Ian’s eyes flared with annoyance at the Duke’s statement.
“My Canillia?”
Claude let go of Ian’s collar, his hands shaking.
“Marquis Gliad wouldn’t do something so stupid as to use her as a bargaining chip. And she is my Canillia already. Prince.” He spat the word.
“Ha! Duke! Are you crazy?”
“Possibly. I’ve been accused of it, so why bother asking?”
“What did you just do?”
The two men instantly attacked one another in an explosion of punches. The fight escalated as each punched and tried to wrestle the other into submission.
Seeing the fight, their subordinates jumped in to separate them. Everyone feared the two commanders would kill each other just as the war ended.
It took five men to separate the two. Both Ian and Claude looked murderous as they breathed roughly and wiped blood off of themselves.
Has the war rendered me completely irrational?
Claude stared at Ian, who was a mirror image of himself, and remembered the clematis that he had given her.
If that day, I went to war without realizing that she is a woman—
It was a horrifying thought.
Truly horrifying. The moment the Prince declared the end of the war, Claude thought of Canillia. He ached with longing.
Claude looked at Wade who was walking quietly down the hallway, brushing back his hair. Wade’s face showed his displeasure at hearing that Claude and Ian had come to blows.
Wade stared at Ian who glared back at him, took a deep breath, and turned the other way. As he walked he issued the order: “We’re returning to the Capital. Move it!”
The place without bloodshed.
***
“Miss, the mail courier is here. Shall I send the letter?” asked Pepe in the early morning.
Canillia, who had just come out of the shower, pointed at the desk while drying off.
“You can send all of those. Was any mail just delivered?“
“There’s something from Cosoar but from Louvre—”
Pepe checked Canillia’s mood and decided not to finish the sentence. Lia nodded and waited until Pepe took the letters out.
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Why? Why is mother not writing back?
The letters that were returned had definitely been opened. That meant that someone was checking the mail.
If someone had read the contents and returned it, her story was definitely known. That’s why Lia couldn’t stop writing.
After Pepe left, Lia got ready to go to the library. She could see the mail courier through the window, saying his goodbyes brightly and stepping on the accelerator. Almost immediately, the snow covered the auto’s tracks.
After the armistice, the Capital was in a festive mood for a time. The Emperor finally left the castle and was visible to the people. The nobles returned from the front. However, the families of those lost in battle protested the Duke and his decision to enter the war in the first place.
People wrestled with conflicting emotions of peace and chaos, joy and sadness. Lia calmly stared at the shadowy faces of the people.
Even today, the shouts of picketers and protesters filled the air. Lia watched them from a window, checked the time, and went downstairs.
“Miss, this is the letter from Cosoar.”
“Thank you.”
The letter that Lia took from Pepe bore the seal of Marquis Gliad Vale. Lia’s breath was visible in the cold air. Her nose and cheeks were frosty.
She expected that Kieran had written the letter, but it was from Anastasia.
“Congratulations on your graduation,” Anastasia wrote. “The long winter is over and soon it will be spring. So, return to Cosoar. I left you at the Capital for too long. Thank you, Canillian, for trying your best for the sake of our family’s honor.”
Had she ever heard words of gratitude from Anastasia before?
Lia couldn’t take her eyes off the letter for the longest time.
Perhaps this was the time that the Marchioness had chosen. The time to host her funeral to give Lia her freedom.
She finally folded the short message and looked back at the mansion before getting in the carriage. The sun sparkled on the snow that persisted on the rooftop.
Lia took a deep breath and got in the carriage.
The time that was allotted to her was coming to an end. Her hands, clenching her gloves, were white as a sheet.
***
“Hello.”
After Canillia’s carriage had disappeared towards the library, a middle-aged man stopped the mail courier, who was heading to a side street. As the middle-aged man stretched out his leather-gloved hand, the courier gave him the messages that he had just gotten from Pepe.
It was a smooth exchange. The courier was about to leave without hearing a word, as if this were a daily occurrence.
The man carefully put them in his pocket and got into a parked car.