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AFTER a full day of accompanying King Ricardo through many such dubious successes, the end of dinner saw me scuttling desperately back to my room, whereupon I fell face-first into bed. Harold was at my side, where he had just returned from the Royal Academy to inform them of my absence under the guise of “royal duties.” No lecture I attended now would carry any meaning to me, after all, so I was glad for the excuse—but that was not my primary reason for doing so.
“I’m exhausted,” I muttered weakly into my pillow.
“Shall I accompany you from tomorrow?” Harold asked.
“As much as I’d like to turn you down, please do.”
Harold had deduced the source of my stress. Without my memories, every move I made around King Ricardo required great caution. Even touring the palace grounds alone, there were moments in the Mineral Parlor and the like where I was pressured to reveal the history of the Glass Lazulite, information that was lost to my memories. I had stayed up late the night before committing such trivia to memory, but there were definite limits, such as my failing at the training grounds. The way the king repeatedly attempted to change the topic to Mother was equally exhausting.
I considered revealing my memory issues to King Ricardo outright, but I decided against it. For instance, what if the guest were anyone other than him? If a “guest” arrived, determined to glean information on how to ruin our country, I would be forced to deal with them, given the circumstances. I could not hide behind my title forever—no, I had to take charge of the country and step out from my parents’ shadow. I could not possibly become worthy of Elizabeth’s love otherwise.
Harold fixed me with a troubled look. “Perhaps you should learn to rely on others a tad more?”
“That’s why you’ll be accompanying me tomorrow.”
“Aside from me?”
“Well… Who do you suggest?” Granted, Edward’s aid had saved me. “Come to think of it, do you know where Raphael is?”
During his studies, he gained his full qualifications as a mage, and after graduation, I heard he immediately began work at the Ministry of Magecraft. Only his father, Marquis Dominic, had seen him since.
“He’s presently on an expedition to our country’s northern extremes,” Harold replied. “He detailed his and Lady Yulisse’s presence there in a rather aggravating letter.”
“What? He didn’t send me anything.”
“He’s no doubt attempting to be discreet.”
It was a shock nonetheless. He was on absolutely horrible terms with Harold, and I couldn’t imagine either contacting the other of his own free will… though perhaps that was precisely why he reached out to Harold.
“What of Lucas?” I asked.
“He is presently working under the chancellor. Both the chancellor and the head of espionage are conducting a coverup campaign to prevent word of His Majesty’s condition from spreading abroad.”
“I imagine he’s busy, then.” I let out a heavy sigh. “I can’t ask any of them to divest time from their duties to cover for me.”
He nodded, and from the shift in his expression, I realized he must have reached the same conclusion as I. “There is one individual, is there not?”
Harold glanced at the mantle and the small portrait of Elizabeth perched atop it. She had received all the tutelage necessary of a future queen, and just as Mother was undertaking Father’s duties during his illness, Elizabeth was equipped and prepared to direct the ministers and take control of the nation in my absence. She was, in all respects, the person I should rely on.
“I should be relying on her, yes, but…but that would mean exposing her to yet another embarrassing side of me.” I pulled my sheets up about my face to hide my flushed cheeks. Not even Harold needed to see my embarrassment.
I can’t ask her now, what with all that touching and flirting, and… Gods, I nearly kissed her! In fact, when Lars barreled into me at the end, I distinctly remember something brushing against my lips… I imagine only Harold saw enough of that ordeal to say what happened for certain.
“But Your Royal Hi—”
“Wait,” I interrupted him, peering furtively out from my blankets. “Th-There’s something I need to know first…”
It was part of my duty as a royal to kiss her at the wedding and pledge both love and longevity to one another for political reasons, both domestic and international. Emphasis on “at the wedding.”
“Yesterday, did Elizabeth and I… er… k-kiss…?” Before I could even finish, Harold’s expression soured with exasperation. “Wait, we didn’t?”
“What you felt against your lips,” Harold said with a roll of his eyes, “was Lady la Montlivere’s cheek.”
“Her cheek?”
“Your head was sent upwards at an angle when you were separated from her, correct? It wouldn’t make sense for your lips to touch in a direct collision. In fact, given how your balance left you—”
“Enough… That’s all I needed to hear.”
So, since I didn’t fall straight back, my lips only grazed her… I suppose true love’s kiss didn’t break the spell on me, after all… Though her mana certainly triggered it, so that may still be true in a sense.
“Yes… That’s right,” I nodded to myself. “Our first kiss should be a lot more romantic… The mood was all wrong.”
In other words, since the circumstances weren’t perfect, it didn’t count. Though I considered myself a realist, I was too smitten with her not to believe in fate or true love.
“Still, that can’t have been a pleasant experience for her,” I reasoned. “I can’t possibly ask her to take time from her studies at the Academy for my sake.”
Just as I drew my conclusion, someone pounded on the door, prompting it to glide open. Standing there in my doorway was King Ricardo.
“Vincent! Get Princess Elizabeth over here. I already got permission from King Gaius, and we’ll spend all day tomorrow out on the town!”
He held forward a piece of scrap parchment with “I allow it” scrawled curtly across it in Father’s hand. Beside the signature was a nearly identical message from Mother. Beside me, Harold’s face lost all emotion.
“Don’t worry about bodyguards,” the king continued. “It clearly says in paragraph 93 of my treaty that I’m to have no guards with me. Nieve can’t complain! Make your soldiers cover only you and the princess!”
“Er… That’s far easier said than done…”
A second later, I realized the full context of the situation. This was a formal request. There was little I could do against written permission from Father himself.
Mother, Father, be honest. You want me to keep this thoroughly irritating man away from you, don’t you?
I hesitated. “Do you promise to concede graciously if Elizabeth refuses?”
He solemnly placed his hand over his heart. “Of course. The last thing I want is to trouble the poor princess.”
But you don’t mind troubling us in old House Weissworth, do you?
Without any means of protesting left, I sent a messenger to find Elizabeth with the news.