He mumbled a quiet “Mm-hmm,” and our conversation petered out. Neither of us particularly dexterous with our words, a fierce awkwardness yawned between us. The silence was palpable, with only the evening wind’s mournful wail breaking the stillness. This certainly is an uncomfortable situation... Should I say something? But what do I say...?
“Carolina.”
“Y-Yes?!” I practically yelped.
His usually imposing emerald eyes softened, revealing a hint of an unexpected tenderness lying beneath. His silver-blond hair fluttered in the wind, his face a stoic mask. Suddenly, he grasped my shoulders. “Carolina, be honest with me. This marriage with Prince Edward—you’re not having second thoughts, are you? If you are, I’ll speak to His Majesty and convince him to call this whole thing off.”
I could hardly believe my ears—or my father’s soundness of mind for that matter. This was the man who had always put clan and country above all else, and yet, was he even aware of what he was saying—of the gravity of his words? “Father, if you break off the engagement now... The repercussions it would have on House Sanchez—on Celestia...”
His eyes blazed, his fingers digging into my shoulders. “I know, Carolina, I know!” The raw intensity in his voice took me aback—it was wholly uncharacteristic of him. He shook his head vehemently, as if trying to banish an internal maelstrom of conflicting emotions. “Do you think I can’t see the madness in my own words? But how can I possibly stand silently by as my own daughter is offered up to the wolves?”
His words struck me with the force of a tidal wave. All the odd interactions over the course of the evening, the strange tension with the king—it suddenly became clear. All night long, my father hadn’t been operating in his capacity as the prime minister, acting from a place of duty or politics; instead, he’d been coming at the situation as a father, terrified for his daughter’s future.
Throughout my short life, in my heart of hearts I’d constructed a narrative in which I was unloved—a mere burden, a disgrace that my father couldn’t wait to be rid of. After all, he was always the calculating type, weighing every decision carefully. Why would someone like me, a glaring liability, deserve anything more than his indifference? But in this moment of ferocious and unexpected affection, the scales fell from my eyes. He had loved me—fiercely and protectively, even if his ways of expressing it were cryptic and hard to decipher. A warmth swelled within me, quickly turning into a rush of tears. The realization was both overwhelming and liberating. “A-All this time, I believed you didn’t care for me... That I was this...disgrace, unworthy of your affection.”
“Nonsense, utter nonsense!” cried my father. “You are my flesh and blood, aren’t you? Born of Karen and me. Why would I need any other reason to love you with all my heart? I vow to you now: for as long as I draw breath, you shall never find reason to doubt my love for you!”
His proclamation, laden as it was with genuine passion, seemed almost to dare me to contradict him. Suddenly, it was as if a dam had burst inside me, releasing a deluge of emotions that I had denied myself for all this time. How could I have been so foolish? To have been loved so deeply and to have never even sensed it?
“I’ll say it again so there can be no mistake: I love you, Carolina. If this engagement brings you unhappiness, I will move mountains to undo it.” My father’s sincerity bore into me. “So tell me, honestly: how do you feel about it?”
The intensity in his eyes conveyed it all. He was ready to risk everything, use any method available to him—all for my well-being. A single word from me, and he’d fight to annul this marriage, consequences be damned.
But I couldn’t ask him to walk that treacherous path on my behalf. “I do not oppose the engagement to Prince Edward,” I began, hesitating slightly before admitting, “Even if the prospect of residing in a foreign land does frighten me a little...”
“Do you speak from your heart?” he pressed. “Do you genuinely have no reservations?”
“Yes,” I said, after taking a moment to gather my thoughts. “If I must admit a grievance, it does sting a little—the thought of being someone’s substitute. It hurts to feel as if there’s no particular reason it had to be me.”
My father sighed deeply in a manner which betrayed a mix of exasperation and tenderness. Perhaps he felt he’d opened his heart only to have his concerns gently deflected. Still, I had been nothing but sincere. My words echoed the very depths of my feelings; this was no touching tale of a young maiden lying through gritted teeth for the sake of family or nation.
“You really are just like Karen,” he mumbled. “All too ready to push yourself and your needs to the side for the sake of others.”
His words took me by surprise. I’m...just like Mother? I’d often been told by servants who’d known Mother that I was “the spitting image of the duchess,” but I’d brushed it off as mere flattery. After all, I hardly knew anything about her, and Flora did everything in her power to deny even the merest modicum of similarity between us. But if my father, who had loved her the most and known her the most profoundly, saw aspects of her in me, then perhaps there was truth in it.
“Father,” I began hesitantly, “I’m...like Mother?” The mere act of giving voice to the sentiment made my heart flutter and my cheeks blaze.
He gazed at me with an expression that was both nostalgic and kind. “Yes, you remind me so much of her. Your selflessness, the grace you show others, and the diligence you so readily demonstrate—it’s as if she stands before me right now.” His lightly calloused hands tenderly stroked my head. The motion was admittedly a little underpracticed, a bit too rigid, but full of love nonetheless.
Hearing such heartfelt words from him, especially about my resemblance to Mother, was overwhelming. To others, it might have seemed like a simple remark, but to me, it felt like a validation of my entire being. “Father, if you have the time, would you mind telling me more about Mother? I’d like to know more about her before I leave this place,” I pleaded, fearing this might be my last opportunity to understand her legacy.
Perhaps he’d caught the sincerity of my intent, because the warm smile that lit up his face assuaged my fears. “Of course. But let’s head inside. You’ll catch a cold if we stay out here.”
As he guided me towards the manor, his reassuring hand on my back, I couldn’t help but smile, feeling cherished and understood at long last.