“I have something to discuss. Would you come to my room, Leah?”
One day after luncheon, Oscar spoke to her thus.
“Of course.”
His expression was unusually serious.
What could it be?
There was still time before her next lesson, so Leah followed him to his chambers.
The room was tastefully arranged in subdued tones, elegant and refined.
“Please, sit.”
At his urging, Leah took a seat upon a white settee.
Oscar sat opposite her, the table between them.
“Brother, what is it you wished to discuss?”
When she asked, he folded his hands upon his lap.
“This may be sudden… but Leah, would you marry me?”
Leah blinked rapidly.
“Pardon? Who would marry whom?”
Oscar answered gently.
“You and I.”
“…You and me?”
She stared at him blankly.
He nodded gravely.
“Yes. We have become siblings.”
“Yes…”
Siblings could not marry.
Surely he was joking—so Leah concluded.
“I consider you my sister. But in truth, we are cousins.”
A soft laugh escaped her.
(So even serious Brother can make jokes.)
Oscar interlaced his fingers once more.
“We are still children, and I do not mean at once. But in the future… would you marry me?”
Leah gave a small shrug.
“Even my childhood friend finds me exasperating at times. I doubt anyone but you would propose to someone like me, Brother.”
(…Paul was not joking. He said it earnestly.)
The memory of how happy she had felt when he proposed pricked painfully at her heart.
“No. In time, proposals will flood in for you. I am not speaking in jest.”
It could only be a jest.
After all, Oscar was smiling serenely.
“Hehe, Brother. My lesson will begin soon, so I must excuse myself.”
She could not linger over his teasing words forever.
As she rose, Oscar spoke again.
“Would you not even consider wishing to marry me?”
“If you were to propose, Brother, of course I would be honored. You are wonderful. But I fear the jealousy it would cause.”
Oscar and Camille were wildly popular among the daughters of the capital.
At every tea gathering, girls of every age—older, younger, the same—questioned Leah eagerly about her brothers.
All regarded them as ideal future husbands.
Oscar was heir to the illustrious House of Arens.
The current duke also held a marquisate, which Camille would inherit.
Both possessed handsome looks and excellent character.
They were perfect matches, and so young ladies—and their ambitious parents—were captivated by them.
But to Leah, they were simply her brothers.
From the moment she had come to this house, that was how she had seen them.
And even if they were not siblings, Paul—her first love—remained etched upon her heart.
She could not imagine loving another.
Leah quietly withdrew from Oscar’s room.
◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇
Several days later, Leah accompanied the duke to the Imperial Palace.
The palace stood midway up a verdant hill, encircled by towering walls, overlooking rivers and lakes.
Beyond magnificent gardens lined with statues rose multiple castle-like buildings, each breathtaking in its elegance and grandeur.
(But why am I to meet His Majesty…?)
She had only been told that he wished to speak with her.
Even the duke did not know the details.
As they crossed the palace’s gleaming grand corridors, her tension mounted.
Guided by imperial guards, they arrived before the audience chamber.
Two sentries opened the great doors in unison.
Leah stepped inside beside her father, passed through another set of doors, and entered the vast hall.
From the domed ceiling hung a grand chandelier.
A red carpet stretched across the floor, and the national standard was displayed prominently.
At the far end, upon a raised platform, sat the Emperor.
Framed by curtains embroidered in gold and silver, he was a youthful-looking man with golden hair and blue eyes.
After offering their formal respects, the duke introduced Leah.
“I am astonished.”
The Emperor shook his head slightly, as though in disbelief.
“She is the very image of her. It feels as though I have returned to those days…”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I too am reminded of my sister.”
“I first met her when she was about this girl’s age.”
The Emperor stared intently at Leah.
She managed to maintain a polite smile, though her heart pounded.
(Mother was once engaged to His Majesty… and she… ran away…)
Even if it was long ago—was she, perhaps, an existence he could not forgive?
The blood drained from her face.
(W-What should I do…?)
