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“EMMA Grace Seagrove, come forth.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The main event for tonight’s function was Emma being awarded the Medal of Merit for successfully accomplishing her duties as a time traveler. Under the watchful gaze of a crowd of guests, Emma stepped forward and knelt before the king.
“You’ve done much and more for us since you were a little girl. For soldiering on despite all you’ve sacrificed in the service of our nation, you have my thanks.”
“I’m deeply grateful for your kind words, Your Majesty.”
Emma was literally a child when she began working for the monarchy. Since the beginning, the king himself made certain that her tasks didn’t overburden her, young as she was. Emma knew this would be the last time she’d be able to speak directly to the kind, noble man before her. She stifled a forlorn sniffle at the thought.
“…Right then. The medal,” he said.
Emma took his remark as a signal to rise. Once she did, he placed the medal over her head, the sash settling around her shoulders. Immediately, the guests in attendance cheered, their attention focused on the dais where Emma and the king stood.
With this, my job as a time traveler comes to an end.
She curtsied to the king, then pivoted and made her way down the platform, searching for Bernard. He should have been waiting to escort her, but for some strange reason, she didn’t spot him anywhere. As soon as she realized he had disappeared, Emma was surrounded by well-wishers.
By the by, it was inadvisable for young ladies of a certain age to be unattended at high society events like this one. Emma wasn’t a fan of such functions, though tonight’s had been unavoidable. Since Bernard was her designated escort for the night, she decided Ian didn’t need to attend. In hindsight, it was rotten luck considering the current situation.
Where in the world is Lord Bernard…? I don’t see Annette anywhere, either.
“Lady Emma, it’s been ages since I last saw you. Do you, perchance, remember me?”
Turning at the familiar voice, Emma discovered the older brother of one of her close friends at the Magic Academy. Her friend had invited Emma to her house countless times for tea, and without fail, her older brother would chaperone them. So, of course, she hadn’t forgotten him.
“How could I forget you, Lord Stanley? You’re looking well.”
“I’m glad to hear that! Extremely unfortunate there will be no dancing at tonight’s celebration. I would have enjoyed taking a turn with you, especially since you’re attending alone.” He abruptly clasped Emma’s hand and moved to brush his lips on it.
No, thank you, sir! She tugged it out of his grasp in the nick of time, stifling the overpowering urge to let that outraged remark escape. Then she plastered on a polite, artificial smile, glossing over the fraught moment.
“How fares Lady Cathy? I do so hope she’s in the best of health.”
“Ah… Yes, yes, she’s fine.”
Lord Stanley was taken aback by her exceedingly gracious rejection.
But a kiss on the back of the hand wasn’t a simple greeting in the Monarchy of Reauxvil. Not only did such a momentous act signify deep affection for the other person, but it also indicated submission and allegiance. In certain cases, it could even be used as a medium to cast magic. That was the extent of the gravity contained in the gesture. So for as long as one could remember, the children of this country were taught never to entrust their hands lightly to others.
Honestly, where is Bernard? At this rate, I’ll spend the rest of the evening alone, which is unacceptable. Because tonight’s soiree was for her. Yet her escort had vanished, leaving her to fend for herself. She was finding it increasingly difficult to make her way through the crush of people.
“I’ll be excusing myself now. Please give my regards to Lady Cathy!”
Adroitly extricating herself from the conversation with her friend’s older brother, Emma hurried toward the edge of the hall. She found a deserted spot by one of the walls and tried to hide in plain sight.
Oh, that looks delicious… A table filled with hors d’oeuvres and fruits lined the wall where she fled. Evening functions were designed to facilitate conversations for guests to enjoy. Well-mannered ladies and gentlemen didn’t deign to focus their attention on this space. Thanks to this unspoken social convention, Emma could enjoy the silence in her immediate vicinity…were it not for her stomach growling.
Come to think of it, I’ve barely eaten at all today. It’s been so hectic since early this morning that I haven’t even had a chance to breathe until now. She spotted her favorite fruit appetizers on the table. Peach, strawberry, cherry, blueberry, and mango. Wondering if she should select a few for herself, she glanced surreptitiously at her surroundings.
“Shall I arrange a plate for you?”
The amused voice came from behind her, from the opposite direction she glanced. Shoulders slumping in defeat, Emma turned around to see who spoke.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you for your…”
The word “consideration” went unvoiced as she saw who it was. Her eyes widened in shock. A mien so sophisticated it unintentionally made one gasp. Incredible height complemented a deceptively lean but strongly built frame that made a person wonder if he was a knight. Light purple irises glittered in his mysterious, almond-shaped eyes. His silky silver hair gleamed, fluttering over his brow as if trying to conceal his eyes. He possessed such a powerfully unique aura, even Emma, who normally cared not a whit about a man’s well-groomed appearance, couldn’t contain a small sound of surprise from escaping.
I…I know him.
“Ah… Perhaps you’re familiar with me?”
He said it so casually that it was almost like he had read her mind. She forcibly trawled through her memories…and found one related to him and the excited shrieks of noble young ladies.
“I believe I am. We attended the Magic Academy together.”
“Indeed, we did. I’m glad to hear I made an impression, hm?”