The Young Lady Who Wants to Love (5)

A thin crescent moon hung behind the clouds.

Count Leonberg sat with the night-lit window at his back, watching Princess Benelia across his desk.

“Hmm…”

Her chin resting in one hand, Benelia considered the chessboard with narrowed eyes. Moonlight lent a pale sheen to her silver-gray hair, while her golden eyes gleamed with the intensity of a beast watching its prey.

The Count found her concentration exhausting to behold.

This is already the eighth game. Hasn't she had enough?

How much longer did she intend to play? He had no idea what to make of her, and his brows twitched with irritation.

What is she trying to achieve?

Shortly after being shown to her quarters, Benelia had arrived at his office with an extraordinary proposal.

“I will not arrest your second son.”

“I'll order a search for the rebels, but we'll make a show of how difficult it is. You should cooperate in the same way. For now, let our commands remain separate, so your men and my regulars appear unable to work together.”

“What do you think? It's the best arrangement for us both.”

Leonberg couldn't deny the offer's appeal.

Fred was his son. The thought of watching him dragged away, imprisoned and tortured was more than the Count could bear. If the princess had ordered a genuine hunt, Leonberg would have tried to obstruct it.

But she had come ostensibly to arrest the rebels while openly promising to spare Fred. Whatever she was planning, it was a generous hand to offer a father in such a position.

In the end, he agreed.

So the Count's household troops had continued their ordinary patrols and guard duties, while the princess's soldiers carried wanted posters through the streets and noisily questioned the residents. The two forces looked as though they couldn't coordinate a search at all.

What did Benelia expect to gain from this performance? Leonberg hadn't dared ask about all of her eccentric intentions.

“You must have some greater purpose,” he said now.

Benelia moved one of her chess pieces, then leaned back.

“I don't blame you for worrying about disobeying the imperial court. I understand your position, Count.”

“Your Highness, I only…”

“It's all right. I would think as you do if I were in your place. But there's something you should understand. What looks like a scheme from the outside can be the best choice for the people involved.”

In other words, she wanted him to trust her and follow her lead. It sounded disturbingly like the opening of a political alliance.

“Forgive me, but I don't understand what Your Highness means.”

Was this why she had come—to drag him into politics of her own making?

House Pelgaroin had served the Emperor for generations. To Leonberg, her suggestion bordered on insolence.

Benelia seemed to know what he was thinking. She nevertheless refused to retreat. She could hardly bring herself to bow before a man who proclaimed his loyalty to the imperial family while turning away from its faults.

“Then let me ask you something, Count Leonberg.”

Her voice dropped. The quiet authority in it held his anger in check.

“Do you believe coming here to capture the rebels was solely my decision?”

She sounded like a teacher trying to remind a stubborn pupil of something he'd forgotten.

The question disturbed the Count more deeply than he wished to admit. He had built his life on a faith he had sworn never to question. Now that conviction seemed to tremble beneath his feet.

“Remember the world eight years ago, Count. Look at that display of the war behind you, and think about what it means. My father, His Majesty the Emperor—and your son—”

“Stop!”

His cry shook the room.

He had raised his voice with mana before he realized what he was doing. The force of it made Benelia's ears ring, and a thin line of blood appeared along one ear.

She did not even flinch.

Silence fell.

Leonberg breathed unevenly, pressing a trembling hand to his forehead. Something in his ordinarily clear gaze had gone dark.

“…Forgive me, Your Highness. I seem to have lost control of myself.”

“I understand. I pressed you too hard without considering how painful it would be.”

Benelia drew a handkerchief from her clothes and gently wiped the blood from her ear. Her expression did not change, though the injury could hardly have been painless. She folded the stained handkerchief twice and put it away.

“I suppose I can't justify my actions to you tonight. I hoped the chess might give your feelings time to settle. It seems I judged you too rationally.”

“…Is that why you wanted to play?”

“No. If I had wanted a calm discussion, I would have waited several days before calling on you. I came straight to your office on the first day for another reason: to deceive those watching us.”

“Spies…?”

Benelia nodded.

“There aren't many, but they're certainly here. Eyes and ears for the ministers at court. Some of the more perceptive ministerial secretaries must be lurking about. I intend to make use of them.”

The story they would hear was easy to predict. The Count's soldiers and the princess's regulars had been at odds; their commanders couldn't agree on the search. Surely that meant the Count and the princess were quarreling.

By remaining in Leonberg's office for so long, Benelia had made the spies' suspicions seem all but certain.

“After tonight, they'll send secret letters to the capital. The princess entered the Count's office and stayed there for hours. There must have been a bitter argument. And the Count's shouting could be heard beyond the room…”

“They'll report that our relationship has become irreparably strained.”

Leonberg sighed. Had she planned for him to lose his temper as well?

“The ministers will be delighted. They'll think their plan to separate us has worked, and that one of their political enemies has been isolated. Then they'll try to win you over and use you to bring me down.”

Her gaze seemed to cut through him, though he could discern nothing of the intentions behind it.

“Their arrogance will give me time,” she continued. “While they dismiss me as an incompetent princess, I can build my strength out of sight.”

There was something startlingly defiant in her manner. The Count leaned back, unable to comprehend how someone of the imperial blood could speak with such open rebellion against its courtiers.

“Then… what is it you wish to accomplish?”

“Life.”

She answered without a moment's hesitation.

Leonberg could think of nothing to say.

Benelia pushed back her chair and rose.

“It's late. We'll speak again another time. When we do, I'll tell you everything I have in mind.”

She inclined her head politely and turned to leave.

Leonberg couldn't let her go without asking the question that had been troubling him.

“And if I refuse to help Your Highness?”

“Then what can I do? Death would be something I'd have to accept.”

There was not the slightest agitation in her voice. She spoke almost as if she already knew the Count would not refuse.

Why did she trust him so completely? What was she hiding?

Leonberg had neither the strength nor the desire to probe her any further tonight.

He released a long breath and nodded.

“Very well. I look forward to our next conversation.”

“As do I.”

Benelia answered without emotion, turned and left the office.

Alone, Leonberg stared at the chessboard.

Benelia had lost again, yet she had attacked with a ferocity he could barely understand.

---

“You really didn't have to escort me all the way here.”

Outside the guest room, Theorad spoke with an apologetic expression.

Ashley smiled shyly. For a moment, he thought she looked rather like a sweet, eager puppy.

“I wanted to. Besides, you should go inside now.”

“All right. Oh, one more thing.”

Theorad gave the top of her head an affectionate tap with his fingertips. Her heart beat faster at the small gesture.

“Take back that last wish. I told you to wish for something you wanted. Wishing for my happiness doesn't count.”

“Ah, but…”

“I won't hear any objections. If you can't think of anything now, tell me later. Just keep the wish until you know what you'd like. Can you do that?”

“…If you insist.”

“Good. I'll go in, then. You should return to your room before His Excellency begins to worry.”

Ashley looked up at him and nodded. Only when he had entered the guest room with a faint smile did she turn and begin walking down the corridor.

You foolish man, Theorad…

She grumbled to herself. Part of her was annoyed at having her wish rejected, but she couldn't truly resent it. She understood that he was trying to spare her any feeling of regret.

Even so…

She turned a corner, and the thought stopped.

Oh?

The elf was walking toward her from the opposite direction.

Ashley stiffened before she could stop herself. She forced out a quiet breath. It could be coincidence; all she had to do was pass by.

She continued walking as though nothing were wrong. Yet with every step, the impression strengthened that the elf was approaching her deliberately.

They met at the junction in the corridor.

“Lady Ashley.”

The elf stopped and spoke in a voice cold enough to make Ashley halt as well.

They stood three paces apart, their eyes meeting in open hostility.

“How long do you intend to treat me like a fool?”

“…What are you talking about? I've never—”

“I saw.”

The elf let a moment's silence pass before explaining.

“You took the engagement ring off your hand.”