Chapter 107

The moment the study door fell shut, a heavy silence descended like a weighted curtain.

The stillness in the room was so complete that even the sound of their breathing seemed audible. Grace settled into the sofa.

No attendants had been called in, and she had not offered tea—the customary gesture of politeness that nobles extended even in the most perfunctory encounters.

Calypse registered the strangeness of it. So did Grace, by the look of her.

He watched her carefully and remained standing at her side, waiting for permission before he would presume to sit—

“Oh—forgive me. Please, sit.”

Grace, who had been lost somewhere in her own thoughts, finally noticed and gestured quickly for him to take a seat.

When he finally lowered himself onto the sofa, the leather let out a sharp creak as it compressed beneath his weight.

She was not a woman of many words by nature, but Grace had always been someone who expressed herself without hesitation when she chose to. She would say what she needed to say.

Whatever Argen did—it was severe.

Presuming to lay hands on the Queen Consort of all people.

The sheer audacity of it, combined with the immediate obstacle of not being able to conduct a proper conversation, drew a quiet exhale from him.

…I’ll have to guide the conversation carefully. Draw answers out of her.

Calypse had just opened his mouth to speak—when—

“Wolf.”

A single word fell from Grace’s lips, impossibly dry and sudden, and it stopped him cold.

…Wolf?

He tilted his head.

Wolf. Why would she say wolf…?

He was still narrowing his eyes and turning the word over in his mind when—

“Lion.”

Another out-of-nowhere word.

“…Lion, Your Majesty?”

He repeated it back in confusion, and Grace, wearing an expression more solemn than he had ever seen on her face, gave a single nod.

“Lion.”

“……”

She said lion. The Queen Consort of the Kingdom of Frozen just said… lion.

“I see. Yes. A wolf and a lion.”

For just a moment, he wondered in genuine alarm whether Grace’s mental faculties themselves had been reduced.

Fortunately, that fear proved unfounded.

Even if she couldn’t convey facts in precise sentences, the light in her pale green eyes was as sharp as it had ever been.

She was still the Grace he knew.

“I was hoping you might ask me questions, the way you did before.”

This time, Grace took the initiative and steered the conversation herself.

Calypse considered for a moment.

What exactly is the nature of her condition?

He had assumed she had been reduced to something like a state of vacant passivity, but what he saw before him now was a woman who seemed, if anything, quite actively engaged.

It wasn’t that she was unable to say anything at all.

How should I frame the questions…

Thinking back over their exchange, it seemed that she was incapable of speaking any word associated with Aisha and House Krost.

He needed to establish the boundaries of that first.

“Are you unable to say the name Aisha?”

Something flickered in Grace’s eyes.

“Wolf.”

Calypse’s gaze sharpened.

“What about the name of one of your attendants? Can you say that?”

“Lion.”

Lion this time.

What do those words mean?

He was still puzzling over it when—

“I’d appreciate it if you’d make your questions a little more… elementary.”

“I’m sorry?”

Grace exhaled with an air of someone trying to contain their impatience, then looked at him with an expression that was just slightly tired.

“Ask me if I’m a woman.”

“…Were you a man, Your Majesty?”

“I am a woman, so kindly be quiet and ask me the question.”

“…As you wish.”

In the interest of concluding this peculiar exchange as quickly as possible, Calypse asked directly.

“Are you a woman, Your Majesty?”

“Wolf.”

“…And are you a man?”

“Lion.”

The different answers to each question sharpened Calypse’s gaze to a fine point.

Grace’s expression had brightened noticeably compared to a moment ago.

After a brief silence, he spoke again.

“I’ll ask once more to confirm. Is Marquess Schletz your father, Your Majesty?”

“Wolf.”

“Is Viscount Andante your father, Your Majesty?”

“Lion.”

Grace settled back after delivering her answer with an expression of complete certainty, and the corner of her lips curved into something like a smile—as though she found it gratifying that he had caught on so quickly.

The meaning of wolf and lion was nothing other than yes and no.

When he asked if she could say Aisha’s name, she couldn’t say yes—so she had said wolf instead.

Not for nothing is she the Royal Archmage.

To find a workaround in a moment that might have broken a lesser mind into despair—

For the first time since entering that tense room, Calypse allowed a quiet laugh to escape him.

“Your Majesty. You have a remarkably sharp mind.”

“There’s always a bigger fish. Now—ask what you actually came to ask.”

She recrossed her legs with composure and gave him a small nod of permission.

Calypse returned it.

And then—

“…Was it King Argen who placed black magic on you, Your Majesty?”

“Wolf.”

The pale green eyes that answered him flashed with a cold and unsettling light.

That he would truly do this—even to his own wife.

An unbidden image of Ariana surfaced in his mind.

She had come to him as a spy for Duke Foss, with the intention of using him from the start.

She had done what she came to do and left. And when they met again, she had looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite name—something faintly sorrowful—

Why? You were the one who tore my life apart. Why look at me that way…

“Ah.”

Calypse closed his eyes briefly, pushing the thought aside.

In any case. Argen and Grace were different.

The two of them had been bound by an arranged marriage, yes—but they had always appeared to the world as an affectionate couple. The people of the realm had watched them with a kind of wistful admiration.

And now—not affectionate at all, but calculating enough that the moment she became a potential obstruction, he had used forbidden magic against her.

Argen, whom he had already despised because of what was done to Aisha, had now crossed from contemptible into something approaching loathing.

“I have always thought Your Majesty was better suited to the throne than to the role of Queen Consort. Would you say you feel the same?”

If Grace wanted him dead—

“Wolf.”

—he was willing to be the hand that carried out the sentence.

Clang. Clang. Clang—!

Emergency bells rang out across the entirety of the palace.

“Intruders! All units, battle positions!”

“Knights of House Schletz are positioned at the palace gates!”

The defenses of the Frozen royal palace—never once breached—had been broken with embarrassing ease.

Because the one leading the breach was none other than the family of Queen Consort Grace herself.

“Deliver this message to King Argen—!”

At the front of the knight formation packed so densely that it filled the city’s central streets, the aged Marquess Schletz bellowed with a force that made a mockery of his years.

The fury and ferocity radiating from him crushed the atmosphere around him flat.

“Lift the black magic from Queen Consort Grace this instant—or you will be summarily tried on charges of attempted royal murder and illegal use of forbidden magic!”

At those words, the royal knights who had been mobilizing in tight formation to suppress the uprising faltered.

“Attempted royal murder? He’s the one who marched his knights to the palace steps—”

“Illegal use of forbidden magic? He placed black magic on Grace?”

“His Majesty the King did?!”

The king of this nation—overflowing with pride and petty jealousy, possessing none of the wisdom his ambition would have required—had, unfortunately, never once considered what his wife might do in response.

And so his knights, caught entirely off guard, scattered in every direction, stumbling over each other and fleeing to find a commanding officer to tell them what to do.

Which brought the situation to where it stood now, in King Argen’s study—

“King Argen, hear me—!”

“AAAAH!”

Marquess Schletz’s voice reached through the vast window in a faint but distinct echo, and Argen let out a cry that was more animal than human.

There was no way anyone should have been able to communicate it to the outside world.

He had layered every conceivable prohibition against disclosure—so how in the world had that woman managed to get word out?

He was still screaming, still without any solution, because Calypse and Grace had, unlike him, planned everything carefully.

Acting on their orders, the Schletz knights who had been waiting in position neutralized the royal guards. And the very king who had orchestrated a private audience in order to pressure Calypse had ended up being the one taken captive.

Every attempt to send word to allied houses was blocked by Calypse standing directly in front of him.

Obstacle after obstacle. No way through and no way back.

“There’s no evidence—no proof—uuugh!”

Trapped with nowhere to turn, Argen screamed like a child—

“Oh, but there is. Plenty of it.”

A large hand with prominent veins closed over his mouth and silenced him.

Calypse bent forward, gripping Argen’s face hard enough to reshape it, and murmured low:

“Though in truth, even one piece would suffice. All it takes is for everyone present to ask Queen Consort Grace to speak my name aloud.”

“Uugh—uugh!”

“That brilliant Queen Consort of yours, unable to make a sound—what do you suppose people would think? I imagine Marquess Schletz would be rather pleased.”

“Uugh…!”

“You crossed a line long ago. But this time, you were simply stupid about it.”

Calypse clicked his tongue at the sight of Argen’s eyes blown wide with shock.

And right at that moment—

“W—what is the meaning of all this?”

Voices filtered through the study door. The nobles who had been unable to leave the palace were still somewhere nearby.

“There’s been an uprising. Please, this way—quickly!”

“An uprising? What are you talking about, all of a sudden?”

“Where is Duke Krost? Surely the Duke ought to be here defending the palace at a time like this!”

At the sound of those voices, a glimmer of hope kindled in Argen’s eyes.

Help—I have to call for help—those people—

His face shifted from scarlet to something approaching purple.

He twisted and writhed, trying with everything he had to force a sound—when—

“How fortunate. They can serve as witnesses.”

A thin, quiet smile crossed Calypse’s face as he watched.

A moment later, he took hold of the back of Argen’s collar and moved toward the door.

Bang—

The door swung open.