SN Chapter 39

Rosaline remained standing at the head of his bed—motionless.

Even as whispered voices drifted in from the corridor where the escort knights kept their vigil, even as a faint breath of wind moved lightly through the ceiling—she never once turned her gaze elsewhere. Her eyes were fixed on Rikardis with an unblinking, piercing intensity. He didn't look away either.

"How long are you planning to keep that up?"

"May I remain until morning?"

"……Tomorrow will be full of exhausting matters. You would do well to rest."

The overzealous watch showed no intention of relenting even at this late hour. Given that the dedication was admirable in its own way, Rikardis had softened the delivery of go. But Rosaline lingered where she stood.

"May I rest beneath Your Highness's bed?"

"……"

Rikardis went rigid. He'd thought he was slowly growing accustomed to her unpredictability—apparently he wasn't quite there yet.

"No. Out."

He answered without hesitation. Rosaline's expression fell. Rikardis laughed—something between incredulity and helplessness escaping him.

"Then at least the sofa in that corner——"

"No."

Rosaline proposed the space beneath the bed, the sofa, the wardrobe, the ceiling, the writing table, and several other locations as suitable resting spots. All of them, naturally, were places that didn't stray far from Rikardis's perimeter. He reminded himself silently. 'She has amnesia…… This knight…… Has amnesia, unfortunately…… Is someone in pain……'

He hadn't known his patience ran this deep. At every refusal, Rosaline wore more and more the expression of an abandoned puppy. He felt like the one who'd done something wrong, and sighed.

"Look here, Dame——"

"I'm frightened."

Rosaline spoke without preamble. Not once had she pulled her eyes from Rikardis. Her gaze held an emotion that edged toward desperation—vivid, fierce. The flames still shimmered and bloomed inside her irises.

"People……"

Her voice grew smaller with each word. By the end it was barely enough to remain distinct from her own breath—and yet every syllable reached him.

"People die so easily."

He read the sincerity and the fear within those quiet, measured words. Not because he was quick to read people. Rosaline was simply transparent. What she liked, she liked. What she disliked, she disliked. What frightened her, frightened her. Setting aside the enigmatic quality that was Rosaline herself—she was, at her core, someone easy to understand. And so her fear—the way it moved through her and made her unsteady—came through with perfect clarity.

Rikardis did not like the hours before the curtain of night was lifted. More precisely, he disliked meeting people in that time, or making any decision of consequence. Darkness offered solace, but it could also lead one astray. The hours belonging to Kreyan Tithanion, lord of chaos. In that time, it was said, the veil wound around human beings would fall away and the truest shape of the person be revealed. That blades were made dull, and solid shields allowed to rust.

Hh. Rikardis let out a long breath and pushed himself upright. In his hands he held the blanket he had been sleeping under. Rosaline's eager gaze tracked him as he moved. He dragged the sofa to the side of his bed—close enough that their eyes could meet if both were lying down. He dropped a pillow onto the long surface. Tck. Rough, but enough room to lie down.

"Better than beneath the bed, at any rate. Dame Rosaline—lie down."

She was watching him sideways, hesitating—unlike herself. "Lie down." At the second prompt, Rosaline made an awkward, uncertain attempt at reclining. Her head was still floating in the air, so Rikardis pressed two fingers firmly against her forehead. Only then did her head come to rest on the pillow. She lay there with wide eyes, apparently completely thrown.

He covered her with the blanket and returned to his own bed. He turned his head. She was already looking at him. Somewhat excruciating, this. Outside of family, she would likely be the first person with whom he had lain in a bedroom while meeting each other's eyes.

The briefly unsettled air grew loose again, settling into quiet. Rosaline was not a person given to many words. Rikardis, too, preferred keeping his lips still unless it was necessary. In the quiet room, the sounds of two people breathing gently rose and fell. Small, but unmistakable—the mark of another person present. People die so easily…… The words kept drifting through his thoughts.

"……"

Perhaps she had recovered some fragment of her earlier memory. She was still blinking slowly, like a small unhurried animal. The green of her eyes caught the faint light and gleamed like cut stones.

"Oh."

Rosaline made a sudden small sound. She'd pulled the blanket up to her chin and was rolling her eyes around with great deliberateness. Before Rikardis could wonder about it, she opened her mouth again—voice carefully lowered.

"Your Highness—can you hear it?"

"……?"

"Outside—Sir Pardickt is——"

Rikardis sharpened his ears. Someone was muttering just beyond the window, but the content was unclear.

"What is he saying?"

"He's bragging to Sir Raymond about having stopped Dame Rosaline from climbing in through the window just now."

"……"

'The dignity of a man past forty……' Rikardis swallowed the rest. Rosaline was practically humming with excitement. Smug, even.

"And here I am."

Hmph. She blew a small, satisfied breath through her nose. The reaction of a child getting away with something. She was clearly savoring every bit of the transgression. It was so absurd that Rikardis laughed before he could stop himself. If she were caught, she'd obviously be in for a scolding—but she didn't seem to be thinking that far ahead.

"Get some sleep."

"Yes. Pleasant dreams, Your Highness."

"……"

Someone had taught her well, whoever it was. It had been a genuinely long time since he'd received a goodnight. Ridiculous, and somehow funny—Rikardis answered in rather better spirits than usual.

"Yes—pleasant dreams to you as well."

Quietly, time passed. Rikardis was right on the edge of sleep when he felt hands drawing the blanket up to the line of his throat. 'Dame, please, enough already……' Half-adrift in sleep, he tried to mumble a protest. It did no good. He fell under wrapped snugly in the blanket. For the first time in a long while, his sleep was deep, and his dream was peaceful.

"About nine hundred dead——"

"No, no. Rosaline. Nine hundred and thirty-two. All thirty-two knights who were never called by Rosaline—how sad do you think they'd be?"

A young girl in a pale sky-blue dress stood before me wearing an expression of quiet resolution. Her small hands held several papers—the battle report from the recent clash with the Black Moon. There was no reason for such grim intelligence to find its way to a young princess. She had crept into Rikardis's study and read the documents left there. If she's caught, she'll be scolded. His Highness was endlessly soft with his little sister. He worked desperately to conceal from her the daily reality of it—nothing but fighting, every day a battle he had to survive.

"If you don't put those back on the desk, His Highness will have words with you."

She hadn't thought that far ahead. The girl gave a small start, then cleared her throat with what dignity she could manage. The papers were quietly slipped back onto the table. I adjusted their position to complete her cover: a little further to the left, the angle corrected to match. While I was attending to the details, she dropped into the chair with a soft fwump. Small as she was, she seemed to disappear into it. She dangled her feet, tapping them idly.

"Has Rosaline ever been to war?"

"Yes. Rear guard, though."

The girl looked at me with a fixed expression. The word war seemed to frighten her. Battlefields were nothing but blood and flesh and despair. She nodded as if trying to gauge something she had never seen. She pressed no further—as though she feared that bad memories might still live in me. Instead, she smoothed her own hair with an awkward hand and murmured.

"It's frightening."

I looked at her, curious. She seemed slightly downcast.

"People seem to die so easily. It frightens me."

She was no one's fool—she had heard no end of things. How fierce the battles between Illavénia and the Black Moon had grown. How badly Rikardis stood with his half-brother Elpydion. How many assassination attempts had been made against her brother across the years.

She had even come down to this forest villa like someone seeking refuge from the hostility of the palace. Her anxiety was understandable. I reached over and smoothed the disordered strands of the princess's hair. She closed her eyes softly, apparently enjoying it.

"Please don't worry, Your Highness."

"Mm."

"I will protect you."

Princess Setisthya would be safe. It wasn't arrogance. This white uniform I wore. The master of the White Night had always brought only victory. Even when the cost was dear, he had always won. And would continue to do so.

This certainty was rooted in the simple fact of belonging to an absolute victor. He was extraordinary. A person of unwavering conviction and nobility. He had risen by his own strength alone, in a palace where enemies lurked on every side. My face flushed hot with a sharp, aching pity that gave way only slowly to pride. Perhaps it was an arrogant dream—but if I dared to hope: someday, if that person should crumble…… I wanted to have grown into a knight he could rely on, and to stand at his side.

"I will absolutely protect you."

The girl gave a light, bright laugh. Whether the hands in her hair tickled her, or my words had pleased her, I couldn't quite tell. I smiled back.

A villa deep in the forest. The third-floor study where Rikardis lived and worked.

The scene of Setisthya swinging her feet dissolved in an instant.

A messenger horse arriving before dawn. His Highness the Prince and his secretary, brows drawn tight,

the small girl clutching the hem of my clothes in her anxiety.

Your Highness, I believe you must go at once.

……

……

I'm sorry, Setisthya. I have to leave ahead of you. Depart tomorrow, as planned.

……

……

I'll leave my carriage behind—so travel comfortably——

The scene shifted again. A drizzle-blurred forest. The carriage jolted and ran.

"The Second Prince is there!"

"Kill them!"

"It's the white carriage!"

Arrows poured down. The savage clash of metal tore through the sound of rain and filled the air entire. The carriage raced desperately along the cliff's edge. A massive boulder came crashing down onto the narrow path. The carriage lurched violently—and the world flipped in an instant. I pulled the girl close and knew nothing more.