TMWDS Chapter 23

"To escape before the Commander gets here and tears into me."

"She wouldn't discipline you for something like this."

That was true. Saschia was not the same kind of bad superior that Ionna was.

And Ionna was both a bad superior and a bad subordinate—which was an achievement of its own kind.

"Perhaps not. But I imagine it might be different if she knew I left early to go to a ball."

"……What?"

"And Erich—don't worry too much. I'm quitting soon. You won't have to put up with a senior like me any longer. Don't spread it around; it's not public yet."

"What do you mean, quitting? Why would you leave?"

Ionna swung herself up into the saddle and answered without particular concern.

"You said it yourself. I'm getting married."

"What does that have to do with anything? You're famous for being the Crown Prince's dog—why would getting married change that? If you're so devoted to your master, shouldn't you stay right here to serve him? You're just running because you don't want to answer, aren't you?!"

He was right. This was running away.

Ionna rode out of earshot of Erich's indignant shouting.

She had left the stable door open in advance, which at least saved her the trouble of dismounting. By the time she had scratched the back of her suddenly itchy neck, the sound of his voice had faded to nothing.

"Ah."

Realizing, a moment too late, what she had meant to say—Ionna huffed a small laugh to herself and murmured:

"Still not a mutt, like I said."

The ball was already well under way.

"Dame Ionna! How long has it been since I've seen you here?"

"It has been some time, Viscountess. I hope you've been well."

"Some time—that's an understatement! The last time I saw you was—let me think—surely the Crown Prince's birthday banquet last year? And even then you were there in an official capacity. Someone who doesn't know the pleasures of dancing and wine, honestly."

The Viscountess Kruger gestured extravagantly as she said it.

The evening had barely begun and she already seemed to have had a glass or two.

She had, in fact, had a glass or two—but the warmth she showed was not purely the wine's doing.

Having confirmed Ionna's presence, the Viscountess was in a state of visible delight at an arrival she had not expected.

Ionna Modrov, at my ball. I'll need to check whether the sun rose in the west this morning.

She was famously absent from this kind of event.

If the recent news of her engagement hadn't put her in everyone's mouths, the Viscountess would have forgotten entirely to include her on the invitation list.

It was understandable—Ionna had almost no presence in society at all.

Ionna Modrov. What a figure she was.

A young intimate of the Crown Prince, shrouded in mystery—she had almost no dealings with other nobles, which made her all the more intriguing.

And now she was set to marry a husband of considerable standing. There was no way to pretend indifference to her next move.

If she has any desire to make a name for herself, rising to prominence is only a matter of time.

Not merely because of the Crown Prince's reflected light—there were reasons enough of her own for people to pay attention.

A capable and striking knight—regardless of sex—drew eyes.

Some disliked Ionna for never putting in the effort of socialising, but even that was, in its way, a form of attention.

In that sense, Ionna's arrival tonight was a considerable boon for the host.

The Viscountess looked at Ionna with the look of someone who'd stumbled onto a gold pig, and allowed herself a pleased smile.

"The partner you've brought with you this evening—"

"I came alone tonight."

"Oh my—you're not succumbing to a last fling before the wedding, I hope?"

The Viscountess raised her glass and gave a conspiratorial wink.

"The invitation reached me late, so I didn't have enough time to arrange a companion. I'm sorry to have given you such short notice of my attendance."

Ionna answered with a mild smile.

Something the Viscountess had noticed in occasional conversations with her before: when Ionna was speaking to a woman, she tended to conduct herself exactly like a young nobleman heavy with guilt—a kind of courteous guilt, softened into good manners.

Perhaps there were simply too few men with real courtesy left to serve as comparison.

The Viscountess stifled a sigh.

'No wonder the young ladies in particular are so fond of her.'

It wouldn't do to keep a find like this to herself.

With something of the energy of a fisherman releasing a fine catch back into the water, the Viscountess promptly ushered Ionna into the main hall.

"Never mind the apology. Better to arrive without a partner before the wedding than not to come at all—more opportunities for dancing with strangers. Now—enjoy yourself."

Ionna replied with a slight inclination of her head and walked in.

The Viscountess had not been wrong about the splendour of it. The pleasures of dancing and wine—she was beginning to understand what that phrase meant.

Ionna accepted a glass of champagne from a passing server and immediately winced as the bubbles met the inside of her cheek.

She set it aside.

She was barely inside before she regretted the champagne.

Fortunately, the Viscountess's reaction suggested the bruising wasn't visible. Marsha had spent considerable effort concealing it, and the effort had apparently been worth something.

'Well. Anyone who notices will assume it was Nils again.'

Given that the gossip had reached Hayden's ears already, making a particular issue of a bruise was hardly necessary. If the Viscountess had assumed Nils was the cause, that was not an outcome to complain about.

Ionna handed off the champagne—more trouble than it was worth—to the nearest passing server.

She hadn't come for the wine.

Moving along the edges of the room and avoiding the people who were beginning to drift in her direction, Ionna scanned the space for what she was looking for: a girl, standing alone.

She went through the room girl by girl, looking for the ones standing alone—and found her quickly enough.

Ionna crossed toward her directly.

"I don't believe we've met."

The girl looked up sharply at the opening. Startled—which caused the small card on her wrist to fall open, revealing the blank dance-card within. Not a single entry yet.

Ionna took no notice of it.

"I should introduce myself. I'm Ionna Modrov. May I ask your name?"

"Oh—yes. I'm Yulia Becker, of the Becker barony. I don't usually live in the capital—I'm staying with relatives for the debut season. Which would explain why you haven't seen me before."

The nerves were making her say more than she meant to.

Yulia seemed to realise this herself, and her cheeks coloured.

The sudden appearance of someone she hadn't expected to meet had clearly rattled her somewhat.

"So Yonas came to the capital to accompany you for the debut season."

Ionna said it with an easy smile.

Yulia looked up, surprised.

"You know my brother?"

"Certainly. I've met Yonas a number of times through the Duke. So that makes us almost acquainted."

Leroy's aide was nominally a knight—heir to House Becker, a vassal family, and someone who had grown up as Leroy's closest companion.

'Though he doesn't seem particularly invested in looking like one.'

His manner, his dress, the way he carried himself—none of it suited the title. If Ionna hadn't known the future, she couldn't have identified him from those meetings alone. He had never once given her his family name.

"Ah—so that's why you approached me."

The sister, it turned out, had a warmer disposition than the brother. The moment Ionna confirmed knowing Yonas, the wariness dissolved into something closer to genuine pleasure.

Though that warmth wavered a moment later.

"But Yonas isn't here this evening. I'm afraid you won't be able to greet him."

"I know. His nature doesn't lend itself especially well to events like this."

"Ha ha—you figured that out quickly."

"Sending his younger sister to a ball unaccompanied isn't exactly a delicate approach, either."

Having noted this fault in Yonas quietly and without heat, Ionna moved to the real purpose of the conversation.

"Yonas may not have thought of it, but these occasions sometimes require an older acquaintance to make introductions. The truth is—having that kind of assistance is always better than not having it."

"……"

"Yulia—would you allow me to introduce you to some of my acquaintances?"

At Ionna's courteous question, something shifted in Yulia's expression.