“How is Henry?”
Iris was asking after him for a simple reason: upon learning he was housing royalty, a terrified Henry had insisted Ezekiel take his room.
Ezekiel sighed.
“I was just telling him the guest room is more than sufficient.” He reached for the blanket in her hands, but Iris held it back.
“Oh dear, what am I to do?” she murmured.
“The blanket I was using is fine.”
“No, it’s not that… It’s just… are you planning for us to share a room?”
“Pardon?” Ezekiel stared at her, dumbfounded.
Iris shrugged.
“Henry and I were going to use the guest room.”
The realization of whose room Felicia had commandeered finally hit him, and he pressed his fingers to his forehead.
Iris smiled faintly.
“It’s all right.
We have one more spare guest room.”
Ultimately, the blanket Iris was carrying was returned to the guest room Ezekiel had been using.
The other “spare room” was thick with dust, and though Ezekiel grimly declared he would sleep there, Iris refused.
They compromised by cleaning the room together, each armed with a rag.
Iris giggled.
“Mrs.
Babin would faint if she saw this.”
“Mrs.
Babin… she must have been quite shocked.”
“That’s an understatement.” Apparently, the first thing Mrs.
Babin had said upon hearing the news was, ‘Did I… did I make a prince wash the dishes?’
Ezekiel could not suppress his own laughter.
“Thanks to her, I learned how to wash dishes.”
“And how to draw water.”
“I even fixed a chair.”
Their eyes met, and they both burst into laughter.
Despite the initial chaos, the princes’ stay was proving beneficial for the Quillucsia estate.
Once things had settled, Etienne had instructed Felicia to give Iris two bags of gold coins.
Iris had been overjoyed to learn that her family’s estate was exempt from taxes and that the money was being returned.
“At first, I was going to use that money to build a proper bridge.”
A bridge?
He looked at her, confused.
Iris smiled sheepishly.
“The one you crossed—it collapses every two or three years.
The stone in this region is soft and crumbles in the rain.
But our estate is so poor, we could never afford to rebuild it properly.”
He said nothing.
“But Lady Arbois built us a new one today, didn’t she?
A very sturdy one.”
“Ah, that bridge… It will still need to be reinforced.” The laborers had been anxious about its stability, having built it so hastily in the rain.
As they left at dusk, they had repeatedly warned them to reinforce it as soon as the weather cleared.
“It looked very sturdy to me.”
“If you need more funds for the repairs, I will provide them.”
“That’s all right.
What you have done is more than enough.
And you gave us the gold coins.” Iris clutched the rag and smiled.
“With that money, perhaps we can finally have a mage look at Henry’s illness.”
It would likely be far from enough, but Ezekiel did not say so.
He simply smiled.
“If you need a mage, you should come to the capital.
The Emperor has one in his service.”
“I couldn’t possibly impose…”
“It would be no imposition at all.” A slightly deeper, yet still melodic voice interjected.
They both turned to the doorway.
It was Etienne, leaning against the frame with a thick robe draped over his shoulders.
“Brother.”
“Ezekiel.
I was wondering where you had gone.
Did you take a job as a servant here without my knowledge?” Etienne joked, though it ended in a cough.
Iris, who had been kneeling to wipe down a cabinet, scrambled to her feet.
“It’s not like that!
His Highness was helping me.”
“Lady Arbois took Iris’s room,” Ezekiel added.
“Aha.” Etienne raised an eyebrow.
“I see.
This was Felicia’s doing.”
“My apologies.”
“By the way, ‘Iris’?
When did you two become so familiar?”
Ezekiel flinched, not having realized he had used her given name.
Iris, flustered, quickly added, “Well, His Highness has been so kind as to put me at ease…”
“At ease?
Ezekiel?” Etienne’s eyes widened in mock astonishment.
“Good heavens, Lady Iris.
Do you have any idea how shocking that is to hear?”
“Pardon?
I do?”
“To say that Ezekiel put you at ease… I have never heard such a thing.
Do you know what kind of man he is?
Our own mother said she’s too frightened to even cough in his presence.
Sir Belger, our combat instructor, claimed Ezekiel unnerved him so much that he could not even drink water.
And you say he put you at ease!”
“Brother!” Ezekiel protested, looking aggrieved.
“They were both joking!
Iris, do not believe him!”
“And that’s not all!
Our youngest sister, Genevieve…”
“Brother!”
The squabble finally ended when Iris dissolved into a fit of giggles.
Etienne shrugged.
“In any case, you need a mage?”
“Ah, well.” Iris hesitated, clearly reluctant to discuss Henry’s illness.
Ezekiel spoke for her.
“Henry has Mana Sickness.”
“Oh, I see.” Etienne’s expression turned serious.
“Then a mage’s help is essential.”
“But we couldn’t possibly accept such a favor from Your Highnesses for a personal matter…”
“Nonsense, Lady Iris.” Etienne casually draped an arm around her shoulders.
Ezekiel stiffened.
It was an overly familiar gesture for a prince and a young noblewoman.
But Etienne, with a nonchalant air, pressed on.
“Just as Baron Quillucsia saved my father’s life, you saved ours.
This is not a favor, but a debt repaid.”
“Uh…”
“It’s true,” Ezekiel added, shaking off his unease.
“If not for your estate, my brother and I would have been caught in that storm.”
Iris looked uncertain, but it was the truth.
Ezekiel had no doubt they owed their lives to her.
Etienne’s fever was proof enough; they might have found shelter, but he surely would have fallen gravely ill.
Her reply, however, was unexpected.
“Then… I suppose we’ll have to slaughter a pig.”
“Hmm?” Etienne tilted his head.
Iris clasped her hands, her eyes sparkling.
“Did you see the pigsty in the backyard?
My father always keeps three pigs.
Two for breeding, and one to be served to His Majesty the Emperor, should he ever visit.”
“My father?”
“Yes.” According to Iris, the Emperor had said as much when granting the Baron his title.
“It is a small price for my life, but please accept it.
It is a place of beautiful mountains and clear water.
I shall be sure to visit one day.”
“Hmm…” The princes exchanged a look.
Their father’s words had likely been a polite fiction.
He had fallen from a terrace during a secret tryst and must have been deeply embarrassed.
He could not grant a grand title to a knight whose career was ruined by a broken leg, so he had offered empty pleasantries instead.
But Baron Quillucsia had never forgotten.
“He may not be the Emperor, but I’m sure he won’t be displeased to hear we served it to his sons.” With that, Iris gracefully slipped from Etienne’s embrace and hurried to the window to peer at the pigsty.
Etienne awkwardly brushed off his arm and glanced at Ezekiel, who just shook his head and smiled.
“Who is going to slaughter the pig?”
As Ezekiel recalled, the pigs in the backyard were massive.
They were so well-fed they were beyond plump; each one’s girth was as thick as a tree trunk.
Iris hesitated, her eyes darting around, before she cautiously met his gaze.
“…Would you help?”
“If I can be of help, I would be glad to.”
The tips of Iris’s ears turned red.
Ezekiel smiled at her, completely unaware of Etienne’s watchful eyes.