When I went to fetch Bertia, she was still chatting with June and Prince Izlarich, a faintly conflicted look shadowing her smile. The two of them, June and Izlarich, seemed even closer than before, but for Bertia, a random mention of the Saintess earlier had clearly rekindled some of her unease.
Perhaps because she couldn’t voice that worry openly, she’d been drinking more than usual.
By the time I arrived, her cheeks were already flushed a delicate shade of pink. June, noticing it too, had been quietly guiding her away from the wine and toward the food with an amused but sympathetic smile.
After thanking them for their kindness, Bertia and I parted ways with the group and began making our way around the hall. We exchanged greetings with nobles and dignitaries from various nations, engaging in polite conversation.
Despite her rosy cheeks, Bertia’s composure surprised me. Even in her slightly tipsy state, she spoke gracefully, her words and gestures perfectly befitting a crown princess.
Between the bows, the toasts, and the endless stream of glasses handed to her by well-meaning guests, it wasn’t long before her careful restraint gave way entirely.
And then—
“Hehehehe…”
She giggled for no discernible reason, a dreamy smile spreading across her lips.
Ah. That’s not good.
After deftly brushing off the advances of a particularly persistent Duke—Lady Margone’s father, of all people—I glanced at my wife beside me. She was laughing softly, radiant and loose-limbed, and that was when I realized my mistake.
“Lord Ceciiiiiiiiil,” she murmured, her voice syrupy-sweet.
A short while ago, her hand had rested lightly in mine. Now, she clutched it tightly, her grip warm and trembling with drunken affection.
“Ehehe… I’m so happy,” she said dreamily. “Lady Lysonna looks so happy, doesn’t sheee?”
Her words slurred at the ends, her voice lilting with that honeyed, tipsy tone that only came out when she’d drunk too much. Her cheeks had deepened to a vivid crimson.
“I’m glad to hear that,” I replied gently. “But, Tia… you’re drunk, aren’t you?”
I’d suspected it earlier, but now it was beyond question. She was utterly, adorably inebriated.
Bertia could be a little silly at times, but she was always conscientious. Her education as the crown princess had instilled in her a strong sense of responsibility, and she usually knew precisely how to carry herself. Even at social events like this, where drinking was customary, she was careful to sip sparingly, aware that her tolerance was low.
Tonight, however, was different. Between her lingering worries about June, the celebratory atmosphere, and the flood of well-meaning toasts, especially after she’d offered nihonshu as a gift, she’d been unable to refuse.
Somewhere along the way, she’d lost track of her limits.
For now, she was barely holding herself together, but the warning signs were all there. She was clutching the nihonshu bottle she’d been using as part of her trade display, hugging it to her chest like a beloved treasure and refusing to let go.
Yes, it’s definitely time to get her out of here.
“Eh? I’m not drunk at allll,” she protested.
“Mm. You’re very drunk,” I said, smiling helplessly.
Drunks always insist they’re not drunk.
I’d learned that much since my academy days—mostly from experience drinking with my friends, particularly Charles. It was practically a law of human nature.
“Well then,” I said, “I’m feeling a little tired myself. Why don’t we take a break outside and get some air?”
If we were an unmarried couple, disappearing together into a quiet corner might’ve sparked scandalous rumors. But we were husband and wife; no one could object to that. Besides, the ever-watchful Marquis Noches, who normally reacted to such things as if the world were ending, wasn’t here tonight.
“Oh, you’re tired, Lord Cecil? That simply won’t do!”
Bertia’s fingers, already clasped tightly around mine, squeezed even harder as she began tugging insistently toward the exit.
Her enthusiasm made me chuckle. I turned to politely excuse us from the guest who had just approached to speak, then glanced over at Kuro and Zeno, who had been standing discreetly by the wall. They caught my look at once and fell in step behind us, their movements crisp and silent.
“Well then, shall we go?”
“Yes, let’s gooooo!” she sang.
Several guests who had been waiting for a chance to approach us looked mildly disappointed, but they kept their composure. It was impossible to greet everyone personally at a gathering this large; people understood that. Our departure marked the natural cutoff point, and no one could complain.
“Now then,” I said once we stepped into the open air, “where shall we rest?”
We’d emerged into the palace garden. It was a tranquil space, softly illuminated by hanging lanterns and moonlight. Here and there, other guests wandered about or sat chatting quietly, some sobering up, others simply enjoying the cool night breeze.
“Where? Where? The sea! I want to see the sea!” Bertia exclaimed.
I blinked, suppressing a laugh. The sea? Of all possible resting spots at a palace party, that’s what came to mind?
“I see. The sea it is, then,” I said indulgently. “Shall we go down to the same beach we stayed at earlier? I heard it’s open even during the festivities.”
Bertia’s voice rose a little higher than usual as she pleaded, her excitement bubbling over. I couldn’t help but chuckle and nod.
The moment we stepped out into the garden, the tension she’d been holding onto seemed to unravel all at once, and with that release, the alcohol had clearly taken firmer hold.
She was still steady enough as long as I supported her, but her steps had begun to sway ever so slightly. It would be wiser to move somewhere quieter, where she could sober up without attracting unwanted attention, preferably somewhere away from the clusters of nobles still lingering in the courtyard.
“The beach from earlier! I want to go to the beach!” she cheered. “Nyahahahaha!”
Her joy was infectious. Even so, I couldn’t ignore how flushed her cheeks were. She looked irresistibly adorable like this, but letting her stay in such a state wasn’t exactly responsible.
“All right, let’s go then,” I said gently.
Sliding an arm around her waist, I steadied her as she leaned in against me. The hand she’d been holding in both of hers, I clasped back firmly under the pretense of an escort’s gesture. In truth, it was to keep her from stumbling.