FIONA’S audience with the king ended shortly thereafter, and she was led to a room, the crown prince’s office, in the palace. There, she sat on a sofa alongside the space’s master, Linus, and the pontiff. On the table was a draft budget for the saint’s invocation. The document was so thick it almost made one dizzy simply looking at it.
“Charles, why are you here too?”
Linus said the pontiff’s name so easily because they’d been friends for a long time. The age gap made them look more like brothers, but regardless, there was no doubting their close relationship.
“Because I don’t want unsavory rumors to crop up by leaving you two alone in your office, Your Highness. Not to mention, the staff here at the palace aren’t used to the way you act with Fiona. And above all else, I won’t have my daughter in danger thanks to the likes of you, you scoundrel.”
“The most important thing right now is this stack, which I need your help with. Reading through documents like these is part of your job as well,” Fiona said.
As the pontiff’s aide, Fiona primarily dealt with paperwork instead of the practical applications of her role. However, even she had never managed a budget this expansive before. It would take a great deal of time trying to figure out what it all entailed.
“I’d like a specialist to help us with this, so is it possible to ask for a government official knowledgeable about finances?”
“Right, of course, Fiona. I’ll get on that straight away. Someone who’s good at their job, tight-lipped, and doesn’t chase every woman in sight.”
The first two requirements made sense to her, but she wondered how the last factored into budget management.
Linus stood up, pushed the pontiff aside, and sat next to Fiona. Then he lifted a lock of her hair to his lips. Though she was used to his antics, his flowing movements and overflowing sensuality made her catch her breath in amazement today as well.
“You really do like black hair, hm, Your Highness?”
“I really, really do. I like your hair, Fiona.”
“It was useful on this occasion since it’s akin to a saintly symbol. Don’t you agree?”
“Fiona…while I think you’re amazing for brushing aside his outrageous behavior, I also worry about you, my dear.”
She heard the pontiff mutter something, but with Linus sitting between them, she couldn’t hear her father’s words properly.
“I’ll verify the details with the official, but the price of this vegetable is too exorbitant,” Fiona said. “However high quality, it’s strange to charge this amount. And then there’s the alcohol expense. Summoning a saint is only a trial of one’s strength, so drinking spirits will put one out of commission for the work itself. What’s more, this is too much alcohol, nothing more than an excuse to host a banquet at the country’s expense.”
“That probably actually is for a banquet. I’m almost positive my father planned on hosting a ball.”
When Linus pointed that out, Fiona checked the pages before and after and he wound up being correct. The budget should have been strictly for the summoning, but why did it assume that the invocation would be successful, going so far as to host a ball for the saint? The haphazardness of the estimates irritated her.
“Are my eyes playing tricks on me? ‘Replacement wigs for those who lose theirs or have them fall off during the ball.’ Is this a joke?” she groaned. “Firstly, why is the assumption that the wig will fall off at all, and secondly, why is the palace going to compensate in the event it does? People should be looking after their own blasted wigs.”
It confounded her that the national budget was being spent on such unimportant things, yet apparently, there wasn’t enough to use on important issues, like mending bridges at the royal capital’s entrance or temples.
“Who is it? Who approved this bizarre budget?” she asked.
“My guess is the prime minister,” Linus replied.
“Right…and may I ask what precisely you are doing, Your Highness?”
“Combing your hair and massaging it with perfumed oil, Fiona.”
Just as he said, a lovely scent wafted from her tresses, but she should really know better than to have this conversation at a critical juncture like this.
“Why?”
“Because I want to.”
“Please, please, don’t tell me that oil is part of the budget for summoning.” She asked him, dreading the answer after what she’d seen in the documents. Chuckling, Linus put the comb down.
“Never fear; I paid for it out of my own funds. I had a feeling it would bother you otherwise.”
“That’s neither here nor there. But, using your own funds is also ridiculous.”
“I have to tend to your hair, though. It would be a waste not to when it’s so pretty.” So saying, the man had the nerve to kiss her hair like it was the finishing touch to his grooming.
“How many times a day must you kiss my hair before you’re satisfied?”
“Infinity times.”
Fiona had intended to air out her grievances with her rhetorical question, but for whatever reason, she received a mysterious declaration in response. Confused, she looked at the pontiff, but he shook his head in disapproval.
“We are in the royal palace, Your Highness. Kindly think of your station,” he cautioned.
“You know what? You’re absolutely right.”
When Linus nodded like he’d finally seen the light, hope flared briefly in her chest. Instead, he took her hand and deftly pressed his lips to the back of it. He moved so quickly that all she could do was watch.
“What…do you think you’re doing?”
“Well, if your hair is a no, then your hand is fine, yes? This is how ladies and gentlemen greet each other, you know.”
“I’m not a lady.”
As the crown prince, Linus might be used to kissing women’s hands on a daily basis, but Fiona was just the pontiff’s aide, so as a commoner, she had never received such a greeting.
“You’re a saint now, Fiona. That places you above a lady, and in a way, it makes you a being close to God meant to be revered. Naturally, as both the crown prince and a man, it’s my duty to worship you.”
As he spoke, Linus moved his lips down to her fingers and stared intently at her. She sighed at the beauty of his indigo eyes, then shook her hand free from his grip.
“I’ve now learned that Your Highness is surprisingly meticulous about adhering to the script we have created. While I appreciate that, I cannot do my job if my hands are otherwise occupied.”
“That’s good to know.”
Utterly unfazed by her rebuke, Linus brushed his fingers through her hair, then moved close to press his lips there. She glared at him because she certainly didn’t remember giving him permission to kiss her hair either, but he returned her scowl with a beautiful smile.
“What? I’m not blocking your hands.”
“I suppose you’re right. Technically.”
Fiona had essentially told him not to hinder her hands so she could work; strictly speaking, he met her demand. Harping on every little thing would only be an annoyance at this point, so she decided to return to the documents. She’d rather not waste any more time, thank you very much.
“In any case, this expense for replacement wigs is unnecessary. In fact, let’s just cancel the whole ball,” she said. “Please inform the relevant officials that extravagant spending will reduce the power of the Saint of Cost Performance. Or whatever reasonable excuse you can think of. What else…”
“Fiona…I really am worried you can accept this situation without batting an eyelash,” the pontiff said.
“Please speak up, Your Holiness.”
Since she was busy flipping through the pages, she needed him to speak clearly. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to follow the conversation.
“I may be a bachelor, but I’m still a father at heart. Your father.”
“Yes, and I think of you as exactly that, Your Holiness. Both you and His Highness are important to me, you for raising me, and him for protecting me.”
Fiona had no memories of her childhood. Linus discovered her like that one day and took her into his protection. And the one who adopted her as his daughter and raised her as his own child was the pontiff, Charles Everett. Ten years had passed since then, and even at the age of twenty now, she could never forget the debt she owed them.
“Right, I know, but that’s not quite what I…”
“Cheer up, Father.”
“Your Highness, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me that.”
Linus was completely unbothered by Charles’ glare.
“Someday, I will call you that, even if you hate it.”
“I know you will. Moments like these, I wonder if I made the wrong decision back then.” Charles’ deep sigh conveyed displeasure from the bottom of his heart. In response, Linus clapped him on the shoulder with a grin.
“No matter how many times I find myself in the same situation, I’ll never change.”
“God’s honest truth, that… Bah, c’est la vie. I shall protect Fiona until the day she no longer needs it. Anyway, for the love of all that is holy, please don’t do anything inappropriate without her consent,” Charles said.
“How long have you known me, man? As if I’d do something so moronic. Right, Fiona?”
“Argh! Stop talking to me already. I keep losing track of the numbers.”
Charles awkwardly chuckled when she traced her finger back to the beginning and began counting again. “Right, at least I don’t have to worry about anything for some time yet. As much as I’d like to offer you other options…I don’t think that will be possible, eh?”
Linus only smiled at Charles’ exhale.