewildered, Eleanor pointed a finger at herself and asked, half-afraid to hope.

"You don't mean... I'm to come along as well?"

"If not, why would I have bothered to tell you any of this?"