What is this feeling? she wondered. But now wasn’t the time to interrogate it.
The prince lay on his back with his eyes closed. As she gazed at his handsome profile, she realized she could see the nape of his neck. Arnold typically kept his collar buttoned up, but right now he wore loose clothes, his numerous scars on display.
“If you’re so curious about it, I won’t stop you.”
Even with his permission, she still hesitated. Gently, she touched the scarring with her fingertips. She’d touched them before—at the party, through thin gloves. Feeling them now confirmed what she’d already known. Deep, knotted scars.
Just before she died in her last life, she’d been able to land a single strike on Arnold because the scar tissue on his shoulder slowed the movement of his arm. It was his only weakness.
Despite that, last night he took off the jacket he uses to hide them. He gave it to me.
Rishe and Theodore had been the only ones there, but one never knew where enemies were lurking. He’d trusted them.
Arnold’s eyes were still closed. Even in the dim room, his profile was flawless. Not just his face—his prominent Adam’s apple, his collarbone. The scars didn’t mar his beauty at all.
He looks like a work of art, but he’s flesh and blood.
Why was he so willing to let her touch a part he knew she could use against him? That’s all she could think about as she caressed the scars with a smooth fingertip.
“Hey.” He grasped her wrist with a big hand.
“Oh!”
His grip on her wrist wasn’t tight, but he was frowning. “What do you—”
“S-sorry. Was I tickling you?” she said, though she felt oddly reluctant to stop.
Arnold’s expression was briefly conflicted, before he grinned. “I suppose I should have kept my gloves on.”
“What? Why?” He was about to go to sleep. Why would he need gloves?
Arnold leaned close and whispered, “Then I could touch you back.”
Rishe’s face burned. “Gloves aren’t a loophole, you know!”
Arnold’s grin spread. “I was just kidding.”
He then released her wrist. He’d been holding her over the sleeve of her dress, keeping his promise not to touch her after all.
He’s so honest. Or maybe “faithful” is the word.
Where did that leave Rishe? It felt unfair that she could touch him without reciprocation. After a moment’s contemplation, she reached for the thin ribbon at her collar and pulled it loose. And then she looked at Arnold. “Here, go ahead.”
Arnold smile slid from his face. “Go ahead what?”
“I touched your neck, so I thought…fair is fair,” Rishe explained quickly.
It was just skin, but intentionally baring it to him made her feel, well, exposed. But it was only right.
“N-not that I think it’s any compensation.” She stared at the sheets rather than at him. “But feel free to take your revenge.”
Arnold silently reached behind himself and grabbed one of the numerous pillows on the bed. He placed it on Rishe’s head.
“Mmph?!”
“What’s your angle?”
“Hey! Wait! Your Hi—” He pressed down to drown out her protests. He wasn’t smothering her, but he was messing up her hair. “Your Highness!” She finally threw the soft pillow off and gasped.
Arnold’s handsome face was right there. They were close enough for their noses to touch.
He chuckled. “That expression is more than enough compensation.”
“Huh?” Just what kind of face had she been making? She didn’t have the strength to ask. She continued to gape at him, seeing relish written all over his face.
“You’re so strange. Being near my face bothers you, but hopping into my bed to sleep next to me doesn’t?” he pointed out calmly.
The awkwardness of the situation was slowly dawning on her. She was losing control of this scene. “It’s just…” She hesitated. “I wanted to use a charm on you.”
“A charm?”
Rishe nodded, took a deep breath, and reached toward Arnold where he lay on top of the soft sheets. She began patting him again to the rhythm of a heartbeat. Doing this to a child reminded them of hearing their mother’s heartbeat in the womb, calming them down.
“This palace isn’t a battleground. It’s your home, right?” She didn’t know him well. For all she knew, Arnold might see the palace as a theater of war. But the thought of him not even being able to relax in his own bedroom saddened her. “I just want to help you sleep.”
Arnold didn’t respond.
Rishe had no memory of the time between falling asleep on the roof and waking in her bed, but she recalled her fear as the strength went out of her, cut with the relief of finding Arnold at her side, watching over her as she slept.
In that moment, she felt safe.
She meant to repay him for that peace, however she could. Even if it was a losing battle.
Arnold continued to gaze at Rishe as she pondered this. “In that case—” He smoothed a strand of hair away from her cheek, careful not to touch her face. “You’ll have to stay here with me until I fall asleep.”
Rishe looked back at him. “Are you sure I won’t be a bother?”
“I can concentrate on just you if you’re here, right?” Slowly, Arnold shut his eyes once more, voice going husky with exhaustion. “I prefer your presence to being alone.”
Rishe smiled. “Okay.”
She didn’t say anything after that, just kept beating out a heartbeat with her palm. Soon enough, Arnold’s breaths went long and deep.
His peaceful breathing was so pleasant that she found herself dozing off as well.