Chapter 137

The banquet itself passed without incident.

Some political message had surely been exchanged, but Harold couldn't tell what. He was only guessing at bits and pieces. Grisha wouldn't have worn his mother's brooch without a reason. Or, more accurately, a keepsake from his real father.

The headache-inducing part could be left to someone who was good at it. At least tonight, Grisha wasn't giving him pointed looks. Either Grisha was satisfied with him, or his mind was somewhere else entirely.

Even as he kept his attention on Grisha talking with the Second Prince, Harold turned over what Grisha had said with that pale face.

That he knew what they were looking for.

He'd surely meant the business with the manor safe. Up until now, Harold had assumed it was about evidence Albrecht had hidden away; if that were all, Grisha wouldn't have bothered to bring it up. What in the world had he figured out? To hide his impatience, Harold focused on Grisha.

"Yes, yes! It — such a beautiful place……. There are so many flowers I've never seen before, it's just delightful."

"Lady Maya……"

"Prince Gerald is so learned that he explains every flower I don't know! I have no idea how he knows all of it. If I read a lot of books, do you think I could be like Prince Gerald too?"

"L-Lady Maya……"

Beside her, Gerald called his fiancée's name with a troubled look, but the animated woman spoke on, even gesturing broadly.

Harold looked at Anne. True to her reputation as the officer the Queen had personally picked out of the city watch, she stood without any change of expression. But when the excited Maya suddenly turned toward the prince, stumbled, and had to be caught, a faint bitterness crossed Anne's face.

Harold understood Anne's assessment. That girl — practically a commoner, someone who'd loved flowers and lived a free life — would have been happier engaged not to Second Prince Gerald but to a Gerald who happened to be some marquis's second son.

His first thought was that the King had somehow managed to dig up someone like this to marry off to his son. At the same time, looking at that guileless smile, it hit him hard that the King had done something he had no business doing.

Better to have left Gerald alone, unengaged, the way he'd left Carlisle.

Grisha wasn't a cruel man. He wouldn't harm someone who'd been living abroad and gotten caught up in something she didn't even understand. Grisha hadn't brought it up in so many words, but if everything went well……

Well. Wasn't there a chance Gerald could even end up inheriting the Adler marquis house?

"And, uh, um……"

"Oh, dear. Please forgive me."

As her excitement finally died down and she realized every eye was on her, Maya's face went crimson. Grisha gave a faint smile and politely pretended not to notice.

Instead, he turned slightly toward Harold behind him.

"This is Sir Harold Bertholdt. Like yourself, Lady Peres, he lived abroad for a long time and only recently returned to the kingdom."

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Peres."

"Oh! H-hello, Sir Bertholdt……"

Wide-eyed, Maya looked back and forth between Grisha and Harold. Then she glanced back at Anne.

What she was thinking was plain as day. Anne had at least taught her that a guard shouldn't stand alongside the person they were protecting. Grisha hadn't called Harold a guard when he'd introduced him, but she'd clearly caught on that following three paces behind and standing at attention was standard for one.

She knew that much, but nothing else? How long had Maya Peres been in the capital? If they were going to send her to a banquet and introduce her to the nobility, shouldn't they at least have taught her the basics?

Even Harold was thinking that. She wasn't a child — she was a prince's fiancée. Married or not, she was a member of the royal family. Bring Harold's young nephews here and they'd watch their words better than Maya Peres.

"You're so tall!"

Harold finally got to see Anne crack a wry smile. Gerald, flustered, caught his fiancée's arm. Maya seemed to read the prince's touch differently — beaming, she hooked her arm through his.

Anne glanced up at the ceiling once and put her face back to blank.

"Thank you, Lady Peres."

"Where abroad were you? My hometown is Baslad!"

"That's the region famous for lilacs, isn't it."

"Yes! That's why my family runs a lilac farm. They're used a lot for decoration and scent, but they also make sweet, delicious jam. Have you ever tried it?"

"No. But I think my young nephews would love it."

"Oh my, you have nephews? How old are they?"

"They've just turned eight."

"Eight! Such a cute age! And the other child, how old?"

Harold looked at Maya Peres, at a loss. The prince's fiancée, oblivious to his awkwardness, smiled brightly.

"……Eight. They're twins."

"Twins! Are you a twin too, Sir Bertholdt? I've heard some families have twins often."

The Bertholdt family's tragedy was less than six months old. Everyone in the capital knew what had happened to Harold's twin nephews. The people who had greeted Harold standing behind Grisha had politely steered around anything related.

But Maya Peres…… didn't know. She didn't know what had happened to the Bertholdt family. Past being at a loss, Harold was flat-out dumbfounded. He knew the royal family was a mess, but no one had briefed her on a topic that could turn as sensitive as this?

"My… grandfather was a twin. My nephews are my older brother's children."

"You have an older brother! Is he here tonight?"

Even setting the twins aside, shouldn't someone at least have briefed her on who was attending?

Harold had been the one to bring up his nephews, but he hadn't expected a reaction like this. Who would have. Maya Peres hadn't noticed at all that the air around them had gone still, as though cold water had been thrown over it. The Second Prince was fidgeting as he watched his artless fiancée.

"Ah, Marquis Roys. Sorry to keep you so long when you're busy."

"Not at all, Your Highness."

"Lady Maya? Didn't you say you wanted a closer look at the ice sculpture?"

"Yes! I've never seen a block of ice that big. Is it a sculpture commemorating the founding king?"

"It's a reinterpretation of his coronation……"

Apparently deciding he couldn't leave his fiancée on her own any longer, the Second Prince hurried to redirect Maya's attention.

"I hope you both have a pleasant time, Lady Peres."

"Marquis Roys and Sir Bertholdt too!"

She left them with a bright farewell to the very end.

Gerald gave Grisha an awkward smile and a small nod. In that brief opening, his flustered gaze landed on the brooch hanging at Grisha's chest.

So he recognized it. Harold took his place behind Grisha again and swallowed the urge to whistle.

It was as if a storm had blown through. At most she was no more than a squirrel or a wild hare — a small herbivore — but she'd left a deep impression all the same. Once the Second Prince and his fiancée moved off, the silence broke and whispers rustled through the hall like leaves in the wind.

"A very spirited lady, isn't she."

"A flower farm, no less."

"I'd heard Lady Peres…… was a relative of Her Majesty the Queen."

"The wedding should be something."

Through the murmur, people began drifting toward Grisha.

"Isn't she a lovely match for the Second Prince?"

The tone was kind, but the face carried plenty of mockery. Without waiting for Grisha's reply, the man greeted Harold as well. His neatly trimmed beard stood out.

"It's been a while, Sir Bertholdt."

"Baron Klauser."

"You did me a kindness once. Thanks to you, my worthless boy is still alive today. However am I to repay that debt……"

"Not at all. I only did what anyone would have."

"Such humble words!"

Baron Klauser gave a hearty laugh and raised his champagne glass.

"Blessings on Sir Bertholdt. And on Marquis Roys as well."

Those who appeared to be with the baron raised their glasses too. Baron Klauser turned to Grisha with a broad smile.

"The brooch suits you well."

"……It was passed down to me by my father."

"I thought so. Forgive me — would that be a Reichnek pearl?"

"It is. You have a good eye, Baron."

"Just as I thought. A pearl as precious as gold itself!"

Beyond the nobles laughing uproariously at whatever they were finding so funny, the Second Prince and Maya Peres came into view.

The two of them were talking undisturbed in front of the enormous ice sculpture of the founding king. Maya breaking into peals of laughter, and Gerald watching her with warm eyes — they looked like a couple perfectly at ease with each other.

But.

But there was something just slightly off.

"……"

Gerald, apparently bothered by the commotion at the center of the hall, glanced up. Following the prince's line of sight, Maya blinked. Her eyes met Harold's, and she beamed and waved. Anne let out another sigh, careful not to be seen doing it.

Harold didn't wave back the way Maya had, but he did give a nod in greeting. Maya seemed satisfied with just that; she went back to chattering to the prince like a lark.

Gerald's attention returned to his fiancée at once.

Harold watched the two of them a little longer, then looked to Grisha.

The blond marquis stood at the center of the hall, drawing attention from every direction.

---

Before the banquet was fully in swing, Grisha took Harold and went home.

"I feel like I'm going to be sick."

"……You barely drank."

"That's not why."

Grisha unpinned the brooch irritably. His color had gone bad again the moment they left the hall. Harold helped him into the carriage.

"How was Gerald?"

"Well…"

Grisha asked the second they were in.

"Thanks to Baron Klauser, way more people flocked over than I'd expected. I hadn't planned on drawing this much attention."

"You went there for the attention."

"True, but……. That man doesn't actually like me."

"He didn't strike me as someone about to do you any harm."

"Of course not. You saved his son, and now you're trailing behind me. He's backing me because of you."

With nothing in particular to say, Harold just scratched his jaw. He thought about brushing it off as no big deal, but then again, saving a life wasn't the kind of thing you were supposed to shrug off either.

The image of the baron sobbing as he clutched the half-conscious son Harold had carried out of the sewers on his back had stayed with him. Seven years ago, Baron Klauser's young son had nearly become the last victim of a serial killer.

"So. Your read on the Second Prince?"

"Well…"

Harold let it trail off.

"Still getting pushed around by whoever's near him. Though it's a step up from being dragged along by Carlisle."

"At least he doesn't look likely to cause any trouble, does he?"

"At worst he'll follow his fiancée up a tree and fall out of it."

Harold clicked his tongue.

"Never mind that. What was it you said you'd figured out earlier? What did you mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like."

Grisha, uneasy, lifted a finger and tapped it against his knee.

"The way they tore the Bertholdt manor apart… the business at the domain, too. It hadn't been adding up, but if that's what it is, it makes sense."

"What does?"

"They're not looking for evidence Albrecht might have hidden."

"Then what?"

As if anyone could possibly overhear them in a moving carriage, Grisha still lowered his voice. He was barely speaking at all — closer to just shaping the words with his lips — but Harold caught it.

Grisha's fist clenched tight.

"My birth certificate."