Chapter 2: An Exciting New Life

07: The Young Lady Enjoys Gourmet Delicacies

Elliott was true to his word; he did not arrange for food to be taken to Rachel.

Part of the reason he didn’t was that he was frustrated she’d threatened him with a weapon when he thought he had the upper hand. But getting revenge for that wasn’t his main goal. He’d decided to make this a war of attrition. He thought that if Rachel were weakened by hunger, she would submit and bow to him. So instead of giving her the food, the prison guard would eat her meals in front of her. The plan was to agitate her hunger by spitefully eating every dish and acting like it was delicious.

No matter how composed Rachel seemed, she must have expected to be fed. But now, just as she thought she’d won, she’d be hit with the terror of starvation. Elliott was confident that would teach her a lesson.

The prison guard was sitting at a table in front of the cell bars, displaying each item of food he’d brought before eating it.

“Oh, goodness me! This black bread you nobles get to eat sure does taste different! It’s smooth on the tongue, and still so fresh that it doesn’t have that sour smell either! It’s so good!”

The menu was pretty awful, and the guard was rather monotone as he explained it—he’d never cut it as a food critic. It didn’t look appetizing in the least, more like it was just marginally better than the horrible slop he was used to getting. Still, it seemed to be having an effect on the young lady in the cell, because she groaned in hunger.

“I’m glad I brought oatmeal,” Rachel stated, “but it just doesn’t taste as good with powdered milk. The raisins do help it somewhat, though.”

“This is chicken breast broiled in sauce!” the guard countered. “Even cold as it is, the flavor has seeped in quite well, yes it has. Oh, my, to think they give this to prisoners. That seems a bit too generous.”

“As for my roast duck, while the flavor seeped in nicely, it has been sitting in its sauces so long that the meat has gone hard. Well, canned goods have their limits, I suppose.”

“And it comes with dessert! What a bold move! Oh, yes, the slightly sour taste of this orange is too good to describe!”

“These peaches in syrup are quite good. They’re not like fresh ones, but they do have an excessive sweetness that makes them different altogether.”

Rachel, who’d been eating her canned goods at a collapsible round table, smiled as she met eyes with the guard. He was watching her silently now.

“I knew it. Preserved food just doesn’t taste as good. You seem to have enjoyed your meal, Mr. Guard, so I’m a touch jealous.”

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Take that! If you’re jealous, then hurry up and apologize to the prince! Oh... Goddammit!” The guard kicked his table over, and the metal platter and dishes clattered to the stone floor. With tears in his eyes, he shouted, “Don’t say that when you don’t mean it!”

“Oh, my. You were trying so hard to make that food look delicious that I was simply trying to be courteous by playing along.”

“This is the problem with you nobles! You’re good at rubbing people the wrong way, if nothing else, huh?!”

“Do you know what the lunch menu will be, Mr. Guard? I’ll need to pick out something to match yours.”

“Don’t bother! If the harassment isn’t working, why not just say so?! There’s no need to harass me back!”

“Heavens no! As a member of the nobility, I must fight on equal terms.”

“Don’t drag me into the sort of fight where you pretend to be competing fair and square, and then kick me under the table...”

“Is that not your job?”

The guard was getting frustrated; nothing he said seemed to get under her skin. He angrily jabbed a finger at her and yelled, “Listen up! Don’t think you’ll get off this easy, okay?!”

“Oh, how scary.”

“The preserves you brought with you will run out eventually! Don’t expect the prince to give you the time of day if you wait until then to bow your head and apologize!”

Even as he shouted this, the prison guard’s eyes were drawn to the mountains of wooden boxes piled high inside the prison.

Just how many months’ worth does she have?

Once the guard gave his report to the prince, the mealtime show-and-tell was canceled.

“Dammit! Dammit! Dammiiiit!” the beautiful prince bellowed in the sort of shameful display that no one should ever see.

Wishing they could be anywhere else, Sykes, the son of the commander of the knights, and George, the eldest son of the duke, silently watched as this awkward scene unfolded. There were a few servants there as well, standing by the wall and hoping to go unnoticed.

No matter how you cut it, Rachel seemed to have the upper hand.

Prince Elliott was throwing a tantrum right now because he couldn’t keep up with Rachel’s unbelievable reactions. He fully believed in his own competence, but Rachel was striking him left and right with countermoves he’d never expected. If she had gone on a hunger strike, that would be one thing, but to think she had such reserves that attempting to starve her out was utterly ineffective. It defied all common sense.

“Damn that Rachel! Not only is she not crying from hunger, she’s spiced her meals with revenge!”

“The guard says she has the leeway to match her menu to his,” Sykes admitted.

“Can’t you shut off her water?!” Prince Elliott protested. “Surely she won’t act so flippantly if she has no water!”

“We would need to destroy the plumbing to do that. And if something went wrong, we could end up cutting the water to half the palace.”

“Damn it all!” the prince raged. He had a low tolerance for being countered right off the bat.

“What will you do?” Sykes asked.

“I don’t care anymore!” Elliott spat. “Just patrol once in a while! If we give her too much attention, it will only entertain her!”

The prince is thinking for once, George thought...but he didn’t dare say it out loud.

Elliott turned to George, a vein bulging on his temple. “Can’t you keep the House of Ferguson under control, George?!”

George flinched as the prince’s misdirected ire came his way. He’d predicted it would, of course, after how badly his sister had vexed the prince.

“There’s nothing I can do about the supplies she’s already brought in there. Still, no matter what father says, I won’t allow our house to render her any more assistance.”

“Good. The reason Rachel was able to prepare so much in advance is because your family has so much money and manpower. When she learns they’ve turned against her with you in control, it will break her spirit. Get it done.”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

Neither of them suspected that Rachel had done everything using her own pawns, without relying on her house in the slightest.

There was one more thing that neither Elliott nor George would have imagined: the duke and duchess had already given up on their eldest son.

Some days later, as the prison guard was patrolling in the afternoon, Rachel surprisingly called out to him from inside her cell.

“Mr. Guard...”

“Oh? What? Has your head cooled a little?”

“I think His Highness is the one who needs to cool his head.”

“What?”

The guard looked at Rachel, who seemed unaffected by everything. She opened a can of something that smelled sweet and ate a spoonful—her dessert, apparently.

“Weren’t you going to take three meals a day here, Mr. Guard?” she inquired.

“Oh, that. That’s been canceled. It wasn’t hurting you, and it’s just making us seem like fools.”

“See, that’s just the thing.” Rachel adorably cocked her head, a troubled look on her face. “None of this tastes quite so good without company.”

“Oho, that’s a cute thing to say, given how cheeky you are otherwise.”

“I’ve realized that when I can’t see you howling in agony, I’m not able to savor it all with the taste of victory.”

“Shut up! Just read your books or whatever!”

“Yes, that’s the stuff!”

“Would you stop talking?!”

08: The Young Lady Idles the Day Away

“Ungh...”

Rachel woke with the morning sun shining on her face. Sitting up on her comfy cushioned sofa—that could have dragged even a sage down into a life of sloth—she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. She wasn’t proud of it, but she wasn’t exactly a morning person. Plus, she’d been so engrossed in her novel that she’d been unable to resist staying up late the night before.

“This is no good. I can’t get up.”

It wasn’t as though she had anything she needed to do, so Rachel lay back down on the sofa, turned toward the shade, and was soon sleeping soundly once more.

Elliott awoke to someone tearing the covers off him.

“Wh-What are you doing?!” he yelled at the culprit. He looked up to see Sykes standing there, holding the blanket and looking ashamed.

“Your Highness, it’s past time you should be awake,” Sykes informed him.

“Still, wasn’t that a little sudden?! There must be a better way!”

“Well, you see...”

Elliott followed Sykes’s gaze and saw the head maid and several other maids standing by.

“Oh...” Elliott realized the maids had forced their way past Sykes. If he were to ignore them, he’d face the shrill voice of the head maid, and the maids would clean the area immediately around him just to harass him.

Once Elliott understood that going back to sleep wasn’t an option, he sluggishly crawled out of bed.

Having slept until almost noon, Rachel put on a pot of tea to replenish her fluids and then started digging through a number of boxes.

“What shall I have for brunch today?”

As she looked at the cans, sorted by type, Rachel mumbled things like, “I had fish yesterday,” as she weighed her options. Well, it wasn’t as though there were that many varieties. She didn’t eat much in prison, maybe due to the lack of exercise, so she was very careful about her menu. Basically, she had too much time on her hands, so she agonized over her choices too much.

“It’s interesting, choosing a menu for myself,” Rachel remarked—not that she had to make any of the food.

Elliott had done a lot of running around the day before, so he was being monitored closely today during work.

“Hey, isn’t it a bit much, following me to the bathroom like this?” Elliott complained.

The stern-faced bureaucrat shook his head. “You told us yesterday you were ‘going to the bathroom,’ and then you took off on us and didn’t return to your room until nighttime.”

“Well, uh, yes, you see... The toilets were all occupied, so I had to go looking.”

“Your own personal toilet was occupied, Your Highness?”

When Elliott returned from the bathroom, officials from every department were guarding the doors and windows, documents in hand.

“Come now, Your Highness, you’re already behind on the approvals you need to sign this morning. There’s no time for you to take lunch in the dining hall, so I’ve brought sandwiches.”

“You want me to work without breaks?!”

“You took enough of a break yesterday, didn’t you?”

Rachel had tired of reading, so she moved on to knitting.

“Hmm, I’m happy to knit...but what should I make?”

Rachel had a wide array of skills, but no idea what she wanted to do.

“Now that I think of it, is this really the season to be making things with wool?”

She came to this shocking realization only after getting everything ready.

“Well, on that note, I think I’ll knit George a muffler.”

Elliott was buried beneath a mountain of paperwork.

“Your Highness, have you been making any progress?” George asked hesitantly.

Elliott let out an exasperated groan. “I have no idea. How much of this is even finished?”

Turning to the secretary seated beside him, who had been handing him document after document, Elliott asked, “Hey, how much longer is this going to take?”

The bureaucrat adjusted his glasses and, without any change in expression, said, “Your Highness, please save that question for until after we’ve reached the halfway point.”

Rachel laid down her knitting needles and narrowed her eyes happily. “I love how comfy this all feels,” she muttered, enjoying the afternoon light and the gentle breeze.

This was no time to be knitting, though.

“Why, this is the perfect weather for an afternoon nap!”

Just as she’d finished arranging the cushions and was about to throw a blanket over herself, it hit her.

“Hold on a second... Wouldn’t a nightcap before an afternoon nap be the best thing ever?!” She hurriedly opened a box and uncorked a bottle of plum wine. “I’ll have just a little... Yes, just a little.”

Rachel poured herself a rather large glass. Lifting it up with evident satisfaction, she gently sipped the pink liquid, savoring the taste of the sweet and mellow alcohol.

Fed up with this never-ending desk work, Elliott threw a tantrum and headed outside.

“Honestly, staying cooped up inside, doing paperwork, on a fine day like this? What are those bureaucrats thinking?”

Elliott continued to grumble as he walked into the yard. Behind him, George and Sykes looked at each other.

“You say that, but the weather doesn’t affect desk work,” George noted.

“Us knights are often forced to work in bad weather too,” Sykes added.

“You fools! That reasoning applies to adults! I’m still just a minor, in the learning stages, remember? The curriculum should reflect that.”

“Well, sure...” Sykes agreed.

“Keeping a minor locked up like that,” Elliott continued, “is against the child labor laws!”

“Child...?” George wondered aloud.

Ignoring his unconvinced attendants for the moment, Elliott tried to shift gears and think about what to do after this.

“Now, I think I’ll kill some time with a stroll through the garden.”

Maybe Margaret will arrive at just the right time, Elliott thought, heading into the garden, but he ran into her polar opposite. A bunch of sweaty men were waiting for him—the commander of the knights’ second-in-command along with some knights in training gear.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” the second-in-command said. “Now, off to the training grounds we go!”

“Huh? What are you people talking about?” Elliott asked. He failed to make heads or tails of the situation.

Sykes puffed up his chest and proudly explained, “You were saying you couldn’t bear to stay cooped up inside on a fine day like this, so I arranged for you to join the knights’ fencing practice!”

“That’s why the bureaucrats let me go so easily?! No, listen, this isn’t what I meant!”

The second-in-command commended him, saying, “It’s admirable of you to volunteer to train with us on your own initiative, Your Highness!”

“Come along,” another knight said encouragingly. “We’ve already got everything ready for you!”

“No, hold on,” Elliott protested, but the muscles-for-brains knights dragged him off.

When Rachel woke from her nap, which no one had complained or nagged her about, the lingering red of the setting sun was just vanishing. She hurriedly lit her lamp, bringing light back to the room before total darkness could swallow it.

“I slept too much...”

Even Rachel had to reflect on her actions a bit.

“If my sleep had been just a little deeper, I could have slept on through until morning.”

Okay, no, scratch that. She hadn’t learned a thing.

“Well, what’s done is done. I think I’ll have some dinner.”

After a little thought, Rachel pulled out an especially large can. Tonight’s main course was white fish boiled in garlic oil. She opened the can and got her alcohol lamp ready. Then she skillfully—by the standards of well-to-do young ladies, at least—peeled some of the potatoes she’d brought in here and sliced them thinly. Removing the fish from its can, she laid the potatoes on the bottom and then put the fish back on top.

“Hee hee, my cooking has improved quite a lot! When I do it this way, the potatoes suck up the oil and taste even better! Ah, if only I could share this, the discovery of the millennium, with all mankind.”

No, mankind did not need this sheltered young lady to teach them. It was already a widely known technique. Rachel, however, didn’t know that.

Rachel checked occasionally to see how the can was boiling and hummed to herself as she picked out a wine that would pair well with today’s meal. Once the food was finished cooking, she blew daintily on the hot fish and potatoes and then carried them to her mouth. It tasted just as she had hoped. “Mmm!” she exclaimed as she writhed in wordless ecstasy.

“Oh, to think I’ve learned to prepare such a dish for myself. I’m making such rapid progress. This solo prison life really was the right choice.”

With the savory flavor of the food still in her mouth, she took a quick swig of white wine.

“Washing down the fish and garlic with a clean white wine is incredible!”

Rachel seemed satisfied with her own cooking. She was only able to pick her own menu and cook—was it really cooking?—because she was living alone here in the prison. She almost wanted to thank that moronic prince for putting her in here.

Rachel pressed her index fingers into her snow-white cheeks, which were now a little flushed, and let out a relaxed sigh. “Good food, good drink, and a cushioned bed to fall right back on as soon as the alcohol hits! It’s perfect!”

She enjoyed her feast as she rapidly progressed to indulgence.

They weren’t so cruel as to make Elliott work while eating dinner too. A small dining hall—which, despite being called a hall, only had one table that could seat around ten people—had been prepared for him near his room.

Elliott’s whole body ached as he stumbled to the head of the table. “Today was a disaster...” he complained, sounding disheartened.

“You made relatively decent progress on stamping all those documents. Good work, Your Highness,” George said, trying to cheer him up.

Sykes attempted to do the same, saying, “The vice-commander said you put in a reasonable effort, Your Highness!”

“Oh, I see...” Elliott picked up his spoon as the first dish, a potage with green peas, was served. “They wouldn’t say that I did well, then,” he mumbled.

His two associates couldn’t tell a lie, so they awkwardly said nothing. The table fell silent, with only the sound of Elliott slurping echoing soullessly through the room.

“Oh, but,” Elliott said, looking up as he finished his soup, “I want to see Margaret! When I’m feeling down like this, her inexhaustible cheer is just the thing I need! George, won’t Margaret be coming today?!”

The sun had almost set. What did the prince think he was saying? George and Sykes looked at each other in surprise as Elliott began loudly pining for the girl he loved “so much that he wanted to tear his hair out.”

“Your Highness, what are you talking about?” George questioned.

“He must be exhausted from doing all these things he’s not used to,” Sykes suggested.

“What is that reaction for, you two?”

George and Sykes exchanged another glance. Not only was it already evening, but there was another reason they were confused.

“I mean, you do know...” George began.

“Right?” Sykes finished.

“Know what?!”

George adjusted his glasses with his middle finger, a dubious expression on his face. “Margaret is away today and tomorrow on a family trip. You were just saying yesterday how you missed her so much you could die, remember?”

“Mom’s been saying she wants to see it, so we’re going to the waterfall in Coldwall! Hee hee, I’ll be sure to bring back souvenirs for you too, Your Highness!”

That was what the smiling red-headed girl with pigtails had told him.

“You were just telling us that yesterday, weren’t you?!” Sykes insisted.

“What are you talking about now?!” George pressed.

Elliott dropped his knife and fork. “It’s no good. I don’t think I can go on living anymore. If I don’t have Margaret’s smile right now, I’m going to die.”

“After just two days of not seeing her?!” George exclaimed. “You’re acting far too addicted to her, Your Highness!”

“Hey, Your Highness? Is this going to drag on? You mind if I go ahead and eat?” Sykes asked.

“I haven’t seen her in two whole days, okay?! It feels like two years to me!”

“Even if it feels like two years, it’s only actually been two days! You’ll be just fine when you see her again the day after tomorrow!” George declared.

When George tried to correct him, Elliott got even more out of hand. “The day after tomorrow?! I can’t see her until the day after tomorrow? The bureaucrats will have murdered me with paperwork by then!”

George sighed and said, “Let me be clear. His Majesty and the other royals do this much every single day!”

“Margareeeet!”

“His Highness is having a breakdown?! Hey, Sykes, would you stop stuffing your face and help me hold him down?!”

“Can I finish eating first?”

“Now!”

This idiocy continued until the chief lady-in-waiting appeared to shout at them.

Rachel closed her book, satisfied with its twist ending.

“So that’s where it goes, huh? Yes, I’m definitely glad I read to the end. I was very close to a poor night’s sleep as I fretted about how they were going to wrap things up.”

Rachel lowered the light on her lamp. The book’s wonderful ending made her feel euphoric.

“It really is nice, being able to read late into the night without the head maid yelling at me for it. If I’m still tired when I wake up tomorrow morning, I think I’ll sleep in until noon again.”

It wasn’t like Rachel never wanted to stroll through the gardens again. But wasn’t it also good for her to appreciate this time when she could read to her heart’s content, enjoy tea whenever she liked, and try her hand at some chores when the mood took her?

To be completely frank, well-to-do young ladies like her went everywhere by carriage. There was no need for her to exercise in the first place. Besides, she’d already been a shut-in in the making who rarely strolled through the gardens at her own house. She was a selfish girl who basically always wanted to put her own convenience first. So as long as she was able to change her own clothes, she didn’t feel at all inconvenienced by being confined to a single room.

“My royal lessons were too painful to bear, but if I think of them as a prelude to this ideal slow life, maybe they weren’t so bad.”

As she enjoyed the arcadian days she’d won for herself after so much suffering, Rachel went to sleep thinking that, yes, life was better behind bars and that she’d been right to let them throw her in here.

After he was forced into his bedroom, Elliott quietly opened his window. A cool wind blew in from the dark courtyard, brushing his cheeks.

“Okay...”

As he was searching for his outdoor shoes, one of the knights on guard called out to him from outside.

“Your Highness.”

“What?”

“The knights have all heard that young miss Poisson is away traveling and that Your Highness is exhibiting symptoms of withdrawal. We’ll be keeping a close watch on the horses and carriages, making sure they don’t sneak off, okay?”

“I see... Keep up the good work, then.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Elliott closed the window, shut the curtains, and crawled into bed.

09: The Prince Learns What the Young Lady is Thinking

Taking the rattling kettle from the flame, Rachel quickly poured the hot water into a teapot already prepared with the tea leaves inside. Then she turned over a sand timer, covered the pot with a tea cozy, and looked at the wooden boxes.

“To have cookies, or to have dried cake? That is the question.”

Rachel touched her bottom lip as she pondered, and as she did...Prince Elliott’s cold eyes stabbed daggers into the side of her attractive face.

“Rachel, is that really the problem here?!” Elliott snapped.

“Oh, my, Your Highness! The tea is already steeping. Is there any problem I could possibly prioritize more?”

Elliott had come to the prison for the first time in several days to see if Rachel had cooled her head a little, but he was greeted by the sight of her elegantly preparing for tea time.

She clearly hasn’t learned her lesson, he thought.

“Surely you’re not about to tell me there isn’t?” Elliott scoffed.

Rachel had to think about that. After some quiet reflection, she clapped her hands. “Oh! Like how I haven’t chosen a cup yet?”

“You think I’m concerned by a trivial thing like that?!”

“Oh, goodness me. The sand timer ran out as I was thinking.”

“Don’t lose interest in your prince’s questions! Listen to me, would you?!”

Ignoring the prince as he shouted angrily, Rachel smiled at the fragrance tickling her nostrils and popped a tea cake in her mouth. The brandy cake filled with dried fruit was delightful, and she washed it down with another sip of tea.

“Yes, I do believe the Lion restaurant’s ‘Nuts & Berries’ go perfectly with tea. This was the perfect choice.”

Elliott’s rage was seething as hot as magma. “Hey, if you’re satisfied, then look this way. Just how long do you intend to ignore your prince?”

Rachel looked blankly at him, her fork still in her mouth. Once she’d swallowed her bite of cake, she arched her beautiful eyebrows and, leveling her fork at Elliott, said, “Your Highness. You can’t get by as a prince if you let one of your retainers look down on you! You have to tell off those who misbehave harder! Do you understand? Promise your big sister you will, okay?” She finished with a smug look, turned as if done with him, and poured herself a second cup.

“Huh?!” Elliott choked out. Her off-the-wall response had dumbfounded him, and when he came back to his senses, a vein popped up on his forehead and he ground his teeth. “That’s some impressive sleep-addled nonsense from the very person who’s been looking down on and belittling me, huh?!”

Rachel, who was never short of a retort, said, “Well, I never! I’m quite awake. I think the one who sounds like they’re talking in their sleep despite being awake is you, Your Highness.”

“Enough of this, you wretch! Not only did you bully Margaret from the shadows, but now that I’ve thrown you in prison, you still refuse to repent. And you even mock me?!”

“See, that’s just it! Honestly, why should I have to point out your every flaw while I’m behind bars?! You’re putting a burden on your prisoner, you sad excuse for a prince. Now, have I made myself understood? You need to comport yourself in a manner more befitting of a prince, and pay more attention to those around you, okay?!”

“Huh?! S-Sorry... Wait, what?”

There’s something wrong with Rachel’s reasoning...

It was only around the time Rachel had finished her third cup that it finally dawned on Elliott that she was toying with him.

“Argh! What do I care if you’re feeling inconvenienced now?!”

“Bit slow with the response there, weren’t you?” Rachel remarked.

“Shut up! We’re talking about you here! Has your head cooled any since I had you thrown in there?!” Elliott shouted, jabbing a finger in Rachel’s direction. “How about it? A well-to-do young lady from a good family like yourself can’t possibly stand living in this dark, chilly dungeon! It’s been ten days now. No matter how much you were able to prepare, it’s still only a temporary residence. You can put up a strong front, but deep down, you’re about ready to say uncle, aren’t you?!”

Having apparently had enough tea, Rachel sank into the cushioned sofa that could have ruined a sage, opened up a magazine, and began reading. The cover indicated it was a collection of illustrated stories that had been popular recently. She blatantly ignored Elliott, not even deigning to respond. It was a little too dark to read, so she pulled the lamp on the table a little closer.

“Hey!” Elliott yelled.

“You have no composure whatsoever,” Rachel responded. “Did your educators never tell you it’s impolite to make such a ruckus next to someone who’s reading?”

“Did no one ever tell you not to do other things when you’re listening to someone?!”

“Oh, that’s quite all right. I wasn’t listening to you to begin with.”

“Then fix that!”

Rachel glanced at Elliott, her magazine still open. “Your Highness, do I look like I’m about to give up this lifestyle?”

Elliott took another look around the prison. There was a thick rug with geometrical patterns on it that blocked out the cold of the stone floor; a cushioned sofa that he would have liked to try out but, as a prince, couldn’t put in his own living room; high-quality tea and teacakes; a lamp that, despite regular use, seemed unlikely to run out any time soon; and a collection of canned goods that gave her the chance to eat a number of foreign delicacies. If she could put up with the fact that she couldn’t go outside, and the fact that the decor was a little bland, she had a better lifestyle here than some minor nobles.

And now, after ten days, it dawned on Elliott. The woman’s a shut-in.

“H-Heh heh. You certainly seem to be enjoying the prison to its fullest,” Elliott said, smirking.

“Aren’t I, though?”

“But still! While you’re locked away in here, the world outside is moving! It may gall a prideful woman like you to apologize, but maybe you need to consider the positives and negatives of not being able to leave your cell?”

Rachel kept flipping through her magazine without so much as a glance in Elliott’s direction and quietly said, “Oh, I have considered them.”

“Oh, you have?”

“It’s true I can’t walk about as I please, and the world is passing me by.”

“Yeah, yeah!”

“However...”

“Hm?” Elliott dubiously looked at her.

Rachel, her eyes still on her magazine, said, “So long as I stay in prison, our engagement will stay broken. So I don’t have to take the lessons meant for a future queen. Those tutors of mine won’t put me through the wringer day after day. If you were to take back your decision to break off our engagement, my educators would capture me in no time. This is no joke. No matter what, I can’t possibly expose myself to that risk.”

Elliott paused to think. He knew her teachers. When he was little, they’d chastised him constantly for getting tired of their dull yet spartan lessons and running off. Could you really call the corporal punishment they’d administered to him, despite his rank as prince, education? He’d never seen the lessons Rachel took as one who would become queen, but knowing her instructors, he could imagine what it was like.

Though Rachel lacked the freedom of movement, she could do as she pleased and laze about all day in prison. As his fiancée, she had no freedom and was chained to a desk every day, surrounded by several private tutors who were more like mad dogs, barking at her constantly.

If he had to pick, which would Elliott choose for himself?

Sykes was in the stables checking on the horses when he saw Elliott dragging his feet across the back yard.

“Your Highness, did you go see Miss Rachel?” Sykes called out.

“Yeah...”

Sykes was confused by Elliott’s lack of spirit and cocked his head, but he finished tending the horses and began to clean up.

“How was it? Has Miss Rachel reflected on her actions a little?” Sykes asked.

“No, um... Not at all. And from the sound of things, she won’t come out of there even if she does reflect on things.”

“Huh?”

As Sykes struggled to process what Elliott had just told him, George came rushing over from the palace.

“Oh, thank goodness, I found you, Your Highness!”

“George,” the prince muttered.

“Hey, George,” Sykes greeted. “What’s up?”

George’s face looked awful. At first they thought he was just winded from running over, but that wasn’t it.

“Did something happen?” Elliott asked, feverishly swinging his head up and down like a woodpecker.

“In your office...Your Highness...there’s someone complaining...that they can’t accept my sister’s...imprisonment...” George said between wheezing breaths before finally surrendering to a coughing fit. Sykes rubbed his back as he did.

“Oh. That again?” Elliott sighed. Before now, a number of nobles and courtiers who had spine but lacked reason had come to shout at Elliott about his condemnation of Rachel. “Very well. I’ll go talk them down personally. Let’s go.”

Just as Elliott geared up to head to the office, George cleared his throat.

“The ladies responsible for my sister’s education, led by Duchess Somerset, forced their way into the office like a pack of bulldogs. They kept barking at me with those shrill voices, and I had no idea what to do!”

Elliott stopped and did a one-eighty. He clapped both Sykes and George on the back and said, “Okay, how about we go for a long ride for a change of pace!”

“Huh?! Um, what about the ladies who’ve come to complain?” George asked.

“We’re going now?!” Sykes questioned. “The sun’s about to set!”

“What do I care? Let’s forget our worries and ride!” Elliott exclaimed enthusiastically. “Don’t worry. Once the sun sets, we can spend the night at the royal villa outside the city!”

Elliott dragged his two associates along on a ride through the countryside beneath a reddening sun.

“Your Highness, if we run, they’ll just come back later,” George cautioned.

“I’m not running! I simply, by pure chance, by truly genuine coincidence, find myself compelled to go for a ride and not think about anything!”

10: The Young Lady’s Art Explodes

Moonlight shone through the darkness, casting a narrow outline of the window on the floor. It seemed bright enough to read by, yet just next to it, it was so dark that you couldn’t tell if anything was there.

In the silent space next to that pool of radiance, Rachel, who’d sunk into the cushions, stirred and then sat up.

“Ungh... Did I sleep too much during the day, perhaps?”

Her mind was too alert now to fall asleep. No one was here to chastise her for it, so she always ended up napping more than she really should. Perhaps she was a little too elated to be living on her own.

Giving up on sleep, Rachel stood. The moon was just visible through the barred window.

“What a beautiful moon. Is it full tonight?”

As she stared at the shining white circle in the sky, Rachel thought of a better idea than getting under the covers again. She piled and arranged some of the wooden boxes to form stairs under the window.

“Here we go.”

Pulling an expensive-looking carrying case out of her luggage, she began to ascend the wooden boxes. She sat down at the top and brought her face close to the window to enjoy the night breeze.

“There’s something sentimental about serenading the moon.”

Rachel took her instrument from its case, wiped the mouthpiece, and brought it to her lips with a dreamy expression on her face.

A jaunty tune played beneath a star-streaked sky.

Elliott was wearing just a nightgown over his pajamas. The dirt on his slippers made it clear he’d rushed straight from his bedroom to the dungeon.

Glaring at Rachel with all the irritation he could muster, Elliott asked, “Rachel, is there anything you’d like to say to me?”

On the other side of the bars, Rachel, still holding her instrument, held the front of her night gown closed as she shyly glanced at the prince.

“Your Highness, sneaking into a young maiden’s bedchambers late at night like this... It’s unbecoming of you, you know?”

A moment or two passed in silence. Then Elliott kicked the iron bars with his slippered foot.

“That’s not it! There’s something you ought to say! Something else! Like, ‘I’m sorry for bothering you!’ Don’t go toot-toot-tooting your horn in the middle of the night!”

“Your Highness...this is a trumpet. I know they’re both brass instruments, but a horn is different.”

“I know that! I don’t care, okay?!” Elliott retorted. “So you’re telling me the reason you raised such a racket in the middle of the night is that you saw the moon and got all sentimental?!”

“Yes.”

“And you chose to play ‘Sing, Sing, Sing,’ and ‘Little Brown Jug’?! What kind of sentiment is that?!”

“Oh, my, you’re more cultured than I’d have thought, Your Highness.”

“Don’t mock me! Now, let me make this clear. If there’s a repeat performance of this sort, I’ll bring the knights in to make a pincushion of your sorry hide!”

“Come now. For appearance’s sake, you ought to threaten to do that yourself.”

After Elliott had stormed off in rage, Rachel smiled, pleased with herself. She returned the trumpet to its case.

“I gave it fifty-fifty odds if the sound would reach him, but the wind was on my side, so it was worth giving it a shot.”

Lightly patting down the cushions of her sofa that could have ruined a sage, she lay down with a look of satisfaction on her face.

“Aah... I think I’ll be able to sleep well tonight because of that splendid display of His Highness howling impotently.”

As she stared vacantly at the wall after breakfast, Rachel suddenly recalled she’d brought paint with her.

“Oh, that’s right. I wanted to do something about these dreary walls.”

Because of her performance the night before, Rachel was in an artsy mood. She set about at once searching for the box with the painting supplies. She laid some of the newspaper that had been used for packing on the ground and pried open a well-shaken paint can. She painted a base coat of white on the stone wall and then cocked her head in thought.

“Hmm... It would be a waste to paint something like wallpaper, wouldn’t it?”

At first, Rachel had intended to paint the whole thing peppermint green, a color she was fond of, and then add little detailed flowers all over, but as she looked at the blank wall before her, she felt she’d be missing an opportunity.

“Okay, it’s time to challenge myself to paint a masterpiece!”

Inspiration had struck. If she couldn’t go outside, perhaps a picturesque landscape would be good.

Elliott was resting his elbow on his desk as he scowled at a pile of papers when George hesitantly inquired, “Is something the matter, Your Highness? Have you not slept? There are bags under your eyes.”

“Yeah...” Elliott hung his head, resting his forehead on the back of his hand. His face looked rather haggard. “Damn that Rachel! I had that accursed melody of hers stuck in my head and couldn’t get a wink of sleep.”

“Uh, what?” George asked.

“No, never mind...”

Elliott somehow managed to sit up straight just as Sykes entered and knocked.

“Sykes... You knock before entering.”

“Oh, right.”

Sykes was about to leave so he could do it over again properly, but an irritated Elliott stopped him.

“Practice your manners at home! You came here for a reason, didn’t you?!”

“Right, right. Well, you see, we’ve had complaints about a bizarre stench coming from the dungeon.”

Elliott and George looked at each other.

“Don’t tell me your sister is already a rotting corpse?” Elliott said in surprise.

“That’s just your wishful thinking, Your Highness,” George responded. “You met her last night, didn’t you? She wouldn’t start stinking just half a day later.”

“Oh, no, it’s not that sort of rotten smell. It’s more of an intense acrid one, they said,” Sykes explained.

Elliott could only gape in confusion.

When the three of them arrived at the dungeon, their jaws dropped.

“Y-You... Wh-What is this?” Elliott stammered.

The walls had been transformed. What had been a plain stone wall until yesterday was now a flowering prairie and a magnificent ravine with white peaks in the background, covered in perpetual snow. The use of one-point perspective and the shading gave the landscape a three-dimensional, photorealistic feel that made them all gulp.

And yet...

“This is supposed to be a dungeon,” Elliott murmured.

What good is a painting like this down here?

The unusual stench from the dungeon was that of paint. Rachel had been painting all day, so its chemical smell had filled the entire basement level.

“Man, it stinks down here. Doesn’t the smell bother you?” Sykes asked.

Rachel, who was putting the finishing touches on her field of flowers, turned around and removed her mask. “It was really something at first, but after working for half a day, your senses get inured and you don’t even notice.”

“You didn’t get sick of it right away?”

“Once I got started, I stopped caring.” Having finished her work, Rachel stepped back as far as she could to get a good look at the result. “Hold on...”

“What?” Sykes asked.

Cocking her head to the side, she wondered, “Wasn’t there a painting like this in my bedroom?”

“Notice that sooner!”

As George watched Rachel and Sykes banter back and forth across the iron bars, it dawned on him that the other person in the room was being awfully quiet.

“Huh? Your Highness?” George prodded.

When he turned to look, what did George see?

“Your Highness?!”

Elliott collapsed on his back, in a stupor.

“Your Highness!!!”

George and Sykes hurriedly helped him into a sitting position, but Elliott’s eyes were rolled all the way back into his head.

“The sleep deprivation followed by this stench must’ve gotten to him,” Sykes noted.

“Who cares what did it?! Hurry and get him outside!” George shouted.

As the men hurriedly rushed out of the room, Rachel concluded, “I managed to mess with His Highness, so I suppose this will do.”

11: The Young Lady Snipes Her Dinner

As Prince Elliott walked down the hallway, he noticed a young man striding through the trees in the rear gardens toward the inner gate. There were a number of men about, but this one was dressed unlike any of the courtiers.

“Hey, isn’t he strange?” Elliott asked. “He doesn’t look like one of the palace servants.”

Sykes looked at the man, who was almost at the inner gate now. “Looks like an employee from one of the restaurants downtown,” Sykes suggested.

“What would someone of that ilk be doing at the castle?” George asked in exasperation.

There was something about Sykes’s odd suggestion that Elliott couldn’t just laugh off. “What is it? Something feels off about this... Ah?!”

Elliott thought for a moment...then took off running as he realized what that something was.

“We’re going to the dungeon!” Elliott yelled behind him.

“Huh? What’s wrong, Your Highness?!”

George and Sykes hurriedly chased after him.

Elliott pointed to the iron door that was now in sight up ahead of them. “Think of the direction he came from! Rachel must be involved with this!”

“Ah!” Sykes gasped.

When the three of them arrived, out of breath, at the dungeon, their jaws hit the floor.

“You can look all you like, but I’m not giving you any...” Rachel insisted. She was sitting in front of a steaming plate, knife and fork in hand. The dish was clearly far too advanced for her to have made on her own in the dungeon. The delicious aroma of freshly cooked food hung in the room.

“Y-You! What is that?!” the prince demanded in a shrill voice.

Rachel looked down at the table. “What is it? Your Highness, I’m sure you must have eaten all these things yourself. Kidney pie, squab fried with herbs, pumpkin potage, and mint jelly. It’s all very common fare.”

“I wasn’t asking about the menu! What are you doing with food prepared outside?!”

Rachel, who had ignored Elliott and began eating, swallowed a mouthful of squab before asking, “Is there some problem?”

“Of course there’s a problem! I said I wouldn’t be giving you any food!”

“Oh, yes. Would that be the time your legs gave out and Lord Sykes had to push your sorry behind out of here?”

“Urgh...”

Daintily wiping her mouth with a napkin, Rachel tilted her wine glass and took a sip. “That’s true. You did tell me you wouldn’t be giving me any food, and that I could go ahead and starve, yes.”

“Yeah!” Elliott crowed.

“But that was a matter of you not giving me any, correct?”

“Huh?”

Rachel picked up her knife and began cutting the pie into slices. “I was informed I would not be receiving any prison food, but you never said I wouldn’t be allowed to order meals out of my own pocket.”

“Wha—?! D-Don’t be ridiculous! I’ve never heard of a prisoner ordering food from outside before!”

“Do tell me, what act of what law prohibits a prisoner from ordering food? What article, and what clause?”

“I-I don’t know! But this is common sense!”

“You broke an engagement endorsed by the king using the shaky premise that you did. Are you really one to talk of common sense, Your Highness?”

Elliott was speechless.

“And what kind of common sense is it to imprison a person and then not give them food, pray tell?”

“Urgh. Do you want me to have you charged with lèse-majesté and executed for those statements?”

“You’d first have to drag me out of here and to the execution site for that, now wouldn’t you?”

“Urgh...”

Rachel continued to elegantly enjoy her lunch as the prince groaned, unable to muster any further response.

“Grr, he forbade me from ordering any more food.”

The prince had given the prison guard orders not to allow any workers to come through. Delivery men were to be turned away at the door.

As someone who enjoyed looking for loopholes in the law, it seemed unfair to Rachel that he had changed the rules on her, but... Well, it was what it was.

“His Highness is as inept as ever. And so is my stupid brother. You would think that if he was going to forbid me from ordering in food, he would first make me cough up the details of how I was contacting the outside.”

That would be the normal logic. But Elliott just couldn’t get there. Still...

“A freshly cooked meal just can’t be beat. I’d like to have fresh meat again,” Rachel said, thinking back to the meal she’d just had delivered.

“Oh, this won’t do. I can’t just go back to canned goods without something to bridge the gap.”

She wasn’t in a position to demand such luxuries, but the impact of eating a fresh meal had been great. She wanted to have a little more.

Suddenly, she had a flash of inspiration.

“Oh, I know. One of the fundamentals of the slow life is living off the land. Right?”

Rachel looked toward the narrow barred window that let in fresh air.

In the rear gardens, which were not very well maintained, there was an elderly man in a luxurious outfit taking a walk. Beside him was a younger man who appeared to be in his thirties or early forties.

“Still, I don’t know what to do about Elliott,” said the older man. “To think he would cause an incident like this while Their Majesties are away for an extended period.”

“While you were entrusted with taking care of the palace, you do need to seek permission before acting on an incident caused by the prince himself,” replied the younger man.

Grand Duke Vivaldi, the royal advisor and the king’s uncle, and Marquess August, the prime minister, were consulting about current matters of concern—or really, just griping to each other—in a secluded place.

Prime Minister August looked around. “Still, Your Grace, you’ve chosen an unusual place for our walk.”

The rear gardens had been left untended, and while they were spacious, they were not the kind of carefully sculpted gardens that nobles liked to see.

The rotund and good-natured grand duke ducked his head and smiled like he’d been caught in some mischief.

“Ha ha ha ha. This place has its own charms, different from those of a more well-kept garden.” The grand duke spread the long grass with his hands and peered quietly off into the distance. “Look, Prime Minister. Being closer to nature than the front gardens, this place attracts far more wildfowl. Look, my recent favorite is the duck that just landed next to the pond.”

The prime minister, who was likewise hiding in the grass, was impressed. “Oh-ho! He is quite big, isn’t he? Lovely plumage too.”

“Yes. I call him Enrique, and he’s the dearest thing to me.”

Just as the grand duke began talking about his favorite bird...

Thock!

“Squaaaaaawk!”

“What was that?!”

As the two men were watching him, Enrique evidently noticed something and tried to take off, but he let out a loud squawk and fell to the ground. As the birds flew away in utter panic, the men rushed to the side of the pond to see...

Slide.

Slide.

Enrique spasmed about on death’s door as he slowly traveled in a direction he couldn’t have moved on his own. On closer inspection, Enrique had taken a barbed bolt through his chest, and someone was reeling him in using a thin string attached to the end of it.

The grand duke and prime minister followed the long string and reached the decrepit wall of a nearby building. There was a long, hard-to-see slit maybe ten centimeters off the ground, and they arrived at it just as Enrique was pulled inside. Neither said a word.

As they looked at each other in silence, the jubilant voice of a young woman celebrating came from the hole.

“Wow, I’ve landed myself quite the catch! Great! Just great! Now this will be something worth eating!”

Having more or less guessed who she was by her voice, the prime minister crouched down and asked, “Excuse me, if you don’t mind, could you tell us what exactly you’re doing?”

“Who? Me?”

The girl hesitated a moment, then explained herself.

As Elliott and his associates walked down the hall, his great uncle came running along, bawling like a child. The prime minister chased close behind, trying to console him.

“Hm?” Elliott stopped to watch, unsure of what he was witnessing.

The grand duke noticed him and grabbed him by the lapels, still crying. “Elliott, you little wretch!”

“Huh? Me? What’d I do?!”

“It...it’s your fault...”

“What?! Great uncle, what’d, excuse me, what did I do?!”

It would have been easy to break free of the unhealthy old man’s grasp, but he couldn’t mistreat the highest ranking royal while the king and queen were away. Sykes and George couldn’t lay a hand on the uncle of the king either, and they looked at one another as if asking what to do.

“Urrrgh... It’s your fault that Enrique...that Enrique’s...”

“E-En— Who?!”

“Miss Rachel has eaten Enrique!!!”

“Racheeeel!!!”

By the time Elliott rushed to the dungeon, the prison guard was sitting by the entrance, looking like he had no idea what to do. He quickly rose to his feet, smoke rising next to him.

“Hey! What is the meaning of this?!” Elliott demanded.

“Well...” The guard looked pitifully at the smoke billowing out of the door. “The young lady’s started a campfire.”

“A campfire?! Inside the dungeon?!”

“She’s adjusted the level of the flames so she won’t die of asphyxiation.”

“I don’t care about that!” Elliott screamed. “Starting a campfire in the dungeon?! What is she thinking?!”

The prison guard scratched his head. “She got her hands on some fresh duck and wanted to barbecue it.”

“Damn her!”

When Elliott reached the cell bars, he could see the smoke gathering near the ceiling, escaping through the door that led to the stairs, so it wasn’t actually that smoky in the basement itself. Inside the cell, the stone tile floor had made a reappearance, and Rachel had started a small campfire on it by breaking down some empty boxes to use as firewood. There was an iron plate over the fire and meat sizzling on top of it. Sykes, who couldn’t read the situation, was sniffing the air hungrily.

Ignoring the many things that he’d have liked to call out, Elliott leveled a finger at Rachel—who was flipping the meat with a serious look on her face—and said, “Rachel! No campfires, and no barbecues in the dungeon!”

Without so much as looking at him, Rachel briefly replied, “There’s no such rule.”

“Because it’s obvious! In what world would anyone have a campfire in a dungeon?!” Elliott shouted, stamping his feet angrily.

Finding a moment to look away from the meat, Rachel glanced at him and said, “Well. You have to evaluate these things on a case-by-case basis. Might I suggest that anyone starving and denied food would do the same?”

“I’ve never heard of it happening anywhere.”

“Well, it is rare for someone to have a crossbow and bolts inside a prison.”

“In other words, only you! Only you would do a thing like this!” With a look of great displeasure, Elliott lowered his volume and said, “I’m led to believe that you told my great uncle that I haven’t been feeding you.”

“Yes, I do believe I did,” Rachel replied, happily popping a piece of salted duck meat into her mouth.

Pointing at her, Elliott said, “If I give you food, you’ll stop this nonsense, then!”

That’s the largest concession I can make!

Elliott was infuriated that he couldn’t bend this nasty woman to his will, not even in the slightest. But after all his great uncle’s hysterical shouting, he decided he was going to have to break the siege to prevent this from happening again—as much as it galled him.

Damn you, Rachel. You can say what you like for now. But when father returns, I’ll indict you for all your crimes, including all the selfish drivel you just spewed.

Elliott was starting to think he’d be okay with having Rachel executed at this point. What he didn’t know was that she hadn’t even gotten serious yet.

At first, Elliott had just wanted to force Rachel into a corner and make her submit to him, but when she started doing as she pleased, all the damage ended up being on his side, to his mental well-being in particular.

I’m going to have to settle with isolating her for now. If it keeps her quiet, some old bread is a small price to pay.

Prince Elliott had made a generous proposal—as much as it galled him. But after finishing her delicious meal, Rachel, who didn’t care how he felt, turned to him and said, “Food from you, Your Highness? Seeing as I have no way of knowing what you might put in it, I won’t be needing any.”