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SOME sort of poison had been slipped into the tea Richard had brewed, and Sara found that her relationship with him had become strained because of it. She didn’t believe he would do such a thing, but nothing seemed wrong with the actual tin of tea leaves. If there had been, then that would have opened up the possibility of Richard, not Sara, being poisoned.
And no matter how much selfish bitterness officials in Saleilles held toward Ferrier, they would never try to kill Richard through a tin of tea leaves clearly marked “Product of Saleilles.”
I’ve heard the envoy is still in Ferrier…but I can’t ask him, of course.
The envoy might not know that the “Hermine” in Ferrier was actually Sara.
Sara couldn’t imagine the conversation would go well, and she didn’t have the courage to take the gamble.
Besides, the envoy was very likely a high-ranking bureaucrat, so he might get an inkling that something was amiss if he saw her face. Sara would also be scared of asking him, “Was this tin of tea leaves laced with poison?” If the envoy were to say, “This isn’t Princess Hermine!” then all her effort and determination thus far would be for nothing.
But the prince was the only one who handled the tea utensils, so he must have been the one who put the poison in my cup…
Sara wanted to trust him. She didn’t think he’d have any reason to hurt her, either.
But even so, whenever she looked at Richard’s face, she struggled to keep her own expression neutral. She wasn’t confident she could maintain a smile in front of him.
Richard is avoiding me, too…
That only made sense. It had been his first time making tea for Sara, after having finally opened his heart to her. Sara rejecting the tea must have been incredibly painful to someone as sensitive as him—of course he wouldn’t want to see her after that.
That’s why she had essentially been living a life totally separate from Richard.
But…
“Are you sure you’re finished, ma’am?”
“Yes. I’m full. Could you tell them to give me smaller portions from now on?”
Claire looked at Sara with concern. Sara put down her knife and fork and smiled up at her. More than half of her plate was still full of food.
Ever since that day, Sara had developed a fear of eating and had been consuming less and less.
She didn’t so much have a problem with foods that had been thoroughly cooked, like baked sweets or breads, but it was very difficult to reach for other things, like liquids or raw vegetables. Even if she was hungry, she simply had no desire to eat any more.
Claire was devotedly taking care of Sara. Daniel seemed to be taking Richard’s side in the matter, but Claire had simply told him with a stiff expression, “There must be some explanation,” and had stood by Sara’s side as she resolutely avoided Richard.
Even though Claire might lose her position for being my ally in this…
In fact, the previous evening, Sara had overheard Claire and Daniel arguing over Sara and Richard. Daniel had insisted, “She hurt the prince. Hermine should just apologize.” Then Claire, undaunted, had shot back, “She just needs space right now. The only one who knows what Hermine is going through is Hermine.”
Sara had once begged her, “Look, I’ll be fine, so please go attend to Richard.” But Claire was unyielding, reasserting, “The Hermine I know wouldn’t reject the prince without a good reason.”
My actions have ruined the peace of the royal villa…
A pain shot through Sara’s chest at the thought and tears sprang to her eyes. But she knew she had no right to cry—she had been the one to reject Richard, after all.
She wanted to talk to him. She wanted to apologize about the tea.
But she had no idea how to broach the subject or what her conclusion would even be.
She wanted to reconcile with her kind, sensitive husband, but she didn’t know the right way to go about it. In fact, she’d made the wrong choice once before.
Time ticked forward in subdued melancholy.
Then, three days after the tea incident, Sara was absentmindedly looking down at the garden, which was bathed in the blueish glow of dusk, from the chair she had pulled up beside the window. Suddenly, she heard Claire’s startled voice from the living room.
“Excuse me, Princess Hermine!”
Sara turned her head toward the door. Claire looked quite flustered.
“What is it, Claire?”
“Actually… His Highness is here. He says he wants to ask you a few questions…”
Sara’s eyes widened. It had been a few days since she had distanced herself from him, but she had never imagined he would be the one to initiate contact.
I can’t turn him away.
Lowering her eyes to the floor, Sara nodded.
“I understand… Please let him in.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sara went to the living room with Claire, who looked slightly pained.
But Richard was already there. Without his mask on, Sara could see that his cheeks were flushed as bright as a sunset, and his green eyes were unabashedly glued to her.
“I’m sorry to have barged in so suddenly like this.”
“No, it’s not a problem at all.”
“Could I talk to you for a moment?”
Even at a time like this, Richard had phrased it as a question, giving Sara the final say. If she were to refuse him, he would obediently leave—and she would break his heart even more.
Sara nodded and sat opposite Richard.
His eyes were downcast, and he seemed quite troubled by something.