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“IT’S been too long, Lady Agnes! Ah, your green-blue eyes are as bright as ever—no, even brighter! And that peach-blossom colored hair!”
At the private palace of the crown prince, Agnes was greeted by a girl with black hair: Simone Watteau, daughter of a duke and Princess Zenaide’s younger sister.
As soon as the door opened, she came rushing at Agnes at an alarming speed. But Zenaide grabbed the overexcited Simone by the back of her dress, preventing her from barreling into Agnes. Even though Simone was meant to be one of the kingdom’s most eligible young ladies, she was always charging forward.
And Zenaide, holding her in check with one hand, was also a fearsome individual with that calm smile of hers.
“Simone, if you insist on trying to scare Agnes, I’ll have to send you home,” she threatened.
“If I miss the chance to have tea with Lady Agnes, I’ll never recover from the shock! You’ll have to strike me down first! But I’ll try to compose myself!” Simone looked to be as full of beans as ever.
“It’s been much too long,” Agnes managed to say right before Simone clasped her hands together, her eyes sparkling and her expression rapt.
“Ah, even your voice is like sweet birdsong in my ears!”
“Simone.”
“Okay, I’ll be quiet now!”
Simone clamped her lips together at Zenaide’s admonishment.
No doubt Zenaide knew all about Agnes being kidnapped, but it wasn’t something she would ever bring up. In fact, she was keeping far from the subject. No matter the circumstances, kidnapping isn’t a popular topic of conversation.
Agnes didn’t want everyone tiptoeing around her, but she was pleased that she wouldn’t have to discuss the incident either.
“Thank you, Zenaide,” Agnes said.
“It’s fine. Is that the…you know?” Zenaide looked pointedly at the white tiger cub sitting at Agnes’s feet. Small and fluffy, rather like a cuddly toy, but there was a brilliance to its sky-blue eyes that showed a clear intelligence.
“Yes, this is Ciel.”
“Rawr!” he mewed in what sounded like “hello!” and Simone gasped.
“Oh, it’s so cute! That white fur; those bluish-black stripes; those clear, sky-blue eyes! Ah, how lovely with the contrast of Agnes’s gorgeous pink hair!”
Agnes was nodding along until Simone’s last strange statement. Now Simone was gazing only at Agnes. Maybe it was Agnes’s imagination, but she thought she caught a glimpse of drool on Simone’s lips.
“Simone.”
“Okay, I’ll be quiet now!”
“You don’t have to be quiet, just rein it in. And stop drooling.”
“Shertainry!” Simone yelped as she quickly wiped the glisten from her mouth at Zenaide’s rebuke.
Why would she be drooling, though? Agnes could understand it if they were at a banquet and meat was being roasted at the table. But why would Simone be drooling right now?
Agnes was curious, but she had a feeling that asking for an explanation would be something she’d regret, so she decided to erase the scene from her memory.
She sat down in a chair, running her hand along the elaborately carved armrest, and Ciel jumped up onto the chair beside hers. Agnes smiled. It was as if Ciel was making sure he wouldn’t be left out of the tea party. Watching them, Simone covered her mouth and squeaked.
It seemed like every little thing Agnes did, Simone had some reaction. Agnes hoped Simone wouldn’t tire herself out.
When everyone, including Ciel, was seated and tea was poured, Zenaide sighed. “I’m sorry about this, Agnes. But Simone insisted on seeing you.”
“Everyone’s got something that sustains them! For me, that’s Agnes!” Simone’s voice was cheerful, but what she was saying was just…odd.
“…You know, Simone, you remind me of someone,” Agnes remarked.
“I won’t ask who, but I think I can guess. Maybe the one who gave you Ciel? He’s beyond help too, it seems.”
Zenaide no doubt knew that Ciel was a sacred beast and what it would have meant for him to have been summoned. Who knows, maybe she even knew about Claude’s reckless infiltration of Oreille.
A Crest Bearer’s love is an intense and heavy thing. Yes, it did indeed seem so.
“Your wedding’s not so far off now,” Zenaide said. “Agnes, you’ll be the Duchess of Aznavour, right? I was rather hoping you’d live here at the palace, though.”
“Claude and His Majesty said the same, but I don’t think I’m suited for life in the palace,” Agnes said.
Zenaide looked a bit put-out. But even frowning, she was extremely beautiful. Maybe Simone’s loud excitement over the mundane things Agnes did was something like Agnes’s appreciation of Zenaide’s beauty?
No… Even if Simone did really like Agnes’s pink hair, drooling over it was taking things too far—there was something fundamentally different about Simone.
“But now we are official sisters-in-law. Please feel free to come visit anytime,” Zenaide said.
“Oh, thank you.”
Currently, there were only three Crest Bearer Dragonmates: Agnes, Zenaide, and the queen. But Agnes couldn’t exactly drop in on the queen for tea.
Zenaide was clearly taking the newcomer Agnes under her wing, providing her a confidante. She was not only beautiful and elegant, but also very considerate. Agnes hoped that one day she could become a wonderful woman like Zenaide. Though it would be a tall order. She must do her best to try to live up to her example.
Determined to do whatever she could in that regard, Agnes reached for her teacup. Then she noticed that Simone seemed to be trembling.
For a moment, Agnes wondered if she was cold, but something seemed off.
“Agnes will be a duchess. She won’t live in the royal palace. She’ll be just like me! So doesn’t this mean that I can visit her whenever I want?!”
Agnes jerked in her seat as Simone let out an ear-piercing squeal.
“Claude is second in line to the throne. His title will be the same as a duke, but his position will be quite different. And if you meddle in their affairs as newlyweds, Claude will no doubt ban you from coming anywhere near their new residence,” Zenaide chided her sister calmly.
“Gah! Prince Claude is a tyrant! How can he monopolize Lady Agnes like this?! I want to gaze upon those dazzling green-blue eyes, too!”
As Simone gnashed her teeth in frustration, the room was filled with a series of loud pops. An Amanita griseoturcosa sprouted with its muted, bluish-gray cap alongside a duller Amanita viridissima and the cracked cap of a Russula virescens.
“All green-blue mushrooms…” Agnes noted with wide eyes.
No doubt the mushrooms had reacted to what Simone had been saying about green-blue eyes. Agnes felt a little sorry for the mushrooms, which were clearly trying to participate in the conversation. She thought she’d better apologize since they’d just sprouted on Simone’s arm, but it seemed she wasn’t upset or alarmed by the mushrooms. Instead, she was gazing at them all along her arm, her eyes sparkling.
“Agnes-colored mushrooms, just for me? Such divine thoughtfulness!” she gushed.
“Er, no, it’s not that…” Agnes demurred.
Agnes’s mushrooms tended to spring up when she was feeling harassed by someone, and some of those mushrooms were poisonous. One could view it as a sort of attack on Simone.
“Can I keep these mushrooms?” Simone asked.
“Huh? Er, if you like.”
“I shall save them as keepsakes! Ah, even these warts are so precious!” Simone quickly plucked the mushrooms and looked at them happily.
Come to think of it, she’d taken some mushrooms with her last time, too.
“…Has one more mushroom freak emerged?” Agnes didn’t mean to say that out loud, but Zenaide sighed and shook her head.
“She’s just an actual freak, Agnes. Don’t pay her too much attention. Anyway, are the wedding preparations going well? What about the new residence?”
“I heard that the new house is ready, but…it still doesn’t feel quite real.” Agnes felt a little bad being so hands-off, but she had no idea what a royal wedding entailed. She was painfully aware of how uneducated she was.
“If you have any concerns, please talk to Claude. He’d lay down his life to protect you, Agnes,” Zenaide said.
“It’s…a lot to take.”
Especially when Agnes remembered how he’d spilled his own magic blood to summon a sacred beast and entered Oreille under a temporary draining contract, all to save her.
Ciel seemed to notice Agnes’s gaze and jumped onto her lap. Stroking the cat’s soft fur, Agnes felt soothed. She realized this would be a good opportunity to ask a burning question.
“Um, Prince Gerome said that the love of a Crest Bearer is very serious. But because Claude has my mushrooms to distract him, he’s able to stay playful about things… What does that mean, exactly?”
Ciel looked up at Agnes as her hand paused midstroke, prompting her to resume. This strange creature, feeding off of Claude’s magic to live, seemed to really love being petted.
“The way Gerome phrased it is a bit odd, but it’s mostly correct. You’ll understand more once you’re married, Lady Agnes,” Zenaide said.
“Is… Is it going to get tougher going forward?” Agnes asked, a little shocked.
“Tougher… It’s more like certain prior restrictions are going to be lifted.”
Agnes was kind of hoping for Zenaide to say Gerome was just exaggerating, but this was sounding even more daunting.
Zenaide had her eyes half-closed, and though she was gazing at the chandelier, it was like she was looking at something very far away. Her smile, tinted with a hint of resignation, frightened Agnes a little.
“There are restrictions right now? What, am I going to be expected to eat mushrooms for all three meals?!” Agnes cried.
A loud pop punctuated the room.
As Simone spotted the deep pink frilly Pleurotus djamor among the blue-green mushrooms on the table, her eyes lit up like a wild beast spotting its favorite prey, all while muttering something about “Lady Agnes’s colors!”
Agnes was glad Simone seemed pleased, but she wished she’d stop fixating on the mushrooms. Zenaide watched with a smile as Simone began her harvest. Agnes couldn’t exactly snatch them away, so she sat back and watched.
At this rate, everyone in the palace would be eating mushrooms for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Now that she and Claude were to be married, she needed to have a serious talk with him about the mushroom situation. No doubt a total mushroom ban would be impossible, but surely Claude would listen and try to make a few concessions for her.
She didn’t want to put restrictions on him, though. What was the right balance? She wasn’t sure.
Agnes stroked Ciel, who was happily curled up on her lap, and let out a small sigh.