Two weeks after Westalia and Leonardo had their sweet moment by the lake, Paige was on a mission at the behest of her employer. Today, she and Dion, Leonardo’s aide, were sneaking into the Reyn mansion.
“Tiberio’s office is at the end of that hallway,” Dion said.
“Don’t give me orders,” Paige grumbled, glaring at him.
“Whoa, all right,” Dion said, smiling and holding up his hands in surrender.
Ugh, why do I have to work with this guy? Paige thought. She had taken one look at Dion’s amiable smile and spat out an oath in her mind. He was always by Leonardo’s side, not only assisting him in his political affairs but also performing the duties of a bodyguard to perfection. He was accomplished in both the literary and military arts and above all he had a beautiful face.
Dion kept his shoulder-length brown hair tied back, and his red eyes were always wryly smiling. He was aloof, elusive, and handsome. According to what Westalia had heard, he was apparently a natural womanizer—just the type of man Paige hated. Leonardo trusted him a lot, however, and they seemed to be close enough to exchange light banter. The prince had sent Dion to help her on this critical mission out of the kindness of his heart, but Paige would much rather do this alone than partner with someone of such a questionable nature.
Dressed in robes, the pair observed the Reyns’ mansion from the bushes outside.
“Why do you hate me so much?” Dion asked, smiling at Paige. “I heard you’ve also got something against the crown prince.”
“I hate good-looking men,” Paige answered immediately, with no hesitation.
“What? Did a handsome man murder your parents or something?” Dion’s joking words were met with a furious glare from Paige. Dion gulped, intimidated.
I will never forget Tiberio Reyn’s face, Paige thought, suddenly filled with hatred. She gritted her teeth. She thought back to seeing Tiberio at the formal announcement for the empress candidates. She hadn’t seen him in about five years, but he didn’t look any older, and he still had the same unpleasantly elegant appearance as always.
Paige hated men with pretty faces. When she had been a slave in the Kingdom of Slidd, her first master had been horrible and had often beaten his wife. He’d had a pretty face too, and that had contributed to her dislike of beautiful men as a whole. But the decisive factor in Paige’s hatred of such men was someone else. Tiberio Reyn, the man who had in fact killed her beloved parents and taken everything from her, was the one who had planted the seed for this hatred.
Paige snapped out of her momentary reverie and back to reality and stared fixedly at the guards in front of the Reyn mansion. “There are six guards in front of the main entrance. Let’s go around to the rear.”
“Aye, aye.”
Seeing two knights by the back entrance, Paige and Dion scaled the outer wall and entered the property. It was late at night, so everyone in the house was asleep and there was no one out in the yard. Dion approached what was likely the kitchen on the first floor and put his hand on the window, which had been left unlocked and open.
“This looks like the kitchen. There’s nobody in there,” Dion said, peering in through the window.
“I can see that,” Paige snapped.
“Okay, okay.”
Dion made his way through the open window and Paige followed suit. He offered her his hand, which she promptly ignored.
Today’s task was to sneak into Tiberio’s office at his residence and find out the address of the factory where Elizabeth Pink was produced. That information was strictly controlled, and the locations of all the factories, from spinning to weaving, were kept a closely guarded secret.
The only people who knew these locations were Tiberio and a few others involved in the management of the Rias Corporation. Even Tiberio’s daughter, Elizabeth, didn’t know where or how Elizabeth Pink was made. Of all the factories, Westalia was most interested in the one where the fabric was dyed. She had speculated that the workers there were being poisoned during the dyeing process.
For two weeks, Paige had followed Tiberio, but she hadn’t seen any suspicious behavior and, of course, had been unable to locate the dyeing factory. There was only a limited amount of time before the final count of the flower gathering. Therefore, Paige had decided to stop wasting time with pointless tailing and, although it was a hard-line approach, search Tiberio’s office directly to get a clue.
Elizabeth was also cooperating with the plan, and Westalia had asked her to unlock the kitchen window in advance to facilitate Paige and Dion’s entry. She was to watch Tiberio’s movements as well as distract the knights on guard while Paige and Dion ransacked the office. Apparently, Tiberio was on a business trip and wouldn’t be back that day.
“Lady Westalia told me that the crown prince often goes on inspection tours. Do you sometimes find yourself stepping into dangerous situations?” Paige asked.
“Not just sometimes, a lot of times. He’s prone to overworking me,” Dion replied. Leonardo was like a guard dog, always sniffing around to maintain the country’s security and protect the Orencia family’s position. He was willing to resort to any means necessary to achieve his goals.
“Ha, I know that feeling,” Paige said, smiling for the first time that day as she thought of Westalia. Westalia had grown up being groomed for queen, so she was used to ordering others around and naturally tried to put them to good use. Her haughty attitude was backed up by the fact that she was raised as a person who would one day be in charge. That was in addition, of course, to her natural arrogance and unyielding spirit.
Dion looked at Paige and smirked. “Oh, you’re pretty cute when you smile.”
“What?” Paige frowned and looked at him with contempt.
“Hmm, but not with that face,” Dion said.
If he ever speaks to me like that again, I’ll make sure those are the last words he ever speaks, Paige thought.
Dion, oblivious to Paige’s building fury, was smiling broadly. They left the kitchen and went upstairs via the emergency staircase.
Walking down a wide corridor, they headed for their intended destination. According to the map Elizabeth had given them, the office should be the corner room. It was late at night, so there were no servants walking around, but all the lights were still on, and there were a few knights here and there on patrol. As one would expect from a duke’s house, the security was perfect. In fact, it was so tight that it was almost suspicious.
Dion hid in a corner of the corridor and peeked his head out to see if there were any knights in front of Tiberio’s office.
“Anyone there?” Paige asked.
“It doesn’t seem like it.”
“Lady Elizabeth did well, then,” Paige replied. Normally, there should have been two knights standing guard in front of the office all night. However, Elizabeth must have succeeded in getting their attention and moving them away from the door. It was all going according to plan.
Paige crouched down in front of the door, took a wire bent at a right angle and a straight wire out of her pocket, and inserted them into the keyhole. She looked inside for the place where the pin and the wire matched.
“Where’d you learn to pick locks?” Dion asked.
“Lady Westalia taught me. I don’t have any pretensions about my skill, but Westalia always boasts that there’s not a lock she can’t open,” Paige replied.
“Wow, she’s confident. I guess versatility is to be expected of a candidate for empress. Is that really a necessary skill to have for a monarch, though?”
“I dunno about that,” Paige said. Making concealable poisoned weapons and lockpicking seemed a bit too fringe of skills for an empress, and Paige sometimes wondered if Westalia wouldn’t be better suited to being a bandit.
Tiberio always carried the key to his office with him, so Westalia had asked Elizabeth to check the shape of the key and then come up with a way to unlock the door. Sweat dripped down Paige’s forehead as she worked on the lock, which didn’t seem to want to open.
Just how cautious can one man be? Damn it, Paige thought. Tiberio kept the lights on at night, had guards patrolling all over the place, and kept the key to his office with him at all times. He was practically advertising that he had things to hide.
After a short struggle, Paige finally heard a clunk and the door unlocked. The inside of the office was neatly organized, but there were piles of papers here and there.
“I’ll look on this shelf. Paigey, you can take the desk,” Dion said.
“Paige...y? Don’t call me weird names,” Paige shot back, her face twitching at both the nickname and being told what to do.
Dion looked happy as he examined the documents and put a few away in his pocket as a gift for Leonardo. Today, his main task was to help Paige, but he was also aiming to find out one or two of Tiberio’s other weaknesses.
Paige managed to regain her composure and headed toward the desk. The stacks of papers were filled with a fluid handwriting that must’ve belonged to Tiberio. As she searched among them for anything related to the Elizabeth Pink factory, her eyes fell on one particular sheet of paper.
The former Marquis of Lanchester, Paige thought. They were a family descending from a long line of knights who’d fallen into ruin five years ago. The estate now belonged to the Reyns. The paper was a land management ledger from the former marquis.
Westalia had once lied about her identity, but Paige, too, had a secret she couldn’t reveal: Lanchester was her last name.
Dad... Mom... Paige gripped the ledger tightly.
“Got it!” Dion shouted from where he’d been rummaging through the shelves. “Paigey, I’ve found the address of the Elizabeth Pink factory! It’s not far outside the capital.”
Just as Paige was about to give Dion a hard time, she heard the door open. Paige looked over at the sound of footsteps. It was the last person they wanted to see in the office.
“Well, well, well, it seems I’ve got a rat infestation,” Tiberio said, an intimidating smile on his face. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
There stood the duke. Paige’s enemy. The one who’d killed her parents. The most abominable man in the world. And behind him was Elizabeth, looking at Paige and Dion with an apologetic, tear-stained face.