A faint metallic click rang between us, too soft for anyone else to notice.
The man stiffened. A veteran of countless assignments, he recognized that sound instantly. His eyes flicked toward me in realization, and a sigh laced with resignation and exasperation escaped him.
“Understood,” he said quietly. “But please, Your Highness, don’t take unnecessary risks.”
“I know,” I replied. “It’s just for self-defense. I don’t intend to use it unless absolutely necessary.”
Stepping back, I straightened my posture, meeting his gaze with a calm confidence. He exhaled once more, then bowed slightly, the corners of his mouth quirking in a reluctant smile.
Good, I thought. He’s convinced. At least for now.
“Stay here,” I instructed the group. “No matter what happens, don’t interrupt unless I call for you.”
“Yes, Your Highness. Understood. Ah, wait, sir!”
I paused mid-step, turning just as the guard captain leaned close again, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“There’s one more thing,” he said. “It’s rumored that Prince Ramtak is, uh… something of a collector of lovers. He’s had entanglements with hundreds. Men and women both. They say he doesn’t discriminate.”
A beat passed.
“You might want to be cautious. You are, after all, quite beautiful, Your Highness.”
“Ah, right. I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, blinking once before managing a perfectly diplomatic smile.
A muffled pfft came from behind us.
Zeno, who had clearly been listening through the wind, was doubled over, shoulders shaking as he tried and failed to stifle his laughter.
It hadn’t even been that long since Bertia’s rather colorful “thousand-handed” remark, and yet the rumor had already spread across the palace like wildfire, mutating and multiplying as gossip tended to do. What had once been phrased as a possibility would soon, no doubt, solidify into certainty in the mouths of the uninformed.
Whether or not Prince Ramtak truly entertained both genders, I couldn’t say. But that he had pursued countless women was undeniable.
Frankly, I couldn’t care less about that part.
What did bother me, however, was what my guard had said before that. “You are, after all, quite beautiful, Your Highness.”
Beautiful, was I? I was devoted to my wife. Single-mindedly so. I was pure in heart and conduct.
All right, perhaps that last part was a stretch, even for me.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what sort of image my subordinates had of me. Someday, I really should ask them what exactly they see when they look at me.
“Prince Cecil, are you coming in or not?”
Ramtak’s impatient voice snapped me from my thoughts. He still stood there, holding the door open, irritation etched plainly across his face.
Suppressing a sigh, I decided to end this farce quickly. The sooner I got through this tedious meeting, the sooner I could return to Bertia at the detached palace.
“My apologies,” I said smoothly. “We’ve finished our discussion. My men are only being thorough in their duties.”
“I see. Though, really, too much diligence can be a nuisance, don’t you think?”
I met his comment with nothing but a pleasant smile.
Now that I thought about it, he didn’t have a single guard posted nearby. Not one.
My men may be too serious, I mused, but his are far too lax.
I’d heard that the queen had assigned a strict chaperone to keep an eye on him recently.
So where was that watchdog now?
Had they been bribed to step away? Or had Ramtak simply persuaded them to leave, claiming he’d be meeting with me, a foreign royal, and therefore safe?
If it were the latter, I could understand, but it would be a far graver issue if it were the former.
Either way, it wasn’t my problem.
“So then,” I said, lowering myself onto the sofa opposite him. “What exactly is this ‘confidential matter’ you were so desperate to discuss?”
His grin, smug and oily as usual, wasn’t enough to make me lose my composure, but it grated on my nerves all the same.
Especially when I remembered that this was the same man who had recently attempted the breathtaking folly of flirting with my wife.
I’d let that incident slide at the time, distracted as everyone had been by the “thousand-handed” uproar, but my irritation over it had hardly faded. The memory of it still simmered quietly beneath my calm façade.
Of course, Prince Ramtak had no idea. He seemed utterly convinced by the polite smile I wore, mistaking it for genuine warmth.
“Hehehe… Prince Cecil, you’re rather impatient, aren’t you?” he drawled.
“…”
Impatient? No, my dear prince, that’s not quite it. I simply have no desire to spend any longer than necessary in your company. I’m here to extract the information I need and then leave. Quickly.
For some reason, in your mind, my eagerness to escape this dreary conversation counts as “impatience”? How tiresome.
The timing of this meeting, combined with his recent behavior—his sudden visits to Bertia, his thinly veiled interest in her—made it almost certain that whatever scheme he was plotting involved her.
I leaned back slightly in my seat and decided to nudge the conversation forward myself.
“Come to think of it,” I said evenly, “you’ve been visiting my wife rather frequently of late, haven’t you?”
Ramtak blinked, feigning surprise, his expression one of “Oh my, how perceptive of you!”—as if his actions hadn’t been completely transparent.
Please, I thought dryly. You’ve made it obvious to everyone within a mile of her residence.
After that infamous “thousand-handed” comment, his sudden interest in Bertia had drawn immediate attention. Not only Cynthia and the maids, but even the guards had begun treating his appearances as potential security risks.
Now, whenever Ramtak so much as set foot near Bertia, word reached me within moments.
If he were merely a nobleman, they’d have turned him away at the door for arriving without an appointment. But he was a prince, so they couldn’t simply refuse him outright.
Instead, they did the next best thing: report directly to me and let me deal with him.
To avoid even the chance of a “coincidental encounter,” Bertia’s attendants had grown quite efficient. Whenever she stepped outside the detached palace, the maids and guards worked in perfect coordination, passing word along the moment Prince Ramtak was spotted heading in her direction. Within minutes, they would discreetly guide her elsewhere.
Truly, I was blessed with capable people.
“If you already know that much, Prince Cecil,” Ramtak said, “then this will be quick.”
I raised one eyebrow in polite invitation for him to continue.
“I’ll be direct,” he said. “Please, hand over Crown Princess Bertia to me.”
My response was immediate and reflexive. “Absolutely not.”
He blinked at me, utterly dumbfounded, as if I’d just spoken in another language.
Ah, I realized, that slipped out faster than I could stop it.
It wasn’t like me to lose composure so easily. I’d faced assassins and diplomats alike without letting my mask crack, and yet somehow this ridiculous request had startled an unfiltered answer from my lips.
“Prince Cecil, I beg your pardon, but what did you just say?”
I smiled lightly, as though nothing had happened. “Hmm? Oh, I was just wondering what inspired such a bold proposal.”
His confusion melted into something closer to smug satisfaction. He nodded slowly, clearly mistaking my calm for consideration.
He must have thought that, by not outright rejecting him, I was entertaining the idea. That there might be room to negotiate.
How charmingly delusional.
“I’m glad to see you’re interested in what I have to say, Prince Cecil,” Ramtak said, his grin widening with misplaced confidence. “Allow me to explain in more detail. Now, I understand yours was a political marriage, but surely, having such a selfish and troublesome woman as Crown Princess Bertia must have been quite the burden. Wouldn’t this be a perfect opportunity to part with her peacefully?”
Ah, I see now.
He truly believed it. Not just as idle speculation or rumor, but as an absolute fact that Bertia and I were an unhappy couple, bound by convenience and barely tolerating each other.
Even in a private setting, such a claim would be appallingly reckless. To say it directly to my face without hesitation was nothing short of astonishing.
So, this is how far his delusion runs.
Yes, our marriage had begun as a political one. But from the very start and even more so now, Bertia and I shared an excellent relationship. It wasn’t something we went out of our way to hide; anyone observing us for more than a moment could see that we held deep respect and affection for each other.
True, I’d subtly allowed him to think I was dissatisfied, just to see where his intentions would lead.
Even so, we’d never acted in a way that could be mistaken for genuine discord.
We lived within the same palace grounds, and our every interaction could be seen or overheard by those with eyes and ears. A single inquiry would have exposed the truth.
And yet, this man—the First Prince of Seahealby, in his own kingdom, surrounded by his own network of informants—hadn’t bothered to check.
If he had conducted even the most basic investigation, he would have realized how absurd his assumptions were and saved himself the embarrassment of presenting such a foolish proposal.
“I see,” I said at last, leaning back with a faint, unreadable smile. “How very enlightening.”
Whatever little value I’d once attributed to him slipped away entirely.
Ramtak’s standing in my estimation, already buried somewhere near the floor, found a way to sink even lower. And my mood, never particularly warm to begin with, cooled to absolute zero.