YMPDKMA Chapter 15

2. The Swallowed Underside

Time passed without purpose. Four months already since I'd entered Rupert's palace. He never questioned me particularly, and the incident with the button went unpunished. Each day slipped by in terrible peace and quiet.

In that time—short if you counted it that way—winter retreated and spring came. Imperial year 286. I turned thirteen, and he was already fourteen.

Rupert was, against all my expectations, an extraordinarily docile child. He spent most hours in a daze, never bullied the maids with fits of temper. Against my assumption that his violent nature would draw him to hunting or martial arts, he did nothing but walk the grounds and read books in the library.

If he never meant to hunt, why did he collect so many guns? The budget allocated to him went entirely to his collecting habit, save what paid for food and lodging.

For some reason he hated having any maid follow him except Tori. So I was summoned only at mealtimes, tasting his food. Safe enough not to bother with silver spoons.

Checking his food for poison was mere mockery on Rupert's part, a formality to humiliate me. He was the Empress's child, but his sonhood remained buried in secret.

From the Imperial Consort's perspective, he wasn't pleasing enough to acknowledge as the Emperor's son, but not aggravating enough to kill. If the Emperor's daughter died by accident, all suspicion would point to her—and she wasn't reckless enough to risk that.

Still, with that foul temper, who knew whose grudge he'd earned? I chewed the food in small bites, uneasy, while Rupert watched to see if I'd keel over. I glanced at him sidelong.

"Did you just glare at me?"

"No, Your Highness. Of course not."

At Rupert's sharp question I shook my head quickly, cheeks stuffed full. Only his perception was quick.

"Have you lost weight? That outfit looks big."

It wasn't weight loss, it was always big, you little shit. I smiled pleasantly while grumbling internally. The day after my dress burst open in front of him, Tori had brought new maid's clothes. Twice as large as before, but I wore them without complaint. I never wanted that humiliation again.

"No."

"Well, the way you shovel down my food, you couldn't lose weight if you tried."

I wanted to argue with Rupert's languid mutter, but I had no real defense. I did eat his food, and plenty of it.

Imperial tables weren't set for one person's appetite. Piling the table with more dishes than anyone could finish was a way of displaying wealth, the legs groaning under opulent excess. It would've been convenient if he'd just point out what he planned to eat, but he made me taste everything even when he had no intention of touching most of it.

Even sampling each dish left me stuffed, but rumors among the servants were the best source of information, so I attended every staff mealtime faithfully.

I worried I'd just grow fat this way, but I had faith I'd slim down around fifteen like before. I didn't want to be as skeletal as I'd been then, but anything was better than now.

"Your Highness, is it good?"

"You already tried the dumplings. Want more?"

This brat kept treating me like a pig. When he had reason to call me, he never remembered my lovely name—just called me Dumpling. It was infuriating, not even proper teasing, but I swallowed my temper and smiled obediently.

"No, seeing Your Highness eat so well fills me up."

"You're full because you stuffed yourself earlier. Why blame me?"

You rude little—

I hid my trembling fists behind my back and looked at Tori, who'd laughed at Rupert's words.

"It's nice to see you two getting closer."

Does this look close to you, Tori?

I swallowed the surge of rebellion along with the food in my mouth and stepped back slowly. Wednesday afternoon. Rupert had finished lunch, so his music teacher Alberto would arrive soon. Since Tori was clumsy with court language, I handled greeting him—he was a fastidious, overbearing nobleman.

"I'll bring Sir Alberto."

He wasn't a knight, and he'd inherited no title either, so he had no proper honorific. Rupert thought my calling Alberto "Sir" was mockery, but the man himself seemed satisfied with it.

Rupert lifted his head from where he'd been sitting at a cocky angle, slouched and arrogant. The afternoon sunlight caught him like a moving sculpture. No life in him even under that warm light.

"You—"

"Yes?"

"Tch, I told you not to interrupt."

When I snapped back impatiently, he raised one eyebrow sharply. Four months passed but I hadn't always stayed close to him, so I'd learned little about Rupert. What I had learned: he despised being interrupted mid-sentence. Enough to use profanity that didn't suit his pretty face.

"I apologize."

I'd been warned several times, but when he drew out his words slowly, I answered reflexively. I bowed my head and waited for what came next.

"Can you play any instruments?"

"A little piano."

"Singing?"

"My mother was a concert singer in Abadeux."

Like my singer mother, I loved music enough to attend the Ardel opera several times. Not often—Father was too frugal.

"Your mother singing well doesn't mean you do."

Rupert sneered as if he'd been waiting for this.

"I'm not bad."

I answered with arrogance wrapped in modesty, inwardly scoffing. Let's see how well you sing, then.

"Then you stay too."

"For Your Highness's lesson?"

"Sing on the side or something."

More time beside him was clearly welcome, but being ordered to perform tricks by a fourteen-year-old child wasn't particularly pleasant. When my expression stiffened slightly, Rupert tilted his head at an angle, still seated.

"Don't want to?"

"No, Your Highness. I'll do so."

I answered with my usual gentle smile. Rupert never liked my smiles. But I couldn't exactly face him with total honesty, scowling openly, so I always ended up with this vague smile. Not quite smiling, not quite expressionless—something awkward between.

Tori, who rarely observed court etiquette, devoured Rupert's leftover food roughly. I watched her briefly before turning at a maid's announcement that Sir Alberto had arrived.

Watching Tori and Rupert together always left me with a strange feeling. With her, his wariness peeled back one layer—he smiled softly. Even patted her back, telling her to eat slowly. It was absurd. Made him seem almost like an ordinary person.

"Lariette."

A man's high-pitched voice woke me from useless thoughts. I gathered my skirt gracefully and bowed my head.

"You're here, Sir."

"It's been a while."

Alberto had been a pianist in Abadeux. I didn't know him, but he knew my mother and treated me with considerable familiarity.

"I met Amanda recently. She's quite worried about you—have you thought about sending a letter?"

I wanted to desperately, but couldn't bring myself to do it. I had no idea how to explain. When my face darkened, Alberto smiled gently as if he found me endearing.

"Well, I wandered plenty when I was your age too."

His presumptuous understanding made me uncomfortable. I moved my feet.

"His Highness is waiting."

"Are you joining today? Her Highness Princess Lapherte rarely keeps anyone nearby. Except that Tori girl or whatever her name is."

His mouth twisted briefly with disgust mentioning Tori. He clearly resented that a commoner served the noble princess so closely. I glanced at his distorted lips and lowered my eyes.

"Yes, today."

"His Highness is lonely. You can hear it in the piano. Lariette, comfort him with your songs."

Lonely my ass.

From what I'd observed, Rupert felt and expressed five emotions at most. Anger, irritation, displeasure. Nothing wistful and human like loneliness or solitude.

Alberto's presumptuous words soured my mood. I walked faster. Fortunately the music room door stood open—I escaped Alberto quickly.

"Your Highness, I've brought Sir Alberto."

Rupert was already seated at the piano. He nodded at Alberto, then turned immediately and laid hands on the keys. Alberto tuned his violin and jerked his chin at a chair. Tori, who feared Alberto, wasn't in the room.

I sank slowly into a plush velvet couch while the violin screeched through tuning. Alberto finished and moved his hands.

Rupert's deep golden hair and the white piano suited each other remarkably. On this bright day with harsh sunlight, the violin's soft melody rippled beside his picture-perfect form as if to enchant me. But watching that radiant scene, I burst out laughing.

"Pft."

I barely covered my mouth with one hand, trembling with the effort of holding it in. The sound that escaped was small.

Lonely? Remembering Alberto's assessment of Rupert's piano playing left me stunned. Alberto was either an absurdly hopeless romantic or stone deaf. One or the other.

Rupert played piano appallingly badly. The sound couldn't be called music—more like banging the keys to reflect his foul temper directly. I watched Rupert's small but violent back and pitied myself. Listening to that noise, I still had to act as if he'd performed the world's finest concert. The path of flattery stretched long and longer.

When his performance—you couldn't call it that—ended and I clapped mechanically, Rupert sat sideways on the piano bench and looked down at me arrogantly. He seemed to preen a little. It was pathetic. Thinking that pounding on a piano that way counted as performance, feeling triumphant about it.

"How was it?"

"...Not good."

The truth slipped out before I could stop it. I smiled awkwardly, seeing Rupert's eyebrow shoot up.

"What?"

"Not, not good... Your Highness's performance didn't move my heart! It was tremendous! Wow, Your Highness. Truly beautiful playing. I almost cried."

Of course. I could almost hear Rupert's thoughts and my insides twisted, but I didn't let the beaming smile fall from my face.

"You sing."

"Your Highness, forgive me. I'm afraid my voice would disgrace your perfect performance."

At my sickening refusal, Rupert stared at me. He'd never shown particular dislike for my occasional over-the-top flattery. Didn't take it seriously at all. Didn't seem to think my goodwill was genuine.

It never was genuine anyway, so I felt no hurt that he ignored my words—not a grain of sincerity in them. But I did wonder how to convey my 'sincerity' to that cold child.

"Bravo!"