Clara followed Iris up the stairs towards the topmost floor of the von Rhenia mansion. It was the morning of their planned departure to Claves, and the duke had called both of them to his office. Clara hadn’t had a reason to come here before, and the décor was more subdued than she expected—quiet luxury over gaudy gold trimmings.

  Iris sauntered up to the doors and swung them open. “Papa! Oh, Mama, you’re here too!”

  Duke Maximilian stood by a pair of tall windows overlooking the estate grounds, hands clasped behind his back. Next to the windows were dark wooden bookshelves, filled with ledgers and maps. Duchess Adelheid sat in one of the leather chairs around the oak desk at the center of the office, and her crimson eyes had a kind grace behind them.

  “Iris, darling,” she said, “and Miss Casewell. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

  Iris took a seat on the sofa opposite to the duchess, and Clara stood a step back at her side, clasping her hands in front of her apron. She’d only been in this world for about a week, but she’d already learned that the definition of comfortable was very different for a noble and a servant. Thankfully, Stella’s muscle memory had guided her through these things.

  The duke turned around. He wasn’t wearing the suit with the golden epaulettes or the fancy sash from the trial, opting only for a white dress shirt and black pants. Honestly, he could pretty much pass for a corporate exec. At least if you ignored his silver hair.

  “Iris, there’s something you should know before you return to Claves.” The duke’s tone was neutral, so Clara couldn’t tell if it was good news or bad news.

  Iris pouted. “What is it, Papa?”

  “I’ve spoken to your mother, and we’ve decided to end your engagement to Prince Lochlann. I’ve already written to the King.”

  Clara almost gasped. Ending the engagement, just like that? From her experience with these types of stories, breaking such betrothals tended to be a long and sordid process. Then again, considering the prince’s attitude, this was definitely for the best.

  Iris flinched. “W-what? But Papa, the engagement was your idea! You said it was important for the family!”

  “It was, and it still would be, under different circumstances.” The duke walked over to stand beside his wife’s chair. “But the Crown Prince’s behavior at the trial was unacceptable, and it seems he hasn’t been much better at the academy. He showed open contempt for you in front of the Pope and dozens of nobles. That is not how a good man treats his future wife.”

  “He was just worried about Lady Helena,” Iris said, without conviction. “Once she’s fully recovered and things settle down—”

  “Darling.” The duchess’s voice was warm. “A political marriage is one thing, but we won’t have you bound to someone who looks at you with disgust. Your father and I learned to love each other, and we want the same for you.”

  Clara watched Iris’s expression shift—from shock to a flash of relief, then to something more vulnerable underneath. “But what will people say?” she whispered. “If the engagement ends, everyone will think I wasn’t good enough. That I lost to a baron’s daughter.”

  “Let them think what they like,” the duke said flatly. “A von Rhenia does not beg for scraps from the royal table. If anything, this trial has shown that the prince lacks the temperament to rule. That is his failing, not yours.”

  Iris’s eyes reddened. She seemed reluctant to accept the duke’s words, and Clara knew she was very self-conscious about her image. Clara leaned towards Iris and held her hand. “Lady Iris, don’t think of it as ‘you were not good enough for the Crown Prince’. Think of it as ‘the foolish prince was not good enough for the great Lady Iris von Rhenia’. If you are worried about your reputation, you can always make it clear that it was your family who broke the engagement.”

  Iris sniffed, rubbing her hand under her eyes. “If not the prince, then who will I marry? How will I help the family?”

  “Your mother was a Valois, and your brother already has an engagement with the Bragan?as. Our house is in a strong position regardless of who you marry,” said the duke.

  “Your father and I were thinking of giving you some time to make up your own mind, darling,” added the duchess. “You’ve always been so dedicated to the family… For now, take some time to focus on yourself.”

  Iris looked down. “Yes, Mama.”

  Clara felt a warmth in her chest watching the scene unfold. The duke’s gruff protectiveness, the duchess’s gentle concern, Iris’s reluctant acceptance… A family rallying around each other.

  And then came the familiar ache.

  Clara’s parents would never get to do this for her. They’d never sit her down to gentle reassurances, never meet the person she would marry—she wasn’t sure if marriage was even in the cards for her in this world.

  In the past, she had learned to live with that absence. She’d built an impenetrable wall of fourteen-hour workdays and told herself success was its own comfort, with the occasional fling when it got too bad.

  Yet in this new life… the loneliness felt sharper and more present. The support network she’d built over the years, the one you don’t really notice on a day-to-day basis—coworkers, neighbors, the occasional friend, even the distant aunts and cousins—she felt their absence, like one might when moving overseas. With the added knowledge that she’d never be able to visit or even call them.

  “Now, there’s another matter we need to discuss.” The duke’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Concerning you, Miss Casewell.”

  She pushed her worries aside. “Me, Your Grace?”

  “You had made a request of me: to be allowed to study. I’ve made arrangements to fulfill it.”

  Clara turned to Iris, a spark of curiosity pushing away the girl's melancholy. “You wish to study, Clara? You didn’t tell me that!”

  “Yes, my lady. After the trial we went through, I want to understand more about the Kingdom’s laws and history and magic.”

  Iris looked deep in thought, and the duke continued.

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  “The maid whom my daughter so mercifully spared will return with you to Claves. She will assist with the duties surrounding Iris, particularly while Iris is in her lectures. You can use that time to study as you wish—I’ve sent a note to the academy, and they should allow you to use the library and the other facilities, as long as you don’t interfere with the classes.”

  A small part of Clara was disappointed that the duke didn’t do something crazy, like buy her a private library full of tutors or something. Wasn’t that how these stories went, sometimes? Still, given its reputation as the premier educational institution in the Kingdom, the facilities at Claves should be more than enough to get Clara started. It was a fair arrangement.

  She gave a curtsy. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  For the second time in just a few days, Clara found herself faced with a line of carriages in front of the von Rhenia manor—the carriages that would take herself, Iris, and Emma to Claves. The academy was located a few hours west of Elysia City, but since the duke and duchess were planning to return to their domain in the east, it was still a tearful family goodbye.

  While Iris spoke with her parents, Lord Conrad approached Clara. From afar, she’d previously thought he was her age, but now he seemed a couple of years younger than her. His expression was set in a permanent state of mild scowling.

  “Miss Casewell.” He stopped in front of her, arms crossed. “A word.”

  “How can I help you, my lord?”

  Conrad glanced over at Iris, who was now hugging the duke and the duchess. Clara nodded, satisfied that her conversation with Iris had paid off. Then Conrad turned back to Clara. “My sister has been different since the trial. More confident. Mother says you had something to do with that.”

  Clara wasn’t sure if that was meant as a compliment or an accusation. “Lady Iris has a strong personality.”

  “Hmph,” he scoffed. “Beneath the bluster, she can be quite fragile. See that you continue looking after her at Claves.”

  Aha. So bashful, Lord Conrad. It seemed the future Duke von Rhenia was much like the current one.

  “I shall, my lord.”

  He nodded curtly, and Clara thought the conversation was over. But then he cleared his throat, a faint flush creeping up his cheeks.

  “One more thing. You and Iris seem quite… close. Holding hands, sharing seats, that sort of thing.”

  “My lord?”

  “I’m simply saying—” He uncrossed his arms, then crossed them again. “You should remember your place, Miss Casewell. A maid should maintain a respectable distance from her master.”

  Clara should have been offended, but she was almost smiling. How could she not, when faced with such a stereotypical overprotective brother?

  “Of course, my lord.” She bowed.

  He gave her one last glare and marched back into the mansion. Clara watched him go, amused. Then she helped Emma and the other servants load the rest of Iris’s luggage onto the coaches. Even though there were only three passengers, their convoy had four carriages, most of which were chock-full with Iris’s belongings and new dresses for the upcoming social season.

  When Iris had finally finished saying goodbye to her parents, she boarded the lead carriage with Clara. Emma was about to climb up when Iris waved her away. “Emma, take the second carriage. There’s something I need to discuss with Clara.”

  Emma nodded meekly. “Yes, my lady.”

  Clara raised an eyebrow. What was Iris up to now? But she waited in silence, sitting opposite to Iris, until the carriage started moving.

  “Clara Casewell.” Iris met her gaze, eyes narrowed and cheeks puffed.

  “Lady Iris von Rhenia.”

  “What is it that you’ve been keeping from me?”

  Clara blinked. Had Iris finally realized something was wrong? Had Clara acted too differently from how Stella would have? As her personal maid, most of Clara’s duties revolved around spending time with Iris—waking her up, doing her hair, bringing her food, drawing her baths. It was logical that she would notice if someone she’d spent so much time with suddenly changed to an entirely different personality.

  “What do you mean, my lady?”

  “Going to see the post boy to check for letters, even though you’re an unmarried orphan. Asking Papa to be allowed to study things totally unrelated to your job. Scurrying around the mansion, asking the other servants if they’d seen someone go into your room.” Iris tapped her index finger up and down while she spoke. “Ever since we came back from the trial, you’ve been up to all sorts of unusual activities. So I ask: what is going on?”

  Actually, I’m a lawyer from another world and I’ve just reincarnated into this body last week. Also, I think my predecessor—who was your maid for years yet you don’t seem to remember at all—might have had a secret deal with the Church. As if she could say that.

  “There’s nothing ‘going on’, my lady. It’s simply the day-to-day business of—”

  Iris clicked her tongue. “Clara, you are my closest friend. Don’t lie to me.”

  The way her voice wavered was a punch to Clara’s gut.

  Closest friend. The words echoed in Clara’s mind, and with them came a wave of guilt. Clara was not her closest friend—that was Stella. Clara was just an imposter, someone who’d been put here by some trick of fate or the Goddess or whatever else. Yet here she was, a stranger wearing Stella’s clothes, receiving kindness after kindness under false pretenses.

  “My lady, I…”

  “If you are unhappy…” Iris’s voice was small. “If you want to leave my service, just say so. I won’t stop you. I know I can be difficult, and after everything with the prince, perhaps you don’t want to be associated with—”

  “No.” Clara reached out and took Iris’s hands. So much for your request, Lord Conrad. Even if she’d stolen Stella’s place, the least she could do was make sure Iris didn’t blame herself. “Please don’t think that. I’m not unhappy, and you’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Iris looked up. “Then why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  Clara hesitated. Even if she couldn’t tell Iris everything, perhaps there was room for a partial truth? For someone who hated misunderstanding-based plotlines, Clara sure kept her fair share of secrets.

  “My lady, the truth is that, ever since my incident, my thoughts have been hazy.” She chose her words carefully. “There are things I should remember but don’t. People I should recognize but can’t. It’s as if part of my past has been shrouded in fog.”

  Iris’s eyes widened. “Clara, why didn’t you say something? We need to get you to a doctor!”

  Clara shook her head. “I didn’t want to worry you, my lady. You had enough on your mind with the trial.”

  “You foolish girl. A vassal has to serve their liege. Yet that is not a one-way street—a liege is charged with protecting their vassals. That’s what Papa always says.” Iris squeezed Clara’s hand. “You’re my one and only vassal, Clara, so it falls on me, Iris von Rhenia, to protect you.”

  This girl is way too much. Clara felt tears welling up in her eyes.

  “Yes, my lady. Well, that’s why I’ve been running around the mansion asking questions. I wanted to piece things together, to understand what I might have forgotten.”

  Iris was quiet for a moment. Then, softly: “What have you found?”

  Clara took a breath. She reached for the envelope hidden in her right pocket, which she’d been keeping on her person for safekeeping. It could be dangerous to share this with Iris. If Stella had been conspiring against her lady, this could be proof.

  But Clara wanted to trust the girl who’d opened her heart to her. And she also wanted to trust Stella, to believe that her ‘previous self’ hadn’t betrayed Iris.

  “There was this letter in my room,” said Clara, handing it to Iris. “It came the day before the trial.”

  “A letter? Who’s it from?” asked Iris, looking at the envelope.

  “I don’t know. It was addressed to me with no sender or stamp. I asked the post boy, and he said it’d have to have been sent by someone important.”

  Iris opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. As she read it, her frown deepened with each word. “Walk back on your side…? Walk back on what?”

  “I wish I knew, my lady.”

  “Clara, this sounds serious.” Iris looked up from the letter. “If you were involved in something dangerous—”

  “Then I need to find out what it was.” Clara met Iris’s gaze steadily. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do.”

  Iris was silent for a long moment, studying Clara’s face. Then she folded the letter and handed it back.

  “Very well.” Her voice was firmer now, more like the usual Iris. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”

  “My lady?”

  “You said it yourself—you can’t remember things well. But I can, and I’ve known you for years. Perhaps I’ve noticed something without realizing it.” Iris lifted her chin. “As for someone important being the sender… It doesn’t get much more important than a duke’s daughter. Oh ho ho!” Her expression softened. “Whatever it is, whoever is threatening you, we’ll face them together.”

  The guilt twisted deeper.

  “Thank you, my lady.”