87. A Belated Letter

In response to his question, I replied nonchalantly.

“We’re managing somehow. Don’t worry.”

“Managing somehow? So much so that you can’t even fix a window? And what is this weak tea? What are you spending your money on…?”

He lightly criticized the tea Suren had brought. The tea in the cup was so weak it was closer to water than tea. I kept my mouth shut, and he didn’t press the issue further.

After a long silence, during which we drank our tea, he spoke again.

“I’m surprised. I thought you would throw a tantrum.”

“…”

“I expected you to complain about the lack of funds and come to the capital to grab me by the collar.”

There was a time I might have done that, but not anymore. I had already heard his true feelings in the courtroom.

“Didn’t you make those decisions with a plan in mind? It’s fine.”

“What?”

He seemed to think he had misheard me.

I made a resigned expression, and he looked even more perplexed.

Why was he so taken aback when I was complying so obediently, like the noble lady he expected—or rather, like the sold blood bag?

He stared at me in silence, then cleared his throat and got to the point.

“I heard that you came to the capital while I was away.”

“Yes.”

He looked at me with an unfamiliar expression before continuing.

“You caused quite a stir. Even visited the prison.”

“…”

It wasn’t part of the plan, but he didn’t reprimand me.

“You might have heard the news from the capital, but we had a plan to escape Prince Azanti’s schemes. We almost raised the prince’s suspicions, but thanks to you, he had no doubts at all.”

The plea of an abandoned concubine must have struck a chord. Even to me, the tears I shed in the prison didn’t seem like an act.

“I’m glad I could help.”

Viter nodded, a faint smile on his face.

“Yes, indeed. Your unexpected actions provided a cover we didn’t anticipate. It made our plan more effective.”

I remained silent, sipping my tea. Despite the bitterness of the situation, there was a small comfort in knowing that my actions had some positive impact.

Viter looked at me thoughtfully, then spoke again.

“There’s something I need to give you.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a sealed envelope.

“This arrived a while ago, but I was unable to deliver it sooner. It’s from Prince Deon.”

I took the envelope, my hands trembling slightly. Breaking the seal, I pulled out the letter inside.

—

To Leonie,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I regret that circumstances have prevented me from speaking to you in person. There are many things I wish to explain, but time and distance have made it difficult.

First and foremost, I want to apologize. For everything. For the pain and uncertainty you’ve endured because of me. It was never my intention to cause you distress.

I had to keep many things secret, for your safety as well as mine. The plans we made required discretion and sacrifice. I know this may not be much comfort, but please know that every decision was made with the goal of securing a better future for both of us.

I am grateful for your strength and resilience. Your actions have helped more than you know. Please hold on a little longer. The day will come when we can meet again, free from the shadows that have plagued us.

Until then, stay safe.

Yours,
Deon

—

I read the letter several times, tears blurring the words. Viter watched me quietly, his earlier sternness softened by understanding.

“Thank you.”

I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You deserved to know, And you deserve to see this through to the end.”

I nodded, clutching the letter tightly. Despite the pain and hardship, there was a glimmer of hope. Deon’s words gave me the strength to keep going, to believe that one day, things would be different.

I responded as coldly as the now lukewarm tea and fell silent once more.

My uncharacteristic reply made Viter freeze with his teacup in hand. He glanced at me, gauging my reaction.

I looked down at the teacup. The flower petals floated, failing to blend with the water.

Unable to afford proper tea leaves, we had dried flowers from the hill behind the mansion to serve to guests. It was an amateurish attempt.

The flowers weren’t fully dried, so the tea was astringent, yet he kept drinking it. He wasn’t thirsty—he was just trying to mask his discomfort. He was puzzled by my lack of sharp retorts.

As he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, he set down the cup and cautiously asked.

“Are you upset? We didn’t inform you due to certain circumstances… If this caused you any distress…”

He had hit the mark. I steadied myself and replied as calmly as I could.

“No, Viter. You’re right. If I had known what was to come, I wouldn’t have gone to the prison or sought out Lady Isella, and the enemy might have let their guard down.”

“Do you really… think so?”

“Yes. If you had informed me beforehand, even if you had instructed me to act, I wouldn’t have been convincing enough to deceive Prince Azanti. I’m not a good actor.”

He set the teacup down. More than half of the tea was gone.

“You say you’re not a good actor. Yet you’ve convincingly pretended to love the prince all this time.”

A look of confusion crossed his face.

That wasn’t an act.

I swallowed the unspoken words along with the bitter tea.

The dried petals were indeed astringent. My tongue felt numb.

Despite my composed facade, I couldn’t shake the lingering sense of hurt.

I already knew I wasn’t of much help to him, but couldn’t he have given me a hint? If he had even a bit of concern for my distress… But I couldn’t voice these thoughts to him.

The long silence was broken by yet another of his throat clearings. I’d lost count of how many times he’d done it.

Being in his company was growing increasingly uncomfortable. Yet Viter persisted, asking another probing question.

“Lady Leonie, the butler informed me that you were not at the mansion that day. He said you returned late in the early morning hours.”

“Yes.”

“That day, were you perhaps in the capital? The prince told you to return from the prison. I thought you had followed his instruction, but was I mistaken?”

His gaze was piercing, as if he could see through everything.

I swallowed hard and shook my head firmly.

“No, I wasn’t.”

I clamped my mouth shut, leaving no room for even the slightest suspicion. Hoping he wouldn’t ask any more questions.

Viter stared at me intently for a moment before picking up his teacup again. He drank the remaining unpalatable tea and then prepared to leave for the capital.

I watched as he gathered his things, feeling a mixture of relief and lingering resentment. The letter from Deon clutched in my hand felt heavier than ever.

* * *

“We have no meat. We’re also out of flour. We can’t bake bread or make soup.”

After Viter swept through the mansion, Suren emerged from the kitchen, grumbling.

“It looks like we’ll have to procure food ourselves. But it’s a disaster because of the famine. I asked the villagers, and they said they didn’t farm this year.”

She let out a short sigh.

“What do we have left?”

“Left?”

Suren spun around at my question. Her torn navy dress swirled around her apron.

“We have water.”

Suren pointed to the well visible outside the window.

“And salt.”

She then turned to point at the lake.

“Well, that’s something.”

It basically meant we had nothing left.

I rubbed my forehead, scanning the kitchen devoid of any food smells, and turned to the embarrassed head butler standing nearby.

“You should head to the capital as well.”

We needed to reduce the number of mouths to feed. Besides, it was better for him to head to the warm capital than to starve here.

He was still suffering from his illness. In the mornings, he struggled to get out of bed.

“If I leave, who will guard this place?”

“…Suren is here.”

“But there’s no man to protect you, my lady.”

“What?”

I stared blankly at the head butler before realizing he was joking and chuckled. It wasn’t something he should say after everything was over and done.

The head butler was an old man. At his age, he should be living a leisurely life in a small house, pulling weeds and watering flowers.

He was well past the age of retirement. But instead of pointing that out, I looked around the mansion and said,

“No one comes here anyway. There are no intruders.”

In this countryside, no one would harm me. Especially now that I was known as Deon’s discarded mistress rather than his weakness.

People might be curious, but there was no reason to come all the way to the outskirts to see me.

Besides, who would dare to provoke the prince by targeting his former mistress? If someone did harm me, Deon wouldn’t stand for it. Despite the faded affection, it was a matter of pride.

Suren grumbled as she cleaned the utensils. She stacked the washed cups. Water dripped onto the floor. There was a small stove where she placed the cups upside down.

I couldn’t remember the last time we lit the stove. The mansion’s chimney hadn’t smoked for days. Although people lived here, there were no signs of life.

“Is it time to light the stove?”

As soon as I spoke, Suren responded eagerly.

“I’ll get some embers from the fireplace.”

Suren brought a burning log from the fireplace in the drawing room and placed it in the stove.

Soon, small flames flickered, and smoke drifted out through the gaps.

Watching the fire, old memories came flooding back.

<I promise nothing will harm you. There, you can relax, eat, spend money, and stay healthy. Isn’t that a good deal?>

Deon had made that promise when he left the north.

Did I really believe he’d keep that promise?

It was foolish. Still remembering his words. Believing even a speck of his kindness was genuine.

* * *

A few days later, a letter arrived from the prince. It was the first letter to arrive over a month since I had come to the mansion.

A young boy handed me the letter with clear eyes. He seemed around sixteen. Sending such a young boy meant I couldn’t harshly turn him away.

It was probably Viter’s ploy.

“I would appreciate it if you could confirm and respond.”

Caught off guard, I took the letter the boy handed over. The envelope was very thin.

[I would like you to attend the banquet.]

And the content was as simple as the thinness of the envelope.

The letter contained only one line. The blank space was excessively long.

It felt strangely light. This short message didn’t need a letter. It could have been conveyed verbally.

The boy, oblivious to the meaning, stood there blankly.

When I let out a faint chuckle, he visibly flinched and then hesitantly stepped back.