As I faced the two figures kneeling before me, a frown tugged at the corners of my mouth. For all the gravity of their confessions, for all the remorse they’d laid bare, neither one had uttered a single plea for my forgiveness. It wasn’t as though I would have granted it freely, and certainly not simply because they asked. But the fact that they hadn’t even tried—it gnawed at something deep within me. Did they truly believe I would wish to hold this grudge forever, to let it fester and bind all three of us in its chains?
At last, Flora timidly lifted her head, her gaze tentatively meeting mine. “Carolina,” she began, her voice trembling with hesitation. “I know I have no right to make requests of you, but...please, sister—allow me the chance to atone for my sins. I want to live—truly live—without the weight of my misdeeds crushing me, haunting my every step. If you command me to confess my wrongdoings to the public, I will do so gladly. If you wish to strip me of my title, I will leave this house today. Anything to make amends, my sister. I beg you.”
And just like that, Flora had placed her very fate in my hands. I glanced towards Father; his expression mirrored Flora’s—clearly, he wished to join her in atonement. The moment I had once dreamed of, the perfect opportunity for revenge, had fallen neatly into my lap. But instead of reveling in the triumph I had imagined, a heavy weight settled deep within my stomach, dragging my heart down with it.
In truth, I hadn’t the faintest idea of what to do. I didn’t have any desire to inflict pain upon Flora, nor did I wish to cause Father undue suffering. Yet the thought of simply accepting their apologies and pretending that the past sixteen years didn’t weigh heavily on my heart didn’t sit well with me either. Particularly when it came to Flora. Especially if her confession was true—that she had indeed set out to end my life this very morning.
As these thoughts warred within me, it was Teodore, standing vigilant by the wall, who saw fit to offer me an idea. “Your Highness, forgive the interruption, but if I may offer a word of advice. Punishment need not come in the form of direct suffering. Prescribing unto someone, say, a task that stretches the limits of what is fair and reasonable, may serve the same purpose.”
A task...unreasonable enough to be considered a punishment? His smile was as knife-thin as ever, but his words were wise.
Yes, perhaps I could craft a sentence that would test Flora and Father—a challenge they would struggle to meet, yet one that would offer them a chance to redeem themselves.
With my decision made, I met their eyes, my voice steady and deliberate. “If it is my forgiveness you seek, then dedicate yourselves to Celestia’s revival. Give your hearts, your toil, to rebuild what was lost.”
Their jaws fell open ever so slightly, and surprise flickered across their faces as they blinked, clearly taken aback by the nature of the punishment I had laid upon them. It seemed my interpretation of retribution was far more generous than they had anticipated. I had to bite back a smile, even a soft laugh, at the sight of Celestia’s perfect lady and stoic prime minister, caught so off guard in such an unseemly manner.
“What methods you choose, I leave to your discretion,” I continued, my tone measured yet firm. “Through your cunning, your strength, you must ensure that my homeland—our mother’s homeland—flourishes once more. Only then will you achieve the atonement you seek.”
Between Flora’s vast array of talents and Father’s wealth of experience, I had no doubt that they could accomplish this together. Though, truth be told, I suspected that even without my command, Father would have devoted the rest of his days to Celestia’s revival. The thought of his steadfast diligence and unwavering kindness warmed my heart, easing some of the tension that had constricted it within my breast.
Flora leaned forward slightly, her voice taut with uncertainty. “And that will...help you reclaim your peace of mind?” she asked, eyes searching mine. Her genuine uncertainty and trepidation pricked at my heart in a way that I hadn’t anticipated.
The notion that Flora would place my peace—her sister’s peace—above even the welfare of her country was...startling. Could it be true, then? Has she truly changed? Faced with this first glimmer of her kindness, however small, I felt something within me soften. I couldn’t meet her gaze any longer, and my eyes fell away from hers.
“I...don’t know,” I confessed, my voice quieter than before. “But I didn’t choose this punishment in order to help me reclaim my peace.”
“Then...what is it for?” Flora asked.
A sad smile crept onto my lips as I lifted my gaze once more. “It’s meant to give me time, Flora. Time to come to terms with everything. To allow myself the space to heal... And perhaps, in time, to find it within me to forgive you and Father.” I shook my head. “No—just you.”
A soft gasp escaped her lips. “What...?” she whispered, eyes widening in bewilderment.
“Though there’s no guarantee that I’ll find what I’m searching for,” I amended hastily. Your forgiveness isn’t assured, sister. Not just yet.
But I pray that I may find that grace within me one day.
Flora blinked herself free from her stupor, her voice gaining strength as she spoke: “That’s all right. No—it’s more than all right.” She drew in a steady breath, a newfound resolve filling her eyes. “Thank you, Carolina. As you decree, I shall devote myself, heart and soul, to Celestia’s restoration and revival.”
With a single swift and graceful motion, she straightened herself. Now standing tall, Flora gazed down at me with a smile that radiated a profound relief, though one stained with an unspoken sadness. It was a look I recognized well, one of quiet desolation and loneliness. It was the same look Father had worn when he’d bid me farewell as I departed for Malcosias that very first time.
Father, too, raised his head. He rose to stand beside Flora, shoulders squared and head held high. “I, too, accept this punishment,” he declared, his voice solemn and resolute. “Alongside Flora, I will see to it that Celestia—your mother’s homeland as well as your own—is protected and restored.”
I have no doubt that you will, Father. Though my mind couldn’t help but inject a dry note of concern: But I do fear you may overexert yourself. Well, at least King Phillips will be there to intervene. From what I knew of him, His Majesty wouldn’t be one to let my father work himself to collapse.
I gently nodded. “Thank you both. I expect nothing less than greatness,” I concluded with a quiet resolve. They responded with firm nods of affirmation, and a silent pact formed between us. Then, as swiftly as the meeting had begun, it came to an end. Both Father and Flora excused themselves, remarking on my early start the next day, and they quietly withdrew from the room.
How...considerate of them to be mindful of my schedule. A part of me longed for them to stay a little longer. There was so much unsaid between us. Yet perhaps there truly wasn’t time for such a personal indulgence. My duties were pressing, and who was I to assume that my family’s time wasn’t equally scarce?
Resigning myself to the relative brevity of our exchange, I listened as their footsteps faded down the corridor; the sound was oddly soothing. Abruptly, the taut thread holding me together snapped, and I let out a deep, shaky breath. Ed slipped his arm around my waist and gave me an understanding look. I, taking that as an invitation, nestled against him, finding comfort in his warmth, his solid presence. So steady...so safe... My face relaxed naturally into contentment as his hand gently stroked my hair.
“I admire you, Lina,” he remarked softly. “I could never show such mercy to my enemies.”
“Likewise,” Teodore added from his place by the wall. “I would have assigned them a task so bleak, so impossible, they’d never have had the opportunity to see the light of day again.”
They both shrugged with casual acceptance of my forbearance, and I couldn’t help but cast a glance towards Marisa and Owen. Their demeanors radiated quiet approval, and they nodded their heads in a manner which echoed Ed’s and Teo’s assessment of my choices.
Well, perhaps my choice barely qualified as a punishment, considering the severity and duration of the wrongs that had been committed against me. But still...
“This compassion...this part of me wouldn’t have existed without all of you,” I explained, my voice gentle as I addressed the room. “It’s your kindness, your warmth, that has helped me find the strength and desire to forgive.” My hand rested over my heart as I offered all of them a sincere smile. “Thank you all, truly.”
The room erupted into a chorus of heartfelt words, each voice filling both the space and my heart with sentiments of “It’s we who should thank you!” and similar affirmations. Though my smile remained tinged with wry amusement, the tenderness in every gaze fixed upon me filled the room with an undeniable benevolence for which I found myself deeply grateful.