Philomel the Fake
Chapter 4

“I can’t waste my time like this. I need to go see my father.”

Philomel wiped her tears and began to walk down the corridor once more. It was Eustis who held her life in his hands, not them. I refuse to let them hurt me.

She studied her surroundings, stumbling along very slowly. Because she was still young, she hadn’t yet been assigned a palace of her own and stayed in the emperor’s palace instead. This was good for her given the present circumstances. And whatever the reason might be, there were fewer people milling about in the palace these days.

Managing to avoid the few attendants that passed by, she arrived in front of the emperor’s office. There was nobody in the hallway outside the room since Eustis didn’t believe it was necessary for anyone to guard him while he was inside the palace.

Philomel opened the door the smallest amount, very carefully.

“You’re stubborn, Polan.”

She could see into the office through the tiny crack. Despite the luxurious furnishings, the interior felt uninviting and cold. Eustis and Count Polan were conversing inside. The emperor was sitting behind his desk, while the count appeared to be making some sort of suggestion.

“But Your Majesty. She is ill. Don’t you think you should go and see her?”

As it happened, they were talking about Philomel. What good luck for her. She wouldn’t have to ask him herself to find out what he thought of her.

Philomel quietly listened.

The emperor grimaced. “Why should I care? Do you feel sorry for her now that she’s ill? She’s just pretending again.”

“The palace doctor informs me that her cold is quite severe this time around.”

“And?”

“If you were to visit, I’m sure Her Highness would feel greatly encouraged—”

“It’s just a cold.”

Count Polan was silent for a moment. He had faithfully served Eustis since he was just a prince, which allowed him the leeway to ask relatively personal questions without the need for hesitation. “Why are you so cold to your daughter, Your Majesty? She is your only child, after all.”

Philomel’s chest tightened. She’d always wondered about this, too. Why had he never shown her any affection?

The emperor’s response shocked her. “I’ve never considered her to be my daughter, not once.”

She felt like a huge weight had suddenly settled on her shoulders.

“Is it because you think she caused Her Majesty Empress Isabella’s death? Is that why—”

“Shut your mouth.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Polan bowed immediately in the face of Eustis’ rage. Talking about the late empress was all but considered to be taboo.

The emperor continued darkly, “I did think that way once. I resented her deeply, so much so that I wanted to take her life with my own hands. But that is no longer the case. I feel nothing for her anymore.”

“Why do you—”

“She’s useless to me. I never wanted to try and fill the hole in my heart Isabella left behind using her. I would have been content had she done the bare minimum required of her to be considered a suitable successor.”

Massaging his brow tiredly, Eustis continued, “But look how she’s turned out. She doesn’t take her lessons seriously and has never once done anything to impress me in any way. Yesterday, she even went as far as embarrassing me in public.”

“Princess Philomel is trying, Your Majesty. She just makes mistakes from time to time.”

“I suppose you might be right… if you consider troublemaking to be putting in effort,” Eustis said with a sarcastic smile.

“You’re too strict with her. She’s only nine years old. Of course she’s not perfect.”

“When I was her age, I had to deal with constant veiled hostility from my own brothers.”

“That was your situation, yes, but you were talented from a very early age...”

“She doesn’t resemble Isabella or me in the least.”

“But she is still your daughter.”

“That’s enough. Leave.”

The emperor got up and made a cabinet filled with bottles of alcohol. He poured himself a glass of golden liquid with his back turned to Polan, making it obvious he was no longer interested in the conversation. Attempting to say anything more would only make him angry. Eustis was slightly more lenient with Polan than he was with others, but even that had its limits.

Count Polan, about to back off, paused and asked one final question. “Do you really feel no affection for her at all, Your Majesty?”

Philomel needed to leave before the count left the office, but her feet refused to move. She needed to hear her father’s answer—her life depended on it.

Eustis finally answered, “No. There’s only one thing I desire from her now.”

Philomel took a deep breath.

“I want her to stay out of sight, out of mind. I don’t even want to know that she’s there.”

The words were delivered with cold and unswayable conviction, speaking of feelings that would never change.

* * *

Before she knew it, she was back in her room. After hearing the emperor’s answer to his question, the count had lingered to exchange a few more words, allowing Philomel the time she needed to return without being seen.

She collapsed weakly onto her bed.

“What do I do now?”

Her father—that is, the emperor—didn’t consider her to be his daughter, and had no affection for her whatsoever. If Ellensia one day appeared and Philomel was revealed to not be his real daughter, he would never forgive her. But what if she behaved herself, unlike Philomel in the book?

Maybe I’ll be allowed to live, at least. It didn’t seem like too much of a stretch. Even in the novel, she hadn’t been killed immediately after her identity was revealed. Ellensia had taken mercy on Philomel and asked him to be lenient on her.

The evil Philomel was jealous of Ellensia, however, and repaid her goodwill with malice—which had led to her execution. If I don’t allow myself to grow impudent and avoid making trouble, maybe I can avoid being killed like Philomel was in the novel...

“But...”

This wasn’t good enough for her. She didn’t want to risk her life on such a flimsy chance. Her life was in danger, and she could be sentenced to death at a moment’s notice if she displeased the emperor even slightly.

She recalled her knight and the maids she’d overheard earlier. They were obviously harboring malicious feelings toward her. For now, all they were doing was gossiping about her, but what would happen when it came out that she wasn’t the real princess?

“They’ll do more than just talk...” What frightened her was that it might not be only them who hated her. What if they went about spreading spiteful rumors about her? Can I be sure I’ll survive if that’s the case?

This wouldn’t do. Philomel wanted to guarantee her survival—she didn’t want to die, no matter what it took. A thought suddenly came to her.

I’ll run away. Even if she couldn’t do so right away, she would plan to leave before Ellensia appeared. This was the moment that her life changed along with all her plans for the future.

* * *

From that moment on, until she went to bed, she focused all her thoughts on ironing out the details of the escape plan she’d hatched earlier that day. Though she’d gone to bed quite early, she fell asleep very late because of all the complicated thoughts filling her mind.

It was for this reason that she failed to notice someone entering her room.

“Uh, Your Highness, His Majesty is here…”

Emperor Eustis gestured for the nanny to get out as she tried to wake up the sleeping child.

What am I doing? the emperor thought mockingly to himself, looking down at Philomel’s pale, round face.

Count Polan had refused to relent, continuing to go on about Philomel and suggesting that Eustis go see her. He could have chosen to ignore Polan, but the repeated mention of his daughter had eventually made him feel like he should go check on her. Perhaps it had been the desperate look in her yellow eyes as she stared up at him through the rain yesterday.

He was probably mistaken about what he’d seen, of course. Desperation was a foreign concept to a girl like her, raised as the only daughter of the emperor. He could easily see that she was gaunt, however, which confirmed Polan’s claim that she was actually quite ill.

“...er.”

The child suddenly muttered.

“Father...”

He wondered if she was awake, but Philomel’s eyes were still closed as she turned over in her bed. She was just talking in her sleep.

“I’ll... be a good... girl... Please... don’t kill... me...”

The words were weak, reminiscent of a candle fluttering in the wind. She murmured some more, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. She suddenly began to cry in her sleep, apparently deeply upset by her dream.

Eustis found himself unable to take his eyes off her for some reason. She had managed to stir something inside him. He considered her carefully, fishing up an old, distant memory, one of a young child who’d trembled with fear every night, scared of dying. He had been that child.

Surprisingly, he’d once been very much like Philomel, quivering with terror in her bed. For the first time in his life, he felt that there might be something in common between himself and his daughter. Obsessed with survival and reaching the top he’d committed a long list of sins and left a trail of blood behind him, and thus had completely forgotten about that period of his life.

Without thinking, he reached out and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Faintly, very faintly, he could recall the feelings and hopes he’d had at that time. He’d wished for a hand to hold back then, a hand much very like the one he was holding out to his daughter now.

Eustis stared silently as a small, chubby hand closed around his finger. She was still asleep, and he was a little taken aback by this gesture. He’d never touched another person skin-to-skin like this, except his late wife, and though the sensation was unfamiliar, he didn’t dislike it.

The child’s hand was smaller than he’d thought it would be, and warm. He stood there for a while, her tiny hand grasping his, before eventually leaving the room.