The Princess Who Wants a Friend (6)
Sweat poured down Theorad's back.
He hastily took his hands off Benelia. Once she saw that the danger had passed, Benelia also stepped out of his arms.
The elf looked from Theorad to the princess. Displeasure darkened her face.
Theorad cleared his throat, searching desperately for an explanation. Before he could speak, Benelia drew a handkerchief from her clothing. It was an expensive piece embroidered with the imperial crest in gold.
“You're sweating terribly,” she said. “Then again, even a magician of your caliber would be strained after using that kind of magic without a wand.”
“Your Highness, that wasn't—”
He broke off and fell silent.
Benelia reached up and wiped his forehead herself. The touch was soft and warm. When she lowered the handkerchief, a faint smile rested on her lips.
“You bastard. You've saved me twice in such a short time.”
She had intended to draw Theorad into her debt. Somehow, the debt had ended up going the other way.
He had a fine appearance, formidable abilities—or so she believed—and an uncommonly decent character. In an age when people deceived one another without a second thought, she found him almost impossible to understand.
Benelia shook her head, folded the handkerchief twice and held it out.
“Take it.”
“Your Highness?”
“I don't give my possessions away lightly. Anyone who carries one of my gifts carries some of my authority with it. Show that handkerchief anywhere in the Empire and people will treat you accordingly.”
It was a token of the Third Princess's recognition.
For the moment, Benelia was outwardly playing the incompetent princess, so the gift's political weight might seem limited. If she succeeded in taking control of the Empire, however, its value would rise immeasurably. If she failed, its bearer could simply burn it.
Theorad nevertheless hesitated. In his own estimation, he hadn't accomplished anything worthy of receiving such a favor.
“I'm grateful for the thought, Your Highness, but I cannot accept something so valuable. If I may—”
“How tiresome.”
She interrupted him and pressed the handkerchief into his hand despite his refusal.
When he reluctantly took it, she smiled with a trace of mischief.
“If someone gives you a present, accept it. Must you make a speech about everything? Besides, didn't you promise we'd be friends in another life?”
“Another… life?”
“Never mind that. More importantly…”
Benelia looked away and frowned.
“They're finally here.”
Two knights were running toward her with Roylen between them.
They stopped close by and bowed. Roylen bent forward, breathless and disheveled, with torn clothing and damp, tangled hair.
“Y-Your Highness, I…”
Benelia waited without interrupting, allowing Roylen to catch a breath.
Once he realized Theorad was standing there, Roylen straightened his back and tried to regain his composure.
“Your Highness. I was engaging another enemy nearby when I heard the explosion. I came as quickly as I could. Are you hurt?”
“You have eyes.”
Roylen glanced toward the blast site. The sturdy hemispherical barrier still stood, and the sight left him speechless.
“I-I could have protected Your Highness too, if I'd been beside you…”
“Nonsense. You'd only have been in the way.”
Roylen's shoulders drooped. He looked so wretched that Benelia sighed and turned to more pressing business.
“What happened to the others?”
“Three of the men we pursued killed themselves. One escaped.”
“Suicide, then. No different from this one. Any losses among our people?”
“None.”
Benelia nodded. They hadn't secured the answers she wanted, but at least none of her own people had been hurt.
“We've eliminated the people trying to establish a base near the Mage Tower. They won't be able to make another bold move immediately. With that obstacle gone, we'll proceed with negotiations with Weedra as planned.”
“Yes, Your Highness. We'll proceed. But…”
Roylen glanced at Theorad.
“Is it wise to discuss this plan in front of Viscount Theorad?”
“Don't worry. He's trustworthy.”
Benelia gave Theorad a sidelong look.
“Though at first I thought he might be a waste of…”
Her words trailed into an indistinct mutter. Then she turned and walked off with Roylen and the knights.
She raised a hand in brief farewell.
“Until next time.”
It was entirely like Benelia.
Watching her leave, Theorad felt a chill along his back.
The elf was still standing nearby, her expression hard and her aura menacing. If he hesitated, he was finished.
He touched the brooch at his neck and faced her with an icy stare.
“I believe I ordered you to move our luggage.”
“I moved all of it. I waited and waited for Master, but you didn't come. So I went looking for you. And when I found you, you were rubbing yourself against the princess.”
Her insistence that she'd waited so long frightened him more than he cared to admit.
He kept his face composed. The hand gripping his brooch, however, was shaking.
“Her Highness embraced me because—as you know—it was necessary to make the barrier as effective as possible. As for why I didn't go straight back to the Mage Tower…”
“Why didn't you?”
Her red eyes seemed brighter than usual.
Think, Theorad.
If he admitted he'd stayed out to buy Ashley a necklace, the month at the Mage Tower might turn into a living hell.
It seemed better to tell a small lie and endure the guilt. Theorad silently asked the God of Light for forgiveness.
“…I came out to buy you pudding.”
“Pudding?”
Her menacing air eased a little. Encouraged, he continued.
“Yes. Remember how I ate your pudding before? I thought I should apologize properly, so I wanted to buy you something delicious before returning to the tower.”
He made it sound as though his delay had been entirely for her sake.
The elf blinked, apparently moved.
“Oh… I thought Master was avoiding me.”
She's guessed exactly right.
Theorad forced his face to remain still.
“How could I do that? I swear by the God of Light, you were the only one on my mind today.”
“Master…”
The elf gazed up at him, her expression softening.
Believing himself safe at last, Theorad forged ahead with his performance.
“Come along. I'll buy you the finest pudding in the world.”
“Yes…”
She fell into step beside him, then glanced at his troubled face.
It was plain that he had no idea where a pudding shop might be. He hadn't gone out to buy pudding in the first place.
A faint smile touched her lips.
I'm not a fool, Theorad. I know you're lying.
Still, she went willingly, because he had remembered that she liked pudding.
At the imperial palace archery range—
Thud!
An arrow struck its target, and Prince Leonhard lowered his longbow.
The weapon was an expensive piece handmade by a master bowyer. Leonhard's jeweled garments and gold ornaments were no less extravagant.
“So…”
Leonhard swept back his ash-colored hair, clicked his tongue and tossed the bow onto the ground. A waiting eunuch hurried to retrieve it.
“You still haven't learned what Benelia is planning? And you've lost three hounds I spent a fortune on?”
A masked man knelt nearby, his eyes lowered.
He was Seamerd, leader of Black Dog, Leonhard's private secret organization.
“Forgive me.”
“Forgive you?”
Leonhard laughed and crouched to look him in the face.
“You know I'll cut your throat if you make another mistake worth apologizing for. Don't you?”
“Yes, Your Highness. Should that day come, my life is yours.”
Leonhard stared at him, almost speechless at the answer, then sighed and stood.
“Fine. One of the hounds blew himself up. What was that other man's name… Theodora? He blocked the whole blast?”
“Theorad, Your Highness.”
“Whatever. Are you certain he erected a barrier without a wand?”
“Yes. I witnessed it through my familiar's eyes.”
“I see…”
Leonhard stroked his chin, then nodded as if reaching a decision.
“Let's kill him.”
“Viscount Theorad?”
“Of course. Think about it. There was that matter in the County of Pelgaroin, and now this at the Mage Tower. Doesn't it look as though he and Benelia have made an alliance?”
“It seems likely.”
“Then suppose Benelia goes to war and Theorad is assigned to protect her. What happens?”
Seamerd considered the question.
“Assassinating Her Highness would become difficult.”
“Exactly. As a member of the imperial family, Benelia needs to die on the battlefield if I'm to be rid of her cleanly. If Theorad keeps her alive, that complicates matters.”
“But he is thought to possess extraordinary magical knowledge. He completed artificial rain magic, and now he's produced a wandless barrier. Even if all of us attacked him together, victory wouldn't be certain.”
“I know. Which is why I'll provide support.”
“What sort?”
“Magic stones. As many as you need.”
Magic stones of this type could negate mana throughout the area in which they were placed. With enough of them, even an archmage might theoretically be defeated before casting a spell.
Most could be used only once, and their rarity made them costly. But if Leonhard paid the full expense, Seamerd had no reason to refuse.
He considered the rough outline of the plan and bowed his head.
“Before long, I'll present Viscount Theorad's head to Your Highness.”