Four Years of Silence

Contrary to her worries, the week she'd spent around Claude had been surprisingly quiet. Running into him now and then was uncomfortable, to be sure, but whether it was out of deference to the people around them, he never made any pointless attempts at conversation.

There had been one exception — a single encounter in the dining car. He hadn't been alone, and she had arrived trailing a line of aides behind her, so the two of them had settled for a polite nod from a distance.

She had deliberately chosen a seat far removed from his. And yet, somehow, their eyes met a few times anyway.

Purely by accident, of course.

When she'd sighed over some thorny matter and a glance had brushed past her, she'd assumed it was nothing more than her imagination.

It was only after catching her own reflection in the train window as they entered a tunnel — and finding his gaze in it — that she realized she'd been wrong.

Everything about it was strange. She couldn't fathom what he intended, showing up to speak to her again without rhyme or reason.

What on earth is going through his head? Could His Majesty truly be keeping tabs on me?

But it didn't seem like the sort of approach her uncle would prescribe.

His behavior was, how to put it... Siena ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek and narrowed her eyes.

It feels far too personal.

Just then, the scenery beyond the window changed. A platform slid into view, where small clusters of people stood waiting for family or friends. They had finally arrived in Gavourm.

Stepping down from the train, Siena cocked her ear toward the murmur of the crowd. And from within it, she caught the name 'Hassar'.

Word was that Hassar Victe was waiting for someone in the ground-floor station hall.

Handing her bag off to the maid trailing behind her, Siena struck out at a brisk pace.

"Ebony, catch up slowly."

"Pardon, my lady?"

"Hassar!"

The moment her brother's silhouette came into view, Siena called his name at full volume — as if to dispel the rumors swirling around House Victe with her own two hands.

The most talked-about gossip of late was that Siena Victe had finally moved to shove her brother Hassar aside and claim the title of Count for herself.

Some went further still, whispering that Hassar himself harbored designs on the imperial throne.

"Oppa!"

Ignoring the flustered cries of the maid and secretaries scrambling after her, and deaf to the noise of the crowd, Siena ran forward.

A noble never hurries.

A noble never raises her voice or betrays a hint of fluster in company. That was the etiquette governing aristocratic society — and Siena trampled right over it.

Part of it was a deliberate display of indifference to noble decorum, but truthfully, there was genuine joy in it too. It had been a full four years since she'd last seen her brother in person.

"Siena."

Hair the same gold as hers, eyes the same amber. Wind-tousled locks met her gaze, along with eyes that curved softly at the corners.

Siena threw her arms around Hassar. The collision was forceful enough that she felt her feet lift clean off the ground. The arms wrapping around her back, the familiar scent of him — all of it was as she remembered.

"My, aren't those two close."

Passengers streaming off the train or waiting on the platform for their own families tittered as they watched the tearful reunion.

"They really are. I suppose those rumors were nonsense after all. I can't imagine why people are so desperate to drive a wedge between those two."

"That was ages ago — the Ferensa affair, of all things. Family matters are for the two of them to sort out. They're grown adults."

While onlookers clucked their tongues in admiration at the siblings' heartwarming display, the two parties in question were exchanging greetings of a considerably bloodier tenor.

Siena, who had been listening to the chatter around them, drew back just slightly from her brother and pursed her lips.

"Drop dead."

The curse tumbled out of the mouth of Siena, who was gazing up at Hassar with a smile in full bloom, like a flower at the height of the season.

"Just drop dead and be done with it."

"Mind your tongue, Cici. People are watching."

Hassar, who had naturally settled an arm around her shoulders, beamed in return like a practiced actor.

"People are watching? Then explain to me how a man so conscious of the public eye couldn't manage a single letter in four years. Do you have any idea who got trotted out as the family scapegoat?"

"My dear sister. You've been well, haven't you? No trouble while I was gone?"

Lifting her head from the crook of his arm, Siena looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes, and whispered.

"Shut up and finish your service already."

The tearful family reunion concluded in resounding triumph.

Siena could say with certainty that their reunion would be splashed across tomorrow morning's front page in the imperial capital.

Having dispatched her maid and staff out of Gavourm under the pretext of a holiday, Siena boarded the carriage feeling considerably lighter. A smile kept tugging at the corners of her mouth, refusing to leave.

"What's got you so pleased with yourself?"

"I am pleased. Do you have any idea how much grief I got for supposedly scheming to steal your position?"

"Really? Now I'm dying to know who dared torment Siena Victe."

"Look in a mirror. You're the one who tormented me most. And why in the world did you dodge all my letters? Do you know how hard it was, with even my uncle and the household retainers looking at me sideways?"

To think the very culprit of it all would have the gall to play the doting guardian now.

Siena let out a sour little laugh and turned her gaze to the window. So this was a port city — the air really did carry the scent of the sea.

It was a peaceful street. A boy walking hand in hand with his mother, a middle-aged man returning home with his arms full of fruit and bread, even young girls laughing together in little clusters.

The atmosphere was remarkably warm for a city on the borderlands.

"The last armed engagement here was ten years ago. That's why people are flocking in from all over to see the Founding Festival festivities."

Hassar, following her gaze with a glance out the window, answered absently.

"Still, security seems awfully heavy for a famous tourist destination, doesn't it? There's only the one hotel, too."

Cut off from the outside world for so long, Gavourm had preserved its natural beauty, and as the westernmost city in the Aldo Empire, it was famous for its gorgeous sunsets.

The city had hosted no Founding Festival celebrations for decades, but since the first event was held last year, visitors had been steadily increasing.

"Well, it is a border region. Here we are."

Siena stepped down from the carriage after him, following his casual shrug.

Though her eyes darted about with curiosity, her legs moved steadily after him all the same.

True enough, even a small hotel radiated careful attention when it lodged only officers and nobility. The moment she stepped into the high-ceilinged lobby, she felt a crisp freshness, as if she'd wandered into another world entirely.

They do say hotels these days are fastidious about temperature and humidity control.

"We have a reservation under Hassar Victe. My family will be staying."

"Please present your identification papers and travel pass."

Leaving her brother to check in, Siena looked around.

Beyond the windows on the far side, the coastline glittered with rippling light; inside, the lobby hummed with impeccably trained staff and the drift of gentle music.

She was marveling that even a small hotel in Gavourm maintained this standard of quality when a single gilded emblem above a pillar in the center of the lobby caught her eye.

Siena tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. Where had she...

I've seen that seal plenty of times, haven't I?

"That's the Marcel seal, yes."

By the time she realized it, Hassar had finished checking in and appeared at her side. Startled, Siena burst into a small laugh and shoved his shoulder.

"You scared me! But since when does Marcel run hotels?"

"They acquired one. About three years ago, I hear."

At that smooth answer, Siena turned her head to look at him.

"Hmm."

A hotel acquisition.

It struck her as an odd choice for House Marcel, whose fortunes had always been bound up in traditional enterprises — railways, mines, gas.

"So... shall we head to the officers' residence?"

"The residence?"

"What's the point of going up to the room? I'll give you a tour of the base."

At the mischief in Hassar's voice, Siena flashed a grin right back.

For a moment, the boyish face of Hassar from a decade past — coaxing her to sneak out through a drainage hole in the palace garden — overlaid the man before her.

Those were the days when she'd run wild like a sister to Princess Aaron and Prince Rohan, when people spoke without a trace of hesitation about Hassar becoming the next Emperor.

The faded memory drifted up for a moment, then sank back down into the depths.

Just as she had then, Siena smiled at him and nodded.

"Sure. Let's go."

The hotel was a ten-minute carriage ride from the base.

By the time she had her identification and travel pass verified at the checkpoint, then obtained a visitor's pass on top of that, Siena heaved an exhausted sigh.

"I don't think I could manage getting in a second time. The security is even tighter than I expected."

Perched on the bed, she peeled off her coat, tossed it carelessly across the sheets, and groaned.

Tight was one word for it. Terrifying was another — she wouldn't dream of touring the base now.

"It's the season when outsiders come flooding in. Normally it's not this bad. Rest up, get something to eat, and we'll head over."

Siena waved a lazy hand at him as he folded his freshly changed clothes, then buried her face in the bed.

"By the way."

Hassar, who had been bustling about the room tidying this and that from the moment they'd stepped inside, broke the silence as if pulling out a matter long set aside.

"Are you actually going through with this marriage?"

She stirred, brushing the hair from her eyes as she lifted her head, her weary body still recovering.

Hassar sat on the sofa beside the bed, watching her with a gravity she'd never seen on his face before.

"I have to."

"There's no need to rush into it like this."

Drawing a deep breath as if to swallow down a sigh, Siena pushed herself upright. Perched on the edge of the bed, kneading the back of her neck, she spoke in a scolding tone.

"Honestly, Mr. Hassar Victe. Your little sister is twenty-four years old. If she were an ordinary noblewoman, her marriage prospects would have been settled ages ago — never mind the wedding itself. What, is something wrong with him?"

"You don't know a single thing about Agrio Falen."

At his accusatory tone, Siena straightened her back and counted off on her fingers with crisp precision.

"Third Prince of the Kingdom of Falen. One hundred and eighty-two centimeters tall, with a fit physique from consistent exercise since his academy days. The only prince who never so much as breathed a whisper of scandal with the noble daughters of the court. Younger than me, handsome, good-natured. What exactly is missing from that list?"

"Is this really how you talk about him?"

"He's offering to marry me — why on earth would I turn him down, Oppa?"

Rendered speechless by the sheer audacity, Hassar let out a hollow laugh.

"I had no idea marriage was such an urgent matter for you, Cici."

"You think marriage is what's urgent? Honestly, how can you be so oblivious."

Siena shot him an exasperated look, chiding him just as he had chided her, and was on the verge of collapsing back onto the bed when he spoke.

"If you're rushing because of Mother, you don't have to."