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IT was night.
Claire was giggling.
“What’s the matter, Claire? You’ve been so giddy all evening.”
“Isn’t it obvious? It’s because His Highness has been summoning you so frequently,” Claire explained, combing through and massaging scented oil into Sara’s hair. Thanks to Claire’s diligent attentions, Sara’s hair had become much softer and prettier than it had been before. Her skin, too, had become softer and brighter.
Sara had certainly been summoned to Richard’s bedroom at night much more frequently as of late. It was unavoidable that some nights “work” would unexpectedly pull Richard away from the villa, but even then, he had started coming to visit Sara before he left so that they could exchange farewells.
W-Well, to be sure, the prince inviting his wife to his bedroom would probably have…certain connotations… But…
Sara smiled awkwardly at Claire, her face burning hot. “He may summon me to his bedroom, but we just chat for a little bit before going to sleep.”
“For now, yes. But you’d best prepare yourself for the possibility that he could put the moves on you at any time!”
“…I know,” said Sara, nodding obediently. Saying anything else when Claire was in such a jubilant mood would be futile.
Sure enough, when Sara looked at her reflection in the mirror, her face was crimson. She deeply detested her skin’s propensity to blush in uncomfortable situations.
After a while, Daniel opened the white door. He smiled when he saw Sara, who was dressed in a negligee, and gestured inside.
“This way, Princess Hermine.”
“Thank you. Good night, you two.”
“Yes, sweet dreams.”
“Have a good night, Princess Hermine.”
Sara walked into Richard’s bedroom. The lights were already out.
It looked like Richard was already in bed, and when she opened the thin bed curtains, she saw a lump under the duvet.
“Your Highness?”
The bedcover rustled, and then Richard’s head popped out. He sat up.
“Oh, you’re here.”
He patted the spot beside him. Sara slid into bed, and he pulled the blankets up over her.
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” she said.
“No, I was awake. It’s unseasonably cold tonight, so I was worried you would shiver from the chill when you came.”
It was quite a cold night, but because Richard had warmed the bed with his body temperature, it was a bit warmer under the sheets.
“Thank you. But wouldn’t it be my job to warm your bed, Your Highness?” she asked.
“No. Don’t they say that women are more sensitive to the cold?” Richard asked, his eyebrows slightly pulled together. “I can’t let you catch a chill.”
He spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. As if it were entirely natural for him to be worrying about Sara’s comfort.
He really is a wonderful man…
There was a gentle scent coming from the pillows. It was mostly the smell of Richard’s shampoo, but it was also partly Richard’s own natural scent. Whenever Sara rested her cheek against it, she felt totally relaxed.
“Oh, that’s right,” said Richard. “Apparently, there’s an envoy from Saleilles at the castle. You must have heard, too, I imagine?”
Sara nodded. She knew that getting into Richard’s bed didn’t necessarily mean they would be having sweet, romantic moments.
“That’s right. I received a letter from the envoy not long ago.”
The letter, authored by Hermine’s father, the king, had been written in a style overflowing with affection—exactly the sort of letter a father missing his daughter would write.
Sara was almost positive the king’s face had been puckered in distaste while writing it, as if he were being forced to chew on a lemon. Sara had become strangely giddy while imagining this scene when she had held the letter in her room, and Claire, watching, had misinterpreted her reaction completely and told her, “You must be thrilled to get a letter from home.”
Back in Richard’s bedroom, he responded to her comment with a passive “I see.” A faint line appeared between his eyebrows, and he looked at Sara.
“So you have your father and then an older brother… You don’t talk about your homeland or your family very much.”
“…You think so?” Sara asked, trying to sound unaffected, but her mind was racing in panic.
The real Hermine would have missed her family and home, wouldn’t she? The prince of Saleilles was fine, Sara supposed—he seemed to be a mild-mannered man who rarely returned to the royal capital—but she could never see the king as a paternal substitute.
But I can’t exactly tell him that…
“I crossed the ocean fully resolved to put down my roots in this kingdom, so… I’m trying to think of Ferrier as my homeland, and of you, the queen mother, and the king as my family… I must be a terribly heartless princess, aren’t I?”
“N-No, not at all! It makes me happy to hear you say that,” Richard said in a rush before clearing his throat awkwardly and lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling. “…I was thinking of preparing the tea myself at tomorrow’s teatime.”
“What? You?”
“I pretty much know how to serve tea… The envoy brought tea leaves from Saleilles. I’m sure it will suit your palate, so I want to treat you to a drink.”
Richard was still looking at the ceiling, so he didn’t see her reaction. Her eyes were glued to his profile. She couldn’t stop blinking.
His Highness…preparing tea for me…
“Are you sure?”
“You always bring me tea, don’t you? So, as a token of gratitude for all you do… Wait, no, that’s not it… Well, whatever. Anyway, make sure you remember. That’s all I wanted to say.”
The last half of this came out very quickly. Then Richard turned on his side and Sara found herself looking at the back of his head.
It was a little lonely, only being able to see his back, but on the other hand, he wouldn’t show his back—and while he slept, at that—to someone he didn’t trust.
Sara’s heart thudded loudly as she reached out and touched his back. He jolted in surprise but accepted her touch.
“Thank you, Your Highness. I’m really looking forward to tomorrow.”
“…Yeah.”
His reply was short, but his voice was very gentle.