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AFTER dropping Elizabeth off at her mansion, we returned to the palace and changed out of our disguises, marking the end of an incredibly long day.
“I had a ton of fun!” King Ricardo had told Elizabeth with an eager wave as we saw her off. “See you tomorrow!”
The exhaustion that had built up over the day felt especially heavy at that moment.
We’re going through this again tomorrow? Oh, joy.
Just before I turned to board the carriage again, Elizabeth shot me an exhausted look, only able to muster a faint smile herself. I smiled warmly and waved, signaling that I was okay, and her eyes brightened somewhat. The anxiety did not fade, however.
This is no time to make her worry over me.
We had survived King Ricardo’s manic plans only because of Harold’s preparations, and I had done close to nothing myself. Simply considering what I did do—stroll through town, eat crepe-wrapped meat, buy matching shirts with Elizabeth—it was an excellent use of a day, but my duty was not to have fun.
“Harold. Bring me a guidebook to the capital.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Perhaps you would prefer to rest?”
“It feels like I lost. I can’t sleep like this.”
Besides, from the sound of it, King Ricardo would stay up all night with his catalogs.
“You seem rather pale,” he remarked.
“I’ll make sure to sleep later.”
“One book only,” he said before turning and leaving the room.
I knew I was being selfish and stubborn, but I was thoroughly justified. I refused to make Elizabeth keep telling me the answers forever—even if she could accept that, I would never forgive myself. I had to answer King Ricardo’s questions on my own merit, and to that extent, I would push myself as hard as it took.
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THE hallowyrm frankly could not understand the problems his mistress’s fiancé was facing, but he knew she was greatly troubled by it. That red-haired man Ricardo took Elizabeth and Vincent (and Harold, he supposed) out on the town, throughout which Lars was more than content to sleep in the manservant’s wicker basket. On occasion, he caught a whiff of some tantalizing aroma, and a scrap of meat or dessert would slip through the lid a moment later. His mistress knew how boring it was inside the basket and was an angel in the truest sense.
He frankly couldn’t complain about the arrangement. The little drake spent most of his time home alone while Elizabeth was at school anyway, so this change was akin to lounging about in a nice den instead of a sunny windowsill. Better yet, Elizabeth was even more charming than usual in her disguise, and the red-haired man seemed to torment Vincent with every word. He dragged the irritating prince about every which way, asking for an odd fact or after piece of trivia, and it was clear the man wanted only to be a nuisance. Lars enjoyed that immensely.
“Do you suppose Prince Vincent is in more trouble than he lets on?”
Lars looked up at Elizabeth at the sound of her voice. Night had freshly fallen, and his mistress talked to him with the kindness and softness she always did at this hour. He loved this time most of all, even if she almost always talked about that deplorable Vincent.
He dutifully nodded. The prince was suffering, no doubt. He could feel the prince’s mana quiver and waver, and three other traces of mana within the royal were straining him in ways unknown to the prince himself. It was patently obvious he was hellishly stressed.
“I keep trying to think of ways I might be of use to him,” Elizabeth continued. “He hasn’t properly smiled in far too long, but no matter how I ask, he never tells me.”
He wrapped his little clawed paws about her hand as she sighed in melancholy. Admittedly, he did not understand what Vincent’s hardships had to do with her. Lars was never good at such things as a human, and as he changed into a fellwyrm, then hallowyrm, his confusion with others’ emotions only grew.
She gazed idly into the distance, no doubt remembering the prince. “Do you think that Prince Vincent… Has he been playing the part of the perfect crown prince all these years?”
“Kweurgh.” Bingo, in other words.
In his faint memories of his human life, Lars remembered young Vincent as a selfish, simple-minded brat. Even now, he took on that same attitude whenever Elizabeth’s back was turned. The prince was trying, as infuriating as that was to admit, but why worry about such things now?
He cocked his head to the side, and his mistress sighed and looked away.
“I wish he’d rely on me if he needs help… Does he think I’m unreliable, or perhaps that I can’t be trusted to support him?”
“Kwee?”
“He’s always smiled so composedly, with that clever glint in his eyes… but now, it feels like he’s using that look to reject me. I don’t want to doubt his love for me, but…”
“Kweoogh?”
Lars didn’t know where those words led, not as a human and certainly not now. His head spun as he tried to puzzle out her meaning.
At his core, Vincent was barely different from Lars; he was simply far better at acting. It wasn’t to genuinely improve for her but to charm her with superficiality. Clearly, Elizabeth wanted him to trust her, and Lars could recall with horrific clarity how she wanted them both to support the prince after their contract was first forged.
Lars sized up his mistress carefully. He could see glimpses of light within, though she never spared him a proper look as a human. Vincent’s light was the brightest, as much as he hated to admit it. That was it—the reason why Elizabeth was bound to Vincent, and he could never have hoped for the same. They strove for each other to improve and grow for each other. From somewhere deep within the recesses of his brain came his own voice, the human mind laying dormant and feeble within the hallowyrm.
I was always taught I was the best, superior to everyone around me. That wasn’t enough to earn Elizabeth’s love. I was never the best human. That’s why she dragged me off my high horse herself.
Elizabeth never thought of herself as better than others. Even Vincent had faith in his bloodline and nobility but never in himself. That’s what drove them to grow. They lived in vastly different worlds, to the point Lars could never have come to understand them. It was a cruel realization but one that made plenty of sense.
If I hadn’t messed up so badly, then perhaps Elizabeth and I could have been different.
“Lord Lars? Are you all right? You aren’t ill, are you?”
He snapped out of his reverie to find Elizabeth looking at him concernedly. Having her say his name was enough, his dragon side reasoned. The human heart was too complex to waste time fretting over.
“Kweee!” Lars raised his head, then stood and spread his wings to take a lap around the room, flexing his little claws theatrically. “Kwirp, kwee, kweeoooo!”
The sight of his little feet balled up as he flew and spun finally made her laugh.
“Oh, you’re trying to cheer me up! That’s so sweet! You’re right; we can’t lose hope.” She blushed faintly. “We must continue to support Prince Vincent however we can.”
Lars nodded firmly. He could never be her partner, but he could be at her side, and that was enough. She could never go to Vincent on matters of the heart, and if the fool learned about how Lars was supporting her now, he’d die of jealousy. The thought alone made Lars purr with delight.
She tenderly stroked his horns. “Thank you, Lord Lars.”
He narrowed his eyes blissfully, leaning into the scritches to enjoy them to the fullest.
There remained one problem, however, that even Lars could see as clear as day. The harder Elizabeth worked to support the prince in his current state, the more stressed Vincent would become. Vincent would hold onto his manly pride in the worst way, attempting to put on a strong front for his beloved that would only grow firmer the weaker he felt. For once, Lars felt he had a grasp on the human heart, if only a little.
When they arrived at the palace several mornings later, Vincent’s steely-eyed manservant greeted them. There was only a touch more exhaustion in his eyes than before as he announced that, as they all had feared, Prince Vincent had collapsed.