A long journey they had endured for the past two and a half weeks was finally coming to an end. The East territory's lush green made it hard to believe that it was already November. In contrast, the West, where grass had turned yellow and most trees had lost their leaves, the capital of Fuegos del Tierra greeted them with purple-blue flowers. The alleys lined with jacaranda trees that had been planted generations ago along the main roads were taller than some of the houses. When the procession rode through the purple tunnels, flower petals stuck to horses' hooves and carriage wheels. Some people stopped when they saw a coach with a royal coat of arms and guards on horseback. Soldiers maintained a formal smile, although it was difficult for some of them to remain serious. The curious gazes and conversations of the citizens did not contain any hostility, so the Castro delegation relaxed for a while.
Cornelia was gazing at the people wearing much lighter clothing, city policemen patrolling the streets in case of trouble, and counting the colors of the houses. The locals' preference for bright plaster, such as pink, yellow, and blue, was just one of many differences. Many of the houses were three or four stories tall, with wooden doors and latticed windows. Countless pots of flowers completed the picture - above the thresholds, on balconies, windowsills, and even in front of walls on the street.
A small crowd surrounded by police officers attracted the princess' attention. There were mostly middle-aged men and women, although some brought children. They were holding placards and chanting slogans. Some posters contained drawings resembling human figures, but it was too far away to see clearly. Before the procession could get any closer to the crowd, an officer at the head turned onto another street. His desire to avoid any trouble was understandable, and Cornelia was not displeased with the diversion, but her curiosity was not satisfied. Looking out the window, she asked a nearby guard what the slogans said.
"They demand the withdrawal of border forces, the dismantling of the wall, and peace with the nymphs, your highness."
"As if that was so simple," Dietrich snorted, following the carriage closely. "They have been away from conflict hotspots for too long. Such groups can be found anywhere, but at least in Castro, no one draws nymphs like harmless hippies."
"You can't blame people for wanting peace," Cornelia said. "Though making nymphs look like the only injured party is dangerous and naive."
She leaned back in her seat, partly hiding behind the curtain. The demonstration of peace supporters was not a phenomenon specific to Fuego's country. Though Dietrich was right, and few people in Castro Kingdom pictured nymphs as harmless creatures, pickets in the capital and dissatisfied talk in rural areas also occurred there. People who were forced to spend difficult times on barren land wanted resources to ease their burden, not disappear in the insatiable army stomach. As years passed, it did not get any easier to explain to parents why they should send their children to suffer, and sometimes die, at the border.
Watching well-fed villages on their way through the Fuego del Tierra exuding joy, it was hard to imagine that 13 years ago, Castro had moved from this land. Cornelia only had a vague memory of life in the East, and it felt like a dream mixed with pictures from geography books. She hoped that watching the scenery would help her recall the past, but it didn't, not the one she had hoped for.
It was the first year of the second term in the West Territory, when one of her teachers took a young princess outside of the capital. The reason was field research; the excuse was to show life in a western rural area. At age ten, Cornelia received a practical lesson on how excuses and reasons can differ from each other, much like in international relations. Her teacher had to resign and move far away, severing all ties with the palace. However, the deed had been done, and her parents were unhappy about it. Their daughter began to question the established order.
The main streets with their colorful houses and blooming jacaranda trees were left behind, as the procession reached a quiet green alley. The beige stone walls, densely entwined with ivy and wild grapes on both sides of the road, hardly hid the tall mansions beyond them. Dazzling white houses and splendid gardens were seen by curious passers-by who might have gotten a chance to pass through the gates. Carriages and horsemen rode through one of the luxurious forged gates, and after a few more minutes of riding through the trim garden, the procession finally stopped at the grand duchess' mansion.
Cornelia stepped out of the coach and accepted the help of a nearby guard. It happened to be the one whose stolid behavior was getting on her nerves during the whole trip. Every time the princess saw him, she was reminded of a blunder during the investigation of the gun. "If he smiled or openly mocked me, it would be better." Yet Sieg was emphatically polite. He still wore a uniform without insignia, but he took off his knitted scarf. In the hot weather it was unreasonable. The lack of cover revealed a small tattoo in the shape of two drops on the right side of his neck.
"Your name isn't in the lists of the royal guards, the active army, or the reserves," Cornelia addressed the black-haired guy. The ledgers she had taken with her in hopes of finding possible allies among the military also helped with another goal. She carefully checked the notes to find as much information as possible about him and Jack. Alas, there was nothing. That led her to conclude the following: "Do you serve in the shadow police? That seems to be the only place I haven't checked and can't get full information about it at the moment."
"Your Highness, I'm working for the king, just as you said," Sieg glanced at the servants lined up in front of the mansion as if waiting for them to intervene. But even the butler was patiently waiting for the conversation to end and for the princess to address them first. "Isn’t this enough?"
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"No. And don't take it personally - I need to know everyone who works in the palace. I will find out the truth about you. Just you wait and see."
"Some truth is better to kept hidden, as well as some meetings should not happen at all, Your Highness."
His tone was still calm and polite, but Cornelia frowned.
"Are you threatening me?"
"If it sounded like that, I apologize. This wasn't my intention. Please continue with your search, Your Highness."
With a deep bow, Sieg turned to the groom and offered his help with the horses. Dietrich had already dismounted from his stallion and left him to the squire. Although there was a distance between the carriage and the young knight, he seemed to catch a glimpse of their conversation.
"You need to control your temper, Your Highness," Dietrich advised without a second thought. "You have many enemies already, so there's no need to make new ones."
"Well he is a spy. But don't worry, in the last few weeks, his responses have been reduced to 'Yes, your highness' and 'No, Your Highness'. I doubt he can dig up any information about me, although I can't stand his calm, haughty look," the princess turned to her patiently waiting butler. "Is her grace not at home?"
"No, Your Highness. Unfortunately, the grand duchess sprained her ankle during a long walk and was unable to see you in person. But she's waiting for you in the living room. Let me guide you."
The grand duchess, Margaret Ortega, was a lean woman with fair skin and blonde hair. After marrying grand duke Ortega and spending most of her life in the Fuego kingdom, she never forgot her roots. The mansion, built and furnished in the Fueguian style, had white arched balconies and colorful Talavera tiles partially covering the walls and wicker chairs. But in the living room with a fireplace and beige sofa and armchairs, the colors were muted. This room was surely the lady of the house's favorite place. When the butler brought in Cornelia and Dietrich, the duchess put down the book she had been reading and her glasses.
"My dear, how was your trip? You needn't answer; I'm sure the roads were terrible!"
"It was interesting, although the recent earthquake did some damage to the track," Cornelia kissed the woman on the cheek. "How is your ankle, aunt Margaret?"
The duchess made a gesture inviting the guests to sit down.
"I’m fairly well, thank you. It’s just sometimes her majesty is unstoppable. A light stroll easily turned into a full-blown hike. Honestly, if my leg hadn't been injured, we would have continued marching all the way to White folded cliffs."
There was no real anger behind the woman's words, so the princess smiled. She introduced Dietrich and wished the Duchess to recover soon.
"Is my sister in good health?"
"Yes, mother is doing just fine."
Despite her expectation, the duchess did not ask about other family members. Instead, she shook her head in disapproval.
"I suppose Ethel still does not part with her glass for even a minute," she said.
"Of course not," Cornelia lied without batting an eye. That was enough to close the topic of her mother's addiction.
"Well, now that we have finished with the formalities, let's talk about more important things." I expressed a strong objection to your father in ten pages of my last letter to him."
Unlike the princess, Dietrich seemed puzzled. He could not understand what had caused such resentment, and Cornelia had to explain the reason: "Her grace refers to my birthday banquet. A coming-of-age celebration is an important event that goes beyond the borders of a personal party. It's a message to high society about your standing and power."
"But His Highness César is a crown prince. It couldn’t be different. It's not like you're going to compete for the throne."
"Absolutely not!" the grand duchess took a colorful fan and spread it in one motion. "She needs to find a suitable match and lead a socialite life. Charity work is also noblewoman's must, but conspiracies are firm no."
Cornelia preferred not to comment on Aunt's remarks and answered Dietrich: "Even if I don't, without even setting a modest banquet in my honor, Father basically told his subjects that I have zero influence and should not be taken into account. This will weaken my position at the royal court and affect my future, including finding a suitable match."
'I can only hope that this also means he is even a little wary of me. Or maybe it's wishful thinking and this is just another way to make me feel weak and insignificant.'
The grand duchess, waving her fan, listened to her niece's explanation with pursed lips: "What I wanted to say is that I did not suffer a five-hour walk for nothing. Her Majesty will host a ball this Saturday, and you are invited as an honored guest. You have been robbed of a proper celebration banquet, but this should do."
Dietrich's eyes sparkled with excitement. His response was not long in coming ahead of the princess' answer: "This is wonderful news! Your Grace's attention and generosity knows no bounds!"
"Indeed, it does not," replied the woman, nodding to a maid. A servant brought a tea tray and a rack with sandwiches, chocolate brigadeiros, pecan shortbread cookies, and cookie sandwiches."
"Dulce de leche," the duchess said, taking one of the cookies. "My late husband absolutely loved it. Even when the doctors forbade him any kind of sweet, he cut out all sugar except this. I don't blame him, it's impossible to resist."
Cornelia followed the woman's example. She took a bite of the cookie, and the rich, smooth caramel taste made her feel warm and cozy. The grand duchess may have had prejudices, but tea in her living room was more relaxing than any party at Castro's.
"Thank you, Aunt Margaret, I really appreciate your effort. And I look forward to the ball. The last time I saw the royal family was when King Frederico visited five years ago."
The duchess had already finished her dessert and looked at Cornelia over her glasses. "My dear, I hope you aren't going to the royal palace dressed like that."
"Is there a reason why I can't?" she brought what felt like a year's supply of dresses, but the princess couldn't help teasing her aunt.
The woman's face turned sour.
"Cornelia, even though we are living in a progressive time, please don't forget your status. All these genderless roles and activities are for commoners. You don't need to be certain of your standing in society to plow the land or work on the machine."
"I was just joking, Aunt Margaret. I won't break the rules of etiquette. And I'm afraid your view of commoner's life is a bit outdated."