SBTMK Chapter 8

'Is he dismissing me.'

It sounded like a question: do you think someone like you could actually get that far.

The competitive instinct she'd been building since childhood put its head up.

Simen's hand arrived on top of her head.

"Then I'd give you all the secrets you wanted. Pretty One."

The nickname was beside the point.

Simen's smile filled her field of vision. The morning light came through behind him—whether it was the sunlight behind him or whether he was producing a halo—she couldn't determine. She was not currently equipped to determine which.

Does he know how beautiful that face looks when it smiles.

'If I'd been born with that face I would also have spent my time on wine and pleasure. Obviously.'

"Actually—if you wanted to use your looks to get there, I think you'd manage it quickly enough."

He patted her head.

Go ahead and try—I'll give you everything. Arrogant, and somehow warm at the same time. She couldn't have explained it.

"……It seems like you're the one using your looks."

"Hm?"

"Ah—— nothing."

Her own interior had just escaped through her mouth.

Fortunately Simen appeared not to have caught it. Flora let out a breath she didn't announce and returned her face to neutral.

"I'm not worth the risk you'd be taking."

"Is that modesty, or a refusal? If I've made this much effort and you turn me down again—I'll be quite hurt, won't I."

It was definitely enchantment. That was the only explanation. There was no other reason why Simen making a slightly sad expression would produce any effect on thirty years of hard conditioning.

She felt it giving way in several places simultaneously.

"Hello! Lady Flora. My name is Lugaria—I've been assigned to serve you starting today. I look forward to working with you."

'How did I end up here.'

"Hello. Lugaria."

'How on earth——'

'He said I was reckless, and he'd be right. But I live under threat of death every day regardless. Not everyone in this palace has sworn loyalty to me.'

Flora was in the middle of greeting the lady's maid assigned to attend her during recovery when Simen's words surfaced again, unbidden.

The depth in his eyes as he'd said it—it left a mark. Still there, like an afterimage.

Something she recognized without having the right word for it—something adjacent to kinship, born from the quality of a person who has been surviving their days one at a time.

'Trust is something time resolves. You don't trust me either, not yet.'

The hand patting her head, gentle. The voice going soft, as though he was saying: it's all right now. She hadn't had that in a very long time.

"Please let me know whenever you need anything."

"……Thank you. Lugaria."

"You can speak plainly with me."

"I'm not accustomed to it yet. I'll get there."

'Was it that I missed people——'

"Of course. You've been seriously injured—sitting up must be difficult. Please lie down and rest. The healer will come this evening."

"……Yes."

Flora finished the greeting and lay back down. Lugaria straightened the blanket and slipped out of the room. Silence arrived.

The lace canopy she'd thought was beautiful when she first opened her eyes was there again. Everything about this was real and none of it felt like it.

Flora of Haenkan.

She had decided to stay. Which meant she was no longer running.

But the decision had been impulsive. She could feel the shape of it—too fast, with too many unknowns. That was frightening in its own right.

'If Ayden finds out——'

There was no guarantee this place was safe. Flora pulled the blanket tighter and closed her eyes.

An uncomfortable attention. Simen, finally out of patience, set down the documents and looked up.

"Your eyes are going to catch fire. Erne."

〈Your Majesty.〉

"You have a great many objections, I know. So do I—it was reckless. But Flora may be considerably useful to me."

〈Has it occurred to you that the reverse might equally be true? As I've said before—Your Majesty's decision not to gamble is the empire's good fortune. To weigh what might be gained later against the immediate danger——〉

"If I'd taken up gambling I'd have emptied the treasury. I know."

Erne produced a short exhale at the Emperor smiling through this without visible embarrassment.

〈Your Majesty has sufficient ability and sufficient cards in hand to set the imperial authority to rights without this.〉

"……Corruption among the nobility alone won't be enough to restore what's broken. They'll cut tails and lay guilt on the weaker houses. They're practiced at it."

A shadow of something moved across Simen's face. Erne held his silence briefly before continuing, careful.

〈If you believe nobility had a hand in what happened to that woman—extracting the information by force is also a method. It's possible Your Majesty has simply read the situation wrong. When the easier route is available, why——〉

He knew. Of course he knew there was an easier method. But——

"I like doing things the hard way. You know that."

Simen spun his chair to face the window behind him.

The garden before the Emperor's residence was kept in seasonal bloom—whatever flower belonged to the month, planted and tended. The pale pink petals catching the full afternoon light were fresh. It occurred to him that he hadn't looked at this view in actual daylight in some time.

〈When this reaches the nobility's ears, she will become Your Majesty's weakness. You know what they are—hand them one thing and they reach for two.〉

Simen thought of Flora. Being chased. And the back of her, running alone into the fight so he could get clear.

He did not, as a rule, import personal feeling into situations of this kind. But he had seen something in those obsidian eyes—grief, and solitude—that had looked too much like a version of himself at an age he'd rather not revisit. That had made it difficult to look away.

Bringing her into the palace had been uncharacteristically impulsive. From the moment he'd first seen her, he'd been cataloguing her vulnerabilities and planning to use them. Half that plan had collapsed. The imperial-authority rationale was probably a pretext now too—sharp-eyed Erne would have seen this, which explained the objections.

〈Was it pity, Your Majesty.〉

"I don't know."

〈……〉

"Just—let it run a little longer. This one feels like a correct bet."

A roundabout way of saying it. Simen smiled. Erne did not blink.

〈……If anything suspicious shows itself, I will handle it immediately.〉

"Good of you. While you're at it—what do you think of this:"

〈What——〉

"Watching from a distance is inconvenient. What if we placed her in the guard corps instead. You saw her—that archery is not ordinary. More than capable of passing the trial——"

Erne's violet eyes appeared to ignite. That was probably his imagination.

Simen gave a strained, hollow laugh, waving a hand in dismissal. He was joking, he claimed. Joking.

An uncomfortable attention pressed at her from somewhere. Flora registered it and stayed still.

'Is this an attack?'

Haenkan's palace was not grounds for complacency. If anything it might require more alertness. Not everyone here wished her well.

Crack.

Before the hand reached her—whoever it was—Flora had caught the wrist.

"Who's there?"

"——Oh!"

A short sound from the person whose wrist she'd just taken. Flora opened her eyes and looked.

Long violet hair, lustrous. Eyes that read gold, the color of the sun. A beautiful man, with elaborate embroidery across the chest of a white-mantled robe.

"Hello. Lady."

He'd looked startled for a moment. Then he smiled—the corner of his mouth, warm and immediate.

It was still beautiful. The slight wince before and the smile now were both simply beautiful.

The quality of him—whatever it was—reached her before she'd decided to let it. Enough to dissolve the killing intent she'd just produced without being asked.

She released the wrist before entirely meaning to. When she moved to sit up, the man placed a light hand on her shoulder and stopped her.

'Stay down, then.'

"I'm Eden Tyabel—I've been assigned to your healing. Lady."

The healer. Eden——

Lugaria had mentioned someone would come in the evening.

"Ah……"

Flora understood she'd made a mistake and pressed her lower lip between her teeth. She'd nearly snapped the wrist of a healer-priest of the Temple of Arzeka.

"I only meant to look in briefly while you slept—I didn't expect you to wake. I apologize."

"No. The discourtesy was mine. I'm Flora. May Arzeka's grace attend you——"

Only those trained at the Temple of Arzeka could work healing magic in Haenkan. That explained what she was feeling from him—the warmth radiating forward and staying after.

She was glad she'd done her reading. Even catching up at this point, she could at least offer the correct words.

'But is he male? He's beautiful like that. If he smiles he's beautiful and I imagine crying would only be more——'

She recognized the thought a half-second after having it. What kind of person thought that. Ayden, specifically. Ayden thought that.

Her skin crawled.

'Run, Eden——'

Eden, unaware, turned those bright gold eyes on her again and smiled.

"May Arzeka's grace attend you as well, Lady Flora."

"……Th-thank you."

Lying here looking up at him felt like a minor sacrilege. She shifted—lying there felt like lying on thorns, and Eden's expression moved into concern.

"I know it's difficult, but try not to move too much. Lady."

"……Yes."

"May I examine the wounds?"

Flora nodded, as though compelled.

Healing, honestly, was not anywhere in her mind.

Just looking at Eden's face, she felt she could manage the pain without difficulty.