Purple Heart (2)

But that was the result of wearing a mask of foolishness.

The Marchioness of Belz was neither lacking nor ignorant of the ways of the world.

Her hearty laughter, her careless behavior before royals and nobles, her scattering of gold to feign generosity—all of it was for the sake of her son.

Whether she had loved her political husband, the Marquis of Belz, or not was unknown.

But the marchioness truly loved her son.

She wanted her boy, who would grow into the next Marquis of Belz, not to stop there, but to ascend to Emperor.

As his mother, she dreamed of the ambition of becoming the Empress Dowager.

Though she seemed to laugh foolishly and throw gold around without thought, she was more ambitious than anyone.

Alicia sifted through the information in her mind, seeking suitable conversation to share with the marchioness.

“Indeed.”

The woman who scattered gold like water and laughter in all directions, the Marchioness of Belz, spoke with a subtle smile.

She was known to be somewhat childish, but sunny in temperament, never one to engage in power struggles with nobles or royals.

“……”

Alicia only returned an awkward smile.

“Unlike the rumors that you descended from heaven, you have never once come to greet me.”

The marchioness spoke with a smiling face that could not be called a smile.

“My apologies. I wished to visit Belz as well. It was my shortsightedness not to think of sending word first.”

“Are you blaming me for not inviting you, Lady Alicia?”

Sensing hostility from the marchioness, Alicia did not hesitate.

“Of course not. When I saw the congratulatory gift you sent for my engagement, I was so impressed that I wished to pay my respects in person. I only regret that I did not come sooner.”

Alicia answered humbly, lowering herself.

“You were so impressed, yet only now do we meet face-to-face. Strange, is it not? Do be more careful in the future.”

The marchioness’s twisted smile and sharp words followed.

It seemed she had chosen to display the hierarchy of the imperial family.

“Thank you for your concern, Marchioness.”

Alicia bent her knees and once again offered courtesy.

“Your words are slick enough.”

The marchioness turned coldly and left.

Alicia kept her head bowed.

Looking at the ground, an incredulous laugh slipped out.

“…Is that her true face?”

Straightening her posture, Alicia murmured to herself.

Though the marchioness’s attitude was laughable, she did not want to flare up and quarrel.

After all, the marchioness was destined to be swept away by those with greater power.

But it was puzzling.

The marchioness, who even with maids or commoners she would never meet again behaved loosely and carelessly, now showed clear hostility toward Alicia.

She had been one of the first to send gifts congratulating Alicia’s betrothal to the Grand Duke of Tessen.

The gifts she had sent Alicia matched those she sent to the imperial family: candles of pure white decorated with golden designs, and golden candlesticks.

The marchioness was known for gifting such candles and candlesticks to all members of the imperial family each season.

Her gifts were luxuries even for royalty.

Receiving such a famous gift, Alicia had once thought to herself that she was becoming part of the imperial family.

After that, there had been no ill events between them.

This was the first meeting.

Why the marchioness had revealed open hostility toward her, Alicia could not fathom.

Though she knew the woman would one day meet a great downfall, Alicia found it hard to shake the displeasure.

“An octopus-armed woman.”

Alicia muttered under her breath as she turned away.

As she headed toward the line of tents, a long shadow swept over her path.

“My lady.”

The face calling to her was tinged with urgency.

“Sir Roderick.”

“You are here. Was your journey here comfortable? Allow me to guide you to your private tent.”

Roderick quickly turned his steps.

“Have you been well, my lord? And His Grace…”

“I suppose it is better you see His Grace first, is it not? Come, I shall take you.”

Roderick, who had not replied to Alicia’s polite inquiry, brightened immediately when mentioning Reichardt.

His pace quickened.

Alicia followed silently.

Roderick’s expression was unusual.

Normally, he would at least briefly introduce the tents they passed, but now he spoke no words, only,

“This way.”

Reichardt’s tent was set apart.

“Here we are.”

“Thank you.”

“Your Grace, Lady Alicia has arrived.”

Roderick pulled back the entrance flap and called inside.

He looked terribly urgent.

“Go on in.”

Alicia glanced at him.

His eyes were fixed on the interior, urging her inside.

“Thank you.”

Without another word, Alicia entered.

The atmosphere was such that no questions would yield answers.

The tent was large, with windows.

But every one of them was covered with an extra layer of cloth.

“Have you been well?”

At the conference table, Reichardt greeted her.

He still held a letter in his hand as he looked at her.

Alicia walked up to the carpet’s border and offered courtesy.

“I greet Your Grace, the Grand Duke.”

Reichardt’s expression as he looked at the letter was ambiguous.

It seemed like a smile, yet also slightly skewed.

“You did not reply to my last letter. Alicia, go out with me…”

“No.”

Alicia refused before he could finish.

At the same time, she recklessly tried to snatch the letter he was holding.

The letter near his chin flicked to the side.

It was one she recognized—one of the many letters in which she had written “No.”

She could guess which one it was.

“What is it?”

Reichardt chuckled, dodging Alicia’s lunge.

“Your Grace.”

Alicia’s face was calm.

But her hand stretched toward the letter was urgent and fierce.

Reichardt only raised his arm higher, lazily shifting direction.

The height difference was considerable.

The letter fluttered just out of reach.

Alicia glared, her face flushed, at his teasingly lifted brows.

The letter he held was the only one with a postscript.

“P.S. Are you all right without treatment?”

The letter that hovered just beyond her grasp made her restless.

She had written it out of worry, though she had debated long whether to include that postscript.

She had suspected it would be used to tease her.

Her bad feeling had not been wrong.

When she had written it, she had thought the words subtle enough, but now they seemed only sly.

She wanted to rip the letter apart.

But it brushed her fingertips and slipped away.

Angry, Alicia suddenly grabbed his elbow, which had been idly shifting directions.

She put all her strength into her grip.

Normally, he would not even budge from such force.

So though she strained, she had not expected much.

But Reichardt, leaning against the long conference table, lurched forward.

“Ah…!”

Alicia caught the man’s falling weight lightly on her shoulder.

She also seized the letter as it slipped from his hand.

Even with the letter finally in her grasp, she stared blankly ahead, stunned.

Reichardt’s face, tilted forward from her pull, was right before her nose.

“…Forgive me.”

As their eyes met, Reichardt apologized with an abashed expression.

As if his trivial teasing just before had been a lie.

Normally, he was not a man to collapse so easily.

Alicia thought he might not be well.

From the moment she had entered, she had noticed the strength in his fingers gripping the letter, and the faint shadow on his expression.

She had suspected his condition was poor.

Yet after only a few words, she had been swept into his play.

“I-I am strong, you see.”

Alicia turned her neck slightly away from his face and blurted out nonsense.

It sounded utterly foolish once spoken.

“Please return my letter.”

Reichardt said this while looking steadily at her, though he seemed to be trying to pull back.

“This letter is mine. Are you unwell?”

Alicia desperately tried not to meet his eyes, dangerously close.

If she did, she feared she would see herself swaying within his golden irises.

“Yes.”

Reichardt admitted plainly.

With that brief reply, he snatched the letter from her hand.

Alicia, busy trying to avert her gaze, let it go easily.

Still, her eyes kept being drawn to his face so near.

It was inevitable.

He was simply too close.

Yet she could not rightly push him away—he was ill.

“So then, will you not give me treatment today?”

“May I?”

His words were far too casual for a man who had just collapsed like a straw doll.

“You said you were sick.”

Suppressing a needless cough, Alicia slowly extended her hand.

At such closeness, his warm breath tickled her skin.

Soft lips with a tender touch pressed gently against the back of her hand.

Reichardt kissed her left hand, then drew her right and kissed it as well.

His lips lingered, cautious and gentle, before lifting away.

Rising from his leaning posture, he still held her hands.

Perhaps he had slipped the letter into his back pocket, for both hands were now free.

“Could you not simply heal me?”

His words were polite, his whisper courteous, but his expression carried a trace of mischief.

“Just a little.”

After feigning disinterest, Alicia finally beckoned with her eyes for him to come closer.

Reichardt smiled faintly in satisfaction.

Her hands slipped free of his grasp.

They lowered, then came to rest lightly on his shoulder.

His faint smile suddenly vanished.

The next moment, Alicia’s cheek pressed against his.

“All right.”

She whispered softly, as though speaking into his ear.

Their cheeks touched as if time had stopped.

After a long pause, Alicia pulled back with the gentlest of motions.

Then her cheek brushed against the other side of his face.

“I also have a request.”

While their cheeks met, Reichardt showed no movement.

He simply yielded his face, accepting the thrum of her heartbeat.