The Sweetest Bribe

Siena left the salon feeling quite satisfied with her shopping. She had found a proper suit, picked out the most valuable piece from this season's new jewels to have set, and earned herself a generous dose of envy from the ladies along the way.

Before her carriage could even arrive, she slipped out of the salon to escape the stares, and her gaze drifted toward the street.

It was a road she had walked countless times, familiar under her feet. The street where she had wandered through small shops of trinkets and precious metals, holding Hassar's hand, and at times dragging Claude along like her own personal servant.

"Hm."

Her eyes rolled all the way to the mouth of an alley across the road, and before she knew it, her feet were carrying her forward.

"Madam, the carriage will be here any—"

"I'll be right back. Tell them to wait."

The doorman, startled by her sudden behavior, hurriedly tried to stop her, but Siena was already crossing the street. A sweet scent wafted out from the alley.

So it's still here.

A light hum escaped her lips as she followed the smell with quick, soft steps.

Back in Gaverum, she'd had an escort shadowing her every move — she hadn't been able to eat so much as a single bite of street food. And he knew perfectly well how much she loved it.

"You weren't actually planning to eat that here, were you?"

"I was going to eat it. Why?"

"Do you have any idea what goes into it?"

The stall owner's face and Siena's froze in equal bewilderment.

What goes into it. It's a donut — flour, oil, and sugar. What else would go into a donut?

Flustered, Siena forced an awkward curl at the corner of her mouth.

"...My apologies. Forget his. Just one for me, please."

"I can't allow that. If you truly wish to eat one, I'll have a fresh one made for you separately."

"You, make one? No — hey!"

Claude seized her shoulder and urged her along as he shielded her from the oncoming crowd, and just like that, Siena was parted from her donut forever.

The whole time he'd been dragging her around, she'd snapped at him — what exactly was she supposed to be looking at like this? — and the only answer she ever got was that if she was finished sightseeing, she should return to the hotel.

"God, that was so infuriating."

Stepping out of the dark alley, Siena shaded her face from the sunlight with a hand and scowled.

He really was such a sweet boy when we were little.

Even though her mother had thrown up her hands in horror at the very idea, Siena had once pushed quite hard for Claude as a candidate for her betrothed.

Of course, that was before she learned of the rift between the imperial family and the Ducal House of Marcel.

"Welcome, miss! Care for one?"

Siena, now standing squarely before the stall, drew in a deep breath.

The smell alone made her mouth water.

Donuts, fresh out of the oil and rolled in a thick coat of sugar — her favorite snack in the whole world.

"One, please."

The owner, accepting a few coins, wrapped a donut in thick paper and handed it over with a friendly face.

These days even noble daughters bought food from street stalls without a second thought, so there was nothing the least bit strange about the sight.

Taking the donut, sugar drifting down in soft flakes, Siena bit into it.

"Mm."

Soft, sweet, and warm. The way it dissolved flakily on her tongue wrung a smile out of her without her even trying.

Her nerves, wound tight over such a trivial indulgence, went slack at last.

She had been utterly exhausted after the unexpected battle of wills at the salon. She'd only come out to spend money without thinking.

Just picked the wrong day, I suppose.

She had taken another bite of the donut and was chewing, turning her body idly to the side—

"Huh?"

A wall had planted itself in front of her.

Siena swallowed what was in her mouth and slowly lifted her head.

It was Claude Marcel.

How long had he been standing there? He was looking down at her from barely an arm's length away.

Hands clasped behind his back, dressed exactly as she'd seen him at the salon.

As she stared up at him blankly, the half-eaten donut caught the edge of her vision.

Her mind snapped into focus. She gulped down the mouthful in a hurry and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

Oblivious, the sugar kept raining down.

That hint of pathetic settled into his eyes again. The very same expression he'd worn in the corridor of the Gaverum Hotel.

"And where, exactly, might you have been off to."

"You — what are you? Were you following me?"

Covering her mouth with her hand, Siena whipped her head around and raised her voice.

"Is there anything here that counts as tailing you? You crossed a single alley."

"I'm asking whether you followed me!"

At that, something in his gaze shifted, just slightly.

"Why does a lady waiting for her carriage suddenly bolt into an alley?"

"Bolt? Why would I bolt?"

"Your ankles were on full display beneath your skirts."

Heat flooded her face at once.

"You—!"

Then, abruptly, she remembered where they were. Arguing with this man in the middle of a public thoroughfare, of all places.

"I'd just... appreciate it if you went away quietly."

Gritting her teeth, Siena turned her back on him. The stall owner was watching them with a worried look, so she shook her head as if to say it was nothing — and Claude cut in from beside her without warning.

"Two more, please. And an envelope, if you would."

The owner, greeting him with a bright face, handed over a paper envelope with two piping-hot donuts inside.

"Put the rest of yours in here."

"...In yours?"

"It's yours now. Hurry and put it in."

At his brusque tone, she found herself obeying before she could think. When Siena dropped the half-eaten donut into the envelope, Claude folded the top shut with neat precision.

"The carriage is waiting. Let's go."

Nudged along by his urging, Siena took a step before she realized it, her expression sour.

Why am I doing what he says?

The envelope held in his hand struck her as inexplicably irritating. Walking side by side until they were deep inside the alley, she finally spoke up.

"What is this, exactly? Bribery with donuts, is it?"

At her jab, a dry laugh escaped him.

"You can be bought that cheaply?"

"Well, it'd take at least the Marcel ducal funding to sway me, wouldn't it?"

Claude didn't rise to the joke. Siena strode a step ahead of his slowing pace and turned back toward him.

"Oh, that's right — you already received it, didn't you? Making a tremendous spectacle of things, announcing that declaration of patronage the very day of the vote."

"It was a favorable assessment of the venture's worth."

"Oh, really."

Her footsteps stopped dead. Claude halted behind her. A strange silence settled between them.

Reading his expression, her eyes narrowed to slits.

"Then why did it all come out of your personal coffers?"

"...When exactly did you dig into that?"

"There was nothing to dig. It's so blatant it's almost embarrassing."

Siena shrugged.

"Normally I wouldn't spare the Marcel estate so much as a glance, but this time it kept nagging at me. Strange, isn't it? How did you win the old duke over, anyway?"

Tilting her chin up, she looked him dead in the eye.

"What on earth possessed you to empty out your own inheritance to back me?"

Siena was in a more generous mood than usual.

It might have been the sugar-laden donut. Or perhaps the paper envelope he'd so readily added two more to.

And that was precisely why she could ask about the day he'd plunged her heart into a mire — smiling, and even kindly.

His lowered black eyes traced over her, slow and deliberate. Once at the eyes glinting in the sunlight, once at the crumbs still clinging to the corner of her mouth.

In the span of that gaze touching her and falling away, his expression softened by some imperceptible degree.

"It was a sound investment."

"Nice save."

"The funding will pose no difficulty. Get in. The coachman is waiting."

At his words she glanced out of the alley, and there was the familiar coachman, glancing about anxiously.

"Go on ahead."

Stepping back half a pace, he pressed the paper envelope into her hand.

In the brief moment of the handoff, his thick-knuckled fingers closed over the back of her hand. Nothing like the careless touch from the train.

Warm, and firm.

The hand that had swallowed the back of hers whole relaxed its fingers in the shape of the envelope, letting her grip it. Their joined fingers grazed her skin as they fell away.

Siena took the envelope and reacted half a beat too late.

"I'll be going separately."

The voice at her ear was far too close.

By the time she flinched, shrank back, and lifted her head, he had already vanished.

Left alone in the alley, Siena stared at the spot where he'd disappeared, wearing an odd expression.

She hadn't expected him to go on ahead. They had always returned together.

And somehow, the envelope he'd pressed into her hand felt heavy.