The Dying Duke's Decree
When she raised her voice so sharply, a look of clear displeasure flickered across the faces of the maids standing ready on either side. Barcas, however, did not so much as blink.
His fingers slid along her temple and gently stroked the still-stinging lobe of her ear. Thalia looked up at him, flustered.
"Wh-what are you doing?"
"Even your ears have turned red, Princess."
His somewhat rough fingertips traced the curve of her ear with unexpected softness. A tingling sensation raced down the nape of her neck, and Thalia hunched her shoulders. Barcas gazed steadily into her eyes and spoke in a tone of mild reproach.
"Are you receiving proper treatment? Or is it only the sleeping draught again…"
"What are you, my nanny?"
Thalia shoved him away with more force than necessary. Watching him in all his splendid attire, she had momentarily lost herself—yet the way he treated her like some critically ill patient only drove a fresh wave of misery through her.
"I'm managing just fine on my own, so stay out of it. You've managed perfectly well until now, haven't you?"
When she pointed out that he had not shown so much as the tip of his nose for the past several days, his eyes narrowed.
Just as he was about to speak, a sinister voice drifted from the far side of the room.
"How long do you intend to keep me waiting, Barcas?"
Thalia turned her head toward the great bed that dominated the center of the chamber. From beneath the thin canopy of the wooden bed, a gaunt arm stretched out. The man flicked his fingers with arrogant command.
"Bring your wife here."
Thalia's eyes narrowed. Even a grand duke had no right to summon an imperial princess with a mere crook of the finger.
Yet she knew full well that talking back to the head of the eastern power brokers, gathered here in force, would gain her nothing.
She swept a glance over the men surrounding the bed and carefully stepped into the room. Barcas's arm settled naturally around her waist. Realizing he was supporting her, Thalia bit her lip.
Does this man see me as nothing more than a child who needs looking after? He had never hesitated to put his hands on her before, but since the wyvern attack it had grown markedly worse.
"This way, if you please."
Half-cradled against him, Thalia approached the great bed. A solemn-faced man who appeared to be a legal proxy and another in priestly robes quietly stepped aside.
With a tense expression, Thalia studied the Grand Duke of Seorkan. The man looked nothing like Barcas and yet, in some uncanny way, resembled him. Death already clung thickly to his wasted body, yet authority poured from the face that seemed roughly hewn by a chisel, and his eyes—cold as molten steel—were filled with arrogance.
He raked her from head to toe with a piercing gaze and spoke in a low, heavy voice.
"…Unpleasantly alike. Did that woman fashion herself a homunculus?"
The words were as good as casting doubt upon her bloodline. Thalia cast every thought of courtesy far away.
"If I were not of Darian blood, people like you would have exposed the truth long ago."
She lifted her chin high and struck back sharply.
"Or are you simply confessing your own incompetence—that you cannot even handle a single daughter of House Taren?"
Sharp intakes of breath sounded throughout the room, as though her counterattack had startled them. The Grand Duke's face stiffened. He fixed her with a gimlet stare that seemed intent on boring into her features.
"Fearless, aren't you. Do you not know that I command the most powerful cavalry force in this empire?"
Thalia's expression hardened. For an instant the oppressive force radiating from the Grand Duke made her knees go weak. Still, she put on a show of bravado.
"And what of it? Do you mean to crush me under those cavalry?"
"You think I cannot?"
The man spat the words with a sneer.
"Do you truly believe the authority that counted for so little even in the imperial palace will be guaranteed here in the East?"
Hostility glittered in the Grand Duke's eyes with a chilling light. He pressed on in a rapid barrage.
"If I decide here and now to take your head, who can stop me? Would the Emperor truly risk the empire's division for your sake? Rather than wage war against the East, he will simply close his eyes and pretend not to see. Your mother may make a nuisance of herself for a while, but I will never stand trial for it. That is how worthless your authority as a princess truly is."
Thalia felt cold sweat soak the length of her spine. Fierce hostility surged toward the man who so casually laid bare the truth she had always pretended not to know.
She retreated like a cornered beast, yet still glared at the Grand Duke with venomous eyes.
"Then go ahead and kill me! My mother will not stop at being a mere nuisance. With my death as her pretext she could drive the conservative nobles into a corner—do you think she would simply let that chance slip by? Never."
Thalia gave a loud, derisive snort.
"Do you understand what that means? It means the miserable scrap of life you have left will become very, very exhausting. Think you'll rest easy once you're dead? You killed a powerless woman over a few words, so you'll burn in the fires of hell."
At the excessive curse the Grand Duke's face went white and rigid. Without giving him a moment to breathe, Thalia poured on.
"And you think your suffering ends there? You'll spend an especially wretched time even in hell—because I will not leave you alone for a single instant! Day and night I'll torment you to settle the grudge, even from beyond the grave. I have a very special talent in that regard. If you don't believe me, just ask Barcas!"
She shot Barcas a look that demanded he chime in, only for him to gaze down at her with a thoroughly peculiar expression.
When he failed to take her side at once, Thalia's face twisted with a sense of betrayal. As expected, no one can be trusted. This place is nothing but a den of enemies.
She cast a wary glance over the men with swords at their hips, then turned on her heel. The instant she made to flee, Barcas seized her forearm. Thalia jumped.
"Let go!"
She thrashed arms and legs, half-convinced he meant to deliver her intact to the Grand Duke—until Barcas, heaving a heavy sigh, pulled her firmly against his chest.
Thalia held her breath. Holding her immobile, Barcas spoke coldly toward the Grand Duke.
"One correction, if I may. Should Your Excellency attempt to harm Thalia Roem Seorkan, I will stand in your way."
Thalia looked up at him in astonishment. He finished slowly.
"Would you permanently lose your heir over a trivial quarrel?"
The Grand Duke, who had been gaping in sheer incredulity, twisted his face into a ferocious scowl. He looked ready to spit fire at any moment.
Yet what burst from his lips was not a rough bellow but a violent fit of coughing. His wasted frame heaved as he hacked; then, gasping for breath, he let out a dry laugh.
"What a farce."
"…"
"So you swagger about believing I have no alternative but you?"
"If another alternative exists, put him forward."
Barcas spoke in a tone so soft it raised gooseflesh.
"I intend to do everything in my power to assert my rights. If you wish the East to tear itself apart in civil war, then by all means."
The wrinkles at the corners of the Grand Duke's mouth twitched. After glaring at his eldest son with smoldering eyes, the man at last leaned his head back against the headboard as though exhausted. Then he stretched out one hand toward the legal proxy.
"Give me the letter of attorney."
The frozen proxy held out the parchment with trembling hands.
Gripping a quill, the Grand Duke scrawled a rough signature, then pulled the ring from his finger. The proxy at once poured sealing wax onto the end of the document. The Grand Duke pressed his seal into it and tossed the parchment to Barcas as though discarding it.
"With this, all my rights are transferred to Barcas Laedgo Seorkan."
Barcas accepted the letter of attorney with an expressionless face. As though the business were finished, the man lowered his eyelids and waved a rough hand.
"Now get the hell out."