SALP Chapter 12

Thunk, thunk. The sound of heavy leather boots being kicked off reached her. When she cautiously looked up, he had his back to her—stripped to close-fitting underthings that hid nothing of his lower half.

He wandered toward the bed without a care. She was the one turning red, for reasons she couldn't explain even to herself.

"Reviving Raphlang—was that it?"

He climbed onto the bed and sat.

The bed with its deep green canopy, gold thread worked through the fabric—it suited him. That was the strange thing. It suited him entirely.

The bed in her room here had none. But the bed in Roas had had one. Worn fabric draped cozily to keep the cold out. Her small bed where she'd slept warmly.

"Or needing a Raphlishian woman as tribute."

Did he remember? The times they'd begged Aunt Louise for old stories until they couldn't keep their eyes open, and ended up sleeping in that small bed together.

Lanthe looked down. "…That might be the reason."

"Not just anyone could fill that role. Even though it would've been safer to consider hundreds of villagers as candidates, the fact that they eliminated everyone without hesitation means there's something special about you."

"But I'm just an ordinary Raphlishian."

Vigo she'd found again felt entirely like a stranger. And then a moment would arrive, some word or angle of thought, and he transformed back into the child she'd missed.

"I don't think so."

Even if it was just an illusion that vanished in an instant.

"You can make that unusual snow angel."

Lanthe swallowed. She couldn't bring herself to deny it or confirm it.

He remembered. He'd remembered this whole time.

She'd shown him once. Just once. He'd never asked again, never brought it up.

Should I say no? Should I say you're mistaken? What should I say?

"As I thought. So you can still do it?"

He who'd been watching quietly grinned like he'd won a bet. Seemingly in good spirits, he moved back inside the bed and lay on his side, gesturing with his chin at the spot beside him.

"Come here, prisoner. Let's sleep."

"No."

He laughed out loud.

"At least think about it before you reject me. It's late—aren't you going to sleep?"

"I'll sleep in my room."

"Where's your room in this castle? It's all my rooms."

He didn't even make childish wordplay like that when he was young.

Lanthe's eyes rose slightly.

"Then I'll go sleep outside the castle."

"Don't fight, just come sleep. I'm tired."

He kept tapping the spot beside him with his hand and yawned.

"So can't I just sleep in the room you're 'lending' me?"

"You're sleeping here, Lanthe."

Stubborn-looking eyes reflected her. The flickering candlelight and her rigid face overlapped.

Even as a gentle child he'd been stubborn in the quiet way—the kind you didn't notice until you'd already lost. The boy who got scolded for it every day and climbed over the wall anyway…

"Live here with me. Going forward."

He paused.

"Until winter ends."

She stared back at him just as intently.

But before long, she squeezed her eyes shut.

Come to think of it, she'd never once beaten Vigo. Staring contests were always her defeat. He always kept his eyes wide open unfazed until she shed a few tears. Like a doll that never blinked.

"Ugh—damn it."

She said it to no one, under her breath. Rubbed her eyes—they were burning. She hadn't blinked. Then she sighed, removed her coat, and headed for his bed.

"We slept together a lot when we were young anyway."

He rolled over and buried his head in the pillow. She silently ignored him as if he weren't there and climbed onto the bed. The bed was so wide and high, suited for a large Penmarkian man's build, that she had to use both hands and hop up.

Surely not every single day.

"Sleep well, my lord."

Just pretend you're alone. More than two hand-spans of distance between her and that half-naked barbarian.

The moment Lanthe entered the blankets, she closed her eyes.

She kept her eyes closed, pretending not to notice his presence as he lifted the blankets and got in. Yet the gaze clinging to her face felt so hot it seemed tangible. Unable to bear it, when she opened her eyes and glared to the side, their eyes met—his, lying with his arm as a pillow, watching her.

"...Are you going to watch me sleep too?"

He didn't answer, just stared at her.

She couldn't interpret it. The faint emotion revealed in his eyes. The meaning of the slight smile floating at his lips. The boy she remembered had come close enough to almost be caught and was whispering words she couldn't hear.

"Actually, me too, Lanthe."

He blinked first this time.

His arm—the one he'd been using to prop his head—slid under the pillow to rest beside her shoulder.

"I'm the same as you."

"What do you mean—"

"Well. It's not fair that I'm always the one giving answers." He closed his eyes.

'What's the same?'

He deflected evasively and closed his eyes. Then he immediately began breathing evenly. Whether he fell asleep quickly like in the old days or was pretending to sleep.

Lanthe watched with wide eyes to see if he'd open them again. His face, which looked infuriatingly peaceful.

His closed eyes resembled his vulnerable boyhood self. Even though his shoulders rising and falling slowly had grown incomparably larger than back then. 

She gazed at him sleeping, the candlelight settling across his closed eyes, his shoulders rising and falling.

'…You really were alive. Vigo.'

Suddenly an impulse rose to touch him. Was that hair still soft? Even if she pulled those cheeks that had learned to make hard expressions, they wouldn't feel springy like dough the way they used to.

At least most of the warmth filling the blankets was probably his body heat. He'd been warm in the old days too, and it was never this warm when she slept alone...

But she couldn't quite bring herself to touch him, just gazed at him quietly. Until the night's stillness seeped in comfortably.

Hermea's nights were soft and still, like Roas nights. Not like Newbella's—those had always rustled, the whisper of silk on silk just beneath hearing, never quite quiet.

She soon closed her eyes and courted sleep. Falling asleep beside him for the first time in ages.

And so she went back—back through time, to when they'd been small children. To the day they'd slept with their heads together on her narrow bed, the worn fabric draped close against the cold. To the nights of that time.

When there had been nothing sad. Nothing frightening. Not yet.

Bright sunlight poured in and woke her.

Why is it so bright? Wasn't this a room without windows? There must be a window somewhere in the cave-like space connected to a corner of the room.

Lanthe rubbed her eyes, sat up, and looked around. Judging by the sunlight illuminating the room, several hours had passed since dawn.

Vigo was nowhere to be seen.

"I actually slept."

Sleeping past dawn without knowing it. How slovenly. This was the aftereffect of Newbella—the residue of it, still in her body.

She fumbled with her hands to roughly tidy her appearance and hurried outside. Rix, who'd been pacing with his hands behind his back, politely greeted her asking if she'd slept well. Following his guidance, she found Nina waiting in the room Lanthe had used until yesterday.

"Lanthe sis! Let's eat and go to Aden Square!"

"Huh?"

"Put this on. It might rain later. It gets really cold when it rains."

While putting on the gray fur coat Nina handed her, Lanthe asked, puzzled.

"Where are we going?"

As if she'd planned something exciting, Nina stomped her feet and laughed.

"There's a philosophy circle meeting at Aden Square today. Princess Ana is coming too. Maybe Dame Skaeli will come as well. It'd be great if everyone came."

She ran through a string of names that meant nothing to Lanthe and then grabbed her arm.

"Princess Ana will like you too, Lanthe sis. Because you're both sisters I like!"

"Where is Aden Square?"

Without even time to wash her face, Lanthe was captured by Nina and descended the stairs leading to the communal dining hall.

"It's below the main castle. Above the village you can see from the western outer windows."

"You mean it's outside the castle?"

"Yes. But it's not very far. It's walking distance."

Going outside the castle?

"Did Vigo—did the lord say not to go outside the castle?"

"He didn't really say anything like that?"

"Really?"

Oh my. Could she go out without him knowing, playing dumb?

She unconsciously focused on the stairs behind them. Of course. A knight's footsteps that made no effort to hide mixed heavily among the two women's light steps.

Would it be possible? Losing Rix didn't seem easy. Judging by how he gave orders to other knights on the lord's behalf, he was probably quite skilled among Vigo's subordinates.

"Can we go to the square?"

Lanthe turned to look at Rix.

"Pardon?"

He who'd been following quietly stopped walking and asked back, looking flustered. His strong-featured face with its thickly rising eyebrow ridges creased fiercely.

Lanthe looked at Rix steadily. Nothing in her expression. When there's a chance, go out and survey the surroundings. She steeled herself and feigned an innocent expression. Persuade or deceive—it didn't matter. Today she was getting outside that castle.