Duke Willias entered the imperial palace the moment dawn broke.
His eyes were bloodshot from a sleepless night, and he walked straight through the corridors without sparing a glance for the stares that followed him from every direction. Macton Willias marched directly toward the Empress’s quarters.
“Announce me.”
“…I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but Her Majesty has sent word that she will not be receiving anyone today.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Macton Willias’s eyes flashed dangerously.
Everything he had said over the years — every boast about producing the next Crown Princess — was now coming back to mock him in full measure.
He had allowed his own standing to be dragged through the dirt, and the Empress, the very cause of it all, was refusing to see him?
Macton Willias ground his teeth as he glared past the entrance to the Empress’s chambers.
“…Tell Her Majesty this. If she does not give me a proper explanation of what happened yesterday, our alliance ends here and now. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Grace. I will relay your words.”
The knight’s crisp reply left Macton Willias with no choice but to turn and walk away.
His aide, who had been waiting inside the carriage, looked up in surprise.
“…Your Grace, you’re back already?”
“The Empress refuses to see anyone. There was nothing else to be done.”
“…What? With things in this state, she simply turned you away? And Lady Olivia — what on earth will you tell her?”
That was precisely the problem.
When Olivia had learned the news yesterday, she had dissolved into hysterics that lasted the entire evening.
He hadn’t been able to bring himself to scold her for it, either.
“How am I ever supposed to show my face again! I told every single one of the noble ladies — I told them all I was going to be Crown Princess — what am I supposed to do now?! I can never set foot outside this house again!”
He understood. The shock she must have felt was perfectly clear to him.
He was devastated himself, so of course it made sense that Olivia would fall apart. He could hardly blame her.
Macton Willias exhaled slowly, weighed down by exhaustion.
“I can promise you that today’s events will not prove to be a bad thing for Duke Willias, either.”
So that was what she had meant.
The Duke found himself thinking of the strange woman who had slipped into his study on the day of the trial. Her words finally made sense to him now.
If he had known nothing and thrown his full support behind Duke Kineart — where would he be standing at this moment? The very thought was enough to make his head swim.
Duke Kineart was currently the prime suspect in the matter of the desecration of Isierd Declair’s divine blessing — the most likely culprit, as far as anyone could tell.
Duke Willias knew himself to be entirely innocent on that count, which was precisely why he wanted nothing to do with it. Yet the simple fact that he had been close to Duke Kineart made it impossible to escape the association entirely.
“…What are the other noble houses doing? Any notable movements?”
“That is, in fact, where things become somewhat difficult. Several houses that have been in regular contact with us have… gone quiet. Communications are delayed.”
At least that was something. They hadn’t severed ties entirely.
“They’re waiting to see how things settle before committing to anything.”
“My thoughts exactly, Your Grace. Still, the damage is severe. …They won’t cut us off completely, but there are quite a few who have grown noticeably lukewarm.”
He needed to make it unmistakably clear that the House of Willias had no part in any of this.
But with Adrian Declair still holding the title of Crown Prince, what was the wisest move?
Prince Isierd Declair — eight years old, wasn’t he?
The fact that the Emperor had made a point of announcing that himself meant…
He intends to set the princes against each other.
Which made the situation genuinely complicated.
All those years of accepting favors and gifts on the strength of his promise to produce a Crown Princess — how much had he accumulated on that credit alone?
“…From what I have heard, Prince Isierd Declair is expected to enter the imperial palace in one week’s time.”
At that moment, the aide carefully produced a piece of intelligence he had gathered from within the palace walls.
“…The young prince will likely have no companions his own age, will he? What if we arranged for Lady Olivia to accompany him as a friend and confidante? It might also go some way toward settling the unsettled atmosphere surrounding House Willias at present.”
It would present them as a family devoted to caring for the ill-fated young prince who had been left alone in the imperial palace with no one to look after him.
Macton Willias nodded with satisfaction.
“Not a bad idea at all. She keeps her position as his betrothed, she becomes his companion as well, and in time all three of them will grow attached to one another naturally enough.”
After all, what would a boy raised outside the palace know about how things worked here? He would be hopeless.
Pernoa had apparently done its best to shape him into something presentable, but no amount of preparation could change what lay beneath.
“Yes. I’ll submit a formal petition to His Majesty requesting that Olivia be appointed as the prince’s companion.”
Duke Willias smiled.
⁂
Declair Capital. Arachrene Family Townhouse.
Ever since Isierd had made his request, Riersha had been sharing every meal with him.
That was only the beginning.
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner — not a single one was missed. Gradually, without either of them quite noticing, it had become just as natural to spend all the hours in between together as well.
When Isierd goes back… how many nights will it be before I see him again?
Riersha tried counting on her fingers, one day at a time, and then gave up. The number stretched too far into the distance.
You can only enter the imperial palace if you’ve had your official debut, so it will be at least ten years before I can visit freely.
Riersha hadn’t yet reached the age for any of that.
If you wanted to enter the palace before fulfilling the debut requirements, you needed a clear and recognized reason. Something like receiving a personal invitation from a member of the imperial family, being the betrothed of a prince, or holding an established role as a companion.
So for ten whole years, I won’t even see his face — only letters?
Riersha reached the end of that thought and her expression went flat and stiff.
Just then, Isierd turned a page in his book and said offhandedly, “Is there something you want to say to me?”
“…Hm? No, there’sn’t anything.”
“You’re not very convincing, Riersha.”
Isierd set his book down.
“You’ve been sneaking glances at me, sighing, and folding down your fingers one by one. You want to say something, don’t you?”
“…Was I doing that?”
“Yes.”
“…”
“It started about an hour ago.”
He had noticed she was doing it — and he knew exactly when she had started. Why on earth did Isierd know that?
Riersha felt more flustered by that than anything else.
Or perhaps she had simply been that obvious.
She reached up and touched her cheek self-consciously, a little embarrassed. Then she leaned forward, her expression deeply serious, as if she were about to share a very important secret.
“Isierd, you know… Once you go back to the imperial palace… we won’t be able to see each other for a really, really long time.”
Riersha held up her open hand.
“Ten years.”
“I know.”
Isierd replied simply.
“Oh — you know. …Wait — you know?”
Riersha had started to pour out her worries, but then her eyes went wide.
“But then why ten years?”
“…Because I can’t come and go freely until I’m fifteen?”
She decided to generously round down the few remaining months.
Isierd looked at her quietly for a moment.
Then, apparently struck by some private thought, he began to laugh. Riersha puffed out her cheeks, and he finally reined in his smile.
“Well then — will you refuse my invitation on your next birthday?”
“…Hm?”
“Or if I invited you to the imperial palace, we could see each other that way. Does it absolutely have to be on your own terms?”
Riersha was genuinely startled, far more than she let on.
She had never imagined hearing something like that — and certainly not from Isierd of all people.
Then, abruptly, Isierd’s expression shifted into something vaguely disgruntled.
“Although, now that I think about it, relying entirely on my invitations might become complicated. The Arachrene family has no shortage of people who’d get in the way, and a simple invitation probably wouldn’t hold up against that for long.”
“Hm?”
“So realistically, there might really be years when we only see each other once.”
Riersha watched Isierd’s face grow genuinely troubled and felt a strange sort of helplessness wash over her.
“We can write letters.”
“And see each other once or twice a year on top of that?”
“Yes.”
It was strange. Only minutes ago, Riersha had been the one voicing her worries — yet somehow, without her noticing, the problem had become something they were puzzling over together.
But why is Isierd even thinking through this with me?
He looked, if anything, more serious about it than she was.
Was this what it meant to be friends — finding someone who wanted to work through your worries alongside you?
Riersha was smiling to herself, quietly warm with the thought, when Isierd spoke again.
“Grow up fast, Riersha.”
He said it plainly, a little later, after a long pause.
“That seems like the best solution there is.”
And so the day of Isierd’s return to the imperial palace drew to within one day’s reach.
