The Duchess Revealed
Barcas turned without a word. Thalia, half-dragged from the room, cast anxious glances about her. Only now did the fear strike her that someone might protest the disastrous succession ceremony.
Most of the vassals, however, wore expressions of relief, as though a weight had finally been lifted.
“With this, discipline in the East will be restored.”
A man who had drawn alongside them spoke. His face was vaguely familiar; he must have been among those present on the day of Barcas’s duel.
The man, impeccably dressed in fine attire, offered her a light bow before shifting his gaze to Barcas.
“Will you begin the territorial tour today?”
“If there are no complications.”
Barcas answered curtly, then looked down at Thalia.
“Can you depart at once?”
“……Where are we going?”
“It is one of the principal rites of the succession. We tour the eastern regions, present the new ruler’s face to the people, and observe local conditions. A ceremonial progress, nothing more.”
The man interjected with the explanation. Thalia stared up at him, bewildered.
“Do I have to go as well?”
“It is customary for the Duchess to accompany the Duke, though……”
He let the sentence trail off, glancing sideways at Barcas. Barcas, who had been walking silently down the corridor, stopped abruptly.
Thalia felt a hand touch her cheek and instinctively shrank back. Barcas lifted her chin and spoke in an even tone.
“You must come as well, Your Highness.”
Thalia’s eyes widened. Since her leg had been injured, this was the first time he had compelled her to do anything.
“You told me not to hide you.”
He added the words in a cold, inflexible voice.
“I intend to honor that. From this day forward, no one in these lands will fail to know that you are the Duchess of Sieorkan.”
She stared at him, mouth agape. She had imagined nothing more than showing her face to the vassals; she had never dreamed she would have to present herself to every soul in the East.
Thalia swallowed hard.
“I-I can’t leave right now. I need to pack, and my nanny, my healer……”
“I have already spoken to Your Highness’s attendants. By now they will have completed every preparation for the journey.”
He cut her off, closing off any escape.
Thalia rolled her eyes, searching for another excuse, but before she could speak Barcas bent and lifted her effortlessly in one arm. She swallowed a cry and clung to his neck.
Paying no heed to her fluster, Barcas descended the stairs in long strides, crossed the grand hall, and issued orders to the waiting vassals.
“Have the spear knights ready. We ride for the Norden Plain.”
He passed through the arched doorway where sunlight streamed in. Thalia narrowed her eyes against the glare. When her vision cleared she saw the courtyard crowded with attendants.
Under their stares—eyes that regarded her as though she were some strange creature—Thalia went rigid.
The image of the monstrous bird she had once seen caged in the imperial palace rose in her mind. She remembered, too, the fascinated gazes of those who had watched the trapped beast.
The queasy sensation grew stronger. Thalia pressed her face into his shoulder.
“Tell them not to stare at me. It feels awful.”
“……I wonder whether they will obey my command.”
Barcas answered in a dry voice. Thalia shot him an incredulous glare.
“You’re the Duke now. Say anyone who disobeys will be executed. Or threaten to skewer them on a spear the way you used to.”
A faint smirk touched his lips.
“Do you wish me to slaughter every easterner?”
Thalia frowned. Was he actually joking?
She was still trying to read his impassive face when he added, matter-of-fact,
“If I executed every person who looked at you, the Khan tribe would soon be extinct.”
“Don’t talk nonsense. I only meant for you to threaten them.”
“The people of the East do not make empty threats. Once spoken, they must be kept.”
Thalia felt a strange confusion settle over her. She could hardly believe she was having this absurd exchange with Barcas. Even without the sleeping draught, a corner of her mind felt oddly numb.
She moistened her dry lips and muttered irritably,
“You certainly talk a lot just to say ‘endure it.’”
“I am glad you understood.”
Barcas gave a cynical twist of his mouth and turned her head so she faced forward. Thalia hunched her shoulders. A low, gentle voice brushed her ear.
“Raise your head.”
Barcas adjusted his hold so that her head was higher and whispered,
“You said I must not hide you, even if you try to hide yourself.”
A sudden gust swept over them. Thalia lifted her face as though drawn by it.
Cool air scented with dry grass filled their clothes. The crawling discomfort along her skin gradually faded. Thalia blinked slowly.
Thin silk brushed softly against her skin. She gazed at the bright sky for a moment, then lowered her eyes to the courtyard.
People were still staring, unblinking. Yet Thalia sensed something different in those gazes.
Awe, perhaps. A strange thrill ran down her spine. They looked at her the way they looked at Senebier. Realizing it, she turned her eyes back to Barcas.
Was it because this man stood beside her? She could scarcely believe that no one had noticed she was broken.
“We greet the Duke.”
When Barcas crossed the wide courtyard and reached the gate, one of the lined-up knights stepped forward and bowed. It was the mounted warrior named Tyrone.
Barcas halted before a large traveling carriage and answered indifferently,
“I am still only the acting Duke.”
“You already hold every real power, do you not?”
The man folded his arms across his chest and gave a playful laugh.
“Everyone is thrilled by the rise of a young and powerful new leader. Do not dampen their spirits.”
Barcas passed him without reply and opened the carriage door.
Thalia narrowed her eyes at the comfortably appointed interior. She thought she understood why he had not shown his face for an entire week. To secure the vassals’ loyalty, force the Duke into holding the succession ceremony, and complete every preparation for the journey—he would have needed two bodies at least.
He climbed inside and set her on the wide seat, then reached for the door. The mounted warrior waiting outside caught it.
“There is one matter I wish to suggest. Allow Young Master Lucas to accompany us on this journey.”
“Did you not hear that I placed him under house arrest?”
The man sighed softly.
“I know. But Young Master Lucas is Your Grace’s younger brother. In a few years he must serve as your aide. It would be better to let him learn by direct experience than to keep him at a desk like a ten-year-old.”
A faint crease appeared between Barcas’s brows. He studied the man’s swarthy face for a moment, then exhaled.
“Very well. Attach the brat to me as an attendant knight.”
The man withdrew, satisfied. Barcas closed the door at once and took the seat opposite her.
Thalia glanced at him awkwardly. Barcas always rode Torque when he traveled. When he showed no sign of leaving the carriage, she ventured,
“Aren’t you riding?”
Barcas, unfastening the heavy ornaments from his wrist, gave her a cool look.
“Do you want me to get out?”
“No one said that. I was only curious.”
His tone was sharper than usual; Thalia lowered her eyes and muttered under her breath. Because of what she had done, she could not meet him with her usual force. She pressed herself against the carriage wall and pretended to gaze out the window.
He leaned back against the seat and raked a hand through his disheveled hair.
“As Your Highness must have guessed, our marriage has stirred various rumors. To silence them, we must appear as an ordinary couple for the time being.”