“I apologize for the trouble you’ve been dragged into after I invited you. If there is any compensation you desire...”
“There is only one thing I want.”
To that ironclad response, Enoch swallowed a sigh. It was all because of Derek Otis, that dim-witted, half-baked cousin of his. If he could, he would have thrown him into that man’s mouth, consequences be damned. But he couldn’t. Even though Derek had been chased out of the capital and given the title of Viscount due to his mother’s lowly status, he was, at the end of the day, of royal blood.
“I believe you have already made him pay the price. Viscount Otis agreed to keep his mouth shut regarding that matter.”
“Naturally, he would. After all, I left his head attached to his shoulders. Out of mercy.”
It was a carefully chosen remark, yet Curtis Russell looked at him as if he were asking something obvious. After a moment of deliberation, Enoch proposed:
“I will grant you ten percent of Viscount Otis’s estate. On the condition that you remain silent about everything that happened today.”
The aristocratic society’s reputation for Viscount Otis was already at rock bottom. Whenever he visited the capital, he would harass the maids and had even forcibly violated a young noblewoman of lower rank. On top of that, there was gambling and assault.
Making such a concession was intended to appease the Marquess of Russell, whom the King trusted and favored, and to prevent the already tarnished reputation of Viscount Otis from falling any further. It was a proposal made out of a sense of goodwill, but the man opposite him remained stony-faced.
“I have no need for that.”
“Ten percent. I cannot go any higher.”
He couldn’t even imagine the tantrum Derek would throw if he found out about this deal. Rubbing his temples, Enoch tried to persuade him.
“I understand the Marquess’s feelings. If it were me, I would have cut down anyone who tried to violate my own cousin.”
“And yet.”
“Still, you must consider your family and your cousin. Viscount Otis is a bastard the King cares about. Is his life worth turning the King into your enemy?”
It was a realistic and rational question. After a moment of silence, Curtis brushed himself off and stood up.
“Very well. Ten percent.”
“Then I shall consider it settled.”
“And I will add one more thing.”
Cutting off Enoch, Curtis placed both hands on the table and leaned forward. Meeting his gaze with those icy blue eyes, he added, his words dripping with venom:
“Never again bring that face before my cousin, my sister, or my sight. If that is broken, I fear my hands might move of their own accord, regardless of my intentions.”
“……Understood. Let us do that.”
Satisfied, Enoch stood up to follow him. He extended a hand. Curtis shook it with a look of distaste and turned his back.
“Then I shall take my leave. Once I have finished packing.”
“And your cousin?”
The hand gripping the doorknob froze. Watching his back, Enoch parted his lips.
“Is she alright?”
Curtis turned his head slowly.
“Why are you curious about that? You should have already heard.”
It was true. He had heard that although her body temperature had dropped dangerously low and she had been on the verge of freezing to death, she had been kept safe by someone rubbing her hands and feet day and night to warm her. Yet, the reason he had insisted on hearing it from the man’s own lips—perhaps it was because the image of her being carried in his arms, limp and lifeless, kept haunting him.
“…….”
While Enoch was left speechless, Curtis gave a curt nod, opened the door, and walked out.
* * *
Since the time Roxana had nearly died, the relationship with Frey had reversed. Frey, once the baby bird being cared for, now acted like a mother bird.
“Roxana. Are you really alright? If your body is struggling, we can stay a little longer before leaving.”
“I’m fine.”
Wrapped in a blanket, Roxana smiled.
“Right. If you feel unwell, you must tell me. We can stop the carriage for a while. The Princess Consort even provided a personal physician to accompany us, just in case.”
“I will. Thank you for your concern. *Cough.*”
Even at the small sound of her coughing, Frey’s face clouded over. Eventually, Roxana moved from the opposite seat to sit beside Frey and rested her head on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“Why are you apologizing, Roxana…… The culprit is someone else entirely.”
Lizzie was following behind the carriage with her hands tied. Her punishment would come once they returned to the castle. She deserved to be killed, and even that wouldn’t be enough. Frey, seething inwardly, hid her expression and leaned against Roxana.
“Roxana, you must never die. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you.”
“Never. You must live a long, long time. Promise me. Okay?”
“I promise.”
Only after receiving repeated assurances did Frey close her eyes. Inside the rattling carriage, Roxana stroked Frey’s hair.
*You must not die, Roxana.*
*If you die like this, I will never forgive you.*
*Just try dying. I won’t let you off easy.*
She remembered the hands that had held her tightly when her consciousness was fading. And the lips that had muttered those words as if chewing on them.
*Don’t die like this. If you were going to die so easily, you should have died by my hand that day, Roxana.*
Unlike his rough tone, the hands that had wrapped around her body had been warm. It was a moment when she had wondered if she had perhaps already died.
Roxana, lost in thought for a long time, opened her eyes only after the carriage had come to a stop. Sensing someone’s presence, the window opened. Curtis, who had been riding alongside the carriage on horseback, spoke.
“We are stopping for a short rest. I’ll have water and snacks brought to you, so eat.”
His face was as impassive as ever. Roxana spoke on impulse.
“What about Lizzie?”
“…….”
“What will you do with her?”
Curtis was momentarily captivated by the face asking so clearly. Her violet eyes were sharp once more. They were different from the day before, when they had been devoid of focus. She was alive. She was breathing.
“……She betrayed her master, so she must receive a fitting punishment.”
“Specifically?”
“I intend to cut off her hands or feet. She will choose. And then, I will cast her out of the castle.”
It was cruel, but it was a clear example. If he didn’t maintain discipline, things would fall into chaos. Roxana, who had been looking down in thought, slowly lifted her head.
“If it is alright with you, could you leave her to me?”
“What?”
“I want to punish her in my own way.”
“You, a nun?”
The words had slipped out before he could think. Roxana smiled silently at his sarcastic question and answered quietly.
“Lady Frey said it. That I am sharper than I look.”
* * *
As soon as they arrived at the castle, the place Roxana took Lizzie was the stables. The stench of excrement pierced her nose. Lizzie, her face deathly pale, glared at Roxana.
“Are you telling me…… to do this?”
“It is the work of caring for the animals and cleaning their waste. It is essential work. I heard the person in charge of the stables just quit, so you can take over.”
“I absolutely refuse! I won’t do it!”
It was a large-scale stable housing pigsties, chicken coops, and goat pens. Lizzie, on the verge of tears, collapsed and burst into sobs.
“I didn’t come here to do things like this. I am—even if my family fell, I was the daughter of a wealthy merchant!”
“Such excuses do not work here. Whatever your past was, you are a maid here now.”
Roxana said calmly, then asked quietly:
“It is not as if I am chasing you away. Aren’t you fortunate that you can continue to work here?”
“I was wrong. I was wrong, Roxana!”
The smell was too intense. She couldn’t work in such a filthy, foul-smelling stable that others despised. Lizzie clung to the hem of Roxana’s skirt and begged.
“I was truly wrong. You’re kind, aren’t you? Can’t you forgive me? Besides, I didn’t actually do anything terrible to that man.”
Roxana, who had been silent, pulled her hand away.
“If things had gone slightly differently, you would have. I could have died.”
“That’s why I’m saying I was wrong!”
“If you are truly sorry, then take good care of the animals here. Start by correcting your twisted character and learning to value life, one step at a time.”
At Roxana’s cold words, Lizzie wailed and scrambled to take back her excuses.
“Roxana! I only did what the Viscount told me to do! I was scared! Please, look at me with pity, won’t you?”
“That is why I have thought of a way in my own way.”
Roxana, who had brushed past the collapsed Lizzie, opened the entrance to the stables. Before leaving, she turned her head toward Lizzie, who sat there in despair.
“If you don’t like it, there is one other way.”
“A way?”
Lizzie, clinging to hope as if looking at a lifeline, asked back.
“What is the way?”
“The Lord said he would cut off your hands or feet and then cast you out of the castle.”
As Roxana’s words continued, Lizzie’s face turned ashen. As she stepped out of the stables, Roxana finished her sentence.
“Choose whether you will care for the livestock here for ten years, or whether you will have that done to you.”
If she worked diligently in the stables, the ten years might be reduced to five. But by the time that thought occurred to her, the door had already closed. Roxana hesitated for a moment before quickening her pace at the sound of Alice calling her from a distance.
The cries of the livestock and the wailing of Lizzie echoed throughout the stables.
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