Than before, their relationship had grown awkward, but there was no way Rishar, who had spent childhood with him, didn’t know Etienne’s likes and tastes.
Is he suspecting me?
To hide his nerves, Etienne pressed strength into the corners of his lips. He couldn’t grasp why Rishar was bringing this up.
It must be because he’s noticing a scent when I usually don’t wear one.
Etienne decided to think in the better direction. Overreacting here would only look more suspicious. Forcing down his unease, he answered as evenly as possible.
“Preferences change by nature.”
“Well, that’s true.”
Rishar gave a small nod. The end of his voice trembled slightly, though he didn’t seem to notice.
“Anyway, it’s a good scent. A bit strong, but.”
Feeling the pleasant fragrance prickle at the tip of his nose, Rishar curled his lips gently as always. His smile was gentle; inside, he was tangled.
So it was a mistake after all.
Thinking of that odd scent he had caught that night, Rishar let out a bitter smile. His curiosity of the past few days was resolved, and yet a nameless disappointment rose up.
Probably because it doesn’t sit right. The scent coming from Etienne now was similar to what he had smelled in the garden, but different.
When he summoned the scent etched distinctly in memory, his navy eyes, washed with a hint of blue, sank dark. It had been only a fleeting instant, when their bodies brushed for the briefest moment, but it was still vivid, as if he had just breathed it in.
Back then, it hadn’t been this artificial. More natural… yes, the kind of scent that stirred a strange thirst, like an Omega’s pheromones enticing an Alpha.
Hoo.
Thinking that far, a breath leaked between his lips. Halting his thoughts, Rishar looked back at Etienne.
“It’s not ideal to keep talking out here. Let’s go inside. I’ll have them prepare hot tea.”
“All right.”
Etienne didn’t refuse. Because of the commotion just now, spectators had crowded the great hall. He wasn’t without worries, but he also had things to say to Rishar; it seemed better to speak quietly in the office.
“Then this way…”
“Hellooo? What are you all doing out here?”
As Rishar guided Etienne toward the office, a clear voice came from the side. Etienne, turning his head without thinking, halted at the sight of violet hair catching his gaze.
“Did something happen? Why is everyone out— huh?”
A lady walking in from the garden connected to the great hall spotted Etienne and stopped short. Then, violet hair tied high swishing, she hopped clean over the terrace balustrade.
“My, heavens! So it is Your Highness the Prince!”
Recognizing Etienne at a glance, the lady came up as if greeting someone dear. Eyes like violets glittered, bright as if beaded with dew.
“Hello, Your Highness!”
“Uh…?”
Etienne was taken aback by the lady’s warm greeting toward him. Unlike his discomfort, she seemed genuinely delighted by this meeting.
“It’s truly an honor to meet you like this! As I’ve heard— you’re really beautiful! How could—”
“Stella.”
It was Rishar who checked the lady, who was greeting Etienne with a flushed face. Reaching a hand between Etienne and the lady, he spoke in a stern voice.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Pardon? What did I do?”
At the sudden reproach, the lady—called Stella—rounded her eyes. Rishar frowned as he looked at her.
“You’re being discourteous to His Highness the Prince. Offer a proper greeting with due decorum.”
“Ah!”
At Rishar’s reprimand, the lady called Stella made an oops face. Ahem, clearing her voice, she beamed and greeted again.
“I offer greetings to the Star of the Empire. I am Lady Stella of Count Flang.”
Finishing her self-introduction in an overjoyed tone, Stella grinned, hee.
“I’ve heard so much about Your Highness from the Grand Duke. I was so happy to see you that I was inadvertently rude.”
“…A pleasure, Lady Stella of Count Flang.”
Etienne returned the greeting in an awkward voice to the beaming Stella. As Etienne accepted her greeting, Stella’s face broke into a broad smile.
“It’s not empty words. I truly wanted to meet you. I wanted to greet you at the last banquet too, but the Grand Duke said we should head back early, so I had no chance. If I’d known I’d meet you today, I would have dressed better…”
Stella murmured as if regretful. Seeing the affection toward him brimming in her, Etienne felt a little confused. It had been a long time since someone had shown him goodwill like this.
“The Grand Duke of Eckhart spoke of me often?”
“Yes! So often! All campaign long he was forever, ‘Your Highness, Your Highness’… I thought my ears would grow calluses.”
“What did he say?”
“Ah, about that…”
When Stella opened her mouth to answer Etienne’s question, Rishar cut in to stop her.
“That’s enough, Stella.”
Again. He used her name again.
As Rishar kept calling her by name, Etienne’s mouth set hard. For a royal or a noble to permit another to use their name signified closeness.
They were lord and vassal, so it wasn’t strange for Rishar to call Stella by name. Yet the two didn’t look merely bound by a relationship of lord and retainer. They looked… more familiar than that.
Perhaps what the attendants were saying just now wasn’t nonsense. Thinking so, his mood sank.
“Huh, why?”
At Rishar’s check, Stella pushed out her lower lip in displeasure. Then she let out a little cry, ah.
“Don’t tell me— you’re embarrassed?”
With a sly curl of her lips, Stella lightly tapped Rishar’s arm, her face full of mischief. For someone sworn to a lord, her manner was unreserved.
“Your Highness is uncomfortable. Don’t tease.”
“Teasing? I’m only trying to satisfy His Highness the Prince’s curiosity.”
Protesting with an aggrieved face, Stella then smirked as if nothing had happened.
“The one who’s uncomfortable would be the Grand Duke. Aren’t you worried I’ll spill every last little thing to His Highness the Prince?”
“You really…”
Rishar knit his brow and glared at her. Unable to watch the two bicker, the adjutant stepped in.
“Both of you, that’s enough. What are you doing with His Highness the Prince standing here?”
“Perfect. Elvin, you tell him. How often did our Grand Duke have ‘Your Highness’ on his lips?”
“I’m afraid I don’t recall a thing.”
“What? Traitor! Petty!”
When Elvin edged back and withdrew, Stella yelled and grabbed his shoulder.
“Haa.”
Watching Stella squabble with Elvin, Rishar shook his head as if she were hopeless. Then he turned his gaze to Etienne.
“My apologies, Your Highness. She must be exhausting.”
At Rishar calling Stella “that brat,” Etienne’s mood sank even further. Perhaps because of that, his mouth moved ahead of his thoughts.
“…You two seem close.”
“Pardon?”
“You and Lady Stella of Count Flang— you look close.”
“That’s nonsense… You’re mistaken. We’re not close.”
At Etienne’s words, Rishar flatly denied it with a straight face. Stella, in turn, made a look like she’d been smacked on the back of the head.
“Wow, Elvin! Did you hear that? The Grand Duke said he’s not close to me!”
“Please stop shaking me…”
Still being jostled after being seized by Stella, Elvin let out a pained sound. Releasing Elvin, she protested to Rishar.
“Wow— how could you say that to me! Was I the only one who thought we were close?”
“Be quiet. I’m talking with His Highness now.”
Rishar, annoyed, pushed away Stella clinging to him with his hand. Stella didn’t yield.
“If you say so bluntly that we’re not close, how do you think that makes me look to His Highness!”
Watching her act so familiarly toward Rishar, Etienne felt a surge of anger. Something hot rose in his chest; his solar plexus burned as if flames were catching.
“I don’t think we can have a calm conversation.”
Etienne let the irritation that had climbed to his throat spill out just as it was. Even to himself, his voice sounded curt.
“Pardon?”
“I’ll be going now.”
At the sudden declaration, Rishar blinked, startled. So did Stella, who’d been making a racket.
“Your Highness.”
Sensing the shift, Rishar hurried toward Etienne.
“Are you angry?”
“No.”
Etienne answered coldly. Angry— as if. He wasn’t angry. Perhaps.
“I’m just a bit tired.”
Etienne twisted one corner of his mouth at Rishar, who was watching him for cues. Once his mood had twisted, he could no longer hold his composure. Feeling his expression breaking, he turned his head.
“Ben.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Ben, who had been rolling his eyes while holding the cardigan wrapped in oilcloth, answered at once. Etienne gave him a small jerk of the chin.
“Give the Grand Duke’s adjutant the item.”
“Understood.”
Ben moved the instant he replied. Confirming that Elvin, looking flummoxed, had received the cardigan, Etienne turned as if his business were done.
“Then I’ll see you next time.”
“Your Highness!”
Ignoring Rishar calling after him, Etienne walked away. He didn’t even know why he was angry, why his chest felt so stifled— even he didn’t know the reason. He only wanted to get away from here as quickly as possible. Etienne nearly ran as he left the great hall.
“Ah.”
Fleeing outside, leaving Rishar behind, cold raindrops struck his face. Only then did Etienne stop. The chill of the rain snapped his mind awake.
“Hoo…”
Etienne didn’t even think to seek shelter, and covered his face with his hand. Unable to overcome the surge of emotion, he had acted on impulse. It was unlike him.
But he couldn’t go back in, either. Caught between going and staying, Etienne stood blankly in the rain. He still needed to cool his overheated head.
“Your Highness!”
Ben, who had belatedly followed him, gasped when he saw Etienne standing in the middle of the path, soaking in the rain. He hurried to open an umbrella. Someone else moved before Ben did.
“What are you doing!”
“…Rishar?”
At the rough grip closing on his shoulders, Etienne startled and went rigid. Beyond his blurred vision, Rishar’s face was twisted with anger.
“Why…”
“Excuse me.”
Seeing Etienne drenched, Rishar stripped off his jacket and put it over Etienne’s head. Then, before Etienne could react, he swept him up.
“What— ah!”
Before he could do anything, his body lifted into the air. Startled, Etienne grabbed Rishar’s shoulder on reflex. Holding Etienne in his arms, Rishar strode straight toward the carriage.
“Y-Your Highness the Prince?”
The coachman, slumped on the box in boredom, saw them and dropped his jaw. Rishar snapped irritably at the frozen coachman.
“What are you doing— open the door, now!”
“Gah! Y-Yes, sir!”
Startled by Rishar’s bark, the coachman scrambled to open the door. Setting Etienne down on the seat, Rishar took up a towel prepared inside the carriage. As he lifted away the jacket draped over Etienne’s face, raindrops pattered to the floor.
“My apologies.”
Rishar, toweling Etienne’s face, apologized in a heavy voice.
“I was so glad Your Highness came in person that I got carried away. It’s entirely my fault.”
No— it wasn’t Rishar’s fault. He had just overheated and behaved as he pleased, alone.
Etienne shook his head. He wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but from his bluish lips came only the chattering knock of his teeth.
At the sight of Etienne shivering with cold, Rishar’s face crumpled. With another towel he rubbed Etienne’s hair, then his jacket.
“As you said, it would be best for you to go back for today. And…”
Rishar set the oilcloth he held in his other hand on the seat. He had snatched it up while chasing after Etienne when he suddenly bolted.
“These are the only dry clothes…”
Rishar, who had personally stripped off Etienne’s jacket, froze for an instant. The rain-transparent shirt clung to pale skin. He bit hard on his lower lip and took out the cardigan.
“It’s a decent distance back. Wear it on the way.”
“I’m f-fine.”
He draped the last towel over Etienne’s shoulders and set the cardigan over it. In the end, the item he’d come to return was on him again; Etienne murmured in a small, burrowing voice.
“Fine, nothing. Do you know what your face looks like right now?”
In a voice sunk deep as if drowned in water, Rishar’s face showed distress. Fastening the cardigan’s buttons all the way, he turned his gaze to Ben, who was fidgeting anxiously outside the carriage.
“See His Highness back well.”
“Would there be any doubt.”
“Haa…”
With a short sigh, as if he had done everything he could, Rishar straightened up. As the warmth close by vanished, Etienne’s fingers twitched.
He nearly grabbed him. Watching Rishar draw away, Etienne clenched his fist. If not, he felt he might seize him.
“Then, please return safely.”
Climbing down from the carriage, Rishar swept back his wet hair. The droplet that had hung precariously from the tips of his lashes beaded down.
Staring blankly at the water that ran down his cheek and gathered at his chin, Etienne flinched, shoulders twitching, when those deep-blue eyes turned to him.
A gaze full of worry skimmed Etienne’s eyes, nose, and lips in turn. Feeling the inside of his mouth go dry, Etienne tightened his grip on his clenched fist. Everywhere that gaze touched seemed to heat.
“I’ll come to you next time.”
“…All right.”
Rishar looked for a moment at the lips turned bluish, then shut his mouth tight, as if holding something back, and drew his gaze away. Hearing Etienne’s answer, he closed the carriage door.
Clack— the door shut and the wheels rolled. Once Rishar vanished from sight, Etienne let himself relax. The chill in his body set him shivering.
“Are you all right?”
“Mm.”
Etienne answered feebly and hunched his body. Glancing back, he could make out, through the fogged window, Rishar standing without an umbrella. He stood with unruffled posture, looking at the carriage.
“Why is he standing there like that…”
Idiot.
Etienne muttered in a gloomy voice. Regret over his behavior washed in. But in that moment, he hadn’t been able to control his emotions. Strangely, he had been angry, his chest unbearably tight.
No, the idiot is me.
Feeling disgust at himself, Etienne buried his face between his knees. His head was a jumbled mess. Unlike his body, gone cold as ice, inside he was still burning hot.
[To be continued in Volume 2]