The Most Perfect Stranger (15)
The moment her feet touched the platform, the attendants who had been waiting moved in ahead of anyone else. Carter, the aide who handled and coordinated the family's business affairs in the Imperial Capital, bowed with practiced precision.
"I'm glad you arrived safely, my lady."
"Nothing to report?"
"I'll brief you in the carriage."
A sigh escaped her at that smooth answer. It meant there was something.
Hannah led the way, with John, Carter, and the rest falling in behind her. Siena consciously adjusted the length of her stride and the level of her gaze as she headed straight for the exit.
Once inside the carriage waiting behind the station, Siena drew the curtains shut, blocking out the view. Hannah, settling into the seat beside her, immediately spread the file she carried across her lap.
"Carter will report on Parliament, John on the business affairs."
"Parliament first."
"Your attendance date has been set. The vote is scheduled in five days."
Carter gently placed a single sheet of paper on Siena's lap. Her eyes gleamed as she skimmed its surface.
"There are seven people in there you must meet. Three you'll need to persuade personally, and four I'll approach on your behalf."
"Wait—is Marquis Shasan on here too?"
"Yes."
At her odd expression, Hannah, who had stayed silent through the entire briefing, gave an awkward smile and continued.
"That is the gentleman who greeted you at the party, I believe."
Siena, who had been rubbing the name between her fingertips, tilted her head and murmured with a hint of laughter in her voice.
"How strange. I distinctly remember being introduced to him at a very pleasant gathering."
"Which is precisely why, they say."
At that answer, Siena let out a short laugh. So that was it—the opposition's arguments had grown louder than expected, and should the proposal somehow fail to pass, being painted as a close associate of hers had become an inconvenience.
"Really now. He's eaten his fill of every favor and then some."
Just the other day, a personal letter from Marquis Shasan had reached her through the coachman. A petition asking that his family's trading company be given priority rights to the initial cargo shipments on the new route.
She had guaranteed it in writing, and he had pledged to throw his weight behind the proposal in Parliament in return.
"Fine. Schedule all three. Marquis Shasan goes last."
"Yes, my lady."
Shifting her gaze to the side, Siena gave John a look.
"Report. What's the problem?"
"Two investors have withdrawn from the list within the past three days."
…Two of them?
"Who?"
"All of the capital from Viscount Bernard and Countess Hughes."
A single, loud groan burst from Siena's lips. It was closer to a wail of despair.
"Neither of them has any connection to this side… Did they give a reason?"
"Viscount Bernard has only sent word that it was a family decision. Countess Hughes sent notice of the capital's withdrawal with no explanation whatsoever."
At John's dry report, Siena's stomach began to churn.
"No answer at all?"
"None."
A withdrawal without stated reasons was the most unpleasant signal of all. Siena stroked her fingertips once and sank briefly into thought.
"Has Count Lumos had a hand in this?"
"Unconfirmed. However, both have been observed attending the salon hosted by Countess Lumos with some regularity."
Ah, that crafty old bastard.
Siena pressed hard against her throbbing temple.
So that old fox—the one who had clasped her hand so warmly, tapping the back of it in feigned intimacy—had been moving swiftly ever since the Gaverum incident.
"I'll need to rebuild the entire funding line within five days, before the vote. Get me a list of possible replacements within three."
"Understood, my lady."
"Prioritize whoever I have to approach personally."
"We're already working on it. It will be on your desk by tomorrow morning."
After letting out a stream of sighs, Siena squeezed her eyes shut. She had worried about taking such a long holiday right before a crucial vote, but she hadn't expected it to be this much of a disaster.
At least if I'd rested properly, I wouldn't feel so cheated. She had done nothing but suffer the entire trip, and now this cascade of headaches came pouring in on the way home, leaving her head spinning.
For a moment she stayed that way, steadying her breathing, before slowly opening her eyes again.
Her drifting gaze came to rest on the pattern embossed on the ceiling. The crest of House Vice, which she loved more than anything.
"So…"
The word that had been circling her mouth the whole time clung stubbornly to the roof of it, refusing to come loose.
"…What about my mother?"
Hannah took her turn and rotated her knees toward Siena.
"Within the past week, someone entered the estate from outside in the early hours of the morning. Not through the main gate—through the eastern garden gate."
"Identity?"
"Unconfirmed. However, both guards described the same appearance and attire, and there is evidence the person was let in through one of the servants."
"Good thing we sent Giel."
Siena responded with a hollow laugh, her voice drained of force.
On the journey from Gaverum to the Imperial Capital, the reports had kept coming.
She had stationed intelligence operatives at every station where the train stopped and checked information in real time, but the fragmented pieces made certainty impossible—so she had dispatched Giel straight to the fief.
"Order daily reports. And tell him to separate anyone suspicious—servants or guards alike—and interrogate them first."
"Yes, my lady."
Siena gave a short nod and turned her eyes to the window. The nicotine was calling.
"Carter."
"Yes, Lady Siena."
"Any word from the palace?"
"This morning, someone came from the Imperial Palace. His Majesty requests your company for tea after luncheon tomorrow."
Tea after luncheon.
The Emperor's tea time was not an official engagement.
Which meant no record would be kept, no attendant would be present, and no time limit was guaranteed. It meant it was not an audience he could end whenever he pleased—or one she could walk away from.
"…I see."
The road ahead looked utterly bleak to Siena. It felt like sinking into a mire, and her body sagged down into the seat beneath her.
"Let's prepare well. Good work, everyone."
Receiving their words of thanks for her labor, Siena closed her eyes once more. Unfortunately, this was only the threshold of a very long, very precarious tightrope.
Siena stood before the door.
It was a door she had passed through countless times. Behind it, there had been days when her grandfather received her, and days when her mother, deep in conversation with him, had waited for her as well.
"Your Majesty—Siena, Acting Count Victe, has come to pay her respects."
From within came the words 'Show her in,' and the door swung open.
The Emperor, seated in the sunlit depths of the glass greenhouse, greeted her today as always with a genial, good-natured smile.
"Ah, Siena. There you are. Come here."
Siena walked toward him and took the seat across from him. As he always did, the Emperor pushed a dessert and a teacup toward her, coaxing her gently.
"I had this tea prepared specially for you. Have a sip."
"Thank you, Uncle. The aroma is wonderful."
The moment her lips touched the cup, a bitter, numbing sensation met the tip of her tongue.
It was poison. A bitter smile spread across Siena's mouth.
"How is it?"
"…It wakes me right up. Excellent."
"Haha, good, good. I'll have some sent along on your way home, then."
With a gesture, the Emperor instructed the attendant waiting outside to have the prepared tea leaves standing by in advance.
"Now—Gaverum wasn't too trying on you, was it? You must have been badly shaken."
"I'm quite well. If anything, I only regret not being able to enjoy the Founding Festival."
"And Hassar—is he keeping well?"
At that question, Siena's breath hitched, just once.
He went on at length, as if making idle small talk, that Hassar's face had grown hazy in his memory. Hazy, indeed—when he no doubt received reports on Hassar's every move, every waking hour.
His pitch-black insides had always unsettled her. That pretense of indifference, that feigned concern, the sly glances he cast at Hassar out of the corner of his eye, always watching, always wary—those sinister undercurrents and those eyes.
Siena moistened her lips once more with the tea and curved her eyes into a smile.
"More than I can say. With such fine colleagues as Your Majesty arranged for me—"
She stretched the words out deliberately.
"—I am getting along wonderfully."