“Milady, what in the world did you and Kenntrips discuss?” my head attendant asked me once we had returned to my room. “As victorious as you looked on the way out, things seemed rather tumultuous for the most part.”
I turned my attention to Cordula, having received my reports from the retainers who had cleaned up the tea party room. “We discussed my situation and the situation at large. He told me I was being naive about a great many things and advised that I open my eyes to the truth.” I made sure to choose my words carefully—I could not outright admit that he had told me to hurry up and convey my feelings to Lord Wilfried so that I could marry into Ehrenfest.
Cordula gave an exasperated sigh. “We went out of our way to give you two a chance to speak privately, and you wasted it with something so obvious? Kenntrips should have spent that time trying to win you over. Why on earth would he squander it?”
“Cordula, is it not cruel to speak as though all of that were obvious?” It was far from an appropriate way to converse with one’s lady.
“Oh, my sincerest apologies,” Cordula said, her tone so insincere that I could not help but sigh as well. “I must say though, milady, I have long agonized over how blind you are to your surroundings. Have you, at the very least, decided whom you will choose?”
I shook my head and answered, “Not yet.” Even with Kenntrips’s encouragement, I had yet to resolve to confess to Lord Wilfried. “It is not so easy for me. Kenntrips said it must be part of who I am. He told me I will probably fail to make up my mind in time and end up with Rasantark by default.”
“Then he advised you on how to avoid that fate, I assume?” my head attendant asked quietly as she poured me some tea. “I, too, wish for you to consider your future carefully and make an independent choice.”
Cordula adjusted the fireplace, then retired to the waiting room with my other retainers—save the knight outside my door—to give me time to think. An imposing quiet fell over me. I sensed the temperature start to drop and moved closer to the fire, where I watched the flames dance as I sipped my tea. The warm liquid passed down my throat, and a pleasant warmth spread through me.
Knowing that I need to act does not make it any easier.
Archduke candidates married to bring wealth into their duchies, so their aubs commonly arranged their partners for them. It was normal in Dunkelfelger to request proposal challenges from whomever one wished to be with, but completing them served only to secure the approval of the man or woman proposed to. For the engagement to actually take place, they would still need the head of their household, the aub, or a higher authority to give their permission.
Kenntrips had brought up Lady Magdalena’s proposal as an example, but her situation was so far removed from my own. Although she had acted against the aub’s will, the outcome had proven far better than if she had simply taken a groom from a lower-ranking duchy. Through her defiance, she had brought the long-enduring civil war to a close and earned Dunkelfelger the royal family’s favor as the duchy that had secured their victory.
Then there was the power dynamic. As a prince at the time, Lord Trauerqual could easily have turned down the proposition thrust upon him. Ehrenfest lacked that authority. Were I to propose to Lord Wilfried in the same way that Lady Magdalena proposed to her desired partner, I would surely cause more problems than not.
No matter how I look at it, Dunkelfelger has too little to gain from such a union.
If my father had wanted to forge a deeper bond with Ehrenfest, then he would surely have hinted at it when going over recent events with its aub. In such a world, my father might have embraced the idea of me marrying Lord Wilfried, as doing so would improve relations with both Ehrenfest and Alexandria at once.
Instead, however, Father had determined that it was best to keep me in Dunkelfelger. The suitors he had chosen for me made that all too apparent. Even though he valued getting closer to Alexandria, I doubted he cared much about Ehrenfest at all. As things were, even if I did somehow manage to convey my feelings to Lord Wilfried, I could not imagine getting the permission I would need for the engagement to be made official.
In other words, I was doomed from the start.
The moment that thought struck me, my shoulders slumped, and all the strength seemed to leave my body. Perhaps I could propose to Lord Wilfried, but what good would that do when there was no way my father would ever approve?
In the first place, do I even want to marry Lord Wilfried? I think well of him—very much so—but...
Kenntrips had urged me to take action for a lack of time, insisting that I must want to be with Lord Wilfried because I took his hand during our game of bride-stealing ditter. I was partially inclined to agree with him, but the truth of the matter was that neither Lord Wilfried nor Ehrenfest wanted me.
The more I thought about it, the more my heart wavered. Were my feelings for Lord Wilfried strong enough to warrant proposing to him? Was my resolve strong enough to make securing the adults’ permission worthwhile, knowing full well that the man I desired did not wish to become an aub and that Ehrenfest had already suffered immensely at the hands of a bride from a greater duchy? I did not have the intensity of Lady Rozemyne, who had spurred Dunkelfelger to action and stolen Ahrensbach’s foundation to save the life of a single man, or of Lord Ferdinand, who had crushed a foreign invasion and manipulated the entire Sovereignty and royal family in return.
If nothing else, I can say that my emotions are not as strong or as passionate as in the stories I enjoy. Whatever I feel right now, it cannot be true love.
I set my teacup down, rose to my feet, and gazed out the window. Snow had started to fall. I could not even begin to imagine how Ewigeliebe must have felt, so consumed with Geduldh that he would cover the world with ice to hide her. The emotions I associated with Lord Wilfried were more vague—happiness when he looked my way, relief when we spoke, sorrow when we did not...
I took a volume of Ehrenfest’s love stories from my shelves, then returned to my seat by the fireplace and cracked it open.
“‘O Geduldh, mother of life and bringer of bountiful harvests. O beauteous youngest, clad in green from Flutrane’s love, enriched with the passion and strength of Leidenschaft, who watches from the blue sky above, and protected altogether by Schutzaria’s mighty shield. O beloved bride, enveloped in the Light that guides and the Darkness that consumes. Amid the promised eternal recurrence, as Schutzaria’s shield wears down, Ewigeliebe grows frantic in his impatience for the coming of winter. Those who wait for the Night of Schutzaria seek the compassionate goddess dressed in white, who welcomes all in her embrace. May she forgive the raging tempest that covers with ice and snow the beauty of this world made by the gods.’”
So sweet were the words written before me that my heart pounded in my chest. I yearned to read them again and again. Were my own feelings so intense that I would scorn my chosen suitors and throw both Ehrenfest and my own duchy into chaos? I saw little reason to say so.
And if my emotions are not strong enough, then I should save everyone the trouble and give up on them here and now.
It made no sense to propose when my desires and the value I could provide my duchy were so unclear. For that reason, I decided to lock away the passions that were causing me so much anguish.
My time alone concluded with a simple acknowledgment that the world would not bend to my frivolous whims. I was trapped in a daze, strange emotions swirling in my chest—perhaps because of the decision I had come to, or maybe because I found it so hard to keep my feelings under control.
I went to the dining hall for dinner—not that I had much of an appetite. Rasantark briskly approached me as soon as I arrived.
“Lady Hannelore,” the apprentice knight said, “you gave Kenntrips a chance to speak with you alone. I beg of you to grant me the same!” He was red with excitement, but I was hardly in the mood.
I shook my head while taking the seat Cordula had pulled out for me. “My mind is occupied with more serious matters. Please ask me again once a few days have passed.”
“Well, I wish to weigh in on them!” Rasantark declared, reluctant to back down even in the face of my refusal. Others in the dining hall turned their attention to us, and it was just as their stares started to overwhelm me that Kenntrips came over to join us.
“Rasantark, cease troubling Lady Hannelore,” he said, clearly exasperated.
“I refuse to hear it from a slouch who keeps squandering his luck,” Rasantark shot back, ready to fight. Even more eyes were locked on us now.
I rose to arbitrate, but Cordula placed a firm hand on my shoulder, urged me back into my seat, and moved between the pair in my stead.
“Earlier today, milady had a tea party with Lady Rozemyne. The two of you fought over that fact, forcing her to intervene, and now you wonder why she is too weary to speak with you? You are permitted no free time until the end of your repentance. Save the discussion for another day.”
Rasantark opened his mouth to protest, then closed it and stood down. He looked displeased with how things had turned out, but there was nothing he could do.
Relieved to have avoided yet another tiring conversation, I pressed my hands to my cheeks and tried to adopt a more neutral expression. Cordula had remarked on my exhaustion, so it must have been clear on my face.