On the third day after Camilla awoke, night fell.
“Are you sure this is the right place?”
“Yes. It is. Please stay here, Mother.”
Luke was due to return at any moment, and Camilla had meant to greet her husband properly. Yet by Deidre’s firm insistence, she had been made to wait in the very room where she had slept for fifteen years.
It seemed this room was meant to be the marital bedchamber. Luke had laid his wife here, had the maids tend to her each day, and slept alone in another room. Camilla had not known it, but Deidre told her that one of the rooms Camilla had knocked on while thinking she was in heaven had been Luke’s own room.
Deidre had said, with a bright, wicked little smile, that they should surprise Father, who always carried himself so composedly. She had told the servants the same, and it appeared the entire household had agreed to stage a grand surprise.
(Will this really be all right?)
Camilla worried that Luke might scold Deidre later, but Deidre herself seemed utterly unbothered, so perhaps it would be fine.
And so Camilla sat on the edge of the large bed and waited.
(What do I do? Now that it’s come to this, I’m nervous.)
She kneaded the pillow, gripped the sheets, let go, then did it again.
When she had reunited with Deidre, everything had happened too quickly for her to process. Now that her mind had steadied, it was Luke she could not stop thinking about.
(What is a thirty-three-year-old Luke like? Does he truly love me? What will he do when he sees me?)
Camilla had not spent long with Luke in the first place. Before she could truly understand the kind of man he was, she had been turned to stone.
(Even if he did love me, perhaps that love was for the woman I used to be. Perhaps he won’t care for the me who is now seven years younger.)
It was not an impossible fear. He might think a Camilla who looked twenty-six could not possibly serve as the mother of a sixteen-year-old young lady.
(I’m starting to feel uneasy.)
As she waited, restless, she heard a horse neigh from the direction of the grounds. Startled, she went to the window and glimpsed a figure with a lantern entering through the front door.
(Luke?)
Once her heart began to pound, her senses sharpened until she could hear far too much.
The front door opened and shut. Deidre said something in a voice that sounded far too cheerful, and a man answered in a low tone. It was enough to make Camilla sway.
(Luke’s voice.)
Back then, even after his voice had changed, there had still been something boyish in it. During those two years of separation, they had exchanged only letters. She had heard a trace of his voice just before she was petrified, when he was eighteen, but she could not recall it clearly anymore.
Camilla returned from the window to the bed, and then she heard footsteps climbing the stairs.
Her heart was nearly in her throat, but she refused to show him an unseemly display after so many years. She straightened her back and fixed her gaze on the door.
Click.
The door, which Camilla had locked from inside, was unlocked.
It opened slowly.
The man in the doorway met Camilla’s eyes.
He was tall. He wore the uniform of a knight, standing with the corridor light behind him. In his right hand he held a bouquet of roses. In his left, a ring of keys.
He froze the moment he saw her. The keys slipped from his fingers and clattered loudly to the floor.
Camilla forced a smile and rose from the bed.
“Welcome home, Luke.”
“…!”
The bouquet fell from his right hand as well.
Then, in three long strides, he was in front of her. A large palm settled on her shoulder, careful and trembling.
Now that he was close, Camilla could see his face clearly.
It was the face of the sixteen-year-old Luke she remembered, carried forward into manhood. His eyes and mouth had gained the firmness of an adult, faint lines resting beneath his eyes. And as Deidre had said, he was striking. Luke at thirty-three was undeniably handsome.
“Camilla…?”
His throat bobbed. Her name came out hoarse.
“Is it really you? Camilla. You woke from the petrification.”
“Yes. I’m sorry I made you worry for so long.”
Camilla lifted a hand and stroked his cheek.
Warmth slid over the back of her hand.
Luke was crying.
The curt, guarded boy she had known was shedding tears, one after another, wetting her hand and shoulder.
“Camilla!”
He called her name as though it were a cry of pain and pulled her into his arms, holding her as if he would never let her go.
Camilla stiffened, too shocked to move. Luke buried his face against her shoulder, his voice thick with tears.
“You’re truly here. Camilla, Camilla. I’ve wanted to see you for so long. I wanted you to say my name again.”
“Luke…”
“Is this a dream? It must be. I wanted you too much. I’m seeing things.”
“Wait, Luke. It isn’t a dream.”
Camilla patted his back sharply until he pulled away, then she raised a finger at him in warning.
“This isn’t an illusion. I really did wake up. Deidre told me everything, about what happened fifteen years ago and what’s happening now.”
At her daughter’s name, Luke seemed to regain his composure. He stared at her with his hazel eyes, and Camilla nodded with a smile.
“Yes. And first, I want to thank you. Luke, thank you for protecting Deidre and raising her for fifteen years. She became such a wonderful young woman because of you.”
“No. If anyone should be thanking anyone, it’s me.”
Luke shook his head. He guided Camilla gently back onto the bed and sat beside her.
He had grown even taller over those fifteen years. Sitting next to him, Camilla had to tilt her chin up to look at him.
“Camilla. You gave birth to my child and raised her. And I… I was such a useless husband.”
“Useless? Were you?”
To Camilla, the early days of their marriage felt like only two years ago. As she tried to recall them, Luke pressed his lips together and nodded.
“I know I cannot excuse myself by saying I was young. I meant to cherish you. But everything I did went wrong. I made you look sad, again and again.”
“No, wait. That’s my fault.”
Camilla clasped his hand, hurriedly.
“I was the one who failed you. I was older, and yet I wasn’t dependable at all. I only burdened you with hardships. I kept thinking that if you’d married Pamela, you would have been happier.”
“Why is Lady Pamela coming up now?”
Luke looked genuinely bewildered.
“There was nothing between Lady Pamela and me. Not now, and not even when the engagement was arranged nearly twenty years ago.”
“…You didn’t love her?”
“At the very least, I never felt romantic love for her.”
Luke said it simply, then stroked the hand Camilla still held, as though it were precious.
