A Sudden Chill

Had something changed in her heart of hearts? Gone was the warm, affectionate manner of before; the chill in her voice, stripped of even a trace of warmth, struck Joshua as strange and deeply uncomfortable.

Why is she acting like this all of a sudden?

They had never been close, exactly, but ever since learning of their engagement, Eleanor had never once treated him the way she would a stranger. She had been reasonably friendly — so why this reaction today? Joshua simply couldn't make sense of it. Just as a stifling feeling began to settle over him, a thought flashed through his mind, something that might explain her sudden change in attitude, and he fixed Eleanor with a suspicious look. Could she have noticed the feelings he harbored for Helena?

Come to think of it, even if she had no affection for him herself, no one would be pleased to discover that their betrothed had set his heart on someone else. A faint sense of relief washed over Joshua.

Having settled on that explanation, he quietly lowered the pale blue shoes he'd been holding and set them down beside her dress.

Eleanor's face went rigid the moment her eyes fell on her own shoes. Far from feeling grateful to him for picking them up, she was consumed by the impulse to scream right then and there. Her hand trembled where it clutched the fabric of her dress. She didn't want to put anything near Joshua's touch anywhere on her body — least of all a shoe he had handled.

But I can't let him see me react with hostility. He's perceptive — he may already have sensed that something's off with me. I have to make him write it off as a passing mood.

After a few slow, deep breaths, she rose from her seat and bowed her head politely. Her face had returned to normal, as though it had never stiffened at all.

"Thank you, my lord."

Joshua's brow twitched. But he said nothing, only lowered his gaze.

"Not at all. Are you certain you won't see a physician about that wound?"

He pressed the matter of her injury a second time. Eleanor gave a slight shake of her head and leaned back, putting distance between them.

Her withdrawing manner made Joshua feel like a cad with no idea how to conduct himself, though he had done nothing wrong. It would have been pushing things to urge her further, so he simply stood there with an awkward expression.

"Forgive me, but I'd like to be alone right now. Was there anything else you wished to say to me, my lord?"

"...No. Then I'll take my leave. It's cold out there — I'd suggest you come inside in a little while."

"Yes. I'll manage on my own."

"..."

Joshua found her manner bewildering, but he let none of it show as he turned to go.

In that instant, he caught sight of someone turning the corner and approaching. Eleanor held her breath. If anyone misunderstood this as a secret rendezvous between the two of them, breaking off the engagement might become all the more difficult later on.

As the figure drew near and she made out who it was, relief flooded through her. It was a maid.

Only then did the situation fall into place. Joshua must have given the maid advance notice before coming to find her. And the maid, in turn, would naturally have informed Grand Duchess Raiwens — the hostess of tonight's gathering — that one of her guests had been injured.

Eleanor regarded Joshua with cold eyes.

Hmph. Still so convinced you're the cleverest one in the room.

The maid hurried to Eleanor's side at once.

"Lady Eleanor, allow me to support you."

Eleanor extended one hand to the maid and asked, "Thank you. What's your name?"

"Jane, my lady."

"Thank you, Jane. I'll be in your care."

"In your care? It's only what's proper, my lady."

Perhaps she sensed the sincerity in Eleanor's voice, for Jane's lips curved into a genuine smile. Eleanor gave Joshua a light, cursory bow, then leaned on Jane's arm and left. Left alone, Joshua narrowed his eyes as he watched her retreating figure.

As Jane helped her along, she mentioned that a physician had already been sent for. Then, instead of taking her to the hall where the banquet was in full swing, she led Eleanor to a small sitting room they could reach without passing through it, straight in from the outdoors.

Eleanor was sipping the warm black tea Jane had brought her when, before long, the physician arrived. A middle-aged woman with an impassive face, she looked, at a glance, to be a woman of few words.

Eleanor carefully extended her foot. The physician examined the wound once, then swiftly cleansed it and applied a salve. After fastening a bandage over it, she rose from her seat.

"The wound is not serious. However, it may fester, so please take care to keep it dry for the next two days."

Eleanor glanced down at her foot, then looked up at the physician.

"Yes. I understand. Thank you, Physician."

"It's nothing."

The physician gave a curt nod, her face betraying no expression, and followed Jane out of the sitting room. The murmur of conversation from the hall drifted in, then cut off the moment the door closed behind her.

Eleanor stole a glance at her neatly treated wound and slipped into the comfortable shoes the maid had laid out for her. Soft, fur-lined slippers wrapped her feet in warmth.

With everything seen to, a calm settled over her at last. Her whole body no longer trembled as it had mere moments ago, nor did she feel the urge to be sick.

Only one certainty remained: if she didn't break off the engagement with Joshua soon, one day she truly would kill him with her own hands.

Not that a man like that deserves to die ten thousand deaths. But even so — I won't dirty my hands with him.

Eleanor smiled faintly at the thought of Joshua. In this life, she would never again be fooled so stupidly. Setting down her cup, she sank into thought.

Come to think of it, breaking the engagement shouldn't be difficult at all. After all, Joshua already has Helena.

Helena was the treasured youngest daughter of Duke Demera, and the Duke doted shamelessly on his lateborn child.

In her previous life, too — once the Duke noticed that his precious youngest daughter had set her heart on Joshua — he had thrown the full weight of his house behind that man's bid for the throne, all for Helena's sake.

Eleanor herself had no interest in the position of Empress. She had merely wished to watch the world Joshua dreamed of become reality. And because her father, Grand Duke Prihoson, understood that wish, he never once clashed with Duke Demera over the imperial seat.

And yet Duke Demera went around telling anyone who would listen that Father and I hadn't given up the throne — we simply lacked the capability to claim it.

Had the man confined his scorn to her alone, Eleanor could have laughed it off. But Duke Demera never failed to drag her father into it. He carried himself like a dog mistaking itself for a tiger, picking quarrels with the Grand Duke over every trifle.

How on earth did a child as gentle as Helena come from a man like that, honestly.

Just then, the sitting room door opened quietly. Eleanor looked up, saw who it was, and froze — for it was Helena, the very person she had been thinking of only moments before.

Helena, evidently aware that Eleanor was the one inside, showed no surprise. She simply studied her condition with a grave expression, then let her face soften with relief. When her eyes met Eleanor's, a touch of shyness crossed her features as she came gliding over.

"It's been a while, El. I saw you just now, being helped in by the maid."

"Ah... Helena."

Helena sat down beside her with a radiant smile. In that instant, the image of Helena flashed through Eleanor's mind — the way she had been, wasted away to skin and bone.

Only days before she was poisoned, Helena had had a furious falling-out with Joshua, and from then on she neither ate properly nor slept. Whenever Eleanor asked what the quarrel had been about, Helena would only weep, never giving her a straight answer.

And then, mere days before the poisoning — when Helena's face suddenly brightened and she began eating proper meals again — Eleanor's heart had lurched instead of settling. Something about the abrupt change had struck her as ominous.

Convinced that something would happen to Helena at this rate, Eleanor had gone to Joshua and explained her friend's condition. What she received in return was nothing but his contempt and mockery.

"...El?"

Eleanor snapped back to her senses. Helena was gazing at her with a worried face.

"Yes. Helena."

"Are you all right? You looked a little dazed. If something hurts, I'll fetch the physician again."

"No, I'm fine. I just felt dizzy for a moment."

Helena swept her gaze over Eleanor's face, checking her over from every angle. At this behavior — so exactly like the Helena of her previous life — Eleanor had to fight down a laugh that threatened to escape. Helena breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank goodness. I was so worried something might have happened to you, I couldn't sit still. Was I disturbing you while you were resting?"

"No, of course not. Ren."

"Hm?"

"...Oh."

The words had slipped out — Eleanor had called Helena by her pet name in the tone of old habit. Both women's eyes flew wide in astonishment.

"Oh my! That's the first time you've ever called me by my nickname, El! When I asked you to call me that, you didn't even pretend to listen!"

"..."

Helena pressed both hands over her mouth, laughing with delight. And as Eleanor looked at her, warmth gathered softly in her eyes.

Joshua, for his part, had despised seeing the two of them together, as though he truly believed Eleanor meant to do Helena some harm. But the truth was that their friendship had been nothing but good, from the very first day to the very last.

It was on a day long ago, when she overheard the maids of the manor whispering among themselves, that Eleanor first learned she was a bastard.

She was the only daughter of Grand Duke Prihoson, a close friend of the Emperor himself — but in high society, a world brimming with arrogance and pride of blood, a bastard was little better than a mutant, an object of open exclusion.

A lowly half-blood whose mother no one could even name. Eleanor knew exactly what people called her behind her back. And for that reason, the only person in all of society who ever reached out to the girl everyone shunned was Helena.

Some sneered that Lady Demera was merely playing the benefactor to court public opinion, or saving one pitiful soul out of sheer condescension. But Eleanor herself knew, without a shred of doubt, that Helena harbored no ulterior motive whatsoever.

A good person. Helena Demera was a genuinely good person. And so Eleanor had truly, sincerely loved her.