Chapter 47 : A Garden of Thorns and Promises
❖ Chapter 47 ❖
Though I remained confined to my bed, my days were far from quiet.
Every visitor who passed through my door seemed to bring with them a chorus of concern veiled in scolding tones — sharp words that felt like thorns piercing into my ears.
Today was no exception.
I was adrift in a light slumber when a soft knock stirred me from the haze.
“Ma’am, I’m coming in.”
Marilyn, recently returned from leave, entered the room with a severe expression shadowing her features.
She offered no cheerful greeting, no warm welcome. Instead, she launched directly into her tirade.
“I don’t know what those workers were thinking. But the lady who went herself to retrieve just one employee in such a state bears equal blame.”
Her words, though barbed, were laced with concern. That alone made them hard to reject.
“But we couldn’t just abandon Ahin.”
Marilyn exhaled a heavy sigh, her voice tinged with a rare vulnerability.
“…It seems my teachings were lacking. I shall be more thorough from now on. Please, walk alongside me, Madam.”
There was a resolute determination in her eyes — the kind that cannot be faked. It was as though she had braced herself for a long and uphill road.
As the days passed, each bearing the weight of someone’s anxious care, I began to feel a quiet, unfamiliar warmth. Their concern, their persistence… it reminded me that I was still, in some strange way, part of the Schultz family.
Yet not all the news that reached me was so comforting.
As I lay in stillness, the newspapers whispered of a second murder.
Oddly, however, the panic that had once consumed the public seemed to have dulled. Perhaps they clung to the belief that this time — this time — justice would be served.
The prince of Docilia and Baden’s police chief had both been dispatched to Mussen, an indication that the investigation would not be marred by the incompetence that plagued the first.
And indeed, the case was swiftly closed. Not murder, they claimed — but a tragic accident. The man had apparently gone to the basement for a drink, succumbed to winter herbs, and never awoke.
A strange, hollow explanation. To those who had not seen the scene, it was convincing enough.
To me, it was nothing but a void of unanswered questions.
I loosened my grip on the paper with a deliberate exhale, letting the weight of my suspicions slip through my fingers.
Just like before… there must be a reason I cannot speak.
Heibenstein Castle, one of the four great fortresses of Mussen, stood resolute in the eastern expanse.
From a high window overlooking the tranquil waters of Lake Pofsen, Edward Windsor watched the sun bleed its dying light into the horizon.
Not long ago, the lake had been sealed under winter’s glassy hold. Now it rippled freely, and the snow beneath the trees had melted into earth and silence.
Spring had begun to breathe.
His steel-blue gaze shifted toward the distant spires. The dark-blue roof, cloaked in drifting clouds, pierced the last rays of gold.
With a languid motion, Edward tapped his fingers against the window frame, then turned away, his face awash with ennui.
“The noble ladies of the capital must be in mourning,” he murmured with theatrical sorrow. “To be parted from the Eden Blanc garden so soon must be devastating.”
A man beside him nodded. “His Highness’s balls were well loved.”
“Indeed,” Edward replied with a faint, knowing smile.
His gatherings were more than celebrations — they were exhibitions of opulence, reflections of a noble’s polished pride. Every detail, especially the lavish floral arrangements, became the subject of gossip and admiration.
And Edward was keenly aware of it.
Adjusting the folds of his cravat, he spoke again, voice tinged with mock modesty.
“The next King has granted me the privilege of cultivating Barberin Castle’s garden. But this place…” he gestured vaguely, “no matter what flowers I plant, it remains dull.”
“I intend to plant Eden Blanc here too.”
Satisfied by the response, Edward clapped the man on the shoulder with a glimmer of approval.
“Yes, yes. It’s a narrow world. I don’t much care for balls myself — I can only imagine how tedious life must be for the capital’s ladies without them.”
He let his gaze wander again. Heibenstein truly was… uninspired.
“This place is as outdated as our soon-to-be King. Tedious. Bleak.”
The man bowed, understanding perfectly the meaning: outshine the capital. Outshine even Barberin.
“Frederick, you have a gardener’s soul. Eden Blanc — why didn’t I think of it first?”
Edward offered a sly chuckle as if the idea had come to Frederick alone.
“I miss our fine ladies dearly. What a pity if they can’t bask in my presence. Don’t you agree, Frederick?”
“Yes, sir. It won’t take long. As soon as the weather softens, we’ll be ready for the first ball.”
“I trust you. Now go — we’ve a garden to awaken.”
Edward’s smile was warm — too warm — as he waved the man off.
“I suppose we should stop by Barberin Castle first.”
“Still haven’t brought all your things, have you?”
Frederick gave a quiet nod.
“Hmm…”
But flowers always bloom, Edward thought.
And as the corner of his lips curled upward, a subtle delight danced in his eyes.
“Yes… there’s no reason I shouldn’t go.”
Time crawled when one was confined to bed.
The only relief was knowing I had but one day left in my prescribed rest. Ahin no longer had to tend to my wounds every morning, and the pain had dulled into an occasional throb.
By the fourth day, I’d tried to convince Johannes to let me up. But he hadn’t relented.
I stirred as Johannes entered and settled beside me on the bed. He looked softer somehow — worn around the edges, as though the days had weighed on him.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, voice low.
“Perfectly fine,” I replied gently. “Thank you for worrying.”
“It’s nothing,” he said, offering a faint smile — a peace offering after days of quiet care.
We sat together at the table, tea in hand, as I finally broached the subject that had been lingering in my thoughts.
“I’d like to return to Böln.”
His expression twisted — just as I had expected.
But his answer… it caught me off guard.
“It’s not a bad idea,” he said slowly. “But now that I know someone is targeting you… I’ll be going with you.”
“…What?”
I paused mid-sip, blinking at him. His tone was too calm.
“I know you. The more I forbid you, the more determined you become. I’d rather watch over you than chase after your shadow.”
He meant it. When he said he would help find my father, he hadn’t been speaking empty words.
“But it would be best to postpone Böln for now,” he added. “Things are about to stir in Mussen.”
A chill prickled down my spine.
“Did someone… die again?”
If so, it might be time to consider the specter of a serial killer.
“No,” he said gently. “It’s not that serious.”
“Are you certain?”
His next words were unexpected.
“When the weather warms… there’ll be a ball. Perhaps many. It’s almost inevitable.”
“A… ball? Here?”
My heart sank.
Balls required a hostess — someone to manage every intricate detail. I knew nothing of that world.
Before I could spiral further, Johannes produced an envelope.
“At Heibenstein Castle. East of Mussen. It’s owned by the royal family — Edward Windsor stays there.”
“Ah…”
I’d heard whispers. Perhaps read about him in a society column. A prince who adored glittering banquets, who hosted them thrice — sometimes four times — a week.
Even foreign envoys visited just to glimpse the splendor of his Barberin garden.
Johannes added with quiet finality:
“Now that he’s officially stationed in Mussen, we can expect many such gatherings.”
I swallowed hard.
“Is there… any chance I could refuse?”
He offered a small, regretful smile. “Unfortunately not.”
I hadn’t expected there to be. If there had been, Johannes would’ve asked first.
A dull ache bloomed behind my eyes.
As I pressed my fingers to my temple with a weary sigh, Johannes rose swiftly, his expression etched with concern.
“Are you alright?”
His voice trembled with worry. And then, I felt it —
—a warm, steady hand reaching toward me.
