MB Chapter 38

Coming out of the study, Kolave encountered Ekser Prebesk heading in the opposite direction.

Ekser's face, not seen for some time, was untroubled and fresh—not a trace of fatigue—and Kolave, whose dark circles had descended all the way to his temples, found himself deeply envious of half-blood constitution.

"It's been a while, Ekser."

"Likewise. Is our lord in?"

"He is, but—"

Is it important? The question came out with an unpleasant edge, and Ekser shook his head, uncertain.

"No—just the usual status report."

"Then it's best not to go in right now. He's in a foul mood."

Ekser frowned. Marchel's movements had their strange elements, but with her trail now exposed it was only a matter of time before she was caught—so the idea of Entzi in a foul mood didn't quite make sense to him.

Ekser's face made his thoughts entirely legible. Kolave shrugged.

"He's been flipping moods lately. Especially whenever Rubiette comes up."

"Now that the chance for revenge on his enemy draws near, the hatred that had gone dormant—"

"No. No, spare me the epic narrative. It's probably..."

The Marchioness, isn't it.

Kolave Peroto's eyes narrowed, gently.

Entzi Bethelgius had become strange.

He had always been strange, but since the marriage—more so.

His fundamental nature hadn't changed. Unpredictable, impulsive, following the current of his feelings from moment to moment in word and deed, whenever anything less than essential was at stake—that remained. Take the matter of Razine Eliom. Having told Kolave after the investigation that she posed no danger, he had still—apparently displeased by the idea of her presence in the mansion—left Goiyo to go on suspecting Razine, without a word of correction. Then a single discomfited expression from his wife had immediately reversed him, and he had produced the thoroughly nonsensical instruction to play friendly and lay a trap. All while saying not one word about his own assessment that Razine was harmless.

Kolave had heard this relayed, thought he's been performing gravity for too long, and let it pass—that much was familiar enough.

But what had changed was the direction his thinking pointed.

In a mind as slack and structureless as a melted candle—no fixed standard, no predictable shape—a path had appeared. At first there had only been a faint trace of passing. But the walking, and walking, and walking again, had made it gradually wider and more distinct.

What was more remarkable was that the path had a destination.

'Even for a birthday gift, something too lavish would feel burdensome to her, I expect.'

'I beg your pardon? You mean the Marchioness?'

'She's only just beginning to settle in— something that draws too much attention would feel wrong.'

'The day our lord is capable of such consideration—the world has changed beyond recognition.'

'That said, I'd rather not give something plain and shabby either.'

'Are you certain you're talking to me right now?'

'Nothing to be done—for now I'll compromise on a single white rose.'

'For now...?'

Kolave wrinkled his nose, recalling the image of his superior's back as he walked out of the study, leaving his subordinate to stare blankly after him.

Every chance he got, Entzi would name Kolave the world's greatest fool—while the world's greatest act of foolishness was his own.

'I don't have feelings for her,' he'd mutter. 'I've simply grown fond.' 'Stop talking nonsense.' 'Poof—See? Gone.'

Where in the world was there an idiot who set out to perform the devoted husband—only to actually become one?

It was only his conjecture, but Kolave was very nearly certain. Quite unfortunately, he had to look at Entzi's face nearly every day, which made the distinction between performance and sincerity less difficult than it might otherwise have been.

Entzi Bethelgius was sincere. Or—

Was about to be.

It might bring unpleasant consequences. But Kolave was glad of the change.

He had first encountered Entzi on a battlefield. From that day until not long ago, there had been no positive change in Entzi Bethelgius. In the beginning there had at least been malice, bitterness. But after long years in the field, even hatred had been crowded out, worn down, and crumbled away.

After that, there had been neither positive change nor negative—Entzi had become someone who was simply always the same. His fundamental nature was volatility, which meant many who dealt with him didn't quite see it. An Entzi Bethelgius left with nothing but hollow ambition—perhaps it was only natural that he had no fixed point from which to be unpredictable. Subtract the mechanical drive toward the next position, and there was truly nothing he wanted.

He did feel the unfairness of it, regrettably—and he did feel it was regrettable—Kolave Peroto was not without attachment to Entzi.

A change with an unknown outcome was still better than a shell with nothing inside. And the instinct that had saved Kolave's life more than once in the field was whispering that the result would be rather satisfying.

Kolave smiled. Something complicated moved in it.

There was also the minor reason that the sight of Entzi confused and off-balance was deeply gratifying, but.

He trusted his instincts, and he hoped that whatever was empty in Entzi might, at least a little, begin to fill.

Kolave turned an enigmatic smile toward Ekser's still-puzzled face.

'The promise to Chloe will sort itself out somehow, I expect.'

When the servants announced a visitor, Goiyo went to the estate gate and found an unfamiliar carriage standing outside. She tilted her head.

Too small, too plain to be one of Bethelgius's—she couldn't place its origin.

Entzi, who had followed her out, stepped up beside her.

"It's from the Eliom estate."

A small uncertainty spread across Goiyo's face.

During the hunting competition preparations she had gone to the Eliom estate often enough, in Bethelgius's carriage—but this was the first time the Eliom estate had sent one unprompted, without so much as a word beforehand.

What could this mean?

"They're asking to invite you. You're free to accept or decline."

"You're saying it differently than last time."

"You're perceptive."

"Is it all right if I go?"

"Of course."

He had trusted his own instinct that keeping Razine nearby was safe—but with the uncertainty not fully resolved, he had kept his counsel. After the hunting competition, however, Entzi had concluded—with some margin—that Razine could remain near Goiyo.

Razine Eliom was, after all, the only person outside the estate with whom Goiyo—who had no particular interests and no pleasure in social contact—maintained any connection at all. Whether to continue the friendship once its usefulness had passed was Goiyo's to decide. But that the person available for that choice was safe was, for Entzi, a welcome thing.

"It's not as though I'd do anything harmful to you."

"You said there were uncomfortable aspects."

"That's been resolved. It was simply a coincidence—nothing to concern yourself with any longer."

Strictly speaking, it had not been coincidence, and there had been a separate purpose—but Entzi kept a composed air of ignorance. He had passed word to Razine through Kolave to seal his lips; if she stayed silent, Goiyo would remain unaware. There was nothing to be gained by Goiyo learning the truth. It hadn't been anything significant, in any case.

Coincidence. Goiyo turned the word over in her mind and nodded.

Entzi was about to go out, and the estate's servants found idle conversation with their distinguished Marchioness rather taxing. Razine was not unpleasant enough to be worth choosing the estate's boredom over.

With Entzi's farewell at her back, Goiyo set out for the Eliom estate—a place she had visited a handful of times before. The distance to Eliom was short, and Goiyo soon stepped down.

Razine Eliom had been pacing in front of the gate and, catching sight of the familiar visitor, smiled and led Goiyo toward the drawing room. The smile at the corners of her mouth was exactly as usual—but the eyes moved with a restless unease, and Goiyo understood that Razine had called her here to say something.

Tea was brought. Silence held a while longer. Then Razine opened her mouth.

"First—thank you for coming all this way."

"I only took the carriage you sent."

"I asked you here today because there's something I need to say. I considered going to the Bethelgius estate, but I felt there were things I couldn't say there."

"That sounds as though you're about to say something harmful to Bethelgius."

"It is something his lordship would not welcome—but not that, no. It may be something more likely to harm you."

Razine's voice always sat between registers, neither entirely one thing nor another. Speaking now of something weighty, it dropped lower than usual.

A shadow of self-reproach moved across Razine's downcast eyes.

'I will tell the Marchioness myself and make my apologies.'

'No—his lordship has instructed you not to.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'His lordship would prefer the Marchioness not learn that you had ulterior motives in approaching her. Your purpose has been served—there should be no further occasion for you to meet. And if you do continue to be acquainted, it would be better still for her not to know.'

'But—'

'Dame. I ask only to be certain—you're not hearing this as a suggestion, I hope?'

'His lordship wishes it. I'm not sure any answer besides 'yes' is required.'

The man had said it with an easy, unctuously pleasant smile. His voice carrying none of the warmth his expression performed.

Remembering it now, Razine swallowed a sigh.

It had been done for Goiyo Bethelgius's sake—but Razine could not affirm that it was the right way. At the time she had thought it not her place to intervene, and had nodded along readily enough—but the more she turned it over, the more she felt that silence was wrong. Having approached with another purpose, the ending required something cleaner.

She had spoken when told not to. Powerless as she was, there would be a price.

'Surely he won't have me killed.'

Goiyo watched Razine's gaze settle quietly toward the floor, and spoke.

"Go ahead."

Unhurried, with no tremor in it. Exactly as it always was.

"If it's that sort of thing—it's all right."

"I'm sorry. I first spoke to you because I had a separate purpose."

"A purpose."

"It's difficult to explain in detail, but there was something I wanted to verify regarding my family—and the Marquess."

"Even if I had no intention of harming you, the approach being motivated is inexcusable, whatever the intent. I can't ask for forgiveness, but—"

If there is anything you require of me—

The words broke apart before they arrived.

Without realizing it, Razine had been avoiding Goiyo's eyes—

Then met them by accident.

Goiyo's finely shaped face held not a trace of disturbance. Forehead, brow, eyes, the corners of her mouth—none of it out of alignment, her usual composed face looking quietly back. No sign of hurt, no sign of surprise. The expression of someone hearing news about a stranger.

"It isn't very significant. Where in society would you find someone approaching another without a purpose?"

Goiyo lifted the cup in front of her and took a sip, as she might have at any other time.

From the moment Entzi—who had kept watch so carefully, attaching a secret detail even to a competition with its own emergency staff— had changed his manner and told her it was all right to spend time with Razine, Goiyo had, in some small way, already guessed.

That Razine Eliom had not come to cause harm.

Even so, seeing Razine's face remain taut since her arrival—without Razine seeming to notice—there had been a small, rising thought that perhaps it was more serious than expected. Even if Razine had planned an assassination, it would have made no great difference to Goiyo, who had already forfeited her life—

But she had been curious—

What scheme that earnest knight's face could possibly have been concealing.

If what had come from Razine's mouth was the whole of it, however, it was a thoroughly anticlimactic and unremarkable story.