On the Same Side

"Today—"

The moment Carion opened his mouth, Rhea shushed him, dropping her voice to a whisper.

"Let's go somewhere else."

Penny's room was right next door, and the last thing she wanted was to wake her. Carion followed as she led the way.

This is my residence.

She carried herself as though she were the lady of the house. She had been like this from the day they first met. Beyond mere fearlessness, she moved through the world with the unshakable conviction that every action she took, every word she spoke, was the correct one.

He had always given people like that a wide berth.

They're usually con artists.

He was well aware of his own habit of shutting people out. Anyone who grated on him was never permitted close. Better that his world grow smaller than take a knife in the back. And of all the human types he despised, frauds ranked among the worst.

So why, then, did this woman not grate on him at all?

Her blonde hair, vivid even in the dark, swayed with a soft rustle — as though stirred by a breeze.

Wind?

Every window along the corridor was shut. While he watched her retreating figure as if spellbound, they had already stepped out into the inner courtyard.

Carion spoke in a low voice.

"If you wanted somewhere quiet, you chose poorly. Anything we say here will carry all the way into the residence."

"No one will hear our conversation."

Carion frowned.

"It's something I can do — the same way I was able to find you in the forest right away."

"…You can block sound?"

"Here, I can."

She could raise a wall of wind to keep their voices from carrying. To command the wind with that kind of precision, being outdoors was easier. He regarded her for a long moment, then his expression eased.

It was a ridiculous claim. She really did seem like a fraud. And yet he felt no urge to press her on it. For this moment, at least, he would let it pass — even if she were a con artist.

"Where were you trying to go at this hour?"

"Go where?"

"Weren't you about to leave?"

"Ah…"

She couldn't very well tell him that her spirit had alerted her someone was standing outside her door.

"I was going to call for Penny. Oh — Penny is my maid. It wasn't anything urgent. And you, Your Highness? What were you doing outside my door at this hour?"

Carion looked faintly awkward. He hesitated, then said,

"I came to apologize."

Rhea's eyes widened. Carion, his head slightly bowed, met her green gaze.

"There were circumstances beyond my control that led to the dinner being cancelled."

"Yes, I heard. The Governor of Poema paid a visit, didn't he? I understand. It's not as though a meeting with the Governor of Poema could possibly be more important than a dinner engagement."

"That's not what I'm apologizing for."

The look in Rhea's eyes wavered as she watched him.

"Last night…"

He couldn't seem to continue. Rhea, feeling oddly embarrassed, looked away.

"I… there are gaps in my memory. I know I made a serious mistake toward you, Princess. But how far I…"

Sweat beaded along Carion's back as he spoke. His mind had gone completely blank. He felt like a complete fool. This had never happened to him before.

When the silence stretched on and neither of them could find the next words, Rhea spoke carefully.

"What… do you remember?"

"…After we left the forest village…"

The reason Carion stopped was that he couldn't find the words to describe what had happened.

He doesn't remember.

Rhea misunderstood. She thought he barely recalled what had taken place in the bedroom last night. The knowledge that he didn't remember those raw, explicit events brought her relief — and, at the same time, a small pang of disappointment.

"Nothing happened beyond what Your Highness remembers. And it wasn't a serious mistake."

Thinking back on the state he'd been in last night, it made sense that he wouldn't remember. He had seemed barely in his right mind.

This time, it was Carion who misunderstood her.

Not a serious mistake?

A man and a woman had tumbled together in bed with nothing but a single thin layer of nightclothes between them, skin pressed to skin. The sensation of having run his hands over every inch of her still seemed to linger in his palms. It had been, without any possible excuse, a caress. Foreplay.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He was on the verge of raising his voice without meaning to. If that wasn't a serious mistake, just how liberal were the customs of Zephyros? Watching her smile and speak as though it were nothing — why was he the one whose insides were seething?

He let out a slow breath.

"I take responsibility for what I do. When we go up to the capital, let's begin with the engagement."

"…What?"

"I don't know how things are done in Zephyros, but in the Empire, if a member of the imperial family marries without an engagement, it becomes the subject of gossip."

"Wait. What is this, all of a sudden?"

"Didn't you say you wanted the position of imperial consort?"

"Of course I do. But what I wanted was a transaction. Not like this."

"Like this?"

"The way you're speaking — it's as if Your Highness is taking responsibility for me."

"Something requiring responsibility has arisen, so I'm taking it."

"Why would you take responsibility for me? Our marriage is a give-and-take arrangement, nothing more—"

"I don't know how it is in Zephyros."

"However different Zephyros and the Empire may be, how different could they really be? Anyone listening would think every last imperial citizen is some wide-eyed innocent. I know that's not the case. The Empire's high-society underworld is famous enough."

"Ah."

There was something pointed in the way he said it, and Rhea furrowed her brow.

"So that's the sort of arrangement you were aiming for. Unfortunately, that's not me. Marriage is made through a sacred vow. I have no intention of looking the other way while my wife enjoys the nightlife of high society. It's a matter of my dignity as well."

"Who said I was enjoying anything!"

"Of course, if you did it without my knowledge, there wouldn't be much I could do about it. But the people under my command are rather competent."

"I have no intention of doing anything behind anyone's back. Ha — honestly, what do you take me for?"

Watching her flare up, the corner of Carion's mouth lifted, just slightly. He liked the way she jumped to refute him.

"If what the princess wants is the position of imperial consort, then what I want is a wife who does not damage my standing. Is that demand excessive?"

"I'm not saying it's excessive. If we both agree your terms are reasonable, we can include them in the conditions of the deal. What I'm saying is that neither of us needs to carry any burden over this marriage."

"Does the word 'responsibility' weigh on you that much?"

"Your Highness."

Rhea looked him straight in the eye.

"I don't use the word 'responsibility' lightly. You and I may mean entirely different things by the same word. Words that invite that kind of misunderstanding have no place in a negotiation."

The question — what's different about it? — rose to the tip of his tongue. But Carion couldn't ask. He hadn't spoken of responsibility lightly. And yet she seemed poised to attach a far heavier, far more serious meaning to it — and he wasn't sure he could bear that, emotionally.

"The reason you want the position of imperial consort this badly. Will you tell me after we're married?"

Rhea regarded him in silence for a moment, then said,

"Whenever you tell me you're ready to hear it."

How grave.

It felt more unsettling than if she had simply refused. At the same time, he was curious.

What kind of story does she have?

It didn't seem as though she wanted the position merely for the sake of power.

Can I trust this woman?

He didn't know what kind of person she was, what she knew about his curse, or even why she had approached him.

But does any of that matter?

You could know someone for decades and still not know them at all. At the very least, it was clear that last night, in that bedroom, her intention had been to help him. He had been in genuine danger.

If it hadn't been for this woman, I would have died — or been left in ruins.

Only after coming within a breath of death had he understood. He had believed himself indifferent to living. The truth was, he had wanted to live.

What he owed her was more than a simple life-debt. Even if, in the worst case, she were to drive a knife into his back — it was still a life she had saved once, was it not?

"Very well. As the princess says — let us marry as a transaction. Give and take."

Rhea was dazed. She couldn't count how many times she had turned this over in her mind. She had thought of him as a door shut fast — one that would never open, no matter how hard she knocked.

"I hope that wasn't an impulse. There are far too many people who claim a verbal promise isn't a promise at all."

"A verbal promise is still a promise. I keep my word. Do you want it in writing?"

"No. Putting a deal like this in writing is dangerous."

"I agree. Let's take our time working out the specific terms on both sides."

"Yes. It's not urgent, after all."

Rhea smiled, bright and warm.