"Move."
Etienne shoved Rishar away in a panic. He couldn’t let anyone see them together. Thankfully, though he looked regretful, Rishar obediently stepped back.
"Here."
"Ah, so you were over here. Her Majesty the Empress…"
Ben, who had drawn the curtain and opened the balcony door, froze when he found Etienne together with Rishar. Fearing eyes on them, he hastily dropped the curtain and shut the door.
"The Grand Duke is here as well."
"It has been a while."
Unlike the flustered Ben, Rishar was composed. He greeted Ben as if nothing were amiss, even looking faintly pleased.
"It is an honor to see you again, Your Grace the Grand Duke."
Collecting himself, Ben bowed in a rush. Then he looked to Etienne, his eyes plainly asking why the two were together.
"What is it?"
Etienne asked Ben as if nothing were unusual. Only then did Ben school his expression and answer.
"Her Majesty the Empress is asking for you."
"Is that so? Let’s go."
Etienne spoke, ignoring the gaze he felt between his shoulder blades. On any other day, a summons from the Empress would not have pleased him, but just now it was a relief.
"Etienne."
A low voice came from behind as he hurried to reenter the banquet hall. Etienne bit down on his lower lip at the voice that caught him by the ankle. He wanted to ignore Rishar calling him, but he couldn’t.
"…What."
Etienne managed to turn his head and asked, curt. Rishar did not yield to the chill in his tone. When their eyes met, Rishar’s lashes folded with a light smile.
"I am truly glad to see you again like this."
At the sincerity in his words, Etienne’s pupils trembled. He stared blankly at Rishar, who was smiling at him.
His face, his voice, his build—everything had changed from three years ago, except that smiling face; that alone was exactly the same.
"I plan to remain in the capital for a while. Next time, let’s meet with more leisure."
"…All right."
Dragging himself together, Etienne answered in a roughened voice. He fled the balcony. Thud, thud—his heart was pounding wildly.
He couldn’t tell whether the pounding in his chest was from joy or from despair. With Rishar before him, contradictory feelings always rose.
To that extent, for Etienne, Rishar was someone he wanted to see and did not want to see. It had always been so for the past three years.
As soon as he slipped back into the hall, avoiding Rishar’s tenacious gaze, Ben opened his mouth as if he had been waiting.
"How did you end up with the Grand Duke? If Her Majesty had found out, it would have caused an uproar at once…"
"I don’t know. The Grand Duke came to find me. It’s fine as long as we weren’t caught."
"Your Highness."
Ben called Etienne in a stern voice. Seeing Ben ready to unleash a scolding, Etienne swiftly changed the subject. He had neither the strength nor the will to bicker with him.
"Why is my lady mother calling for me?"
"Eh? Ah—Marquess Matias has just appeared in the hall."
"Marquess Matias?"
Etienne frowned at Ben’s answer. Marquess Matias was one of the power brokers in the Military whom the Empress had been courting for years.
"What brings the marquess?"
The marquess was a high general charged with guarding the borders of the Empire. He did not come to the capital unless there was serious cause. At the unexpected arrival, Etienne’s expression turned puzzled.
"Well… it seems his aim is the Grand Duke of Eckhart."
"Ri— the Grand Duke?"
Etienne nearly said Rishar’s name and hurriedly corrected himself. Ben glanced around and lowered his voice so others wouldn’t hear.
"There are rumors that, in the course of repelling the barbarian incursion, Marquess Matias and the Grand Duke of Eckhart grew rapidly close."
"Ah."
Etienne’s face clouded at Ben’s words. Marquess Matias was a representative noble of the Neutral Faction. If a military power like him openly supported the Grand Duke of Eckhart, it would be a serious blow to the Noble Faction.
"Before the marquess meets the Grand Duke, Her Majesty means to present him to me and sound out his intentions."
"Most likely."
Ben echoed Etienne’s conclusion. Perceiving Leona’s intent, Etienne let out a small sigh. He lifted his hand and fastened his shirt buttons. Simply closing them made his throat feel strangled tight.
"Let’s go."
Etienne, quickly straightening his attire, set off. Perhaps because the tipsiness that had receded while he spoke with Rishar was rising again, his stomach churned strangely.
***
"You are finally here! Where in the world have you—"
"Where are Jade and Stella?"
Mindful of the watching eyes, Rishar returned to the hall after a small delay and asked his adjutant after the whereabouts of the knight-commander and the mage-commander.
"The knight-commander has stepped out to keep the knights in line… As for Lady Stella, I’ve no idea. Probably off charming some handsome Alpha again."
"Is that so?"
"Anyway, where did you go? His Majesty has been looking for you incessantly."
"I went out for some air."
Rishar gave a perfunctory answer and glanced around. But Etienne was nowhere in sight.
"Who are you looking for? If it’s His Majesty—"
"Not His Majesty."
Elvin, Rishar’s adjutant, knit his brows slightly as Rishar kept cutting him off.
How much he had suffered because Rishar had suddenly left without a word!
Elvin shuddered, recalling how he had been besieged by nobles while Rishar was gone.
Hemmed in by fearsome Alphas and even more fearsome Omega nobles, he had been peppered with demands—where had the Grand Duke gone, what did His Grace like, arrange a private meeting later—and his knees still felt weak at the memory.
He was a Beta and couldn’t even smell pheromones, so why did he feel like a mouse before cats whenever he stood in front of them?
He had thought he’d grown somewhat used to the aura unique to Alphas and Omegas, living alongside Rishar, a dominant Alpha—but apparently not.
Elvin scrubbed at his arms, still prickling with gooseflesh.
"Shall we head back?"
Unaware of Elvin’s charred-black insides, and having failed to find what he wanted, Rishar spoke with an expression of waning interest. Naturally, Elvin was alarmed.
"Now?"
Elvin stared at Rishar in disbelief. What was this man even saying?
"Is there a problem?"
Rishar tilted his head, as if he knew or didn’t; either way, it was enough to turn Elvin’s stomach.
"There are plenty of problems! Did you not hear what I just said? His Majesty has been looking for you nonstop."
"Tell him I was tired and went ahead. I think I’ve done enough mingling."
"Hush, hush! Please mind your words. Do you know how many ears are listening?"
What sacrilege was that supposed to be?
Startled, Elvin pressed a finger to his lips and warned him to be careful.
Even a toothless tiger is still an Emperor. If someone heard Rishar’s words, they could seize on them as irreverent.
With so many eyes and ears about, Elvin could not begin to understand Rishar.
"You are the star of tonight’s banquet, Your Grace. Excepting the Noble Faction—or rather, even they—everyone is here to see you. Where are you going? If you leave now, people will definitely talk."
"Let them."
Rishar answered with unconcern. It was Elvin whose guts shrank at that. He pressed a throbbing temple. He hadn’t touched a drop of wine, yet a headache climbed.
"Then at least go and tell His Majesty you will retire first."
"Tsks, what a nuisance."
At Elvin’s words, Rishar clicked his tongue softly. He looked for all the world like a man put out. Elvin barely suppressed a flare of irritation and set his face stern.
"Your Grace."
"Fine."
Sensing Elvin’s resolve, Rishar set off with a sullen face. Watching his liege walk toward the Emperor, Elvin released the breath he’d been holding.
No, with him showing that much obvious dislike, why does the Emperor like the Grand Duke so much?
Elvin looked at the Emperor and Rishar with eyes of utter incomprehension. Their relationship was one of the riddles he carried.
The world believed the Emperor and the Grand Duke of Eckhart were inseparable, but the truth was different.
To Elvin’s eye, the relationship was the Emperor’s one-sided infatuation. Others might not know, but Elvin, who had long served at Rishar’s side, could tell.
Rishar did not much like the Emperor. It was closer to dislike.
He was not the only one who knew this. Jade, the knight-commander, and Stella, the mage-commander, had likely sensed it to some degree as well:
that Rishar found the Emperor, who styled himself his patron, distasteful and bothersome.
Rishar had not the slightest interest in the throne, either. It was the Emperor and those around him who had dragged him into the struggle for it.
"…What am I to do now."
Elvin muttered to himself, watching Rishar speak with the Emperor.
Whether Rishar wanted it or not, the fight over the throne had already begun. Which meant that the fate of Rishar’s adjutant—his own—was tantamount to walking on thin ice.
"Perhaps the battlefield would be better."
A heavy gloom fell over Elvin. They hadn’t even been in the capital a day, and already everything was going dark. He couldn’t begin to guess how noisy things would get.
"My goal is to live quietly and for a long time…"
Ruined.
Elvin slumped his shoulders and murmured in a dejected voice. Thanks to the master he’d ended up with, one misstep and his neck would go rolling.
"What are you muttering to yourself?"
"Eek!"
Lost in his own gloom, Elvin jolted at the voice behind him. When he turned, Jade was looking down at him with his usual impassive face.
"Ah—good grief. Make some noise when you walk! My heart nearly fell out."
"I did make noise."
Clutching at his pounding chest, Elvin snapped at Jade. Jade looked aggrieved.
"Where is His Grace… Ah, he’s speaking with His Majesty."
"He’ll be done soon. Before that, please find Lady Stella."
"Lady Stella of Count Flang?"
"Yes. Sir Jade, you can pick up her pheromones. Find her and bring her here."
Casting a sidelong glance toward where Rishar stood, Elvin asked Jade to fetch Stella.
Stella, proud to bursting of being an Omega, let her pheromones spill even on ordinary days; using Jade, an Alpha, they could find her quickly.
"I could find her, but… is something the matter?"
Jade tilted his head at Elvin’s request. He didn’t know why Stella needed fetching all of a sudden.
"It’s nothing; His Grace says he will return to the grand-ducal residence. We have to take Lady Stella as well. Leave her here and she’ll cause trouble."
"Already?"
There was a long way to go before the banquet ended. Jade looked puzzled. Elvin answered in a surly voice.
"His Grace is apparently far too tired to enjoy the banquet."
"As if."
Jade let out a laugh as if the notion were absurd. Rishar, tired—now there was something to make a passing dog laugh.
"Perhaps ‘that person’ is not in the hall?"
Jade glanced around and spoke as if he understood. Elvin shrugged. As Rishar’s closest men, both Elvin and Jade knew their lord’s fixation on the Prince.
"Well, yes. He went out earlier with his valet."
"So that’s why His Grace wants to leave. If the—well, if that person isn’t here, there’s no reason for him to stay."
Jade nearly said “the Prince” and caught himself in the nick of time.
Walls have ears, night has mice. Who knew where the Empress’s eyes and ears might be?
As a retainer of the Grand Duke of Eckhart, he had to be careful mentioning the Prince in a public place like the banquet hall.
"He’s never been one to like banquets. He dislikes socializing with people."
Elvin answered, shooting Jade a look for the near-slip. Chastened by that look, Jade scrunched his nose sheepishly.
"Then I’ll tell the knights to prepare to depart. I’ll find Lady Stella as well."
"Ah, wait—"
Jade vanished as if fleeing. Missing his chance to scold him, Elvin looked put out. Then a shadow fell over his head.
"Are the preparations to leave complete?"
"Gah!"
At the low voice right above his crown, Elvin all but leapt. Having shaken off the Emperor’s dogged grip, Rishar frowned faintly at Elvin’s overreaction.
"What? Why so startled?"
"Because you spoke all of a sudden… Ahem."
Embarrassed by Rishar’s mild rebuke, Elvin coughed awkwardly, then spoke with a face gone calm as if he’d never been startled.
"Sir Jade says he will make the preparations. You must be tired—let’s take a carriage rather than ride."
"All right."
Rishar answered readily. His body was fine, but his mind was tired. Above all, his mood was bad. He hadn’t been able to talk much with Etienne, contrary to what he’d hoped.
"…Tsk."
On the off chance, Rishar swept the hall one last time and clicked his tongue in irritation. He had attended the triumph banquet purely for Etienne.
Yet he had neither spent time with Etienne nor properly spoken with him. There were too many things that came between them.
"Your Grace, are you leaving already?"
"Your Grace the Grand Duke, just a moment—"
When Rishar moved toward the exit, nobles rushed to cluster around him. Elvin shouted as he barred their way.
"Stand back, all of you. His Grace the Grand Duke rode hard for days to reach the capital and then attended the banquet besides; he is extremely fatigued. If you have business with him, please send word to the grand-ducal residence tomorrow."
At Elvin’s cry, some nobles faltered. But others clung persistently. Ignoring those who addressed him, Rishar walked on and thought of Etienne.
Have you been well, Your Grace…?
At their reunion after three years, Rishar recalled Etienne awkwardly greeting him in Tempest Square and smiled faintly.
Unlike his own delight, Etienne had looked at him as if at a stranger. With his height, his face, and his voice all changed over the three years, it was understandable.
Even his adjutant and the knight-commander who had served near him admitted that Rishar had changed.
In contrast to Rishar—whose height, face, and voice had all changed—Etienne had not changed at all. As if time had skipped only him, everything was just as in memory, save that his complexion was a little worse.
When they met again in the square, Rishar had had to hold himself back from calling Etienne “Etienne” on the spot. Unlike before, he now had some awareness of his position.
With the Empress glaring at him with terrifying eyes and the Emperor flaunting his affection, it was dangerous to act familiar with Etienne.
So he held back. Standing before Etienne, Rishar pressed down and pressed down again the longing layered over three years. He did not want Etienne troubled because of him.
But it was impossible to hold back entirely; before getting into the carriage, he had ended up offering Etienne a brief greeting.
I’m back, Etienne.
Rishar thought of Etienne, eyes gone round in surprise at his whisper, and smiled without meaning to. The memory alone brought a smile.
But it didn’t last. Remembering what had happened after, Rishar’s face cooled as if it had never warmed.
"Elvin."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Having finally driven off the nobles who clung like leeches, Elvin answered with a weary face.
"Look into the young lord of House Miles."
"The… young lord of House Miles?"
Who was that again? At the sudden order, Elvin tilted his head. He quickly enough recalled Theodore.
Theodore Miles.
The son of Marquis Miles—one of the leading figures of the Noble Faction—and one of the few young dominant Alphas.
"Why the young lord of House Miles all of a sudden…"
"Earlier, he seemed to harbor an impudent desire for Etienne."
"…Huh?"