What should I do?
Even after Klifford laid Octavia in her bed to sleep, he was unable to move. Lying in bed, the sleeping princess had grabbed onto the sleeve of his uniform. Her grip was strong as ever.
“…”
Slowly, he reached out to disentangle himself…
“Don’t…”
Just as he managed to untangle a finger from his sleeve, Octavia’s hand reached for something in her dream and grabbed his hand. Now Klifford found his left hand clasped firmly between both of hers.
“……”
His left hand was still ungloved. Octavia’s bare hands were hot from her fever.
“Don’t go…,” she murmured in her sleep.
Her words weren’t directed at him, yet he almost caught himself responding. He pressed his lips together, laughing silently at himself.
And on top of that…for some reason, his unspoken reply was, “I won’t go.” It was an unrealistic response, both in that moment and in general.
His hand still held captive, Klifford glanced at the door. In doing so, something entered his field of vision. A basket on the desk. The item Octavia brought back from the Nightfellow villa. One of her handmaids had retrieved it from a guard earlier. She had left with the chief lady-in-waiting to fetch something important but had left the basket there on the way.
Inside the basket were pastries called eba, one of which Klifford had in his possession. It was a gift from Octavia.
“My reason is…because I want to give you a gift?”
That was her reason, but why Klifford accepted it was unclear to him. He knew Octavia would have forgiven him if he had refused the gift.
So why?
He gave it further consideration, and still could not find an answer.
He had even said he didn’t mind if Octavia had poisoned the eba. What’s more, he would not have accepted the eba from anyone but her. Everything he told her was the truth, but he still was under no obligation to accept the gift.
But the moment he sensed her eba-filled hand recoil a little, he’d moved.
Meals were never a peaceful affair for Klifford. He knew he must eat whatever was put in front of him to survive, even if it was poisoned. He was never given a choice in his meals. He had the freedom to refuse to eat, but too much of that would only result in him starving to death.
It was likely a test to see how much his body could withstand. It was a way to make a useless wretch like him useful. He was in no state of mind to taste or savor the food. Sometimes even the most beautiful and most appetizing foods hurt him unbearably when he thought they were safe to eat. He would rather eat discarded leftovers than get his hopes up.
But those days ended the first time he held a weapon.
And when he ate harmless food for the first time, he noticed that he had lost his sense of taste—not that he felt at any disadvantage because of it.
Was it edible or not—this was the criteria by which Klifford judged his meals.
And anything Octavia gave him to eat was, of course, edible.
The only impressions he could give her of the small meal he had the other day was that it was edible. It did not contain poison or anything else of the sort. It was harmless, nothing more. It was as good as flavorless.
“…” He looked down in silence.
That was why, even though it was flavorless, the fact that he felt something about it was different…was a trivial matter.
“Sis…”
Octavia’s voice sounded so vulnerable, so small.
Klifford’s gaze returned to the sleeping princess. Her breathing was even… She wasn’t having a nightmare.
“I have something to tell you…”
Octavia smiled blissfully…but there was a hint of sadness in her lips. Octavia had no sister.
But Klifford had some idea of what she meant—
A memory of their shared dream revisited his mind—a dream of a black-haired girl and her family.
“Maki…,” he murmured.
In the dream, Octavia was the black-haired girl, and her name was Maki. She was with her family in a world different from this one, underneath some trees that resembled kallums, but were called sakura.
Octavia called kallum trees “sakura” in her own language, but she did not confuse the two. They were different trees.
The kallum trees were certainly not sakura.
But in her dreams and in her waking hours, when Octavia gazed up at the kallum trees…it was the sakura that she hoped to see.
Or perhaps it is the world in that dream she wishes to see?
The restraint on his left hand—which could hardly be called a restraint—would be easy to untangle, but he hesitated to do so. Klifford instead reached for Octavia’s silvery hair. Caressed it.
“Ngh…”
Octavia’s face nuzzled against Klifford’s captured hand. Her smile transformed into one of contentment.
A smile appeared on his own lips…and with it, came a question.
Why do I share her contentment?
His hand froze on her hair.
Why am I upset whenever I see anybody other than myself touch Octavia?
Be it the king consort, Edgar, or Derek Nightfellow, it was indeed a similar emotion to what he felt for his weapon.
But there was one part that did not match up.
The scene that just transpired at the Nightfellow villa reentered his mind.
What was that all about?
A fake boyfriend—it shouldn’t matter whether Octavia had a lover or not. That would not harm their Adjutant-Sovereign relationship. It was of no interest to him…or at least, it shouldn’t be.
It shouldn’t matter whom she chose for a fake lover.
That did not matter in the slightest.
And yet, for some reason, when Octavia chose Derek Nightfellow, it upset him. Was it because he was Leif Nightfellow’s son? Was it because he felt his Sovereign was in danger?
No—
Neither was correct.
“A command…”
He was upset, in a way…because it was a matter the likes of which she should have commanded him to take care of.
It was ironic to him.
He wished for her command?
Even though the Adjutant-Sovereign covenant he formed with Octavia was of his own free will, he’d hated his first Sovereign’s commands with every fiber of his being, to the point of resisting until the command was forced upon him.
Sensing an approaching presence, Klifford looked up. “…” He removed his right hand from the silvery hair, its silklike threads trailing smoothly through his fingers.
And after a few moments, the door burst open.
“How is Octavia doing— Alderton?”
As soon as he recognized Klifford, the visitor—first prince Sirius—frowned and entered the room.
“Are you the only one here?” he demanded.
“The doctor has not yet arrived,” Klifford replied. “Her chief lady-in-waiting left with another handmaid to fetch the materials needed to care for Her Highness.”
“So Matilda and this other handmaid left her in your care? Where are the others?”
“To ensure Her Highness’s safety, the chief lady-in-waiting has forbidden entry by anyone that cannot be completely trusted. She said the last time Her Highness fell ill, there were quite a few suspicious movements in the shadows.”
Sirius fell silent for a moment. He’d likely heard about it and had some idea of what Klifford meant.
“But that doesn’t mean a bodyguard can just—” His aquamarine eyes pierced Octavia like daggers. “Why is Octavia holding your hand? And why are you letting her?”
Why was he letting her?
That was simple.
Because he wanted to stay that way.
“She was sound asleep, and I did not wish to disturb her.”
“Let her go.”
At Sirius’s command, Klifford felt the rage rise inside of him. Only Octavia was allowed to command him. Not to mention—
“Prince Sirius…are you of a relation to Princess Octavia that warrants concern?”
Sirius swallowed his words. He pressed his fingers to his temples. Then, in time, he squeezed the words out of strained vocal cords. “Octavia…is my sister.”
Sister.
✦ ✦ ✦
Did Sirius—wary of Octavia in his efforts to protect Sil Burks—have any right to worry about his sister? If his caution toward Octavia extended to her bodyguard—Klifford—that would be proper.
He surely did not remember it, but that night, in the Great Corridor, Sirius had told Klifford in confidence that Octavia was the one person Alexis would not harm. To anyone but Octavia, he was a danger.
And that applied also to Klifford. As long as she was his Sovereign, Octavia was the one person Klifford could never harm, but Octavia was the only exception. His nature had not changed one bit since his days on the battlefield.
To say Klifford was not an enemy of Sirius or Sil Burks…that was not a denouncement he could make.
“It is perfectly normal…for a brother to worry about his sister.”
A sibling bond—was it really as simple as that?
A cold smile formed on Klifford’s face.
Do you mean to say that siblings always care for one another?
No.
Sometimes even a sibling is less than nothing to someone.
Klifford hated the little brother that was only connected to him by one parent. He never once worried about him.
He would forever mean less than nothing to Klifford, and he was fine with that.
Klifford glanced at the door again, and a few seconds later he heard a voice. It was Octavia’s handmaid.
“This way, Doctor!”