Rather than choosing the country’s next king and taking her place at his side, as everyone had expected, Professor Eglantine had opted to put her heart first and ended up all the better for it. I, too, had tried to prioritize love, only to be told that my confession had come an entire year too late. Yet when I traveled to the past to remedy my mistake, I was rejected with such intensity that it cost me the entire friendship. The harder I tried, the worse things seemed to become.
“You approach everything with half measures, milady. If you truly wished to marry Lord Wilfried, then you should not have stepped down to avoid inconveniencing Ehrenfest. It would have served you better to pursue him with the resolve to inspire a revolution in your wake. Or if you felt nothing for him, as you claimed, then you should simply have brought Ehrenfest to their knees and demanded that they apologize for having shamed you. I would not have hesitated to assist you in either case.”
“Are those choices not too extreme?” I asked, misery seeping into my affected smile.
Cordula’s stern gaze appeared to relax, and she looked upon me with tender eyes. “I saw how much you endured, stomaching Ehrenfest’s self-centered terms while suppressing how you felt about Lord Wilfried. In truth, I think an extreme choice was exactly what you needed.”
I scanned the room. The attendants changing my clothes wore looks betraying both frustration and respect for me.
“I am aware that my choices have burdened all of you as much as they have burdened me,” I said. “For that, I truly do apologize.” Because of my actions, the situation back home was far from ideal.
My retainers exchanged glances, then wry smiles.
“If you are concerned about us, then be more sincere, more resolute, and more discerning in your choice of men,” my head attendant said.
“Cordula is correct,” Andrea added. “Otherwise, our struggles will only continue to mount.”
Any remaining tension faded as my attendants giggled among themselves. Although some awkwardness lingered, it felt as though we were speaking frankly for the first time in quite a while.
“But I am discerning in my choices,” I protested. “Lord Wilfried would cherish me, and—”
“Yes, yes. He came to your aid in the midst of your ditter match. How considerate he must be.”
Cordula took the initiative, repeating the excuses I had given so many times before. My other attendants followed suit, noting how Lord Wilfried had always seen me off when Lady Rozemyne collapsed during one of our tea parties. The ease with which they recounted my words left me deeply embarrassed; I must have raved about him a lot more frequently than I assumed.
No wonder Kenntrips and the others were so quick to draw their conclusions.
“You seem strangely tolerant today...” Cordula remarked. “Under normal circumstances—being as stubborn as you are—you would start making excuses for Lord Wilfried at the mere mention of his duchy.”
At once, I was struck with the urge to cradle my head. Everyone had always been so quick to speak ill of him that, indeed, I might have been a little too defensive.
“I am aware of the love that has taken root within you, and of his kind gesture during the ditter match that started it all,” my head attendant said. “Still, I do not think that he would cherish you whatsoever, milady.”
In the past, I would have objected without a second thought, and my retainers would have dismissed me with nods and shrugs. Going through the same routine time and time again had chipped away at my motivation and convinced me that no one from Dunkelfelger could ever understand how I felt—but what if my retainers thought the same of me as I stubbornly refused to acknowledge their concerns? Two years had passed since our bride-stealing ditter match, and only now had such an obvious truth become clear to me.
“You always say that, and that he lacks honesty. Why?”
Cordula and the others stared at me in shock, then at each other.
“The terms of your match were overturned, as Lord Lestilaut mistakenly chose the wrong kind of paper for an interduchy agreement,” my head attendant explained. “However, that was merely a technicality. It does not change the fact that Lord Wilfried read the contract, confirmed the particulars with your brother, and ultimately signed it. He declared that he would lead Ehrenfest into ditter, not Lady Rozemyne or Aub Ehrenfest.”
A quiet “Ah...” escaped me. I had always insisted that Lestilaut was to blame for the ditter match, and that my involvement had only come about as a desperate attempt to dissuade him.
“Had your hand in marriage not appealed to him, Lord Wilfried would have refused to sign the contract until the terms were changed, no matter what Lady Rozemyne said. That he signed the agreement means he was duty bound to wed you. As things stand, it seems that he never intended to respect the contract, and that he planned to draw attention to Lord Lestilaut’s mistake whether Ehrenfest won or lost. He might be kind, but his actions paint him as two-faced or completely ignorant of the weight of a future aub’s signature.”
The day’s events had sapped me of any desire to protest. Not long ago, I had seen just how shallow Lord Wilfried could be.
Not to mention, given the sanctity of ditter to the people of Dunkelfelger, it is no wonder that my attempts to defend him earned me such ire.
The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to put my head in my hands. I could hardly believe how foolish I had been.
“Most of all,” Cordula added, “Lord Wilfried took part in that ditter match to protect Lady Rozemyne, not to secure your hand. What reason do I have to believe he would treasure you?”
Small acts of kindness, such as comforting me after tea parties and socializing in Lady Rozemyne’s place when she was absent, had led me to believe that Lord Wilfried would cherish me in Ehrenfest. Upon further consideration, however, I realized that none of his actions had been motivated by love for me; he had merely been covering for his fiancée.
In fact, it was Lady Rozemyne who promised to ensure my happiness if I married into Ehrenfest.
For the first time, I could see things as they truly were; what had once seemed so clear now struck me as little more than wishful thinking. I was still coming to terms with my mistake when a newfound intensity entered Cordula’s eyes.
“And, if we consider everything together...”
She paused, watching me closely to gauge whether she should continue. My other attendants uttered not a word, but the severity of their expressions told me I was being asked something of grave importance—a question that would determine whether the foundations my battle rested upon were stable. I straightened my back, bracing for the worst, and gave a curt nod to insist that she speak.
“I do not think there is anything in Ehrenfest worth the rigors you have faced.”
I swallowed, and my mind raced with thoughts of what was to come: the game of true ditter, the celebratory feast, the coronation of a new Zent, and Lady Rozemyne’s inauguration as an aub. Despite my wishful thinking and passivity, I had protected Ehrenfest and secured a future I could be proud of. Nothing would make me give that up.