Step One: Mending Relations

Maeve sat quietly before the academy’s main gates, waiting for the afternoon classes to end.

The bell rang, and students in uniform poured out in a noisy rush. They clustered together, chatting as they headed beyond the gates, the sight of them warm and familiar.

“Did you see His Highness the Crown Prince today? He’s so handsome! What am I supposed to do!”

“And the way he speaks—how does he do it? He’s almost of age already, you know?”

“He felt so mature, right?”

Maeve, half-listening to the passing students, found herself smiling without meaning to and lowered her head.

In name, the Crown Prince was also a student of the Imperial Academy and thus had to attend classes every few months.

So today was one of His Highness’s class days.

Watching the children’s retreating backs, Maeve suddenly realized she had been enjoying this lively atmosphere.

The clear sky, the flower petals swaying in the breeze, even the children chattering noisily—none of it felt real. These were all things Maeve had lost for a time and believed she would never reclaim for the rest of her life.

“This kind of lively atmosphere still feels strange.”

The long war had endlessly drained the empire’s strength and its people. In her own school days Maeve had often watched classmates drop out as their families fell into ruin. She was far more accustomed to people who lived on edge, never knowing when or where news of a death might arrive.

The past six years of tightening belts to recover from the war’s damage had been hell for everyone except a handful of beneficiaries, commoner and noble alike.

Yet seeing children laugh and chatter so brightly made it clear that the empire’s situation was improving. Maeve allowed a faint smile to touch her lips.

She was grateful that the chance to set everything right had come to her. To protect this peace, she thought, she would do anything. She clenched her hands so tightly her nails dug into her palms.

If His Highness the Crown Prince ascends the throne…

Even at his young age the Crown Prince had held convictions firm enough to surprise her, his former tutor.

Whether it was because his heart was soft by nature or because he had grown sick of his father’s tyranny, she could not say, but he understood with perfect clarity how many sacrifices the war demanded.

That was why Maeve never doubted that once the Crown Prince took the throne, things would improve.

At least until the rebellion.

Maeve’s face hardened as she pictured the Duke of Cardenas.

To protect this peace she had to stop the rebellion no matter what.

She took out the notebook she had recently begun keeping. Directly beneath the words “Methods to Prevent the Duke’s Rebellion” she added a single line.

Maeve tapped her cheek with the pen as she thought. After adding a few more lines she spotted a black-haired figure in the distance, textbook dangling loosely from his hand. She tucked the notebook away, rose without hesitation, and walked toward him.

“Young Master,”

Maeve called, waving from the academy entrance as she greeted Aern. The boy, who had been walking with his eyes fixed on the ground, looked up irritably at the shoes that refused to move out of his path. His gaze brushed her face and immediately slid away.

He turned his head sharply aside, as if he had no desire to deal with her at all. The expression was less startled than sulky.

She had expected something of the sort after he had been caught sniffling in front of her, yet the sight of how far they still had to go drew a sigh from her before she could stop it.

“Do you remember me?”

“⋯⋯Is blocking people’s way your new hobby or something?”

He tried to sidestep, only to be caught by Maeve, and glared at her with a voice thick with irritation. She bent her knees slightly so their eyes could meet and spoke carefully.

“You remember me, yet you keep trying to avoid me. That’s why.”

“Do I have to care about that too?”

Aern recoiled as if horrified and snapped at her, eyes wide. What was she supposed to do with this cheeky little brat?

Maeve smiled as though she were looking at a thoroughly wary cat.

“Of course. You took my handkerchief and never returned it, so I came to find it myself.”

Aern, who had looked ready to shove her aside and bolt, froze mid-motion as if caught off guard.

He took another hesitant step back, mouth falling slightly open. He seemed to be searching his memory. When it came to him, the boy who had been mildly flustered rolled his eyes and spoke in a small voice.

“⋯⋯Was it expensive?”

Maeve blinked several times at the completely unexpected reply. The boy, already a little smaller than his peers and looking even younger for it, saying something like that made her feel like a shameless adult bullying a child.

When she covered her mouth and laughed at how amusing the question was, the boy’s face flushed as red as a beet.

“The handkerchief was only a joke. I gave it to you, so you needn’t return it. Today I actually came because His Grace the Duke asked me to fetch you.”

The boy who had looked put out by the joke froze as if he had forgotten how to breathe at her next words.

His face filled with doubt. His brows drew together and his lips jutted out—he was clearly suspicious of her. The thought Who do you think you are? was written all over his expression.

“Ah, I’ve been remiss with introductions.”

Maeve made a soft sound of realization. She had never properly introduced herself to him. She straightened, rose to her full height, and bowed her head before Aern.

“I am Maeve Evofil. I have been appointed as your temporary private tutor and will be teaching you.”

The boy who received the greeting looked somehow unconvinced.

“Du—⋯⋯”

He started to say “Duke” out of habit and stopped. After glancing around, he spoke again.

“⋯⋯He called for me? And you’re my new tutor?”

“Yes. Unfortunately for you, Young Master, that is the case.”

Maeve spoke as if it were nothing of consequence. The boy’s brows snapped together. Once again the look of pure disbelief was plain on his face.

She stepped aside to clear his path. There was no time to waste persuading Aern here. Maeve intended to show him the carriage the ducal house had sent and return to the estate.

“Let us return to the mansion for now.”

Recognizing the ducal crest carved on the carriage behind her, Aern trudged toward it.

When she sat opposite him the carriage set off smoothly. Maeve watched the streets sliding past the window and estimated their arrival time.

“Young Master, which part of all this surprised you so much?”

Having roughly judged the time, Maeve looked at the boy sitting across from her, pressing the nails of his left hand with his right. At the sound of her voice Aern’s head jerked up.

“Does it make you uncomfortable that I am your tutor?”

Aern stared at her in silence. His expression did not change. It was the face of someone who had not the slightest interest in who she was.

“Or was it that surprising that His Grace asked me to bring you?”

This time Aern’s shoulders jerked hard and he whipped his head toward the window. The hand that had paused began pressing his nails again.

No words were exchanged, yet Maeve read a transparent answer in the boy’s behavior and the corner of her mouth lifted lightly.

“When you show your unease with your entire body like that, Young Master, you only prove that I have struck the mark.”

When she spoke with a small smile Aern blinked, then lowered his head. Between the bowed head she could see his face dyed red.

“I thought you simply disliked me because you looked so unhappy. Even at the interview His Grace was given the wrong day for his visit.”

Maeve spoke gently, as if testing the waters and treating it as a minor matter.

Aern stared at her blankly. The expression was different from before. Bewilderment showed through his narrowed brows.

“⋯⋯What interview are you talking about? I never heard of any. And how would I know what day he was coming?”

Maeve’s smile deepened for an instant. She lifted the corners of her mouth more carefully to hide her astonishment.

Ah, so the lies started even there? She thought of the nanny and the butler.

The boy, seeing her smile, reviewed what he had just said. Once again he seemed to have revealed before this woman that his relationship with the Duke was poor; Aern bit his lip hard.

For a final verification Maeve asked him,

“Then you also never heard that Young Master Joshua invited you to a party?”

The furrow between Aern’s brows deepened further. Looking thoroughly displeased, he crossed his arms and pressed himself as far back into the seat as he could.

“What are you talking about now? Why would that bastard invite me?”

Watching the boy wear an expression of genuine disgust, Maeve felt her blood run cold.

Of course Young Master Joshua had never actually invited Aern, yet Maeve had clearly told the nanny to pass on the invitation.

This was neither simple indifference nor neglect. She could see it clearly now.

The nanny and the butler were deliberately cutting off information that should have reached Aern Cardenas, driving him into difficulty and isolating him.

Since every piece of information passed through the nanny, distorting the relationship between the Duke and the Young Master would not have been difficult either. Having reached that conclusion, Maeve twisted her skirt in her fist.

If she could cut out the rotten parts and take her place as the Young Master’s closest confidante, it would be the best possible scenario.