The High Elves were a subspecies among the elven people who occupied the highest stratum of their society. Compared to common elves, they were born with a talent for commanding spirits that far surpassed the rest of their kin.
Their distinction was not reflected in social standing alone. It was plain to see in their physical traits as well, most notably the shape of their ears, the pattern of their eyes, and the colour of their hair.
The ears of a High Elf tapered to an elegant point, as though carved with deliberate precision. Their eyes bore a pattern resembling stars, while their hair carried the soft green of leaves greeting the first days of spring. All of these features were held to be marks of purity of bloodline, as well as evidence of a closeness to the World Tree that ordinary elves did not possess.
I myself had never encountered a High Elf in person. Unlike Novaria, who was of half-elven descent. The elven people, and the High Elves most of all, were known to carry a rather pronounced sense of pride.
My attention moved to the row of dates printed at the upper corner of the document.
"This report was written two weeks ago."
"Let me see."
Grace took the cream-coloured page briefly. Her gaze swept across the top of the document before she returned it to me.
"Tch. This is from that old woman."
"Novaria."
She gave a slow nod.
The relationship between Grace and Novaria had never been harmonious. Not because accord was beyond them, but because both possessed a pride far too great to allow either to yield first.
A half-elven woman.
A human woman.
Bringing their views into alignment always felt like pressing two equally keen blades together. Neither would give ground, unless the matter at hand concerned the interests of the Guild.
Even so, I had to acknowledge the quality of this report.
Beyond offering a broad perspective, its contents contained information of a highly confidential nature. What was more impressive still was that Novaria had obtained all of this sensitive intelligence well before any of it had been made public.
"A High Elf... Novaria's network of informants must be remarkably extensive to have secured something this significant."
"Even if I cannot stand the pointed-eared woman, I will grant that she is the finest operative in the Guild."
"That is encouraging. At the very least, you are still willing to acknowledge her ability."
A faint smile touched Grace's lips.
"I am the Guild Master. Personal feelings must never be allowed to overshadow the interests of the organisation. Is that not so, darling?"
"You are right."
Grace shifted until almost no distance remained between them. Without a word, she began reading through the lines of ink that filled the document in my hand alongside me.
"His Imperial Majesty has invited a High Elf to serve as a new professor in the field of spirit arts. That is quite surprising. This decision only strengthens the existing faculty. I can well imagine that the number of elves and those of half-elven blood who register at the Imperial Academy this year will rise considerably."
"That is because the greater part of the elves freed from the black markets by Imperial authorities chose to settle here permanently. Rather than return to their homeland, those elves decided to become subjects of the Empire after experiencing the protection of laws upheld across centuries."
"Ah... you are speaking of the anti-slavery statutes enacted by the First King."
"Yes."
One of the greatest legacies of the founder of the Thronheim Empire was the legislation forbidding the enslavement of all non-human races.
Since its enactment, that law had been upheld without meaningful alteration. It endured through the reigns of kings and into the age of emperors. That legacy had since become one of the most vital foundations for the advancement of civilisation, and had been adopted by many neighbouring nations.
I spoke in an even tone.
"The elves who chose to remain in the Empire, and the children born to them in particular, require guidance to master the innate ability that runs through their blood. The same holds true for those of half-elven descent."
"Even so, it would be impossible to persuade a High Elf to leave the World Tree merely to guide their kin who have chosen to live beyond their homeland. And Queen Elysia would never grant such permission so readily."
"Your assumption is not entirely without merit. Unless the Empire had something of equivalent value to offer. Something that might even be considered more precious."
I set the document on the table and leaned back against the cushioned sofa.
Seeing me settle, Grace adjusted her own position without hesitation. She climbed into my lap and leaned her back against my chest as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
My body went still for a moment.
Her manner was entirely unguarded, as though my lap were simply the most comfortable place available to her. As though she had claimed it long before I ever thought to notice.
Without thinking, both my arms wrapped gently around her slender waist.
Grace gave the faintest tremor.
Only for a moment, before she relaxed entirely once more.
Slowly, her hands came to rest over mine where they held her, as though locking them in place, without a single word spoken.
"Ian."
"Yes."
"Do you still remember half a year ago, when the King of Alexandria invited His Imperial Majesty together with Queen Elysia to his capital?"
"Continue."
"At that meeting, an agreement of considerable importance was reached, particularly between Queen Elysia and His Imperial Majesty. The presence of a High Elf at the Imperial Academy could never have come about without some form of political exchange."
"We have still not managed to obtain so much as a fragment of what was discussed in that meeting?"
"Not yet. That old woman even complained that she could find no opening whatsoever."
"Hmph."
"The delegation permitted to enter the chamber of negotiation consisted only of the highest officials from each nation. Our Emperor, for instance, was accompanied solely by the Prime Minister, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and the Commander of the Capital Knights."
"I see. Attempting to bribe or threaten individuals of their standing would only invite trouble."
"Yes. The majority of the Guild's senior members refused to take so aggressive a course."
"A prudent decision."
Nightshade Guild employed a variety of means to obtain intelligence. They relied on a network of informants built over many years, made use of bribes, and did not hesitate to issue threats when circumstances demanded it.
Yet none of it was a simple undertaking.
The most valuable secrets were almost invariably held close within the minds of those at the highest levels of power. The greater a person's station, the more tightly their information was guarded.
It was for this reason that most of the Guild's senior members preferred to deal with the nobility. Breaching their defences was considerably more feasible, provided the reward offered was commensurate with the worth of what they kept hidden.
I had just been about to let my thoughts rest briefly from the stack of reports that had occupied the table since the day began.
Regrettably, that quiet lasted only a moment.
"When might I meet Charlotte?"
Grace's question slipped out without preamble, steering the conversation in an entirely new direction.
The thought of Grace and my elder sister meeting filled my chest with an unease I could not readily untangle.
Would nothing come of it, truly, if the two of them were to meet?
Strangely, what unsettled me most was not how my elder sister might react.
It was Grace.
I could not say when it was that my concern had shifted more toward the woman in my arms than toward my own sister.
"Why the silence? Do you not wish for her to know of what is between us? Or are you worried Charlotte might tell those two childhood loves of yours?"
"Grace."
"I understand. At the very least, while you are with me, do not think of other women."
Her tone remained level.
Almost entirely without feeling.
Yet I had known her long enough to recognise that those words had not come from anger. They had come from a disappointment she was working very hard to conceal behind that composure. It was precisely her calm that made my chest feel all the more constricted.
I could not argue against it.
As for Cecilia and Rose, the thought of them had been set aside the moment I accepted the feelings of the woman now before me.
"Regarding the task you assigned me, everything has been completed. I will give it to you presently."
"Grace."
"Hm?"
"Amid all of these reports that have occupied my thoughts... you are the only one who fills my mind."
"Oh? Truly?"
I tightened my hold around her slender waist.
The fragrance of her hair, now so familiar to me, filled my senses slowly, bringing with it a calm that was, strangely, difficult to put into words.
"What must I do for you to believe me?"
"I need nothing."
Then... what ought I to do?
In every romance novel I had ever read, the heart of a woman was always portrayed as something difficult to comprehend. I used to think that an exaggeration.
My thoughts turned to Mother. Whenever her spirits fell, Father always invited her out for a walk. That simple gesture worked without fail, time and again.
Grace was different.
Ordinarily she never let a single opportunity pass without finding some advantage to draw from me. Yet this time, she asked for nothing.
It seemed that understanding what lay in her heart was far more difficult than I had imagined.
"Grace."
"Hm?"
"Will you come out with me?"
"Where to?"
"Wherever you wish."
Grace shifted slowly.
She turned herself around on my lap until we were facing each other. Her gaze held on my face for a moment before drifting elsewhere.
Her expression remained composed.
The smile had not yet truly appeared.
For reasons I could not explain, seeing her like that only made me more restless.
"Is this... a courtship?"
"I believe so."
A faint smile finally touched the corner of her lips.
Barely visible as it was, that small smile was enough to make the weight in my chest feel considerably lighter than before.
"Very well. Wait here. I wish to change my gown first."
I gave a slow nod.
At the very least, the atmosphere between them was beginning to thaw.
Grace stopped at the threshold of her private chamber, which connected directly to the study.
"You as well."
"Hm?"
"The topmost button of your shirt has come loose."
I glanced down before I could stop myself.
"I have not brought a change of clothes."
"Come with me."
"What?"
Grace did not wait for my answer.
She stepped into her private chamber with an easy stride, as though that decision had been made long before she spoke it aloud. The carved wooden door swung open wide, inviting me in without another word.
"Grace."
"Hm?"
"I cannot go in there."
A quiet laugh drifted from beyond the door.
"You need not come in very far. Stand near the entrance if that makes you more comfortable."
I exhaled slowly before finally rising.
The room was considerably larger than I had imagined.
Wardrobes of dark wood stood in neat rows along the right side, while a dressing table with a silver-framed mirror rose elegantly in the corner. A faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, unlike the fragrance that usually clung to Grace herself.
This was her private space.
A place I had never entered before.
Without thinking, my steps came to a stop exactly at the threshold, precisely where she had suggested.
Grace opened one of the wardrobe doors. Her fingers moved along the row of garments with the ease of long habit, eventually coming to rest on a white shirt folded neatly within.
She glanced back and gestured for me to come closer.
I obliged.
Once the distance between us had narrowed enough, she held the shirt out toward me.
"Whose is this?"
"Mine."
My gaze moved between the shirt and her face.
"Yours?"
"It is yours now. I purchased it some time ago."
Without giving me any opportunity to ask further, she tucked the shirt into my arms.
"The size should suit you."
I did not ask when she had bought it.
Something in her tone made it clear she was not yet ready to speak of that. And I chose to respect it.
"Change in there."
Grace indicated a long cream curtain in the corner of the room, then turned away with quiet composure, as though the matter had already been settled.
I found myself watching her retreating figure for a moment.
Her red hair fell past her waist, a vivid contrast against the dark gown that draped her frame. The soft light filtering through the window made her look like a painting that had no idea it was being painted.
I looked away.
After changing my shirt, I waited in silence.
Before long, I made my way toward her.
Grace was seated before the dressing table, drawing a comb slowly and carefully through the long fall of her hair.
Our eyes met through the reflection in the mirror.
She held my gaze for a moment before returning to her work, the comb moving once more between the strands of red.
"It suits."
"The shirt?"
"You, wearing it."
I said nothing.
Yet something within my chest stirred faintly, like a string plucked without a sound.
Grace set the comb down and rose.
Without a word, she stepped toward me and straightened the collar of the white shirt I now wore. Her movements were so natural, so unhurried, that I forgot entirely to stop her.
"Grace."
"Be still a moment."
Her fingers smoothed each fold with care.
At this closeness, I could see the quiet concentration that filled her face, as though her full attention was devoted entirely to the collar of a shirt.
Or perhaps she was simply searching for a reason not to meet my eyes.
When she was satisfied, her hands went still.
Yet she did not draw away.
"Ian."
"Yes."
"You do not regret it, do you?"
The question came so softly it was barely more than a whisper, as though it had not truly been directed at anyone at all.
I understood.
She was not speaking of the shirt.
"No."
Grace lifted her face slowly.
At last our eyes met, with neither of us making any effort to look away.
Her expression was unlike its usual self.
There was none of the sharpness she so often wore as armour. None of the quiet amusement that frequently hid behind her smile.
What I saw was uncertainty.
The uncertainty of a woman who had almost never permitted herself to be honest.
"Truly?"
"Truly, Grace."
She gave a slow nod.
A moment later, that faint smile returned to her lips. The one I had come to know well. The one that always appeared whenever she was trying to conceal something far greater than she wished to reveal.
"Then do not make me regret having chosen you."
Those words tightened something in my chest.
Spoken in a light tone, they carried a weight that was anything but light. As though behind them lay an unspoken agreement, one I could not simply set aside and forget.
Both my hands came up slowly to cup her face.
"I will not."
Grace held my hands for a brief moment, then lowered them gently.
After that, she turned and walked toward the door. Her red hair swayed softly with each step.
"Come."
I followed.
As I crossed the threshold of the study, my gaze lingered briefly on the stack of documents upon the marble table, on the wine glass that still held a last trace of red at its base, on the sofa where Grace had slept not long before.
This day had been filled with so many things I had never anticipated.
And yet, strangely...
There was not one I wished to let go of.
Including you, Grace.
I exhaled slowly, then stepped out alongside her.
Very well.