“We’ve arrived, my lady. Please step down carefully.”

Isabella stepped carefully out of the large carriage that had come to collect her. The coachman had set the step in place at the door the moment they stopped, and she gathered the hem of her dress slightly and looked ahead, intending to use it to descend. A figure stood there that had not been there a moment before.

“Welcome, my lady. Welcome to the grand ducal estate.”

“Thank you for the warm reception……Your Highness the Grand Duke.”

It was Declen. No, Grand Duke Clerc. She had to stop calling him Declen. Isabella bit softly at the inside of her cheek. She could not afford to slip and let his name leave her lips by accident.

In the past, Isabella had called Declen by his given name. He had warned her sharply not to, so she could never use it in front of him or anyone else, but when she was alone she would quietly let it rest on her tongue. He always looked at her with a face wiped clean of any expression, and she could never find a way to approach him, so unless something truly necessary came up, she almost never spoke to him at all.

Most of what she needed she arranged through the head steward, Fabian. In the beginning, Isabella had tried every way she could think of to turn things around between them. Not as lovers, perhaps, but at least as friends. But watching Declen shut her out completely, as though even that was too much to ask, Isabella had closed the door on her heart.

This time would be no different. It had to be that way. Because of how things had gone in the past, she had intended to remain strangers with him this time around. So why, what had gone wrong.

“I’ll escort you to the drawing room. I’ve had warm tea prepared, so please come in and warm yourself.”

What had gone wrong to make everything so different? Isabella stared blankly at the large hand that reached toward her, then finally took it gently in her own.

Everything had changed. All of it. The only thing she had done differently after receiving the prophecy was move first to avoid any point of contact with him. That single thing, and yet why had it changed everything so completely? Had it been a mistake to try to marry young count Wiren before word of the prophecy spread further?

She had not thought it would cause much trouble. Young Count Wiren had been putting forward a marriage proposal to Isabella for some time, so accepting it seemed harmless enough. Even if people eventually realized that Isabella was the subject of the prophecy, she had expected that to happen after she was already married to young count Wiren.

That was how it had gone in the past. Declen Clerc and the others had been quite late to realize that Isabella was the one the prophecy spoke of. So she had assumed it would be the same this time. And yet why had it changed?

“I heard you have a fondness for sweets, so I had all sorts of things prepared. I hope that’s all right.”

The moment she stepped into the drawing room, a wave of sweetness washed over her. It was a familiar scent she had breathed in quite often in the past. The head chef responsible for the grand duke’s meals produced flawless food at every sitting, but the desserts served after dinner or at tea were even more flawless. Isabella had found herself quietly looking forward to those teatimes.

She looked at the enormous drawing room table covered in every manner of cookie, biscuit, and cake that the chef must have poured every last ounce of effort into making, and she could not bring herself to say a single word. Surely he did not expect her to eat all of that.

“I appreciate the thought, but I’m fine. I’ll be leaving as soon as our conversation is finished.”

“……I see. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Something in Declen’s voice sounded oddly deflated. She sat down as he said, and a maid came in at once with a teapot and set cups before both Declen and Isabella. Isabella stared at the tea rising in soft curls of steam and did not reach for the cup.

“Is it not to your taste?”

“I didn’t come here for tea.”

“…….”

“My situation is rather complicated, so I’d like to get straight to the point.”

When Isabella finished speaking, Declen’s gaze dropped briefly to the untouched teacup, then lifted back to her face. He gave a small nod.

“What is it you wish to say?”

“I know this is quite forward, but I’ll ask directly rather than dance around it. These rumors going around right now. Are you the one spreading them, Your Highness?”

That was the first question she had chosen. There was much she wanted to ask, but this came first. Whether the true source of the rumors circulating right now was him. Everything that followed in this conversation would hinge on that.

“Which rumors do you mean?”

A low voice that seemed to drag along the floor, and a pair of red eyes fixed on her, refusing to let her gaze go. They were relentless, cold eyes that seemed to say, pour out everything you’re thinking. But Isabella did not look away. She opened her mouth and gave him the answer he was waiting for.

“The rumor that Grand Duke Clerc has fallen for a wretchedly lowborn baron’s daughter and is courting her with great fervor.”

The day after Declen appeared out of nowhere and severed young count Wiren’s arm, strange rumors began circulating in society. The Piper barony was not particularly well-off for a noble house, so attending even a casual tea party, let alone a ball, was difficult, and she had no noble acquaintances her own age to speak of, which meant she was slow to hear the rumors and even slower to respond.

The Piper barony, which had always been quiet, still, and peaceful, descended into chaos some time after Declen’s visit. Invitations arrived all at once from every noble house of note, as well as from houses whose names Isabella had never even heard.

The invitations ranged from casual tea parties to balls hosted by prominent ladies. While she was still reeling from the sudden flood of invitations, the maids who had gone to the market came running back with news that made the situation even more absurd.

The story was that Grand Duke Declen Clerc had fallen for the only daughter of Baron Piper and had broken off the marriage negotiations that had been underway for her. He had broken off the negotiations, that much was true, but not because he had fallen for her. 

Before Isabella could even deny or dispute the rumor, a succession of large horses and carriages began arriving at the Piper barony’s garden. One, two, three, and then more kept coming, filling the narrow garden to capacity and spilling out to block the road leading in. The endless parade of carriages gave her a headache, naturally.

The people who climbed down from the carriages and greeted Isabella and Henry with crisp, disciplined bows prompted her to ask where they had come from, and whether they might have the wrong address. They smiled and told her they had come from the Clerc grand ducal estate. 

They added that these were a small gift from Grand Duke Declen Clerc to the young lady, and Isabella, barely managing to keep her jaw from dropping, collected herself and told them firmly and coolly to turn around and go back.

She had no gift to receive from His Highness the Grand Duke, and no wish to receive one either, so they were to take everything back with them. They looked flustered, but one look at Isabella’s face, which left no room for argument, and they agreed and left.

She thought that was the end of it. She had sent them away, so surely they would not come back. When Henry asked whether she had any idea why the grand duke was behaving this way, Isabella only said she did not know. With that answer she deflected every question, then took her tangled head and her anxiously pounding heart to bed. They won’t come again, she told herself. But it did not take long to realize just how naive and presumptuous that thought had been.

“It seems the gifts I sent yesterday were not to your liking, so I chose these myself.”

The narrow garden of the barony was lined with even more carriages, even larger than the day before. And at the head of them stood Declen.

“I hope you will accept them even if they do not please you.”

There he was, dressed in a resplendent uniform, wearing a smile she had never seen on him before. What on earth was happening? Everything around her was in disarray, but it needed to be dealt with quickly, so Isabella spoke just as firmly as the day before. She told him flatly to take all the gifts and go back, and Declen briefly pushed back, saying he could not do that. But faced with her unyielding stance, he had no choice but to retreat.

Or so she had believed. The standoff had dragged on, and in the end it was Declen who appeared to lose, but Isabella realized too late that even that had been part of his design. Passersby who had heard the rumors about the baron’s daughter of the Piper barony and Grand Duke Clerc had been watching nearby, and those onlookers had gone off to drink and boast loudly about what they had seen.

That Grand Duke Declen Clerc had come to the Piper baron’s daughter with a mountain of gifts, and left without giving her a single one, turned away at the door without even a cup of tea.

And so Isabella Piper became a cold and heartless young lady. Every time her maids went to the market or merchants came to deliver goods to the barony, the looks they received were far from kind. She only found out about that after overhearing her maids complaining from a distance.

How dare she ignore the captain of the Holy Knights, a man everyone looks up to? She should be on her knees thanking him.

That was the mild version. The worse things said were not worth recalling. Unable to endure it any longer, Isabella had finally come to find him.

“I am not the one who spread them.”

Declen lifted his teacup, expression perfectly blank, and answered without a trace of discomfort. Of course you didn’t spread them yourself. But you’re the one who gave them the opening to spread, and that’s what I’m taking issue with. She was about to say exactly that when his voice came again.

“Though it is true that I gave them the opening to spread those rumors.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Isabella.”

His cool voice made Isabella press her hands together hard. Her neatly trimmed nails dug into her flesh, threatening to draw blood, but she could not feel the pain. Isabella. He had never called her by her name. In the past he had always addressed her with the proper formal title.

Before the marriage it had been “Lady Piper,” and after the marriage it had been “Grand Duchess.” Not once had he ever called her by her name. So why was he using it now?

“Don’t call me by my name.”

“…….”

“What kind of relationship do you and I have that you would address me so familiarly?”

She did not understand what was happening, and that incomprehension brought a sharp wariness rushing in. None of it made sense. This was her own life, so why was it moving without her? She could not even begin to guess where things had gone wrong, and in that state, Isabella was wary of everyone. Even of someone who had once been the person she loved.

If anything, Declen was the most suspicious and the most suspect of all.

“Does one need to be in a particular kind of relationship to call someone by their name?”