Enemies on a Narrow Bridge

I worked through the situation as I cut across the imperial palace. There's only one reason Damon would make a move like this. Sasha, the imperial princess who had miraculously returned not long ago. A strong favorite had just entered the race he had been running alone, unopposed, and no doubt he had decided he needed the name of House Belois now.

The problem was that keeping my relationship with Damon going had stopped being merely unnecessary for me. No, "unnecessary" was too generous a word; the longer it lasted, the more it cost me. This much alone proves it. For the past three days, the front page of TroubleLove had featured the three of us as if by standing appointment. Me, him, and the other him. I trust no one needs an explanation of who's who. Today's headline alone said as much.

Left alone, this would have the rag running a piece by next week about the two of them dueling over me. But that was gossip for you. It took a speck of nothing, inflated it to thiiis size, printed it, and left you with a take-it-or-leave-it shrug.

Before any of that, I have to end things with him first. Noah seemed to think the trouble was that I had succeeded to the dukedom while keeping Damon as my lover, but my view ran a little different. Father had begun siphoning Damon's embezzled crown funds five years ago. Whether I broke with Damon tomorrow or not, I was already tangled with him past any hope of coming clean.

And if the crown funds ever surfaced now, people would insist, breakup or no breakup, that I had schemed my way to Damon's side from the very beginning. Well, in a sense, they wouldn't be wrong. So there was exactly one reason to sort out my relationship with Damon: I had to finish this absurd love triangle before society hammered it down as official fact. Before some lady or other trilled behind her fan and asked, "They say the Duke of Belois is holding a flower in each hand. Is it true?"

I had entered the palace on that single resolve alone, and before long, I regretted it. I should never have gotten out of bed. Should have stayed lying right where I was. Should have let every word of Noah's go in one ear and out the other. Should never have opened that damned invitation Damon sent. Then none of this would have happened! How does anyone collide that precisely, as if he'd been standing there waiting for me!

I hadn't been given so much as a moment to brace myself. The instant I rounded the corner, there he was, and something about him looked rumpled. As if he'd ridden in straight from horseback, Rihard stood at the far end of the corridor, hair lightly tousled as though the wind had only just let go of it.

The imperial palace had long served as a meeting ground for men and women alike; everyone knew that. Even so, this was pushing it. Why? Because this was the Central Hall, and the place crawled with nobles who, unable to bear their own boredom, prowled every corner hunting for gossip. To that crowd, he and I were plainly a pair of succulent cuts of meat.

Ah. I could feel it: the glances flashing from every direction, the rustle of fans snapping open one after another, the rumors spreading on a flick of the eyes and a tilt of the chin. They were thrilled, every last one of them, yet not a single soul dared speak first. Watching from the safety of the crowd was one thing; stepping out in front of it was apparently more than anyone cared to risk. A mercy. If things stayed like this, we might yet slip past quietly...

"Is this what they call it, then? Enemies meeting on a narrow bridge?"

At that moment, a familiar voice broke the silence and rang down the corridor. My head turned toward the sound at once, and I found its owner: Count Kindel's daughter. A woman who truly loved Damon and meant to become his crown princess, and who therefore loathed me with a passion. I hadn't expected to find her here.

Under my stare, Natalie didn't so much as look away; if anything, she lifted her chin higher. Judging by the twist at the corner of her mouth, she was savoring every inch of this. How nice for you that someone's having fun, Natalie. Care to run your mouth with the facts straight? He isn't my enemy. He's my ex.

Natalie had broken the ice, and emboldened by it, a few of the ladies began to whisper.

"Goodness, I do believe sparks are about to fly between those two again. Anyone care to wager with me?"

Enough betting on other people's love lives. Society was hardly a gambling den, so why did they work themselves into a lather over placing wagers every single time?

"I'll put my money on Her Highness the Princess. It's romantic, isn't it? The knight who rescued her from the monsters, and the princess! It's straight out of a fairy tale!"

With whom, exactly? Bring me that fairy tale, why don't you? I'll be tearing it to shreds. Care to fetch it, Lady Milton? Lady Milton, whose eyes had met mine, gave a strained smile and hid behind her fan. And yet not one of them stirred from her spot, which made it clear they all found this situation absolutely riveting. Eyes that were either dying of amusement or shining with anticipation. What is this, exactly? Don't tell me they expected me to film a tearjerker reunion scene with Rihard right here. We just ran into each other walking down a corridor, that's all!

Gritting my teeth inwardly, I looked at the man standing frozen across from me, just as I was. I had no choice; there was nowhere else for my eyes to go. And the impression I took from finally meeting Rihard's gaze was a spare one. Looks like he's had new clothes made in the past few days. Ah. So there was nothing left of the man I remembered.

The worn shirts of ten years ago were gone, and so was the rough leather the North was known for. In their place he wore a shirt that had plainly been cut for him alone, a cravat, and a jacket falling in clean lines along his shoulders. Dressed as if lifted straight from the empire's latest fashions, Rihard somehow gave off an oddly ascetic air.

A well-honed frame, and fine clothes fitted to it perfectly. All of it so foreign that I stumbled half a step back before I knew I had moved, and a sharp edge flashed in the red eyes that had been watching me in silence. Wh-what did I even do? For reasons I couldn't name, I found myself edging forward again, exactly the distance I had retreated while minding his mood. Rihard's expression settled back into indifference, as though it had never stirred at all.

Before I could even work out what was happening, the noblewomen resumed their whispering.

"Either way, that commoner knight from back then has certainly made good."

"Oh dear, 'commoner'? My lady, how long ago is your news? He is Count Winston now. The northern lands he holds alone are said to be enormous! And still unmarried, I hear. I'm already dying to know who will lay claim to that man!"

They had it right. Rihard had earned every last thing with his own two hands: his title, his lands, down to the very name of Winston. With nothing to boast of but the name Belois, I felt a flash of burning shame, all the more because even that had landed in my hands by sheer accident of my father's death. I wanted to turn and run on the spot, to shove my face into the nearest mouse hole and shut it all out. After the way I had treated you, after all that cruelty, this was all I had to show for it. My face went up in flames.

But this was no time to be ruled by emotion. I closed a single step of the distance and spoke first. Intrigued stares pressed in from every side; if I meant to leave them nothing to work with, this had to end as nothing more than a light greeting between two people who hadn't met in years.

"Count Winston. It's been a while."

"Have you been well?"

As if we had parted decently, on decent terms, and settled into a decently distant civility. So play along, Rihard. You don't want to be part of the spectacle any more than I do. I went on, packing all of that into my eyes and signaling for all I was worth.

"I should have been the one to reach out first. If the chance presents itself, will you join me for a cup of tea sometime? You did me quite a kindness recently, and it has been weighing on me that I never properly thanked you."

Say something, anything. I know you can't stand me. Just meet me halfway, that's all I ask.

"Is that a promise you actually intend to keep, Duke of Belois?"

Not that. An icy silence coiled through the corridor. I had no idea when I had supposedly failed to keep a promise, but this direction boded nothing good.

"...Keep an eye on our surroundings."

I stepped in close and pressed his arm down. Contrary to my expectations, Rihard bent to meet me, and the sudden nearness made me falter. His eyes narrowed at the hesitation.

"What? Don't you have something to say?"

"No. Um..."

"Then speak, Duke of Belois."

His hair tickled my forehead. Close. Far, far too close. My mind had gone white-blank, and when no words came, his eyes narrowed further. He wavered for a heartbeat, then his lips parted again.

"Bella?"

The moment that voice, lower now than memory allowed, spoke my pet name, my throat went bone-dry.

"Those two aren't... don't tell me they're kissing right now?"

And it was Natalie's voice that snapped me back to my senses.