Paths Not Taken
Sylvien took a step back.
The man had lost his mind.
Kallen Addis, muttering with that sunken face, looked as if something inside his head had shattered beyond repair. The cold rationality that once defined him seemed to have died alongside Canna, leaving nothing behind.
Sylvien turned and left the chapel without another word. Only after climbing into the carriage did he notice that his palms were slick with sweat.
He had wondered where that low roar was coming from. It was his own heartbeat, pounding so violently that the sound filled his ears and rattled his skull.
Sylvien loosened the cravat that was strangling his neck and swallowed hard.
I need to see Prince Argon.
If anyone knew anything, it would be him.
Why Canna had died. Whether it had truly been suicide. Why Kallen Addis had gone so completely mad.
Why...
Why?
Just why?
Why did you die, Canna?
His throat closed tight. With a sharp curse, Sylvien ripped the cravat completely off and hurled it across the carriage.
There was no reason for it. Not for a woman like her.
She had always seemed like someone who would burn the world down if that was what it took to survive. A woman made of living flame, the kind who would offer up everyone around her as kindling and walk away unscathed. So why would someone like that choose death?
Those eyes—burning with fever, branded into his memory like scar tissue—still haunted him.
Had it all been an act? Was that why she had driven the knife into her own chest?
Foolish.
The moment the thought formed, Sylvien knew he had no right to think it.
How dare he call her foolish?
He had no right at all.
She had lived a life worse than death. In the Addis family, in the Valentino duchy, she had survived like vermin. And he had done nothing but watch.
What right did a man like that have?
Sylvien had always hated revisiting the past. He had never allowed himself to regret, never lingered over doors he had closed.
But even so.
If only.
If only he had extended his hand to her.
If only he had exposed the incident with Prince Cassil instead of burying it.
If only he had protected her when Josephine dragged her away to be beaten.
Sylvien closed his eyes. In that instant, memories from the past unfolded before him with painful clarity, as vivid as if they were happening again.
“Your Grace, I have something to report.”
The butler had come to him with the news that Canna was being left to suffer after Josephine beat her with a rod, denying her any treatment or medicine.
“And?”
That was how Sylvien had answered.
It had merely been a nuisance. He had told the butler to leave her be. He had even thought it wouldn’t matter if she died like that.
But if only—
“Prepare the medicine. I will go to her myself.”
If he had said those words instead.
If, instead of turning away, he had gone to her room with the medicine in hand.
“Your Grace?”
Canna would have stared at him in shock.
“What brings you here…?”
She would not have believed it. After all, he had only ever ignored and avoided her.
In his imagination, Sylvien smiled bitterly and approached the woman lying on the bed, her legs swollen and bruised. He sat beside her and gently wiped the sweat from her fevered brow with a handkerchief.
“I’m sorry for pretending not to see.”
And then he spoke words he had never once said in reality.
“I’m sorry for allowing you to suffer.”
There had been a chance to say it then.
“It’s my fault. If I had paid even a little more attention to you, you wouldn’t have had to cling to life so desperately.”
There had been countless opportunities to admit the truth sooner.
“I’m sorry for letting you break like this.”
Yet the moment he opened his eyes, the vision dissolved like foam on water.
All that remained was an empty chair.
It was perhaps the future that might have been theirs.
But it was a path Sylvien had never chosen, opportunities that would never come again.
He stared out the carriage window. The sight of the cloudless, brilliant sky sent a sharp pain lancing through his chest.
Canna.
Had this world been so unbearable that you would abandon this dazzling sky, this life, and choose instead an unknown realm—perhaps one of eternal darkness?
I didn’t know.
I truly didn’t know.
I never realized it was that bad.
Even though I was once your husband.
“Drinking, are we?”
Argon arrived late that night.
Sylvien, slumped on the sofa with a glass of whiskey, turned his head with effort.
“Are you drunk?”
“No.”
“Looks like you finished an entire bottle by yourself.”
“I did. But I’m fine.”
Argon grinned and dropped into the seat across from him.
“Good heavens. First time seeing the duke in such a state. Heartbroken over your ex-wife’s death, are you?”
“No.”
“Then button your shirt before you say that.”
Sylvien’s brows drew together. He didn’t like the playful glint in Argon’s eyes.
“My wife—”
No. That wasn’t right anymore.
“My ex-wife is dead. Is that something to smile about?”
Canna was dead. She had driven a knife into her own heart. Her life had been so miserable that she fled into death—and Argon was smiling?
Irritation flared hot and sudden. His grip tightened around the glass until it creaked.
“Odd. I didn’t think the duke had any interest in Canna.”
“She was my wife.”
“You didn’t care whether she lived or died while she was your wife. Now that she’s gone, you suddenly feel the loss?”
All fight drained out of Sylvien in an instant. The words were true.
“Did Canna really commit suicide?”
“Yes. They say she stabbed herself in the chest with a dagger right in front of Kallen Addis.”
“……”
“Which is why that poor bastard’s hair turned completely white overnight.”
The image of Kallen in the chapel rose in Sylvien’s mind—the young face framed by an old man’s hair, eyes half-mad.
“Sir Kallen will probably be tormented by nightmares for the rest of his life. He’ll never forget that moment until the day he dies.”
“……”
“But Duke, it may be too soon to mourn.”
“…What do you mean by that?”
“There’s a chance Canna is still alive.”
“She is dead. I confirmed the body myself.”
“It could have been a fake.”
Sylvien’s eyes opened slowly.
Had it been anyone else, he would not have listened. But the man before him possessed the largest intelligence network in the empire.
“Explain.”
“Are you prepared to pay the price?”
“Of course.”
“With Crescent dead, I’ve become the strongest candidate for the throne. Cassil may still be alive, but no one will back him.”
Argon let out a long sigh.
“The next emperor will be me.”
It was a future Argon could not escape, no matter how little he wanted it.
“As you know, Duke, I have no interest in the throne. Stop me from becoming emperor by any means necessary. Start a rebellion if you must.”
“I swear it.”
“Good.”
Argon shrugged. This would mean breaking faith with Canna, but he had no choice. His own future mattered more.
“The truth is, Canna wanted to leave the Addis family. She dreamed of exile in another country.”
“…Exile?”
“Yes. So I gave her a forged identity token from the Yalden Kingdom.”
Seeing that he had Sylvien’s full attention, Argon continued.
“The name on it was Erdel Iris. And records show that a woman carrying that exact token entered the Ramas Kingdom on the day Canna supposedly died.”
Argon smiled.
“So go find her.”