Chapter 8
This situation went beyond mere embarrassment.
No matter how disregarded she might be within the mansion, this was no longer just neglect, it was outright disrespect.
Already tormented nightly by relentless nightmares, barely managing a moment’s rest, the pounding in her head worsened thanks to these two intruding upon her at dawn.
“Asila, it’s your birthday today!”
At Sasha’s cheerful words, Asila paused.
Ah… was it? Had it already come around again?
“Marry Grand Duke Ludwig.”
Today marked exactly four years since those words had been spoken to her.
At Sasha’s blithe, unknowing remark, painful memories surged up alongside her pounding headache, stabbing sharply into her mind.
“And what,” she asked, pressing a fingertip to her throbbing temple, “does that have to do with this right now?”
It was the grand duke, who had remained silent at Sasha’s side, who answered for her.
“Sasha has been making preparations since two days ago, saying she wanted to celebrate your birthday.”
Regardless of the words themselves, Asila couldn’t help but flinch. That gentle, deep voice reverberated through the room.
She couldn’t even recall how long it had been since she last heard it. She pressed down on her treacherously racing heart as it quickened at the sound of it, and turned her gaze to Sasha.
“…What exactly did you prepare?”
Sasha’s round, rabbit-like eyes curved into a bright smile.
“A couples’ tea party!”
“What on earth made you think of that, Sasha.”
“Oh, Karl, really! It’s Asila’s birthday. If I don’t take care of her, who will?”
The grand duke gazed at Sasha as though her thoughtfulness was endearing, while Sasha, with pride, boasted about having invited other northern nobles to a tea party in celebration of Asila’s birthday.
And the servants looked on at the two of them, their eyes filled with warm affection.
Seated on the bed, Asila watched the scene play out before her like some ridiculous farce, and murmured a single line.
“Do I… have to go?”
Sasha, who had been chattering happily, practically nestled against the grand duke’s side, fell silent in an instant.
The grand duke’s expression stiffened, and the atmosphere in the room chilled at once. Sasha blinked her green eyes several times before her gaze drooped, her face crumpling into a look as though tears might fall at any moment.
“Ah… I meant to surprise you, so I hadn’t said anything, but… do you perhaps dislike the idea, Asila…?”
It was easy to sense the unspoken “I worked so hard on this.”
Those large green eyes watching her for a reaction would likely seem irresistibly endearing to anyone else. But to Asila, it was simply absurd.
It was her own birthday, one she herself had even forgotten.
Did they truly intend this tea party for her sake? Highly unlikely.
And what was this about a “couples’” tea party? All the neighboring nobles would gather, each arriving as a pair. It was painfully obvious how the sight of three, herself, Sasha, and the grand duke, would appear to them.
Lovely, kind Sasha, hosting a birthday tea party for the legitimate wife who still held the title that once ought to have been hers.
The rumors about Asila would only grow more vicious, while the goodwill directed at Sasha would swell impossibly large. Even in her sleep-deprived state, Asila could already predict as much.
She didn’t know precisely what Sasha was plotting, but she was certain this wasn’t all.
“…I’ll go.”
The situation was unspeakably rude and steeped in an ominous sense of foreboding, and yet, the reason Asila accepted was simple.
Pathetic as it was, the gathering’s premise as a “couples’” event meant the grand duke would be by her side.
Even if Sasha and other nobles were present, it was rare for her to see the grand duke more than a handful of times in a month.
The mere chance to be near him, despite her own bitter awareness, was enough to set her heart pounding against her will.
And the moment she acknowledged that truth, she realized she could no longer refuse this near-forced invitation. In name, Sasha might be hosting the tea party, but the guest of honor was herself, and the partner at her side would be the grand duke.
Her racing heart beat out a foolish, unfiltered demand to accept.
“Truly, Asila?! I’m so glad! Let’s start getting ready at once. Karl, you need to leave now, this is ladies’ territory from here on out. Betty, fetch the washbasin quickly! Asila, I looked through your wardrobe, and you hardly have any dresses or jewelry. But since our figures are quite similar, even if you’re a little taller, you can borrow mine today. What are you standing around for, Lira? Hurry and bring them!”
Sasha’s face glowed with excitement, as though she truly couldn’t wait for the upcoming tea party.
After ushering the grand duke out, she seized Asila’s hand and swiftly began giving rapid-fire orders to the maids, who moved with practiced efficiency.
Sasha spoke so naturally about rifling through her wardrobe and drawers that she looked nothing but cheerfully innocent.
That kind of relentless brightness, a brightness that left one exhausted just witnessing it.
That, to Asila, was Sasha’s nature.
“No, my own clothes would be more comfortable…”
“Heavens, Asila! Even if it’s a small tea party, you can’t wear that kind of thing. Honestly, I never said it before since we weren’t close, but… well, they were a little frumpy, your clothes. Come on, wear mine. You’ll feel completely different, I promise!”
Even as she attempted to refuse, Asila instinctively sensed it would ultimately unfold according to Sasha’s will. With a hollow laugh to herself, she allowed Sasha’s hand to push her along.
Until now, she had never considered them to be close, so was she implying they were close now? Tilting her head slightly, Asila glanced at Sasha, who was giving instructions to the maids with a bright face, and the corner of her lips curled into a faint, cold smirk.
No. That woman still, very much still, despised her.
She wore the face of an innocent, sweet girl, but no matter how carefully she feigned it, she could never fully erase the look in her eyes. The underlying sense of superiority she felt towards Asila, the peculiar gaze as though she harbored some ulterior motive, it was always there, beneath the surface.
“Alright then, let’s begin.”
At Sasha’s words, Asila was immediately dragged away by the maids and scrubbed down in the bath. Afterward, she was dressed in a gown, her face powdered until pale, and her hair was forced into tight curls.
Finally, a sapphire necklace chosen by Sasha was fastened around her neck. Every last thing had been selected and arranged by Sasha.
Asila looked at her reflection in the mirror.
A hollow laugh slipped from her lips. This… this was not an ensemble chosen with her in mind.
Her hair, dry and coarse, had been pressed into forced curls, and a gray dress draped over her shoulders. The dull, gray fabric only served to drain what little color remained in her weary face.
The makeup, thickly applied over a face made unnaturally pale, looked less like an attempt to beautify and more like a mockery.
Individually, each item may have been of fine quality. Together, they overwhelmed her, reducing her to a mere doll dressed up for someone else’s amusement.
And the final insult was the sapphire necklace hung around her neck.
Sasha, seeming delighted with her own work, nodded with satisfaction before declaring that she would go prepare herself, leaving the room in a bustle of maids trailing after her.
Left alone, Asila stared into the mirror for a long moment. Then, with a handkerchief left behind by a maid, she wiped away the heavy makeup. She unfastened the necklace and set it aside. She removed the dress and placed it neatly to the side. From the wardrobe, she chose one of her own outfits.
It was far simpler, but better. She felt as though she had been forced into the role of a lifeless doll, and now, at least, she could breathe again.
A creeping sense of unease coiled around her, she could already imagine Sasha’s reaction, but it didn’t matter.
There was nothing left that could wound her any further.
By the time the sun had risen high into the sky, a maid arrived to escort her to the garden.
“Asila! You’re— here…”
Sasha, seated at the table as though she had been eagerly awaiting her arrival, sprang to her feet, only to hesitate mid-motion when she caught sight of Asila. A smirk tugged at Asila’s lips.
Draped in a white, airy fabric dress, with a soft corsage pinned to her chest, Sasha looked every bit the star of the day’s gathering.
Had Asila stepped out in the dress and makeup Sasha had prepared, the contrast would’ve been almost comical, an angel and a demon.
So this was the plan.
Asila’s gaze shifted to the Grand Duke seated beside Sasha, unmoving.
“You’re here.”
Clad in a white uniform, anyone would mistake him for Sasha’s lover. His cold greeting, spoken as if by obligation, pierced her like a dagger.
Only after the Grand Duke spoke did the other gathered nobles begin to rise from their seats. Asila remained still, watching them.
Aside from herself, the Grand Duke, and Sasha, there were six others present. The daughter of Baron Quirt and her fiancé, the eldest son of Viscount Tay; the daughter of Count Turby and her betrothed; and the daughter of Marquess Canlay with Marquess Tanzie. All were those with close ties to the Count Barthe household, each holding their place in the social circles of the north.
In other words, Sasha’s closest companions, none of whom could be counted as allies to Asila.
“Oh, so this is Her Grace, the Grand Duchess.”
“I had no idea, Sasha. Please forgive my rudeness, Your Grace.”
“So refined, though… I apologize, Your Grace.”
Each word they spoke carried a sharp edge.
Without a word, Asila seated herself in the empty chair at the Grand Duke’s side.
“Oh my, Asila. Your seat is over here! I saved it for you, you know. The guest of honor should sit at the head.”
A laugh escaped her lips, quiet and incredulous.
As absurd as it was, the young ladies and gentlemen seated around the table smiled as though nothing were amiss.
Not even allowed to sit beside the Grand Duke, so this was how it would be.
“Sasha, come sit with us.”
“Yes, Karl!”
Slowly, the Grand Duke shifted seats, leaving Sasha at his side. Even now, the tenderness in his voice as he called Sasha by her pet name was so piercingly sorrowful it ached to hear.
A love this deep, rooted so firmly, could not be shaken by anything trivial.
“Oh my, a pet name.”
“They must be so close.”
The voices carried on openly, mocking and dismissive.
Sasha’s clear, sweet laughter rang out across the garden. Asila straightened her spine, forcing herself to endure the dull, twisting pain in her chest.
And so, a birthday as wretched as the one four years ago came and went.
