The Princess Who Wants a Friend (2)
Thanks to Benelia's guidance, Theorad reached the shop called The Old Moon That Grows on Its Own without further mishap.
The Old Moon was a three-story shopping establishment. Its floors were not especially spacious, but they were packed with such an astonishing variety of goods that he found himself staring as soon as he entered.
The employees stared, too.
A princess had walked into their shop without warning. Naturally, a commotion followed. Some hurried to attend to Benelia while others ran off to fetch the manager.
“Your Highness! What brings you to a humble place like ours?”
“Please allow us to serve you personally!”
Benelia seemed accustomed to such attention. Her expression hardly changed. Theorad, on the other hand, was visibly ill at ease with so many people bustling around them.
Fortunately, the procession of attendants did not last long.
Benelia surveyed the employees gathering around her and ordered them out of her sight.
By the time they reached the third floor, no one was following them.
Other shoppers recognized the princess and began whispering, but she ignored them. With an indifferent glance, she pointed toward one side of the store.
“The ornaments you want are over there. Their displays could be better kept, but the quality is good.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. Then, if you'll excuse me while you attend to your own business—”
“I've nothing else to see. I might as well help you choose a present.”
The offer was generous and terribly difficult to refuse.
Yet Benelia had said she'd come here because she had something to look at. Had she truly finished her business the moment they arrived?
Theorad hesitated before asking.
“Your Highness… there's nothing you wish to see?”
“I thought someone working here might be the person I'm searching for. I've looked around, and none of them seems to be involved. I was mistaken.”
“Oh. I'm sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. Now stop looking so troubled. We're choosing a gift for your fiancée.”
“…Do you know much about jewelry?”
“I was raised in the imperial palace. I may not own much of it myself, but I've seen enough to have better taste than you.”
He could hardly dispute that.
Theorad nodded, and Benelia gave his shoulder a reassuring pat before leading him to the display case.
Ornaments lay arranged across red silk, each one carefully worked. The constellation designs were particularly striking.
Theorad stared at the selection, unable to decide.
“Buy a necklace,” Benelia said.
“A necklace? Is there a reason?”
“A necklace is a gift that can express a wish to become one with another person. Give one to a fiancée who might still be untouched, and it can be rather like asking her to marry you—”
She stopped, noticing how stiffly Theorad was holding himself.
His lips were pressed together, and he looked as though he didn't dare speak. He was trying so hard not to reveal anything about the intimacy of his relationship with Ashley that the effort itself had betrayed him.
“Hmm…”
One of Benelia's brows rose.
With a little more questioning, she could probably learn what had happened between them.
But she had no particular wish to torment him. Suppressing her curiosity, she continued.
“A diamond would make an excellent centerpiece. It represents pure, unchanging love. Garnet or ruby around it would also work. They carry similar meanings, and their colors would complement the diamond.”
Theorad nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the display.
He seemed unwilling to look at her lest his expression give something else away.
He really doesn't seem to have any guile in him.
Benelia studied him sidelong.
Is this truly the schemer I thought might want to control the world? Or is this another act meant to fool me?
The man before her was credited with perfecting artificial-rain magic. He had shown an alarming ability to read a situation and grasp what people wanted. Yet here he was, floundering at the mere mention of his fiancée.
She still couldn't make sense of him.
That was all the more reason to keep him close. She had offered to guide him and help choose a present not purely out of kindness, but also to place him under a small obligation.
Enough small favors might one day earn a favor in return. And even if he never repaid them, it was better to have him as a friendly acquaintance than an enemy.
“…What about earrings?” Theorad asked.
Benelia considered the question, then shook her head.
“A necklace is better. Your fiancée has large breasts that naturally draw people's eyes to her chest. Each time they look, they'll see the necklace you gave her. It will be like announcing that she has an owner. You may both find that pleasing.”
“I see…”
Theorad took her advice seriously and returned to examining the necklaces.
Having finished her recommendation, Benelia let her gaze travel around the shop.
Hm?
In a corner, an employee was putting books in order.
Benelia's attention settled on the ring the employee wore.
That ring…
It had the same design as the ring worn by the person she had been pursuing.
Of course, a matching ring alone could not establish that the employee was the culprit. But now she had reason to investigate.
“You there!”
The employee turned.
“Yes, you. Come here.”
The figure approached hesitantly, brushing dust from plain work clothes.
Nothing about the person's appearance suggested someone adept at climbing walls or slipping across rooftops. Benelia nevertheless watched closely.
“I've taken an interest in books lately,” she said. “Can you help me find one?”
“Of course, Your Highness. Tell me the title and I'll bring it to you.”
“I'll give you a passage instead. Find the book that contains it.”
The employee nodded. The thin hands trembled slightly, and the face showed the proper nervousness of a commoner addressed by royalty for the first time.
It all seemed so natural.
Perhaps a little too natural.
Benelia rested one hand near her sword.
“We see the world's naked face in darkness.”
The employee flinched.
For the briefest moment, the trembling stopped and the face went blank.
Benelia hadn't quoted a book. Those words were a recognition phrase used by the group to which her quarry belonged.
“You don't know it?”
“Y-Your Highness, I'm afraid I don't understand.”
The frightened expression returned, a fraction too late.
Liar.
“I see.”
Benelia smiled faintly and drew her sword.
Whoosh!
A silver-white crescent flashed through the air.
But no blood followed the blade.
An illusion!
Benelia twisted away, realizing that something had gone wrong. Already, the world around her was slowing.
The voices of the shoppers stretched and warped. A burst of laughter became a long, distorted sound.
Then a great wave came crashing toward her—a wave that could not possibly exist inside the shop.
It swept across bookcases, shattering shelves and scattering glass and precious ornaments. Shoppers appeared to be swallowed up along with the wreckage.
The destruction was impossibly vivid, yet she knew she could not trust what she saw.
“Damn it.”
The wave struck her. The world turned upside down.
When Benelia opened her eyes, she was lying in a bed.
Birdsong drifted through the window. Sunlight warmed her hand, and the bedding was soft against her back.
The room was familiar: her own chamber in the imperial palace.
She sat up without crying out. She had suffered this kind of sudden change before.
So I've been trapped in a hallucination.
It was troublesome, but she knew how to escape such things. What irritated her was that the quarry had slipped through her fingers. A fraction sooner with the sword, and she might have stopped the attack.
She clenched her jaw and drew herself upright. Something about the room seemed wrong.
The bed looked taller than it should.
She raised a hand.
It was small. Much too small.
Of course.
The hallucination had returned her to childhood, reproducing a memory of trauma.
“You wretched scoundrel…!”
The words came out in a child's soft, high voice.
Someone approached and bent down beside the bed.
“Your Highness! Where did you learn such dreadful language?”
That voice was strange, yet familiar.
Benelia turned and found Theorad Deharem beside her, neatly dressed in a tailcoat, looking stern.
“What…?”
It made no sense. The man who ought to be somewhere else entirely was standing at her bedside, acting as if he belonged there.
“Why are you here?”
Theorad looked taken aback.
“Your Highness, I'm your personal butler. Surely you know that.”
Benelia could only stare.
Not only was Theorad present in this impossible childhood scene, he seemed quite convinced that he served her as a butler.
Don't tell me…
She swallowed, then pointed at him.
“Are you involved in this, too?”