Chapter 2: The Past Catches Up
FROM the doorway, I watched Elizabeth grapple with her intense embarrassment.
No. Absolutely not. I don’t care how generous and forgiving she is; I could never do that again. It’s more than embarrassing. It’s…well, it’s downright lewd. I’m simply glad she didn’t dump me.
I was delusional when I did those things. I had coolly seduced her, locked her in my arms, whispered sweet promises in her ear, and made outrageous claims—that couldn’t be me. Since we were children, I was smitten with her and chased her as she flew ahead on wings of perfection. I couldn’t imagine treating her like any other woman, and I swore my seductive side was even more firmly sealed than my knowledge.
That odd overconfidence did make sense, however, given that Elizabeth was the only reason I could still maintain a decent façade. Now that I knew what I would become without her, I had proven that I would do nothing but embarrass myself on my own.
Gah, I wish I could crawl into a dark hole and never come out again… Never did I imagine I could embarrass myself so thoroughly at this age.
I took a deep breath, hand planted on the doorframe for support. That…thing wasn’t me. It couldn’t possibly be.
After a few more breaths, I turned back to face Elizabeth and extended my hand. I gave her my best princely smile to assure her that I was sane again and spoke in the same level, practiced tone I always did.
“Let’s search the palace, then, shall we?”
I took her hand, noting that her face was only slightly pinker than usual now. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Harold sighing and rolling his eyes. I knew well what he wished to say—after all, it was his duty to watch my actions and offer advice should I stray down the wrong path.
His icy gaze drew attention to improper antics and encouraged me to correct my misdemeanors. There was only one reason he had abstained from using said glare and held Lars back until the last moment. He wanted me to fix my vexingly inconsistent relationship with Elizabeth, and while I understood his intent, I couldn’t believe he would condone such bawdry behavior to that end. I didn’t care how many times he’d kissed Lady Margaret; his decision was highly improper.
The urge to run and hide from the shame rose in my chest, so I devoted my energy to searching for Plum instead. While it was possible to cram all the knowledge I needed in the time before the ceremony, it would be far easier to remove the blasted thing altogether.
“Let’s start with the storeroom it first appeared in,” I suggested.
Harold shot me a harsh look. “Are you certain? I fear your brain may yet be scrambled, Your Highness.”
The events immediately before and after having my memories sealed were vague, granted, and I could hardly remember the guise of the villain itself. Perhaps it was a countermeasure to ensure I wouldn’t seek it out to repeal the curse too readily.
“You may explore wherever you wish, but I must draw the line at that one room,” he continued. “There may yet be residual mana. As such, I will investigate it myself.”
I wanted to ask what he was on about, but the firmness of his glare made me think otherwise. I was better off obeying him for now.
“Fine, but take Lars with you, just in case.”
He could dispel or purify any lingering miasma they found. Harold simply furrowed his brow, and there was a long silence before he curtly agreed.
What? Am I missing something?
Apparently, we had been arranging some of my personal belongings when the cait sidhe attacked. Upon our arrival, we did a cursory pass around the outside of the room, but there were no signs of unusual mana flow, and it seemed likely Plum had fled elsewhere. Harold still went inside with Lars, just in case, and in a minute or so, they returned unharmed…or so it seemed, but Lars flew straight into Elizabeth’s arms, crying and whining all the while.
“Oh, my! What happened in there?” she asked.
Harold shook his head. “He’s unharmed, I assure you. Those are tears of envy.”
“Envy?”
Elizabeth and I exchanged puzzled glances.
“More importantly,” my manservant continued dully, disinterest in the topic clear in his voice, “our quarry was not present in the room, nor were there any signs of where it went.”
Elizabeth scooped up the tiny hallowyrm in her arms and babied him for a minute, and soon enough, he was wagging his tail happily and chirping. He seemed more like a dog than a dragon.
Once we left the vicinity of the storehouse, we found ourselves directionless.
I sighed. “Even if we know it’s in the palace, this place is too large to search at random.” If we included the grounds, the palace was the size of a small village.
“It would be far more productive to search with some aim in mind,” Harold agreed.
“Can’t Lars trace its mana or something?” I asked.
“Possibly,” Elizabeth replied before turning to the little creature. “Well, Lord Lars? Can you sense anything?”
It was an idle guess on my part, but Elizabeth and Lars seemed determined to give it a genuine attempt. He struck his chest confidently before taking flight, his nose working curiously to pick up the scent.
Well, it seems somebody wants to show off.
Lars closed his eyes as he gave off light, and Elizabeth swallowed hard beside me. His horns were shining like crystal beacons.
What an uncoordinated display. He’s showing off on purpose, isn’t he?
Finally, the dragon’s eyes flew open. He flapped his wings once, gaining height before spiraling about theatrically. He stopped in front of me, staring directly into my eyes.
“Kyagh!” He stuck his blue-tipped tail pointedly out behind himself. “Kyawah!”
Lars gestured again toward the central courtyard. Then, with a sharp flap of his wings, he narrowed his form into a dive and rushed down the corridor away from us. We chased after him, and as we stepped outside, one of Mother’s comically designed topiaries came into view. Nestled among the leaves lay something resembling a purple cat.
“Is that it?” I asked. Something about the form resonated with me.
“Indeed,” Harold nodded.
“Excellent work, Lord Lars!” Elizabeth applauded the dragon giddily.
As we neared Plum, it made no attempt to flee. Its plush little toes hung laxly over the edge as Lars spiraled above it.
“Isn’t it going to move?” I wondered aloud.
“Oh, it’s the pretty boy,” the cat mewled. “Looks like mew found me.”
There was no telepathy this time. The monster instead moved its mouth in unsettling ways to speak aloud. It grinned, showing enough sharp teeth to send a chill down my spine.
“I sealed your meowmories, didn’t I?” Plum continued in a lax tone. “There was too meowch of your love, so I ended up using all my meowna.”
It did a big, full-body stretch before flopping lazily back down. Lars poked it in irritation, but Plum didn’t move in the least. Its body was thin and scrawny, and its pelt lacked any significant sheen. It truly seemed weakened.
How is my love strong enough to make a monster, of all things, run out of mana?!
Despite myself, another shudder ran down my spine.