“As I was saying, Your Highness,” he continued under his breath, “Princess Bistona, the younger sister of Princess Lysonna of Umyuve, appears to be attending the wedding for the express purpose of… social hunting, shall we say. She’s been approaching high-ranking men throughout the venue.”
“I see.”
While returning Bistona’s greeting with the grace expected of a crown prince, I confirmed the situation with Kulgan in a whisper. His report, unsurprisingly, matched the scene unfolding before us.
Still, I couldn’t help but sigh internally.
I’m married, you know. Quite happily, in fact. And my very beloved wife happens to be right next to me, savoring her cake as we speak.
Now, how best to handle this…
Unlike the situation with Lady Heronia before, this time, the troublemaker was a princess and, worse still, the younger sister of Bertia’s friend. Ignoring her outright would cause diplomatic ripples.
So, I rose from my seat with practiced composure.
“How courteous of you to introduce yourself, Princess Bistona. I am Cecil Glo Alphasta, Crown Prince of the Alphasta Kingdom. And this is my wife, Bertia Ibil Alphasta. She is quite close to your elder sister, Princess Lysonna.”
“Princess Bistona, what a pleasure to meet you,” Bertia said. “I’m Bertia. Princess Lysonna and I are dear friends.”
The effect was immediate.
Bistona, who had been gazing up at me through half-lidded eyes and wearing what she must have thought was a seductive smile, froze. Her expression stiffened the moment I mentioned my wife, and when Bertia began to speak, her face twisted, her brows knitting in clear irritation.
She all but glared at Bertia.
Really? I’m starting to worry about the royal education system in Umyuve.
“Oh my, so Her Highness the Princess Consort was here as well. I hadn’t noticed. You two hardly seemed to be conversing.”
She really went straight for the insult this time.
Of course, I wasn’t about to let that slide unanswered.
“My wife adores sweets,” I said easily. “And I love watching her enjoy them. At the moment, any conversation would only get in the way. Besides, we don’t need words to be happy. We’re content just being beside each other.”
I turned toward Bertia and gave her a gentle smile. She blushed, ducking her head slightly, but her eyes sparkled with quiet joy as she answered, “That’s right.”
Yes, I thought with unrestrained fondness, my wife really is adorable.
Princess Bistona, however, was not nearly as charmed. Her expression hardened, her mouth tightening into something that might have been mistaken for a smile by a very forgiving observer.
“Oh my, I’ve never been shown such open affection,” she said. “How enviably blissful you both are. Why, even as a concubine, I wouldn’t mind experiencing just a fraction of Prince Cecil’s affection myself.”
Her words dripped with sugar and venom alike. She clearly loathed Bertia, yet recovered instantly, tilting her head and casting me a sidelong glance meant to entice.
Do men actually fall for this? Surely not.
“Haha… Princess Bistona, you’re quite the bold one,” I said. “But I’m afraid Alphasta has no system for concubines. Even among the nobility, a man loves only one woman. As for me, my heart belongs entirely to Tia.”
I smiled broadly and slid an arm around Bertia’s shoulders, drawing her gently against me.
“L-Lord Cecil?!” she gasped, ducking her head.
I bent down and planted a soft kiss on her hair, a small, deliberate gesture of affection that made her go perfectly still in my arms. The nearby guests who happened to glance our way smiled warmly at the sight of the “affectionate royal couple.”
Bistona, on the other hand, looked as though someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over her, interest evaporating the moment she realized she’d targeted a man entirely out of reach.
“I see,” she murmured. “Oh my, and who might this gentleman be?”
Without missing a beat, she redirected her sights toward the man standing quietly at my side: Kulgan.
Apparently, her heart was forged from something harder than iron.
“He is Viscount Kulgan Deres Uradil,” I said. “My personal aide.”
“Oh my, how impressive,” Bistona purred. “To think His Highness’s aide is already the heir to a viscountcy at such a young age.”
At my introduction, her entire demeanor shifted. Kulgan, ever perceptive, took a discreet half-step back.
“Kulgan Deres Uradil,” he said coolly, bowing with flawless decorum. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Your Highness.”
His tone was polite to perfection, but his body language screamed, “Please don’t make my acquaintance any further than this.” Unfortunately, Princess Bistona was equipped with both an unyielding will and an extraordinary resistance to social cues.
“Bistona Umyuve,” she replied with a coquettish smile. “Please, call me Bistona.”
“Princess Bistona,” Kulgan said evenly. “Then please call me Viscount Uradil.”
“Sir Kulgan?”
“Viscount Uradil.”
A silent battle of proximity and distance ensued. Bistona pushed forward with all the subtlety of a siege weapon, while Kulgan held the line with unyielding professionalism.
It was, frankly, fascinating to watch.
“Hehehe… so Sir Uradil is the shy type,” she said.
“Viscount Uradil,” he replied once again, tone identical to the last, as if carved from marble.
“Then, Viscount Uradil, why don’t we go over there and talk for a while?”
Persistent. Admirably so, if I ignored the context.
“I’m afraid I must decline,” Kulgan said. “His Highness has entrusted me with an errand that I need to attend to right away.”
Oh? I thought. Funny, I don’t recall assigning you any errands after the tea party began.
Still, I understood the survival instinct at play. And considering that Bertia’s maid, Milma, was now standing frozen in place, clutching a teapot and looking on the verge of tears, I decided to throw him a lifeline.
“Ah, that’s right,” I said lightly. “My apologies, Princess Bistona. He really does have something I asked him to take care of.”
Her smile faltered for an instant, but she recovered quickly. “I see. Well then, it can’t be helped. But once your errand is complete, do come find me, won’t you?”
“(That errand won’t be complete until the tea party is long over.) Understood,” Kulgan murmured with impeccable civility.
I could practically hear the parentheses in his voice.
“Milma,” I said suddenly. “Why don’t you help Viscount Uradil finish his task quickly?”
“Eh? Ah, y-yes! At once, Your Highness!”
For a moment, Milma froze in surprise at being suddenly addressed. But then, as realization dawned, her face lit up with joy, and she curtsied so quickly it was almost endearing.
Her enthusiasm earned a small, approving nod from me. Just as I was beginning to sip my tea again, Kulgan took a quiet half-step closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear.
“Your Highness Cecil, since there’s no actual errand, what am I supposed to do?”
“Go to the detached palace and have Milma brew you some tea. Take it easy,” I murmured back.
“Understood.”
We kept our tones light and our faces perfectly neutral, pretending to exchange nothing more than idle courtesies.
Fortunately, Princess Bistona was far too busy glaring daggers at poor Milma to notice the whispered exchange. The intensity of that glare was impressive in its own way; she looked moments away from setting the maid aflame through sheer resentment.
Still, I mused, there’s little need to worry.
Milma spent nearly all her waking hours at Bertia’s side in the detached royal residence. Even if Bistona decided to make trouble later, finding her would be next to impossible. The girl’s presence was so faint that half the palace staff forgot she existed unless she spoke first.
“I shall excuse myself for now,” Bistona said at last. “Viscount Uradil, until later.”
Kulgan bowed with perfect precision, eloquently declaring with his silence that “later” would never come.
Still, as I watched Bistona sweep away with a flick of her heavily jeweled skirt, I couldn’t help but think, If only she took hints as well as she throws them.