TPOP 85

Chapter 85

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9. The Cliff of Storms

A week later, Diana was assigned to the secondary palace. It was around the time the scab had formed over the wound on her wrist.

Instead of the elaborate, cumbersome dress, she was given back the familiar maid's uniform she knew well. As soon as she changed, Emile took her to the secondary palace.

The head steward of the secondary palace, Lunok, was waiting for Diana.

"Your duties remain the same. You needn't tidy the first or second floors; focus solely on the third."

Lunok made no mention of the incident at the main palace. Only a troubled gaze lingered briefly on her thickly bandaged wrist before shifting away.

Emile had relayed that the wound was healing smoothly, so simple tasks were permissible. The Crown Prince's tacit permission must have been granted.

"Now, use this."

Lunok placed a cane in Diana's left hand. She had never touched one before; it felt incredibly light yet sturdy.

Diana took the cane and began re-examining the layout of the third floor. But she soon realized it wasn't necessary.

The third floor's structure was exactly as she had memorized it when she first arrived here.

"Wasn't the furniture arrangement changed once in the middle, Steward?"

"It was. After that, His Highness ordered it returned to its original position."

Diana recalled mentioning to him once that the palace's layout had changed. She hadn't even noticed the change until then, so it was surprising he'd deliberately ordered it restored. Of course, there must be another reason.

"Access to the third floor is restricted to His Royal Highness the Crown Prince, his escort knights, you, and me. First, we should ventilate and start by beating the carpets."

"Yes, understood."

In the little less than two months she'd worked here, cleaning habits had become second nature. Diana began cleaning with the same skill as someone who'd worked there for a long time.

She beat the dust from the carpets, plunging her hands deep into the dense pile to draw out tiny droplets. Drops clutching grime and crumbs bubbled up into the air before evaporating.

After clearing the entire living room, the air felt noticeably fresher. Diana stood before the open window and took a deep breath.

"Ah, I can breathe again..."

She couldn’t even remember the last time she did real work by her own choice. To others, it might seem like trivial chores, but for Diana, it was what had allowed her to endure these harsh years in the empire. Doing work meant having a place to belong, wherever that might be.

But this palace was not her place of rest. Where she wanted to go lay beyond these imperial walls.

The sound of splashing water came from the bucket placed beneath the window sill. Diana confirmed no one was nearby and slowly crouched before the bucket. As she dipped her hand into the water, something soft and jelly-like tickled her fingers.

A tiny spirit danced at Diana's fingertips. She carefully cradled it in both hands.

<Hello, Diana. My spring.>

The spirit whispered happily.

Diana's heart pounded fiercely. That clear, ringing voice, like droplets of water falling one by one! It was exactly the same as the spirit's voice she remembered.

Someone could walk into the parlor unannounced at any moment. Diana whispered so softly it was almost inaudible.

"Can you get me out of here?"

The spirit, resting on Diana's palm, sighed deeply.

<I'm still too weak.

To become as strong as the spirits of Balestega's spring, you must grow stronger.>

"When I'm healthy, will I be able to wield power like the spirits of the spring?"

<Yes.>

The spirit chuckled.

<You are the first child born of the spring.

The first child conceived by the power of the spirits.

Be proud of your parents, Diana.>

"...My parents."

Diana murmured unconsciously, then hurriedly covered her mouth. Fortunately, there was no sound of anyone approaching.

Someday, she must return to Dortes. Diana still didn't know what had become of her parents, or where those who had followed them were now.

Rumors claimed both were long gone from this world, but one could never be sure. Perhaps they lived somewhere, or left behind some memento or final words.

Footsteps echoed from the end of the hallway. The spirit sensed them before she did and vanished into the carpet.

The footsteps sounded familiar. Heavy yet almost devoid of unnecessary noise, a distinctive presence. Diana set down the mop and wiped her hands on her apron.

'How many hours have passed?'

Felix entered the living room and spotted her by the window. Standing beside the cleaning tools in a worn-out dress fit for a maid, she bowed respectfully.

Her still-unhealed wrist looked unnatural beneath thick bandages, and the plain maid's uniform seemed out of place with her angelic features.

Yet Diana's complexion was the best it had been in recent days. The sharp, knife-like intensity that had pierced everything around her had noticeably softened.

Felix headed for the sofa that had always been his. Though it was perfectly natural for him to visit his own villa, requiring no explanation, Felix stated bluntly,

"Must do what you always do."

Diana's eyelashes fluttered nervously.

"What...?"

"Bring pigments and oil."

Ah, thank goodness. Diana forced her pounding heart back under control.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"The title."

Diana pretended not to hear and left the living room. She ignored the sound of a hollow laugh behind her, as if in utter disbelief.

It didn't take long for the pungent smell of paint to fill the living room again.

***

News that Felix had begun frequenting the palace again seemed to have reached Eisen’s ears.

Within days, another spy was uncovered at the palace. The Crown Prince personally apprehended one of Eisen’s minions. Diana, who had risen early to converse with the spirit, startled at the pungent smell of blood.

She quickly tied her hair and went outside, where the Crown Prince's knights were moving about. She heard the sound of something heavy being carried and placed somewhere near the sofa.

"It's a kitchen servant. The one who usually brings breakfast to the maids... but it seems he was Prince Eisen's target..."

Felix, spotting Diana, waved them away.

"Shut up and stand down. Take this out this afternoon."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Felix seemed to have immediately picked up his brush. Diana listened intently to the sound of his moving brush. He skipped the process of sketching the outline in charcoal and was applying paint directly. His brushstrokes were far less deliberate than she remembered.

"Don't step on it."

Diana flinched and froze in place. The pungent scent of blood, almost numbing her nose, momentarily disoriented her.

A pool of blood—meaning a corpse—must be nearby.

The paints Diana had mixed days ago were now completely drained.

He flung the brush somewhere onto the table. The work was finished. The knights of the guard entered, wrapped the body in a carpet, and carried it outside.

Diana waited for the Crown Prince to leave. She wanted to finish cleaning this space, return, and at least rid her nose of the lingering scent with coffee grounds. Standing in one position for so long had left her back stiff.

"Diana."

Contrary to her wish, the man grabbed Diana's wrist. Because he called her name first, she wasn't startled more than necessary. Diana let herself be pulled into his embrace without resistance.

Felix wrapped both arms around her waist. He bent his tall frame down, pulling her close to bury his face in her neck. His breath tickling the nape of her neck felt strangely unfamiliar.

Relief. Yes, like a sigh of relief.

"Diana."

"......"

"Diana."

After murmuring her name a few times without meaning, the man released Diana. She couldn't see the expression he wore.

"Finish cleaning and return to your room."

"Yes, Your Highness."

The spy was discovered again the next day. This time it was one of the maids assigned to cleaning the second floor, the one who brought Diana her freshly ironed maid's uniform.

Felix painted again. It was distinctly different from before, when he'd pour days of effort into a single piece. He moved his brush roughly, ensuring only the time period, the tools intended for the assassination, and the shape of the body sprawled lifelessly were clearly depicted.

This time, he didn't ask Diana to prepare the paints. Instead, other maids were summoned.

Nothing here was to be touched until the preliminary work was finished. There was no need to mix paints, so Diana had nothing to do. As she quietly tried to step back, Felix called her to a halt.