BPOTWC Chapter 38

Emboldened by his words, she dared lift her head, just a little......

But the boy only glared sharply down at her, his face flickering red, then white, then red again.

Nowhere could she find any sign of him being pleased.

'Mallangie, is that really true?'

He seemed to sense Clarisse's doubt in her heart, for a whispered answer came back to her once more.

"Mrrph. (He says he hasn't seen him look this bright in at least six months.)"

......What kind of life had he been living, these past six months?

Clarisse peeked up at the boy and dared to try and picture what his time must have been like.

'I don't know, his eyes are too scary.'

But she failed.

"You."

"......Yes! Prince. Hic."

Clarisse suddenly answered, and then a hiccup slipped out of her before she could stop it.

"Are you the Duchess's maid?"

"What? Hic."

Clarisse tried to answer no after his question, but the hiccup kept interrupting the words.

"She's using a kid this small as a maid? Well, whatever, works out fine. There was something I wanted to ask anyway."

"No, hic."

Before she could offer any explanation, another hiccup came, and the misunderstanding only deepened.

"Prince! Where are you!"

Just then, someone's voice came calling for him from far off.

Prince Valentin quickly pulled Clarisse into the drainage tunnel beneath the canal and hid.

"Hic."

"You. Come back here tomorrow too. Understood?"

"What? Hic!"

"If you don't show up, I really will kill you......!"

At the boy's words, delivered with one fist held out toward her, Clarisse went pale as a sheet and quickly nodded her head.

"D-don't kill...... Hic!"

"Fine, then. If you're good and show up, I'll let you live."

He smiled, at that.

But it wasn't a smile that looked pleased at all—somehow, it only looked frightening.

Only once he saw Clarisse flinch in fright did he seem satisfied, and slipped quickly out of the drainage tunnel.

Clarisse stayed crouched there in the tunnel, watching as he disappeared from sight.

"He seems like a scary person."

"Mrrph. (Says he likes you. Pretty ambitious eyes for a runt.)"

"Maybe that stone has gotten something wrong somewhere?"

"Mrrph. (He says it's just puberty. And besides, who does he think he is, eyeing something above his station?)"

While Mallangie went on grumbling, Clarisse crawled her way back through the drainage channel into the garden of the annex.

Fortunately, no one had caught her in her little bit of mischief.

Clarisse went back to exploring the garden a while longer, but she couldn't quite bring herself to play as freely as before, with thoughts of the prince she'd just met nagging at her.

By evening, the Duke had finished his audience and returned.

The Duchess, who had gone to visit her mother at the hospital, had returned to the annex as well.

They asked Clarisse how she'd spent her day, and the girl found she couldn't bring herself to mention Prince Valentin.

It was his threat, saying he wouldn't let it go if she told. But also—somehow she felt she had to, if she wanted to see him again. She still had to clear up his misunderstanding, after all.

Instead, once she'd returned to her room, she did as she did on other nights—she held Noah's red pebble, the one he'd given her as a gift, gently cupped in her hands, and told it about Valentin.

"He was a very beautiful boy. Though he was scary, too."

〈......〉

"Why does he want to meet me again, I wonder?"

〈Girl. Is there truly nothing else to talk about?〉

"Hm?"

〈Hearing talk of another boy stirs in me a most physiological displeasure.〉

"Mrrph. (Rocks don't have anything physiological, you idiot.)"

〈The foreign stone shall kindly hold its tongue. This is a matter between the girl and our Noah.〉

"Mrrph. (Don't go lumping Clarisse in with that cat-faced brat's business!)"

Mallangie, thoroughly worked up now, bounced angrily on the bed—Bounce-bounce-bounce.—before scattering apart back into loose pebbles.

"Speaking of physiological displeasure, it just reminded me of something."

Clarisse, who'd been listening to their exchange, rolled over on the bed to face the other way.

"His Grace didn't seem to be in a very good mood this evening either."

That had been when the Duchess was telling them about her visit to the capital's central hospital.

'They traveled such a long way from the county, Duchess—I hope Mrs. Uzae wasn't too uncomfortable on the journey.'

The Duke had spoken first, and she'd answered him with a bright smile.

'No, thankfully Harry came along to bring my mother with him. Ah, Harry's a close friend of mine. It had been so long since I'd seen him, I was so glad......'

The moment he heard the name "Harry"—unmistakably a man's name—Clarisse had clearly seen it.

His Grace's expression, going stiff.

Could that have been what the red pebble called "a physiological sense of displeasure," too?

'I'm not sure.'

Either way, His Grace had returned to his usual composed self again within only a few seconds.

"Why is everyone in such a bad mood today?"

Clarisse had only made the acquaintance of a handsome Prince Valentin, after all.

And the Duchess had only reunited with an old male friend.

"It's really strange."

The moment he slipped free of the drainage channel, Valentin ran straight for the attendant looking for him.

'......That was such a strange girl.'

He found himself thinking again of the amber-eyed girl who'd popped out of the pitch-black canal like a jack-in-the-box.

Her curious pink hair had suited that round, plump face of hers rather well.

Not that he'd thought her especially pretty or anything, of course.

'A pretty impudent girl.'

Talking back to him so pertly, right to his face, daring to stare straight into a prince's eyes without so much as flinching.

'But still...... she knew who I was.'

Valentin found that part remarkably strange.

Even though he was the late King's third son, there weren't all that many people who could recognize him on sight.

He'd never once been properly introduced before the public, and no noble had ever bothered to seek him out deliberately, either.

The fact that he, second in the line of succession, was so thoroughly overlooked had a good deal to do with the fact that Lysander had married the moment he took the throne.

The nobles had assumed the young royal couple would soon produce an heir of their own, and once they did, Valentin would only drift further and further from the throne.

On top of that, the Dowager Queen had never once brought her young son along to any official function, so there were truly very few people who even knew his face.

'How did she know who I was?'

It was a first.

Someone who could recognize him at a single glance and call him "Prince."

Usually, people only asked him, "Which noble house's young master might you be?"

Somehow, a smile crept up on his face.

"Here you are, Your Highness."

"Oh, right! Why were you looking for me?"

"Her Majesty the Dowager Queen wishes to see you."

"Ah—Mother?"

That was such a rare occurrence that Valentin couldn't help asking again, unable to hide his delight.

"Yes, she wishes to meet with you at once. You'd best hurry."

The instant the attendant finished speaking, Valentin practically broke into a run toward the Dowager Queen's palace.

Having lived the whole of his nine years within the third wall, he knew every road linking one building to another.

Every path used officially, and every path used only quietly, in secret—all of them.

The boy took the fastest route he knew, and arrived at the vast royal palace called the heart of Highdon.

Even after the late King's passing, the Dowager Queen had never withdrawn to a smaller residence, but continued to act as mistress of this enormous main palace.

King Lysander, known to be deeply filial, never once went against his mother's wishes.

Valentin drew his shoulders in slightly, feeling a little tense in front of the main hall, which he so rarely visited.

In truth, he had lived in a smaller annex some distance away from here, so acting with any confidence in this main hall, where so many people came and went, always felt difficult for him.

The boy arrived, with trembling steps, in front of his mother's study.

At the attendant's announcement, the door soon opened, and Valentin, drawing on every elegant point of etiquette he had ever learned, offered a splendid greeting to his beloved mother.

"G-greetings, Your Majesty the Dowager Queen."

Ah, what should he do.

Valentin wanted to pinch his own mouth for stammering so foolishly.

Sure enough, he could feel the attendant standing at his mother's side eyeing him with subtle disapproval.

'What if Mother is disappointed in me, too......?'

As anxiety rose in him, his mother's gentle answer soon came from above.

"Come here, my son."

My son. At the affectionate form of address, Valentin lifted his flushed face.

There sat Amelda Sapheris, the rose of the royal house said never to wilt, wearing a soft smile. Even at fifty-four, with an already grown son, she still claimed the word beautiful as her own.

More than anything, Valentin had always been proud of a mother like her.

Especially her eyes, gleaming blue as jewels......

He thought that was the finest treasure he'd inherited from his mother. Every time he looked in a mirror, it pleased him to feel that his mother's trace lingered so richly upon him.

'What could she have called me here for......?'

Perhaps to praise him?

Valentin had begun preparing on his own, not long ago, for the civil-service examination.

In truth, there was no real reason for royalty to sit such an exam. He would never have to worry about making a living, in any case, for the whole of his life.

But he wanted, more than anything, to become a fine adult his mother could be truly proud of, and so he wanted to prove his own usefulness by whatever means he could.

If he scored well on the civil-service examination, his name would appear in the papers, and he would be recognized as one of the kingdom's finest talents.

Valentin had begun devoting himself to his studies, wanting to claim that place for himself.

'It would be embarrassing if she expects too much of me, though.'

Even as he thought this, he clasped his hands neatly together, unable to suppress a flutter of anticipation.

"Do you remember what I told you once before?"

Amelda set her cup down carefully on the table.

"Do you know why I gave birth to you, my son?"