It had been a month since Westalia visited the Elizabeth Pink dye factory. She had been spending her time visiting the local towns and the commoners to survey the damage caused by the dye. She’d also been renovating her rooms at Le Chantier Palace into a temporary home for the girls; the formerly deserted space was now fully stocked with bedding, clothing, and other necessities for them.
Paige was shocked at the transformation of the rooms. Her injuries had healed and she’d been able to remove her eye patch. “Westalia, as far as I remember, your finances were so tight that you didn’t even have enough money to cover my salary. You didn’t pay for this furniture out of the budget for the empress selection, did you?”
Paige was right on the mark. Westalia remained silent, smiling slightly. Paige took this as confirmation and kneaded the space between her eyebrows.
“Do you know how large of a difference there is in the number of artificial flowers you have compared to Miss Elizabeth?”
“What can I say?” Westalia replied. “We can’t have all those sick kids sleeping in one place together. It is of the utmost importance that they have a comfortable space to recuperate.”
“The most important thing for us should be the empress selection! Remember?! Couldn’t you expend some effort to collect flowers?!”
“Of course I’m working on that too. You saw how hard I’ve been working on artificial flowers this past month, didn’t you? When the dust settles, so much the better.”
“I know I’m not very bright, so I’m not really sure what strategy you have up your sleeve. But can you really beat Miss Elizabeth like this?” Paige asked, her brow furrowing.
Westalia smiled. “I knew from the beginning that it was going to be a tough fight. But I’m not giving up. It’s not whether we can win or not. We’re going to win.”
Westalia’s eyes reflected her bright fighting spirit. She hadn’t given up at all. She was looking up to a faint light far, far away and reaching for it with all her might. She wasn’t desperate by any means; she was still running and struggling just as hard as she had been since she’d crossed the border wall. Paige gasped as she realized that Westalia’s eyes weren’t dead but rather filled with passion.
Westalia didn’t want to divulge her plan while she still didn’t know if it would work out the way she wanted it to. Besides, if she proposed an all-or-nothing kind of idea, it might stir up even more anxiety. So, Westalia just had to put what she was thinking straight into action and show Paige the results.
“Just a little longer. Wait just a little longer. I’ll fill that warehouse with flowers.”
“Okay then... But don’t put too much pressure on yourself.”
“What?”
“Even if you don’t become empress, you can choose a new future. Wouldn’t it be fun to go on a round-the-world trip together? Maybe we could dig up a vein of gold or something,” Paige said.
Westalia could feel Paige’s concern, even as she expressed it in her own unique way. Westalia let out a small laugh. The fact that Paige’s alternative plan was digging for gold was very like her.
“I’ll have to get a shovel,” Westalia said.
“And you better pay me with all that gold you dig up,” Paige said with a laugh. She was teasing Westalia again. But the thing Westalia most wanted to do was to give her friend the status garnered by being knight to the empress. She was sure that Paige would like that too.
Just then, one of the girls from the factory appeared from the hallway pushing a tea cart.
“Lady Westalia! Lady Paige! I’ve made some tea. Want some?”
“Thank you. However, you should say, ‘I’ve prepared some tea. Would you care for a cup?’ That’s the polite way to phrase it.”
“Okaaay...”
The other girls surrounded Westalia and Paige as they drank their tea. “How is it? Is it good? We made it!”
“It’s bitter,” Westalia said.
“No way!”
“There is a proper way to make tea, as well. If you don’t heat the water to just the right temperature, it tends to have a bitter taste. I’ll teach you next time.”
“Thank you!”
The four girls were making quite the fuss around Westalia. They were working hard to help her, cleaning the rooms and washing the sheets and curtains. No matter how many times Westalia told them to rest because they were sick, the girls refused to listen to her, saying that it was better for their recovery if they were physically active.
Then one of the girls spoke up shyly. “Um, Lady Westalia?”
“Yes?”
“Can we...keep working here? It doesn’t matter if we don’t get paid! We’ll work hard as long as you give us at least a meal!”
The other girls also echoed the first girl’s sentiments. “We don’t have any parents or anywhere to go back to. If we go back on the streets we’ll die...”
“No job will take us since we’re in such bad shape.”
“Plus, we owe you our lives, so we want to be useful! Doing anything is fine! We’ll study etiquette and polite speech as hard as we can!”
All the girls nodded along as each one spoke.
So this is what it feels like to be needed, Westalia thought. She was silent. It was what she’d wished for while alone and suffering through her strict education. She’d wanted to be useful, to be needed, by someone, and now these young girls truly relied on her. She knew that there were many other girls in similar situations and that she, as the empress, would have to try to help them all, without being beholden to any one in particular. But Westalia couldn’t refuse the hands that were reaching out to her.
“I understand. If that’s what you want, you can stay here. I will pay you for your work. But for now, you should concentrate on getting as much rest as possible,” Westalia said, gently patting the first girl’s hand. “I’m sure I won’t be bored with all of you here.”
“Lady Westalia!” the girls said, and then they all piled onto her in a group hug. Paige, sitting across from them, looked a little dismayed but also a little proud.
✦ ✦ ✦
Later that night, Leonardo was going to be coming to Westalia’s rooms for a short talk. To kill time until then, Westalia sank down on the sofa and started reading a book.
Then, a moment later, she heard the sound of glass breaking and looked up to see two men in black cloaks coming through the window. Their swords glinted in the starlight.
Assassins?! Westalia quickly pulled out a poison needle, which she’d inserted into her bun as a hair ornament, and threw it at one of the men. Her hair cascaded around her and the needle flew true, hitting the man in the neck and injecting him with a load of poison. The poisons she made were highly potent, even in small doses.
The man collapsed on the spot with a groan, unconscious. The anesthesia would ensure he didn’t wake for about half a day.
Unfortunately, Westalia only had one poison needle on her. There was nothing she could do against the other man who was coming at her. There were screams coming from the room where Paige and the girls were, and she guessed that an assassin had entered there too.
“Whose orders are you under?” Westalia asked.
The man was silent.
“You should answer me. But I can guess even if you don’t.”
It had to be Tiberio Reyn. He was the only person Westalia could think of who could be so fearless and bold as to sneak an assassin into the rooms of a candidate for empress. It was rumored that Tiberio would use any dirty tricks available to satisfy his own lust for power. Some people even called him a villain. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, the saying went. Those who went against Duke Reyn often met with sudden accidents or mysterious deaths.
A sword was thrust at Westalia’s neck, drawing a trickle of blood.
No, I can’t die here... The rug was being pulled out from under her again. Westalia was always so close to achieving what she wanted when it was pulled away from her again and again. She’d made it this far, fallen down multiple times and stood back up again. If she died, what would happen to Paige? Or to Leonardo and those girls? What about all of the people who were suffering from Elizabeth Pink poisoning?
I can’t die yet. There are people who need me, Westalia thought. Was there anything, anything at all, that could distract this man? She tried desperately to think of something, but nothing came to mind that would get her out of this predicament. She looked up at the man, unable to move an inch, like she was sewn into the couch. His hand holding the sword was trembling slightly.
The assassin lifted his sword again and swung it down in a sharp arc. It seemed to move so slowly.
I’m sorry, Leo. He was the last thing she thought of. He would likely be incredibly depressed by her death. After her mental apology to him, the pain she expected didn’t come. There was just the sound of metal screeching on metal.
“Just who do you think you were about to harm?”