“Excuse me, Seneschal Vest?” a guard called out. “His Royal Highness has sent the next batch of documents.”
Guards and knights fortified the seneschal’s office, just as they had Albert’s. They opened the door for me once they got permission from inside. Three people were within: Vest was jotting things down at his desk, Prince Stale was flipping through papers, and one other guest sat in a chair beside them…
When I entered, the latter occupant whipped his head toward me. “Oh! Greetings, Prime Minister.”
My wide eyes locked on him. “Prince Cedric…what brings you here?”
Though I tried to hide my shock, my expression betrayed me. I even forgot to hand over the bundle of documents I’d carried here. The prince’s golden hair looked drier than usual, but it was still bright enough to make me squint after staying up all night.
Before Prince Cedric could speak again, Prince Stale told him, “Pay him no mind.”
The Cercian prince complied and quietly recited numbers out loud. He was already into the triple digits, by the sound of it. I cocked my head, silently requesting an explanation from Prince Stale.
“I called him here,” Prince Stale explained. “I knew it was rude to summon him so early in the morning, but we needed Prince Cedric’s assistance, and His Highness very kindly informed us he was eager to help. In exchange, we’ve granted the kings from Hanazuo permission to visit Elder Sister.”
His tone was steady, and at a glance, he seemed composed, but I noticed the intensity of his gaze had sharpened compared to the last time I’d come here to deliver paperwork.
“What exactly is he helping with?”
“Prince Cedric tells us he memorized every guest in the ballroom the moment Elder Sister collapsed, so we’re comparing his count to the number of guests.”
“Every guest?!” I couldn’t believe my ears.
Prince Stale granted Prince Cedric permission to speak, so he explained that when he raced to Pride’s side, he got a good look at the ballroom from the stage. Even then, I was openly appalled that he’d counted every last guest at a glance. Vest nodded in sympathy, probably confused to see me so unusually taken aback. When I listened closer, Prince Cedric was still counting up and up.
The prince really was counting the guests from memory. It was like the royal prince of the United Hanazuo Kingdom had a special power of his own.
Both Prince Stale and I knew that Arthur couldn’t heal Pride. That narrowed down the cause to something other than an illness—hence our focus on potential culprits. I handed the documents to Vest before shooting another look at Prince Stale and Prince Cedric.
While Prince Cedric continued to recite numbers, Prince Stale flipped through each page of the guest list to confirm the total number of people who had actually come to the castle. Royals and nobles sometimes skipped out on big events despite RSVPing, or changed how many people were accompanying them, so the two princes sought to nail down that discrepancy.
“The doctors haven’t come to us with any good news yet, which means they don’t know the cause,” Prince Stale said. “But we have no intention of resting until Elder Sister wakes up or we find a lead. I swear it.”
It was nearly a vow. Vest would usually scold Prince Stale for making such a promise, but this time, he kept quiet. The prince radiated tenacity, a dark aura coiling around him.
I knew better than to say anything about it. I took the next batch of papers, the ones Vest had finished looking into, and bowed before departing the room.
✦ ✦ ✦
LEON
“PRIDE…I’m coming in.”
I entered the room with hesitant footsteps. Tiara waited inside with the kings from the United Hanazuo Kingdom—who chose to stand instead of taking the chairs they were offered—and a large crowd of palace staff and guards. A dreary mood hung over the room, and the faint light pouring in through the curtains cast a gentle glow.
Although I said hello to each occupant, my eyes never left the woman slumbering in bed. I picked a spot next to the kings, not letting myself get any closer to Pride. Tiara and Arthur occupied her bedside. If I got as close as them, the shock I’d bottled up during my journey here from Anemone would explode all at once.
Tiara turned my way ever so slightly. “Oh, Prince Leon…”
I waved at her, but my smile fell short of its usual charm. At the pitiful expression on my face, tears sprang to her eyes. Arthur gave me a look as well. He started to rise, just as he probably had when the kings arrived, but Tiara grabbed his arm and stopped him.
“Big Brother left Arthur in charge of us while he’s away,” Tiara explained, and no one disagreed with that arrangement.
“Princess Pride still hasn’t woken up?” I asked.
The doctors and maids confirmed my suspicions. Mary and Lotte, Pride’s personal maids, were particularly pale. I’d never seen them with such heavy, grim expressions. I almost didn’t recognize them as the two women who were always smiling happily beside Pride.
The doctors said they didn’t know the cause of Pride’s ailment or if it was even a rare disease at all. I clutched at my chest, trying to catch my breath, and cast my eyes toward the kings from Hanazuo.
King Yohan was squeezing the cross at his chest, praying with his eyes shut. His features, as beautiful and androgynous as my own, were twisted with pain, revealing his despair even though I couldn’t see his eyes. King Lance wasn’t any better off. I’d never seen the king without a happy-go-lucky smile, but today deep wrinkles creased his brow and his lips were pressed in a hard line, his entire body tense. His clenched fists shook at his sides.
Pain twisted through my chest to see the kings in such a state. Suddenly, I realized Cedric was missing. I asked after him, and the kings said he was assisting Stale. I racked my brain. What could Stale need Cedric for that didn’t involve his companions? I’d come to understand Cedric a little better during our sea voyage, but I still struggled to figure out why Stale had requested him so urgently.
Puzzling it out left me a bit calmer. I finally took a proper look at Pride’s face, and a surge of emotions struck me all at once. I squeezed my fists to bear the pain, just like King Lance, and held my breath—determined to face reality. I locked my knees to keep from rushing to her bedside.
I felt the blood drain from my face. With her eyes closed, Pride looked like a doll…or perhaps a corpse.
Why did this have to happen to her?
Anger and despair swirled through my body, but I had no outlet for it. Had she fallen ill, or did someone do this to her? Knowing the answer would give me some sort of motivation, but even that was apparently too much to ask of the world.
Having given away the right to be closer to her, I couldn’t let myself touch her or say anything now. I would stay in the same position as the kings, as Pride’s sworn friend and nothing more.
All I could do now was pray she would open her eyes as soon as possible.