Chapter 21: A Rendezvous with the Prince
THAT morning, Prince Reseda was on cloud nine. Last night, a letter had been slipped under his bedroom door—a single sheet of white stationery with an iris emblem stamped onto it and blue ink that smelled faintly of irises. It must have been delivered by a fairy, and while not just any fairy was permitted to enter the palace, exceptions were made if the palace guardian fairies deemed it safe. Reseda found this surprise letter very entertaining, if only because he could think of only one person who might have sent it: Iris du Chevalier.
I need to speak with you tomorrow morning. It’s important.
The previous day, he’d had a private discussion with Lord Chevalier about taking Iris’s hand in marriage, and now, he was convinced she was coming to give him her answer in person. Surely, she’ll happily accept, he thought. He hugged the letter to his chest. As his body heat warmed the paper, her fragrance wafted up to his nose, and he let out a dreamy sigh.
Whenever Iris came to study at the Temple of Magic, she always wore modest attire, which he approved of very much. Unlike her dresses, her plain blouses and long skirts covered a lot of skin, and the more discreet the outfit, the more it highlighted her natural beauty. For someone like Reseda, who was perpetually surrounded by glitz and glamour, it was a refreshing sight.
Furthermore, the time they spent together at the Chevalier annex was pure bliss for him. At no point was he obligated to conduct himself like a prince, and Iris often indulged his need for attention. Plus, whenever they sparred, she showed him no hesitation. With Iris, he could just be himself.
He instructed the maids to show Iris to the courtyard gazebo as soon as she arrived. Then he gave himself one last look in the mirror. His soft pink hair, so often likened to a rose, was flawless. His starched shirt was neither gaudy nor dowdy; best not to overdress for the occasion, lest he come off too eager. It was a casual get-together, not a black-tie affair.
Would she be flattered if I brewed the tea myself? He had been taught that husbands were expected to do so for their wives. Admittedly, it was much too early, but since they would be sharing their lives together sooner or later, he figured Iris would forgive his enthusiasm. And so, Reseda hurried off to the gazebo to wait for her…
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IN addition to the carefully manicured garden where special events were held, there was a small courtyard inside the palace reserved for use by the royal family. This was where the gazebo was located. The courtyard was outfitted with a small pond, and the gazebo was a convenient place to gaze out at the waterfowl.
Iris sat there, staring out at the water, wearing the same unsophisticated clothes she usually wore to the Temple of Magic. Perhaps she told her parents that’s where she was going, Reseda thought, delighting in their secret rendezvous. Unable to wipe the smirk from his face, he jogged over to her, even though it flew in the face of royal etiquette to do so.
“Iris!”
At his voice, she hastily rose to her feet, and the whole flock of birds flew off.
“I apologize for disturbing you so early in the morning, Your Highness, but I urgently wished to speak with you before you meet with my father today.”
“No, no, it’s no trouble at all. Though I’ll need you to drop the ‘Your Highness’ part.”
He smiled at Iris, but she didn’t return it. Naturally, this wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.
“I ask that you please retract your request,” she declared bluntly.
“…What request?”
“The engagement.”
This caught him off-guard. “May I ask why?”
“It’s much too early. You are the second prince of Floraison, and your elder brother already has a fiancée of his own. I believe you should wait until after you enroll in the Academy and meet more people. I’m sure you’ll find a more suitable candidate among them.”
“Noble girls marry early. The longer I twiddle my thumbs, the more likely someone else will lay claim to you, and I can’t have that.”
“I assure you, that won’t happen. No one will want to marry me,” she laughed.
Reseda looked at Iris in disbelief. “You’re not just making excuses, are you?”
“Your Highness—”
“Reseda.”
“…Prince Reseda, I believe there is someone better out there for you; you simply haven’t met her yet,” she insisted. “You needn’t feel obligated to marry me just because we’ve spent some time together. Give it some more thought.”
“But you’re just—”
“I’ll say it as many times as it takes: I’ll never get married.”
Iris rolled up the sleeve of her blouse and revealed the grisly soilpox scars on her left arm. Their color had faded, but they were still very pronounced, and chances were slim they would ever recede. To this day, only a small number of people were willing to touch her body without hesitation; everyone else, while still polite to her face, had put up a metaphorical wall between themselves and her. Only Reseda and Cytisus were fully comfortable touching her.
“I have been punished by God.”
Her words hit him like a ton of bricks. It was the very same sentiment shared by everyone with whom he had discussed the engagement: she’s a heretic who will bring disaster on the royal family. But he never once imagined Iris would echo it herself. That said, he had opposed this line of thinking at every turn.
“If you were truly punished, then you would’ve died, don’t you think? Those scars are proof of God’s love,” Reseda countered.
The words made her jaw drop, and she looked at him in wide-eyed surprise. Admittedly, Iris always appreciated that he never treated her like she was diseased—some days, it was the only thing that kept her going. Still, she never dreamed he would say such a thing, and it meant a lot to her. She covered her mouth and stared down at her lap.
Alas, this only proved her point further.
“Thank you very much. Truly, it’s…it’s very kind of you to say. But I’m afraid the rest of the world won’t see it that way.”
“So we’ll tell them they’re wrong.”
“The upper crust won’t accept it. And even if they did, they would never truly have a change of heart,” she shot back. Reseda knew this as well as she did. “I don’t want to give them any reason to degrade you. I don’t want to be the fly in your ointment. Please understand.”
Iris bowed her head. It wasn’t just an excuse—she meant every word. For the sake of Reseda’s future reputation, this betrothal could never be.