Chapter 59:
The Queen Dowager’s Tea Party Part 2
I FOLLOWED SAVIZ down the corridor, the clacking of our boots echoing. We didn’t get far before Cerulean began to whine at Saviz’s side.
“Ugh… Why can’t you overlook me just this once, Saviz? Wouldn’t it make more sense to have fewer people suffer through this rather than more? Since you’re going regardless, I’d rather just leave this to you.”
Saviz must have wanted nothing more than to chew Cerulean out and tell him he had a responsibility to attend the tea party as one of Hyacinthe’s sons…or maybe not? Cerulean was smart, so he must have understood his duty and was just complaining for complaining’s sake. Only moments earlier, we’d found him in a terrible hiding spot, his leg sticking out, so I doubted he was serious about avoiding this.
No one responded to Cerulean’s complaints, and shortly we reached the room designated for the tea party. Servants opened the door, and everyone followed Saviz inside. Two women sat on a sofa: Hyacinthe, with her iconic red hair, and another woman with red hair who looked just a bit older than me. Hyacinthe’s personal royal guard stood behind them wearing smoky-purple knight uniforms.
Hm… Her royal guard looked strong, but Saviz, Cerulean, and Kurtis could wipe them out in an instant in a fight. The three of them were simply on a different level.
Cerulean had gone quiet the moment we entered the room. Saviz was the first to speak.
“Pardon our lateness.”
As though anticipating those words, Hyacinthe stood and extended a hand to Saviz. “Nonsense. You’re right on time. Ever punctual, aren’t you?”
Saviz took her hand and touched his forehead to the back of it. Despite the grace of the gesture, it was hard to overlook that normally someone in his position would kiss the queen’s hand instead. That couldn’t be an accident.
He wasn’t anywhere near as rude as Cerulean, however. While Hyacinthe was busy with Saviz, Cerulean nabbed the seat farthest from her without so much as a greeting.
Saviz sat next to his brother, while Cyril, Kurtis, and I positioned ourselves behind them.
Hyacinthe regarded her sons warmly and said, “It has been a long while, Laurence, Saviz. I’m relieved to see you’re both in such good health.”
“Indeed,” Saviz replied, offering only the bare minimum. Cerulean, meanwhile, stubbornly remained silent.
With a wry smile, Hyacinthe swept her red hair back. She wore it in the same style as at the parade, letting it cover one eye. Her visible eye was the same golden color as mine are, but seeing it gave me a weird feeling.
Saviz had once said the color of my hair and eyes belonged only to me, but Hyacinthe’s features more or less matched mine. Fabian tried to explain that inconsistency away by pointing out that my hair was a more vibrant red, but that was a slight difference at most. The crowds at the parade certainly hadn’t noticed as they clamored about how Hyacinthe had the same coloration as the Great Saint and was the second coming of her.
Hyacinthe introduced the woman next to her. “This here is Rose Barthet. She originally worked as a servant at the cathedral, but I took her under my wing when they discovered she was a saint. She’s lived with me in my villa ever since.”
Streaks of yellow cut through both sides of Rose’s hair, which was otherwise the same shade as Hyacinthe’s.
Cerulean and Saviz, neither of whom had any interest in meeting another saint, said nothing. Perhaps this was to be expected given how often they’d mentioned disliking saints and loathing the thought of coming here when we were in Saviz’s office.
Perhaps used to this treatment from them, Hyacinthe continued speaking, unperturbed. “Rose was only nine at the time. When they examined her when she was three, they deemed her not a saint, but from the moment I laid eyes on her, I doubted that assessment. So I had them make an exception and examine her early, and it turned out I was right.”
Rose’s expression didn’t so much as flicker as Hyacinthe spoke. She stared down at her hands, utterly still and silent.
Her face was rather cute, and she sat nice and straight on the sofa. Her hair was short, not quite reaching her shoulders, but she styled it to hide one of her eyes. Perhaps Hyacinthe wanted her to succeed her as the next head saint?
She introduced herself sparsely. “Rose Barthet, eighteen years old. I plan on participating in the head saint selection.”
“I’ll be sponsoring her as the current head saint and suspect she’ll be chosen,” Hyacinthe added. “Saviz, be sure to welcome her as your queen once the announcement is official.”
Just about everybody stiffened as the queen dove right to the heart of the matter, but Saviz remained indifferent, as though his mother had simply asked him about the weather. “Very well.”
Cerulean immediately piped up. “Don’t just go along with whatever she says, Saviz! I know you’re thinking it’s fine to let something small like this slide, but you’re wrong! It’s precisely because it’s no big deal that you should say no without hesitation!”
Hyacinthe regarded him like he was a child throwing a tantrum. “Laurence, don’t be so childish.”
He stuck his chin out and scoffed. “Can’t you see I am a child?! I can’t marry, and I have to abdicate the throne. I’ve been stripped of everything I have, so at least let me complain, will you?!” He grew even more heated as he continued. “Sure, Saviz has to marry the head saint if he’s to become king, but that doesn’t mean he’ll marry the one you handpicked and trained! You took her in when she was nine? Then she’s definitely been taught all your saint supremacist values! The thought of Saviz marrying a woman who thinks like you sickens me! He should be with someone better!”
Hyacinthe touched her forehead and grimaced. “Laurence, your body may be a child’s, but you’re twenty-nine now. Could you speak a little more calmly? As royalty, you shouldn’t use such coarse language. Besides, Saviz’s situation is your fault, is it not? If you weren’t so irresponsible as to discard the crown, Saviz wouldn’t have to become king or marry the incoming head saint at all.”
Cerulean floundered for a moment before exclaiming, “That all happened because you wouldn’t heal Colette!”
“Oh my. You criticize me to my face so much but want my help when you need it. So shameless. I must not have raised you properly.” She cast her gaze down at this.
Even more enraged, Cerulean shot back, “I have no memory of ever being raised by you! You only cared about Saviz and never so much as looked at me!”
She smiled broadly. “Oh, were you lonely? The fact that you ended up like this means you never had the qualities to be king, anyway. You were never fit to inherit.”
It took everything I had to keep my face still as this argument unfolded before me.
Cerulean and Hyacinthe got along like cats and dogs. He acted even more childish than usual with her. Meanwhile, she kept calm on the surface, even while going tit for tat with him. I suspected she was just as worked up as him and probably blurting out things she’d usually hold back.
Cerulean needed to get himself under control before he said something he’d regret. Unfortunately, his anger burst free and he slammed the table.
“Ha! You might be right about that! But even if I wasn’t fit to be king, I still became king! And as king, I have authority you can’t deny!”
His glare hardened, and I worried he was about to say something he couldn’t take back. It was outside my duties as a guard, but I attempted to speak up. Unfortunately, Cerulean beat me to the punch.
“I originally said I wasn’t going to sponsor anyone for the head saint selection, but I’ve changed my mind! As king, I’ll give my recommendation to Fia Ruud!”
“…Huh?!” My eyes shot wide. That was even more outrageous than anything I could have anticipated.
Uh, come again? I’m going to participate in the head saint selection?! …C-Cerulean, what are you saying?!