Winter Bud - Chapter 22

Thea muttered blankly, “So maybe it’s not such a bad thing.”

As she said it, she thought maybe she could really believe the lie as truth. That the man she loved had slept with her maid… and that children were born between them. And yet he had said he still wanted her….

“Just as you said, Father, it was all for the best. I should believe that, shouldn’t I?”

“….”

“Then why do I feel so miserable? Why do I still keep crying?”

Thea gave her father a crooked smile. Thinking of the little children Nanna had borne, it felt like her chest was being trampled by hooves. Feeling her pounding heart, she lowered her head for a moment.

“Thea.”

Her father looked ready to call a physician, but Thea shook her head at him.

“…I’m fine.”

“My child.”

Sermione gripped his daughter’s small shoulders. Thea, who had been biting down on the dull ache pressing against her chest, calmed him again by insisting she was fine. It had been like this before too. When she was looking at Nanna, sometimes such unpleasant, dull pain would crush her. But it hadn’t been Nanna’s fault. So it would be fine with Nanna too. That was what she had to think…. Swallowing dryly, Thea slowly lifted her head.

“Do you agree with keeping Nanna in the Western Palace?”

“Thea.”

“She bothers me.”

“It’s His Majesty’s decision.”

“Don’t you want her back yourself, Father?”

Thea stared straight at the man. His expression remained blank, but under her sharp gaze, he withdrew his hands from her shoulders. Thea slowly rose to stand face-to-face with him. It was a subject she had never brought up before. Not even once…. He had hidden it so thoroughly she hadn’t even known. Nanna surely didn’t know either.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“…I didn’t mean anything else.”

Thea said it with a face of sincerity. The man, suddenly gone cold, stared intently at her. As if dissecting her expression. As if trying to guess her intent. For a moment, Thea found that laughable.

“Thea.”

Sermione’s face grew stern as his daughter gave a short laugh. Thea held back her twisting expression and wiped at her eyes. Did he really think she wouldn’t know anything? That she’d always be naive and innocent like a fool?

“How… how could you think I wouldn’t know?”

Her sharp question cut through. Sermione only looked at his daughter in the dim light. Her nervous voice was pointed like a blade. What good would it do to answer now? It would only lead to a fight. And he didn’t want to fight with his daughter. She was a fragile woman, and in the end, it was because he had failed to protect her that things had come to this.

“Father.”

“No.”

He lowered his gaze. For her to realize that the father she believed knew no woman other than her mother had lain with a woman she had once saved and cherished like a sister…. How disappointed, how horrified Thea must have been. Even so, she had shown no sign of it. Sermione looked at her intently, then rose from his seat.

“I understand your confusion.”

“….”

“I’ll do what I can, as you wish.”

He held her faint, too-pale face in his hands. That small, warm face was trying to suppress her rage. Just as he had once comforted her when she was a little girl, he carefully drew her into his arms. Thea didn’t push him away. The frail daughter buried her face against his chest and wept silently. He felt as if his skin were being flayed while he was still alive, his flesh being torn open.

Thea was his precious daughter. Nothing could replace her. He raised his hand to stroke her round head, then pressed his lips against her round forehead. Suddenly, Thea lifted her head. The beautiful green eyes she had inherited from him glistened with tears in the dim light.

“Truly… You really will?”

“Thea.”

“No one has abandoned me, have they?”

Her small hand clutched at his cravat. Her grip was strong. Struggling to steady his breath, he looked at his daughter, who demanded a vow. Her pitiful eyes were fiercely intense.

He slowly nodded. “Yes.”

“Then that’s enough. That’s all… I need.”

Thea closed her eyes. She let go of his cravat and turned away, but dizziness hit her.

***

The Western Palace was better than she thought. It was a little distant from the imperial palace, but not too far away. In the old days—in the early years of the Old Empire—it had been used for the palace monks to live in, for the purpose of meditation and discipline. Then it began to be used to confine princes who had fallen out of the Emperor’s favor.

Perhaps because of that, unlike the splendid and overwhelming façade of the imperial palace, the Western Palace, standing alone, looked plain, even somewhat lonely and desolate. It was natural. It had been built for monks to live in quiet seclusion.

By the end of the Old Empire, it was said to have been used as a place for discarded concubines, who were no longer favored, or concubines who had committed wrongs and been expelled, to stay with their servants—just like the imperial descendants who had fallen out of favor. So even if it was cleaned, the long-accumulated darkness could never be completely swept away.

And yet in Nanna’s eyes, it wasn’t so bad. Perhaps because it had been tidied up beforehand. There were no cobwebs, and the light came in fairly well. Nanna took off her cloak, dampened slightly by the rain.

She dropped the baggage she carried in both hands right in the middle of the living room and looked around. Even if it was an abandoned palace, she had heard that there were still servants assigned there because of her. So she didn’t have to bring the servants who had lived with her until now.

Nanna nodded. She had never been of particularly noble status or bearing, so it wasn’t as though she had to rely on subordinates to live comfortably. Nanna had always found being alone easier, and she was used to caring for herself. Still, she thought at least someone might peek out to greet her. If there really were servants assigned to the Western Palace, that is.

‘It’s fine.’

Nanna, who had taken off her cloak, moved the baggage she had left in the center of the living room over to the fireplace and checked the dry firewood. The weather was fairly chilly, so she thought she should light a fire. Seeing the pile of dry wood stacked by the fireplace, she smiled, thinking, ‘So there really is a caretaker.’

She quickly lit a fire, then checked the bedding she would use at night. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she gazed blankly out the rain-smeared window. Two small birds were chirping as they burrowed into the thick leaves to avoid the rain.

Finally, it hit her that she was alone. That from now on, for the rest of her life… until death. She would never be able to leave this plain, dull place. Was that a tragedy? Nanna blinked her dry eyes. No, it wasn’t. Nanna liked such dull peace. She always had.

Living as Thea’s maid. Loving her lady’s fiancé all alone, silently weeping at the cruelty and wretchedness of it—it had been dreadful. The peace she wanted was silence that even the greatest love could not destroy. If she loved no one, her heart would remain calm. There would be no room for turmoil. Nanna curled her frail body up and looked around the dimming surroundings. She didn’t know when she had fallen asleep.

‘Mommy?’

A young voice called her. Nanna knew whose voice it was. Freya. Dead… gone from this world, now drifting like a dandelion seed on the wind, it was her young daughter.

‘Freya?’

‘Yes.’

The little girl, wearing a plain white dress without shine, was crouched down beside her like a snowman. The little girl whose bangs hung down over her eyebrows was exactly as she remembered her. She didn’t know what to say. How long had it been since she last saw Freya like this? She couldn’t even remember. She had never been able to see Freya even in her dreams. She had left too young. There had been nothing left behind of her.