Chapter 159
“Yes. If it truly bothers you, then she has Jeweled Eyes. Plenty will pay dearly. You do have an eye for value.”
At those words—’pay dearly’—Nellusion’s lips twitched ever so slightly.
“It’s not time to sell her yet. She’s still young, and we can raise the stakes higher. And as you said, since she has Jeweled Eyes, we can use her fully before parting with her. If we use her ability well, won’t our long-cherished goals be achieved all the sooner?”
“We’ll see. If she really is as sensible as you claim, then of course she can stay here longer. But she’s already entangled with that troublesome Duke. You must make sure she doesn’t slip from our control.”
“Yes, Father.”
Soon enough, even his cautious father would see. How absolutely Nerys was on their side, how immeasurable her value was.
With that conviction, Nellusion nodded obediently.
A knock came at the door. At the Duke’s call to enter, the study’s door opened slowly.
The steward bowed respectfully to master and heir.
“Lady Truydd has returned and wishes to greet you.”
“Nerys?”
Nellusion’s face lit with a smile. The Duke glanced at his son, then gestured.
“Show her in.”
“Yes.”
The steward stepped aside. Nerys was already there, her nose faintly pink from the cold, yet elegant and composed.
Nellusion leapt up as though to escort his true sister. The Duke noted how unflinching she appeared before the grandeur of the study.
Even ladies of higher birth usually showed hesitation when entering such rooms for the first time. Clearly… she was no ordinary girl.
“Welcome, Nerys. How was Madam Moriah? She didn’t frighten you? Leaving you there weighed on me. I worried so much.”
‘He says that, but he left easily enough.’ Nerys thought, but played along. She sat calmly on a small sofa, a place already familiar from her previous life.
“How could that be your fault? Madam herself commanded it. If you had stayed, I would never have had the chance to speak with her.”
“Thank you for understanding. Ah, your red nose! You need hot tea. After I came home, I sent a carriage to wait at Madam’s—did you ride that back?”
“Yes, Big Brother. Thank you. You’re so considerate.”
The carriage was, of course, sent to ensure she went nowhere else. But Nerys smiled sweetly, feigning naivety. A maid soon brought in tea.
“You’re our house’s young lady too. You shouldn’t suffer for lack of a carriage. What did Madam say? Will she help?”
The real question—had she used her Jeweled Eyes?
At Nellusion’s inquiry, the Duke’s eyes gleamed shrewdly. Nerys lowered her gaze, feigning unease.
“Yes. I’m ashamed… but I used them. She asked of my bloodline, but said she had no mind to help. I knew it was shameless…”
A bald-faced lie—but in truth, Madam had agreed to cooperate. She had granted the Moriér Merchant Group freedom in Tropur, under the condition that in front of the Elandria family they maintained a united story. Until Monica’s true killer was caught.
‘It was more than I expected.’
She had thought it would take longer, with bargaining and persuasion. But Madam had yielded quickly. Why? Nerys could not know. Yet with so much at stake, she accepted it as fortune.
The Tropur Redeng case touched the Wells family, kin to the Duchess. If it became public, it would stir scandal.
❖ ❖ ❖
The long gallery of the ducal residence was dark and hushed, lined with portraits of generations past. Alone, Nerys examined each painted face.
A pale, haughty girl. An old man scowling. A matron dripping with heirlooms. Few bore the Ja’an trait; all eyes were the same color—deep Tyrian purple.
The shade that made noble society revere violet eyes.
But none were painted with Jeweled Eyes.
Her gaze settled at last on the first Duke of Elandria.
A middle-aged man, solemn and severe, facing the painter with a presence that filled the enormous canvas.
Perhaps scarred from slaying an evil dragon, his expression was dark, almost peevish, unbecoming of his legend.
Less a hero than a politician.
‘The Honest Elandria.’
So he was called—Hubert Elandria.
If his face looked freer, less calculating, she might have wondered how such a man’s descendants became what they were. But the resemblance to the current Duke and Nellusion was undeniable.
Behind him, two banners hung. One bore the Imperial sun of that age; the other a leopard, the symbol of his tribe before nobility.
The leopard’s ears were oddly pointed—heraldic invention from people who had never seen one, sanctifying imagination into emblem.
‘Why did you have to slay the dragon?’
Surely he risked his life. What made a man so calculating gamble everything?
‘If your eyes truly were Jeweled, why does the portrait not show it?’
Too many riddles. Nerys’s face clouded, then she drew a steady breath and lifted her gaze.
‘Whatever the past, the truth is this: the Imperial Family still wants me dead, and the Elandria family still wants to use me.’
She was here to ensure she would not be fooled again.
“Wait,” she whispered, vowing to the painted man.
“Until I burn every last portrait in this gallery.”
Creak.
At her words, one of the gallery’s many doors opened. A smile greeted her—mocking, not friendly.
“Lady Nerys.”
It was Delma, Valentin’s ever-favored maid, strutting in and shutting the door behind her.
“Long time, Delma.”
“Indeed.”
Her tone was far too insolent for a servant addressing a noble lady. But she carried herself as if deigning to deal with Nerys at all.
“I’ve been looking for you, my lady.”
“Why?”
“Why else, Lady Nerys? Young Master Nellusion worried at your absence. He feared you might have wandered somewhere forbidden.”
‘As if.’
This mansion might seem calm, but eyes watched everywhere. Nellusion knew well she could not escape. What else was there to worry about?
And even if he did, why would he send Delma to search? Clearly, her excuse was laughable.
She wanted to find fault—away from others’ eyes.
“Forbidden places?”
“Yes. In a noble house such as this, every room has its rule. Enter wrongly, and it’s a grave offense.”
Her tone was kindly, her words true. But Nerys saw her aim—to cow her, to shrink her freedom.
At Nerys’s cold indifference, Delma’s face tightened.
‘And yet she acts as if the Elandria family is nothing.’
Delma knew little of the Jeweled Eyes. She thought them a freak occurrence, inherited from Nerys’s mother through old intermarriage with the Imperial Family.
In her eyes, Nerys was nothing special. Everything she had came from this family—from her Academy admission onward.
She wanted to see Nerys’s face twist in humiliation. So she pressed on with mock concern.
“Take this gallery, for instance. Only family or honored guests may enter. I’d keep it secret, but…”
“That I came here?”
“Yes. What can I do? I’m but a maid. If the Duchess herself learns, she will scold me. How could I bear that?”
She deliberately named the Duchess, not Valentin. Meaning her place was so high that even the Duchess acknowledged her.
But Nerys showed no trace of fear or anger.
“True. With Valentin’s favor, of course the Duchess heeds you.”
“It is too great an honor.”
“Then I cannot lift a hand against you. A pity.”
“…What?”
Delma blinked. Nerys, graceful and light, walked to the gallery door. She opened it and hailed someone passing by.
“You there—who do you serve?”
The door led to a corridor used by senior staff. A stern, older maid happened to be walking past. She came at once, bowing.
“I serve the Duchess.”
“Good. Come in. I’ll need your help.”
Delma’s eyes narrowed. ‘Help with what?’
The woman who entered was the Duchess’s chief maid—whom Delma scornfully called an idle old fox.
“What are you doing, Lady Nerys?”
“You’re out of your mind, Delma. Still standing?”
Nerys’s voice cut like ice.
Delma shivered despite herself—and grew furious to realize a child had cowed her.
“What do you mean by that?”
“By your own words, only family or nobles may walk this gallery. Meaning only nobles may stand here. Is that not so?”
Well—yes. Unless one was here to clean. Delma nodded warily.
“Yes. And?”
“You’ve basked in my brother’s favor too long. Did you forget? Did you think yourself a noble?”
“I…”
Her lips closed on the words ‘I am family.’ Nurse, maid, no matter how trusted, never family.
Nerys jerked her chin to the chief maid.
“Three slaps will do. I’ll watch closely—don’t think to hold back.”