“If so, it’s better I keep even more distance from you than now.” Having decided, Etienne spoke.
“I know you’re not lying. But as for me, your favor makes me uncomfortable.”
“...Have I done some wrong to Your Highness?”
At Etienne’s refusal, Theodore’s expression collapsed. With a stricken face, his lips worked.
“That’s not it. Only... I’m not someone worthy of your devotion.”
He could hardly say outright it was because Theodore lusted after him, so Etienne blurred the reason for his rejection. Theodore’s face hardened. Between lips that trembled, a locked voice came.
“I cannot understand.”
“You don’t need to.”
Etienne made his voice deliberately colder. He hoped Theodore would withdraw at this point. Entanglements with anyone were only exhausting. But Theodore did not move as Etienne wished.
“Do you dislike me that much? What about me displeases you so? If you tell me, I’ll change it.”
“I didn’t say I dislike you.”
“Then?”
“As I said, I’m not the sort of man worthy of your service...”
“Whom I serve is for me to decide!”
Theodore burst out, face flushed. His eyes, fixed on Etienne, burned like a fierce flame.
“Why do you keep pushing me away!”
“Ugh.”
Before he could guard himself, Theodore seized Etienne’s arm. As a trained knight, Theodore’s strength was great. Etienne’s brow knotted at the pain in his arm.
“Let go!”
“Give me a reason I can accept!”
Excited, Theodore raised his voice. He was worn out by repeated refusals. It had been long since he’d set Etienne in his heart. He did not know the reason himself. At some point he just kept looking at Etienne. Seeing him, a thirst came over him for no reason, and his heart grew restless.
He had long known Etienne did not think well of him. But Theodore did not give up. He believed that if he tried, his sincerity would one day reach him.
Yet Etienne was always frosty toward him. It was as if he knew the very secret Theodore himself could not clearly define.
So it was today. Etienne coldly refused the sincerity he had mustered the courage to show. For Theodore, the given reason was impossible to accept.
Had he said rather that he disliked him, Theodore could have accepted it. Instead, Etienne offered a nonsensical reason.
Quick to read a room, Theodore realized at once Etienne was lying. Etienne was hiding the real reason. That, unlike usual, was why he was agitated.
“I—”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Just as Theodore, his reason gone for an instant, opened his mouth again, a voice like ice and weighty as stone cut in. Immediately after, a force savage as the fangs of a beast snatched Theodore’s wrist.
“Urk!”
Theodore let out a short groan at the pain lancing his wrist. A great shadow fell across his face.
“Who dares—!”
With a savage glare, Theodore turned to see who had interfered. His eyes widened at blue eyes glinting cold in the dark.
“Y-Your Grace?”
Why was the Grand Duke of Eckhart here?
Theodore could not hide his discomposure at the unexpected intruder. With confused eyes he looked at Rishar, who had stayed his hand.
Etienne, too, was startled. At Rishar’s sudden appearance, his body went stiff.
“Theodore of House Miles.”
Unlike the two who were unsettled, Rishar was calm. In a low voice, he called Theodore.
“What insolence is this? Laying hands on the body of His Highness the Prince without leave.”
“...This is no concern of Your Grace’s.”
Coming belatedly to his senses, Theodore tried to pull free from Rishar’s grip. But Rishar did not budge. Narrowing his eyes, he made plain he did not like the answer.
“No concern of mine?”
Between slightly parted lips, his voice fell flat. Echoing Theodore’s words, Rishar gave a short laugh like he’d heard something absurd. His long eyes turned edged in an instant.
“Duke Miles raised his son poorly.”
“What— urgh!”
Theodore groaned before he knew it at the force clamping his wrist. His face twisted with an unbearable pain. From the wrist in Rishar’s grasp came an ominous crack.
“A man without so much as a title dares talk back to me? After laying hands as he pleased on His Highness’s arm?”
With a dusky voice, Rishar pressed him. Meeting blue eyes that flashed with a keen light like a blade through the bowels, Theodore felt his breath catch.
“—gh!”
Face blanching, Theodore sucked in a false breath. He could not breathe from the pheromones pouring off Rishar’s body.
“Kh—hak.”
Like a man being strangled, Theodore flailed. A fear rose—he might die like this.
“Enough.”
Sensing the air had turned wrong, Etienne stepped in. No sooner had Etienne spoken than Rishar drew back what he had unleashed. Air that had heaved like a raging surf stilled at once.
“Kuh!”
Freed from the pressure bearing on his nape, Theodore expelled a painful breath. He panted hard like a man dragged from the water.
“Apologize to His Highness the Prince.”
Rishar looked down coldly at Theodore, whose shoulders were heaving, then released his wrist. Theodore’s body collapsed.
“I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness the Prince.”
Sitting hard on the floor, Theodore babbled apologies. With sense returned, the wrong he had done was plain to him.
“I lost my head and committed a grave offense... I beg you, forgive me.”
“Haa.”
Looking down at Theodore apologizing to him, Etienne sighed as if plagued by a headache. He lifted a hand and pressed his temples.
He had been angry at Theodore’s discourtesy, true—but this was not a sight he wished to see. After a moment’s thought, Etienne spoke slowly.
“I will let tonight lie. But I would prefer there not be a second time.”
He spoke in a chill voice. With a gesture at Theodore, he made plain he had no desire to trade more words.
“Return to the hall.”
“...I will see you again.”
At the cold dismissal, Theodore staggered to his feet. After a brief hesitation, he left a parting and turned away. Once he was gone, Rishar’s gaze shifted to Etienne.
“Are you all right?”
Rishar asked in a worried voice. The pheromones that had surged savagely toward Theodore moments ago were now gone without a trace. It was perfect control.
“I’m fine.”
Etienne answered with strength in his throat so his voice wouldn’t shake. He could not hide the tremor perfectly.
“Are you cold?”
Sensing it, Rishar hurriedly shrugged off his own jacket and set it over Etienne’s shoulders.
Etienne pressed his lips together at the faint body-scent lingering in the jacket warmed by Rishar’s heat. As a Beta, he could not show he was unsettled by that scent.
“How is your arm? Does it hurt?”
Rishar could not easily shake off his worry. His gaze went to Etienne’s arm, which Theodore had seized. Only then did the forgotten ache make itself known.
It will bruise.
Etienne glanced down at the throbbing arm and clicked his tongue softly. A uselessly weak body.
“How did you know to come here?”
He chose to deflect rather than answer. He did not want to show more weakness—and he was curious how Rishar had appeared with such timing.
“I saw you go alone to the balcony and followed.”
“...And the others? My father?”
“I asked leave to step out for a moment. His Majesty gave permission.”
Rishar answered with a jaded look, worn by a day spent at people’s mercy. Then, looking at Etienne, his eye-corners softened.
“In any case, we’re finally alone, Etienne.”
Etienne.
Hearing Rishar so naturally call him that, Etienne was seized by a mixed feeling.
His face, voice, and size all felt strange, different from memory—yet seeing him smile and say Etienne, he seemed the Rishar he knew.
“You were just being proper and calling me Your Highness the Prince—why Etienne again now?”
“Mm...? Because it’s just the two of us.”
With a look that asked why he was asking the obvious, Rishar tilted his head. Faced with that what’s the problem air, Etienne had nothing to say.
“I want to call you Etienne before others, too, but you would dislike it...”
“I dislike it even when it’s just us. Mind your forms from now on.”
“For someone saying that, you’re speaking quite informally to me right now.”
Ah.
At Rishar’s point, Etienne realized his mistake. He had told Rishar to keep his formality, and he himself had slipped into familiar speech by habit.
“Mm. I will address you as Your Grace without fail henceforth.”
Awkward, Etienne cleared his throat and forced out polite speech. Rishar’s brow creased slightly.
“...If you do that, I will feel strange. Please just be as before.”
“No.”
At the curt refusal, Rishar’s face fell. He looked like a dejected puppy, and for no reason Etienne’s chest pricked.
Why is he like this?
Etienne regarded Rishar in grave thought. He had always followed Etienne with particular devotion.
When he was younger than now, Etienne had inwardly enjoyed that blind affection. No longer. Things were different.
Whatever their private feelings, Rishar and Etienne now stood where they had no choice but to oppose each other politically. As children it was one thing; as adults, they had to take care.
But Rishar did not seem to think so. Not three years ago, and not now they had met again.
“Did you receive the letters I sent? I wrote whenever I had a free moment, but I couldn’t know if they reached you.”
“...I did. Until last year.”
Glaring at him for obstinately saying Etienne, Etienne answered with a sigh. Crossing words with him would only tire him out.
“Ah—this year it’s true I could not send them. I’m sorry.”
At Etienne’s words, Rishar looked apologetic. As if making excuses, he added:
“I wanted to send them this year as well... but things turned urgent. I was a bit out of my head.”
“I know. No need to apologize. There’s nothing to apologize for. Writing letters from a battlefield where fighting breaks out daily would be stranger.”
“In any case, I’m glad they went well. With no replies, I couldn’t know whether they’d arrived, or been lost.”
“I told you I wouldn’t answer.”
Etienne answered on purpose with curtness. Thinking of Rishar’s letters, his mood sank fast.
Rishar had faithfully kept what he said three years ago. With each change of season he sent Etienne a letter.
“I am well. Are you well also, Etienne? Until we meet again, do not fall ill—stay healthy.”
There was nothing special in them. They conveyed well-being and asked after his, and ended.
“And the contents were the same every time...”
“You read my letters.”
At Etienne’s words, Rishar’s face lit. He looked truly happy.
No, I brought it up to put him in his place—why is he pleased? Etienne was a little flustered by his reaction.
Whether he knew or not, delighted, Rishar took Etienne’s hand with a bright smile. At the sudden act, Etienne flinched and his shoulders twitched.
“I missed you, Etienne.”
Rishar drew Etienne’s hand toward himself and bowed his head. Tap—warmth touched the back of a hand gone cool.
“To meet you again like this... I’m truly happy. Aren’t you?”
Looking down at Rishar rubbing his brow against the back of his hand, Etienne bit hard into his lower lip. For a moment he almost answered, Me too.
Truly, he was a boy one could never let one’s guard down around.
Swallowing the words that rose to his throat, Etienne grumbled inwardly. He chose cold words over kind ones.
“...I told you not to call me Etienne. Why don’t you listen.”
“No.”
Rishar answered with his chin propped on Etienne’s hand. Whatever else he could yield, the form of address he could not.
You damn stubborn pup.
Feeling the stubbornness filling those deep-blue eyes, Etienne drew his brows together.
Already, the situation had passed the point of no return. Even if neither he nor Rishar wanted it, people would not leave them be. Going forward, they would stand in a more uncomfortable relation than now; he could not let Rishar call him Etienne.
“Rishar.”
With a strict voice, Etienne called him and met his eyes. When Rishar would not listen, this worked best. But Rishar’s resistance was no less.
“Don’t say Rishar. Call me Sha, like before.”
Sha. At the word from Rishar’s mouth, Etienne’s expression hardened. It was a word buried in memory long ago.
“Don’t ask the impossible.”
Stiff at the eyes, Etienne spoke flatly. He tried to pull his hand free from Rishar’s grip. But Rishar was faster.
Fingers hardened by callus slipped between his long, slender fingers. Twining their fingers, Rishar rubbed his cheek against the back of Etienne’s hand like a child begging.
“You used to say it often.”
“That was long ago.”
“Not to me.”
Rishar lifted his gaze to Etienne. In eyes with not a trace of a smile, a serious light flickered. Seeing eyes that seemed to hold the night sky whole, Etienne clenched his molars.
Those eyes—always those eyes were the problem.
Then and now, Etienne’s gaze was snared by them—as if he had been enchanted by a fae or a spirit.
Rishar? Shar... it’s a bit hard to pronounce. Can I just call you Sha?
A faded memory rose in Etienne’s mind. A time of youth when he didn’t know adult circumstances or political relations.
Sha...?
Mm. Sha. How about that as a pet name?
What is a pet name?
A nickname close people use. A way to say the name with closeness. Don’t like it? If you don’t, I won’t call you Sha.
No, I like it. Sha, I like it.
Then I’ll call you Sha from now on. No taking it back later!
Mm.
Good. Sha.
Yes—the start had been his. And it was he who had unilaterally drawn the line with Rishar.
The day Rishar, at eighteen, received the grand-ducal title and became the Grand Duke of Eckhart, Etienne said farewell to the childhood they’d shared.
Congratulations, Rishar. Now you’re the proper Grand Duke of Eckhart. Ah—should I use polite speech now?
...Rishar? Why are you suddenly being stiff?
Stiff? I can’t carry on like before. You’ve inherited the grand dukedom; I must mind my forms. In private, Rishar; in public, Your Grace. How is that?
Even as a grand duke, I’m just me. Please be as before.
No. Even if you’re fine with it, others won’t be.
Etienne.
Don’t call me Etienne anymore. We’re not elder brother and younger brother now, are we?
I cannot understand.
Even if you cannot, it can’t be helped. The children’s play is over.
Etienne drew a firm line for the flustered Rishar. Then, he had thought it the right course. He had not changed his mind.
“...I have no intention of indulging your childishness.”
Etienne moved his lips slowly. A voice steeped in gloom slipped out between small lips.
“We’re not children anymore.”
With that, Etienne averted his gaze from Rishar’s. He could not look straight into eyes so upright, so unlike his own.
If he kept meeting those deep, sea-dark eyes, an inexplicable fear rose—like all his insides would be laid bare.
“Etienne, I—”
“Your Highness the Prince. Where are you?”
Just as Rishar was about to say something, Ben’s voice came, calling for Etienne. Etienne started from the rail like a man caught in the act.