Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 

WHEN RISHE SLEPT, she dreamed of her past lives. This time, she relived memories of her sixth loop. Painful memories of her blood spilling and arms trembling. Of her heart hammering against her chest while tried to protect her charges. Of the last day of her life.

“Evacuate His Highness and his family, quickly!”

“Our light, our lord! Protect him with your life! Get them out or die trying!”

Clashing swords and battle cries rang out all around her. The fight was so fierce that sparks flew. Her comrades died one after another. And the one responsible for this desperate situation was the enemy commander.

Arnold Hein.

Rishe glared at the man and gripped her bloodstained sword. His dark, muddy blue gaze swung in her direction. Her instincts screamed at her to run. The blood of Rishe’s nearest and dearest slickened his frighteningly handsome face. His expression did not change in the slightest, but his eyes emitted an emotionless bloodlust that pierced her. Even in this oppressive atmosphere, practically paralyzed and breathless with tension, Rishe couldn’t expose her back to him.

That man killed His Majesty, the commander, and the captain. Even Joel died protecting me.

She sucked in a breath and tightened her sword grip. She didn’t care if she was killed pathetically. Her only wish was for the prince and his family to escape.

“Haaah!”

In an attempt to delay him, Rishe slashed desperately. Her fellow knights attacked him in turn, but he mowed them down, their bodies piling up around him. Eventually, no one else was left alive, and Arnold Hein’s blade pierced Rishe’s heart too.

Rishe dreamed of that one moment at the end of her life. But as her consciousness faded at the very end, Arnold Hein whispered in her ear.

Oh… Her memories of the end were vague, but that one moment replayed vividly. I remember what he said to me back then.

Then the dream faded around her, and she forgot everything she saw in it. Someone stroked her cheek. The sensation traded places with her memory, pulling her up out of the dark.

 

---

 

A gentle hand stroked her cheek, rousing Rishe from her sleep. The caress was careful, as if checking for a fever. She didn’t know whose hand it was, but the way it touched her was so comforting. As it pulled away, her eyes opened.

Rishe groggily peered up at Arnold in a dark room filled with the quiet of night.

“Prince Arnold…”

Arnold sat beside her bed. She’d called his name, but he didn’t respond. His knitted brows did not diminish the handsomeness of his face. His hand had definitely stirred her. But if this was her room in the Grand Basilica, what was Arnold doing there?

It was then that she finally recalled what had happened to her.

“Your Highness, how are you feeling?” she rasped, and the crease in Arnold’s brow deepened.

“The first thing you do after waking up is worry about me?”

“Well, I…” She tried to explain herself, but she was feverish and lethargic. Her body felt like it was burning up, hot and heavy everywhere. Arnold sighed and slid his arm under Rishe’s back. “Ugh…”

Although she tried to rise with his assistance, she could barely move on her own. He ended up doing most of the work getting her to sit up. With one arm still behind her, his free hand reached toward her bedside table. Rishe recognized the small open bottle sitting there. Arnold picked up the bottle and pressed its rim to her lips.

“We just got this back. Drink it.”

Rishe squeezed her lips shut and covered her mouth.

Arnold’s frown evolved into a scowl. “I told you to drink it.”

“I can’t. Please drink it yourself, Your Highness.” She looked up into his blue eyes and pleaded with him fervently. “Your health is more important than mine.”

His eyes took on a chilly hue. Arnold brought the bottle to his own lips and silently downed it.

Rishe sighed with honest relief. Good. If he drinks that, he’ll be all right.

Arnold must have had one of the five antidotes sent back to them. Were the seamstresses all right, assuming they’d taken the other four? From what Rishe knew of their symptoms, they had been suffering from high fevers. She hoped they wouldn’t have to endure any lasting effects.

Still groggy, she noticed that Arnold’s throat hadn’t moved at all. As her sluggish mind worked to comprehend why, Arnold grasped her jaw and turned her face toward him. Then his lips came down on hers.

“Mmgh?!” Rishe’s lips were pried open and a sickly-sweet fluid poured into her mouth. Once she realized what he was doing, she tried to resist, but her arms were like lead.

No! Prince Arnold must take this antidote!

But Arnold wouldn’t let her go. He pulled her close and tilted her head back to make her swallow. At that point, her reflexes joined the fight against her will. Rishe swallowed, feeling pitiful for even attempting to resist.

“Agh!”

Arnold only let her go after he ascertained that she’d swallowed.

Bewildered, Rishe gawked at him. “Why?” she croaked.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then swept his thumb across Rishe’s lips. His touch was gentle, but his eyes smoldered with irritation. “In case you can’t tell, I’m rather angry at the moment.”

Rishe winced.

The prince pressed his forehead against Rishe’s and glared at her from up close. “I’m not going to apologize for being a little rough with you. This time, I don’t mind if you slap me.”

She kept her mouth shut and reached a hand out to Arnold, but it wasn’t to hit him. Suppressing the urge to cry, she touched his lips. As she traced them, Arnold’s anger gave way to dubiousness.

“What is it?”

“What about your antidote, Your Highness?”

Even though she was genuinely distressed, Arnold looked taken aback. His surprise melted into a frown, and he told her, “I spat your blood out right away, and I haven’t experienced any adverse effects. I don’t need one.”

“It’s a deadly poison! You might be safe while the sleeping drug is taking effect, but once your body absorbs it, there’s a chance you’ll die!”

“The fact that you unmistakably received a dose of the poison is more important to me.”

His fingers touched Rishe’s bandaged neck. The wound was hardly more than a scrape, but her neatly tied bandages were almost needlessly thorough.

“I believe I told you not to do anything dangerous.” His voice was quiet but full of emotion.

“I’m sorry.” Rishe’s actions had even endangered Arnold. A royal—not to mention the very heir to the throne—ingesting poison was a serious incident, one that could’ve affected the fate of an entire nation had the worst happened. Just the thought of something happening to Arnold made her want to shrink with fear.

After giving her a meaningful look, Arnold laid Rishe back down. “Are you in pain?”

“No.” She still felt heavy and feverish, but she could move all her extremities, albeit poorly. And since she’d been forced to take the antidote, her suffering would not be prolonged.

Rishe flexed her left hand, and Arnold placed his over top of it. Her elevated temperature made his feel cooler than usual. His blue eyes reflected the glow from the bedside lamp. It reminded her of something she’d seen in one of her lives: fires above the water used to lure fish at night.

“You’re alive.” Arnold stated the obvious, but his voice was seeking confirmation.

It felt like he wouldn’t believe her if she simply said it, so Rishe grasped his hand as she told him, “Yes.” Arnold sighed. Prompted by the look on his face, Rishe asked without thinking, “Have you watched someone you love die before?”

He broke eye contact and Rishe knew she’d asked a foolish question. The man had experienced war. He’d been directly involved in death countless times. His reply, however, caught her off guard.

“The first time was when my father murdered my sister.”

Rishe couldn’t process Arnold’s quiet words. She understood them logically, but she couldn’t wrap her head around the meaning. His father murdered his sister?

Arnold studied the speechless Rishe and explained, “A girl born to one of the emperor’s wives. Mere days after the child came into the world, her mother did what she could to protect her, but he snatched her out of his wife’s arms and ran his sword through her.”

“No!” She refused to let her mind form the image.

Whenever the emperor emerged victorious over another nation, the conquered royal family would present him with a bride.

Rishe cursed her trembling voice as she asked, “Why would he do that?”

“That man only allowed children who clearly inherited his blood to live. He killed them in front of his wives to punish them for birthing ones who didn’t.”

Killing infants was bad enough, but this only confused Rishe further. How in the world did the emperor judge the worthiness of a days-old baby?

Arnold guessed what she was thinking. “My father only wanted children who had his black hair and blue eyes.” He gazed down at Rishe with the very blue eyes he’d described. “He let only those children survive.”

Rishe grimaced, overwhelmed. It wasn’t just Arnold—Theodore, who had a different mother, also had black hair and blue eyes. His four younger sisters must’ve looked the same, but she’d had no idea of the reason.

That’s why His Highness hates his eye color? She couldn’t help remembering the conversation they’d had on his balcony in the detached palace. When she said his eyes were beautiful, he told her they were the same color as his father’s eyes and that he hated them so much, he’d considered gouging them out more than once. She’d chalked it up to his hatred for his father, but apparently that wasn’t all there was to it.

“Blue eyes are harder for children to inherit,” she recalled. Add the condition of black hair and there would be very few children who fit his requirements indeed.

“You’re right.”

“Then, the children your father didn’t accept?”

“He killed them without exception before their mothers’ eyes.”

Rishe was stunned. How could he do something so abhorrent?!

In her life as an apothecary, she had helped deliver several babies. It was not a sure thing by any means for mother and child to make it through the process in good health. Pregnancy was a harrowing nine-month experience. Mothers bore pain and anxiety and risked their lives to birth children. And just like that, their father had snuffed out those young lives?

“He made you watch when you were still young?”

His silent affirmation made her chest tighten even more.

“Was anyone there for you? The emperor’s wives, they…”

“They resented me for surviving and had nothing but hatred in their hearts for me.” His next words were so quiet, it was as if he was only talking to himself. “My own mother hated me the most.”

A strangled sound escaped her throat, and Arnold linked his fingers with hers. His voice was calm and composed as he continued, “When he killed them, he would say to me, ‘The blood that flows through your veins is superior to everyone else’s.’” His slender fingers traced the ring Rishe wore. “But that’s not true. What value could there possibly be in that man’s bloodline?”

“Oh, Your Highness…”

“I want you to understand this too. Even if I’m royalty, no matter whose blood I inherit, that doesn’t make me any more important than anyone else,” Arnold said sincerely. “Never say that my life is more important than yours again.”

Rishe’s heart thumped hard. “I…” She wanted to say, I can’t do that, but the words wouldn’t come. She met his eyes and slowly, carefully blinked.

The next moment, the tears she’d been holding back spilled forth.

“Hey,” Arnold said, alarmed, pulling his hand out of hers. He touched her bandages and scanned her in dismay. It was rare to see such consternation on his face. “I knew it. You are in pain.”

“No, I’m not!” She tried to deny it, but her voice shook treacherously. She pressed her hands to her eyelids, but the tears kept falling.

As she wept uncontrollably, Arnold asked, perplexed, “Why are you crying?”

“I-I’m sorry!” Rishe had her own complaints about Arnold’s circumstances, but her attempts to hide her distress weren’t working. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d cried in front of someone. “You’re just so kind.”

That only compounded his bewilderment.

Rishe had noticed that some knights who returned from dangerous battlefields fought with no regard for their lives. When asked why they did so, they replied that it was their punishment for surviving. They felt guilty that their comrades died but they survived, so in repentance, they went out to more battlefields. But surviving wasn’t a sin.

“You didn’t do anything wrong when you were a child, and yet…”

Arnold was acting like he had. During the bandit attack, when he dismissed his knights to fight them off with his own sword. The battle in Ceutena that Fritz had described. Even when Rishe herself faced him in her sixth life. In all those cases, he stood on the front lines of battle himself to atone for the sins he felt he’d committed.

I’m sure he’s been doing this since he was very young.

The thought squeezed heat and fresh tears from Rishe’s eyes. Her heart ached. Arnold finally seemed to understand that she wasn’t crying from physical pain.

“Don’t rub your eyes so much.”

“Hngh…”

He grabbed her arms. Her vision unobscured, she saw his blurry features. Each time she blinked, the world focused a little more but quickly blurred again. She could just barely make out the stumped look on Arnold’s face.

“Come now.” One of his hands wiped away her tears. Still frowning, he asked, “What’ll it take for you to stop crying?”

Even more tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Rishe.”

“Well…” Rishe began. He was only concerned for her and thought nothing of his own suffering. Her powerlessness was only exacerbated by her paralyzing fever. All that compounded into a wish even she didn’t understand as it issued from her mouth.

“Y-your hair…”

“My head?”

“I want to…stroke your hair, Prince Arnold,” she told him. The furrow in Arnold’s brow deepened.

“Listen to yourself.”

She was aware it was an absurd thing to ask of a nineteen-year-old man. Nevertheless, she wanted to stroke his hair—to comfort him—more than anything. She knew she couldn’t reach the child Arnold, so she wanted to do it for the Arnold of the present. With an imploring gaze, she pressed, “Please, Your Highness.”

Arnold sighed deeply and climbed into the bed. The springs creaked and the sheets rustled. He cupped Rishe’s face and leaned over her; this way, he was close enough to touch. In a throaty voice, he acquiesced to her request. “Do what you want.”

“Th-thank you.” Still weeping, Rishe reached up and caressed Arnold’s head. It was a peculiar sensation. Arnold wasn’t used to this, and Rishe wasn’t doing a good job. Still, she gently and rhythmically stroked his black hair. Arnold’s hair, which ended in slight curls, was softer to the touch than she expected. Even this overwhelmed Rishe, eliciting more sobs.

“Hey.” Arnold made a face like she’d pulled a fast one on him. She knew she was causing him further consternation, but she couldn’t help herself. “Rishe…”

“I’m…I’m so sorry…”

“Damn it.”

Arnold touched his forehead to hers. There was a rustling sound as his hair brushed against hers. He closed his eyes.

“Please, don’t cry anymore,” he begged her, voice laced with pain. “I can’t handle seeing you cry.”

“Ngh…”

He was beside himself because she wouldn’t stop crying, but she couldn’t keep from bawling like a child. It was hard for her to see him suffering too. Rishe had been forbidden to cry in front of her parents, so this was a new experience.

Arnold was completely at a loss the whole time, but he continued wiping away Rishe’s tears until she cried herself to sleep.

 

---

 

“Mmh…”

Rishe awoke feeling light and warm. She felt like she’d dreamed of her time in Galkhein while she slept—of her conversation with Arnold on his balcony at the detached palace, of a party they’d attended, dreams of things that had occurred mere days ago. It was the first time in a long while that Rishe dreamed of something other than her past lives.

She yearned to stay in bed and nestled up to whatever lay next to her. Although she didn’t know what it was, she felt she fit in it perfectly, warmly wrapped around her as it was. It emitted a comforting sound similar to a heartbeat.

“Hm?”

Her eyelids were heavy and so was the rest of her body, but the sluggishness from the night before was gone. It seemed she would suffer no lasting effects from the poison. So why the odd feeling of extra weight? She squirmed and slowly opened her eyes—and finally understood.

Arnold was asleep in her bed, his arms wrapped around her. Rishe felt a screech coming on, but she managed to stifle it somehow.

Wh-wh-wha—?!

They had apparently fallen asleep facing each other, curled up under the same bedspread. Arnold snored softly as he held Rishe’s head to his chest. His lips were buried in her hair.

Wh-why am I in the same bed as His Highness?!

She realized with some panic that Arnold was the only one using the pillow; she had co-opted his arm. Yet she was entirely too frazzled to do anything about it. Then she remembered how all of this transpired in the first place.

This is because of the tantrum I threw!

Rishe’s face drained of all color as she remembered the night before.

I asked him to return to his room to get some sleep, but he said, “I can’t just leave you alone. I’ll stay with you through the night.” And then I went and said, “If you insist on staying in this room, then don’t stay up all night. At least sleep here…”

She fried her brain crying her eyes out, so she’d said something completely outrageous. Arnold had shot her a look of utter shock, but since she almost started crying again, he’d ended up reluctantly agreeing to stay the night. She couldn’t believe what she’d done. She felt miserable for making Arnold stay with her the whole time.

How could a proud apothecary do such a thing?! I should have made him go back to his room and rest properly by himself!

Rishe gently pulled away from Arnold and regarded him with worry.

I hope he didn’t sleep poorly with me in his arms.

Though she was sure that Arnold would have awoken as soon as Rishe stirred, he still slept. She didn’t know if he was tired from looking after her or if he really was affected by the poison, but she hoped he was recovering. So she prayed as she watched him sleep.

He looks younger when he sleeps.

The top two buttons of Arnold’s white shirt were undone. In this relaxed state of dress, his collarbones and Adam’s apple, usually hidden, were visible. Rishe’s eyes were drawn to the countless scars at the base of his neck.

Arnold said his mother hated him the most. Did she give him these scars?

Much as she wanted to touch them, it would have been rude to do so without his permission, so she just stared at them in a daze. Arnold’s hand began to twitch as if in search of something.

His eyelids fluttered open, revealing half-awake blue eyes lit by the morning sunlight streaming through the window. Normally, Rishe would be captivated by them, but there was no time for that at the moment.

“Erm, good morning,” she said.

Arnold blinked sluggishly and brushed Rishe’s coral hair from her eyes. He put his hand on her cheek and closed his eyes while touching his forehead to hers. He must have been checking for a fever. Rishe knew that, but she couldn’t help her nervousness.

“Your Highness, I—”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.

With their foreheads still touching, their eyelashes nearly brushed against each other. “I-I’m fine,” Rishe stammered. “Thanks to you, Your Highness, I’m c-completely recovered!”

Arnold frowned, eyes fully open now. Well, “completely” was probably a stretch, Rishe reflected. Feeling awkward, she tried to sit up, but Arnold grabbed her arm.

“Eep!”

“Just keep resting.”

She sank down into the sea of the bed, drawn back into Arnold’s arms. She felt she couldn’t stay there, but she didn’t think she was in a position to argue. Having no other choice, Rishe relaxed and asked, “How are you feeling, Your Highness?”

“Fine,” Arnold said, touching Rishe’s neck. He was undoing her bandages.

Rishe lay still and let him work. “Thank you for everything you did yesterday. Um, is Lady Millia all right?”

“I had Oliver tell the duke that someone was targeting her.”

Relief washed over her. She knew Arnold wouldn’t let her down, but it was still good to hear.

“I told the girl to stay by her father’s side too. Oliver reported to me in the middle of the night that she was behaving herself and staying with the duke.”

“Did Lady Millia tell you where I was?”

“Yeah. Leo told me what happened, and I ran into her on my way to the forest.”

There was the quiet rustle of cloth as Arnold unwrapped her bandages. He explained everything she’d been wanting to ask him, but she wished they weren’t facing each other in bed while he did it.

“I told Leo and the girl to keep quiet about being in the forest. It’ll just cause needless commotion if the Church finds out.”

“You really thought of everything. Truly, thank y—ah!” Rishe flinched when Arnold’s fingers touched her skin directly.

“Stay still.”

“But that tickles! Hee hee hee! Wait!”

“I told you to stay still,” Arnold chided her.

She did her best to endure the discomfort until she was finally freed from her wrappings. Then it occurred to her that she could have just taken them off herself. However, Arnold was now examining her wound with thoroughness, so she couldn’t bring herself to point that out.

“Looks like your wound is healing. Doesn’t look like it’ll leave a scar.”

That didn’t matter to Rishe. In her sixth loop, she was covered in scars. She said nothing as she reached up to feel the spot for herself.

Arnold stared into her eyes next. “Looks like your eyes aren’t swollen, either.”

“Well, you wiped my tears away so carefully, Prince Arnold,” Rishe said with some embarrassment.

At last, he seemed satisfied. “Let me wrap it back up. I’ll get some fresh bandages.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Arnold sat up, so Rishe sat up with him. “The bleeding’s stopped, so it’ll be fine to just leave it like this. It wasn’t a bad cut, so I think it’s a bit silly to bandage it.”

“I think you should bandage it.”

“Huh?”

“It’s red. It’s probably best to hide it.”

Rishe tilted her head to one side, puzzled. “I didn’t think this poison caused inflammation at the site of the wound.”

He didn’t answer her. This poison was chosen for assassinations precisely because it left no identifiable traces. Or was there something Rishe hadn’t anticipated mixed in with the poison? If she was wrong about the poison, though, the antidote shouldn’t have worked as well as it did. Thanks to the antidote her master had taught her to make, and Arnold forcing her to take it, Rishe was nearly fully recovered.

Arnold pulled her from her musings. “I’m not talking about the wound.”

“Hmm?”

His fingers traced her skin, and Rishe hunched her shoulders at the ticklish sensation. It wasn’t the wound Arnold had touched but the skin around it.

He explained nonchalantly, “It turned red where I sucked on it.”

Rishe’s mouth fell open. Had he just said something completely outrageous? He must have been talking about when he sucked the poison, but her mind flitted to the things Arnold did to her the night before all over again.

“It stands out all the more because your skin is so pale.”

“Eep?!” A belated heat rose to her cheeks. She snatched the covers up to hide what she could only assume was her bright-red face. She didn’t even want to see Arnold’s expression right now.

Wait, when he gave me the antidote yesterday, didn’t he also do it mouth-to-mouth?!

Her body felt hotter now than when she had a fever.

As her head spun, Rishe managed to squeak out, “There’s, um, something I’ve been wondering about you, Your Highness!”

“What is it?”

Wait, I can’t ask him why he acts so familiar with women!

Or was this normal? She wanted to ask, but she was too afraid and didn’t know where that feeling was coming from.

“Rishe,” Arnold said while her emotions spiraled. “Why did you entrust Leo with your message for me?”

That stopped Rishe’s emotional whirlwind in its tracks. Slowly, she peeked over the top of the blankets. “I thought I had to find Lady Millia as soon as possible because I feared the worst.”

“That’s not what I meant.” When their eyes met, Arnold was expressionless—but he wasn’t going to let Rishe get out of this one, it seemed. He’d gotten plenty mad at her last night and wasn’t showing her any mercy. “You can’t tell me you really think he’s trustworthy.”

His cold gaze pierced Rishe, as if the mood between them up until now had been an illusion. She took a breath. It was true; she couldn’t attribute her suspicions about the way Leo moved to just over-training.

I’m not surprised Prince Arnold noticed too.

The day before yesterday, in the forest, Rishe had walked with a fixed stride. Doing that had allowed her to create a mental map of the path she’d taken. This was useful in unfamiliar places, and that information had helped her find Millia the next day. What was unnatural was how Leo had acted while Rishe was measuring her steps.

Back then, Leo matched my pace perfectly.

He had walked neither faster nor slower. His pace had been in sync with hers in the forest in spite of the unstable footing. That meant that Leo was either measuring his steps as well or he was purposely matching her pace.

“Odd of him to know about body doubles for royalty as well,” Arnold said.

Rishe felt the same way. It might have made sense if Leo had been more involved with royals or nobles, but if the practice was known among the common people, it wouldn’t have any meaning. His imagination running wild would be one thing, but Leo had specifically said he’d heard it before. There were just too many peculiarities about him to convincingly call him a “normal kid.”

“You had your doubts about him too. That’s why you didn’t mention the antidote when you sent him to me with a message.”

“I was pressed for time, mostly. I believed you’d know exactly what I wanted you to do, Prince Arnold.”

“I can’t imagine you went out of your way to gamble in a situation like that. It wasn’t just your own safety on the line but that of the priestess girl too.” Arnold sat on the edge of the bed. “I had Oliver investigate the carriage’s broken axle some more. They hired several drivers to throw off the scent, but it was the Church who originally prepared the carriage.”

Rishe squeezed the sheets in her hands. “Then…”

“The ones who are trying to kill the new priestess are from the very Church tasked with protecting her.”

She already knew, but hearing the words still produced a sick ache in her chest. A forbidden forest without even a lookout, their policy of letting in as few servants and guards as possible… Since it was the Church’s scheme, the goddess’s teachings and the festival were just excuses.

The Church that’s supposed to protect her is trying to kill Mistress Millia, the genuine royal priestess.

When Rishe lapsed into silence, Arnold said, “Leo was walking to make noise on purpose.”

Her eyes widened; she hadn’t expected that. “Do you mean to say that Leo would make no sound at all if he walked normally?”

“That’s right. But that would make him stand out, so he goes out of his way to do so.”

It is rather easy to pick out Leo’s footsteps.

They naturally sounded different than those of adults, but there was also a clear difference between his and Millia’s footsteps despite their similar weights. Rishe had just assumed that she could tell them apart because she knew them from her previous lives.

Prince Arnold picked up on that just from watching Leo walk?

His observations had surpassed Rishe’s in a matter of minutes. She was surprised yesterday, but she was utterly shocked today.

“I don’t need to tell you why someone would teach a child a skill like that.”

“I almost wish you did.”

“Well, regardless of your wishes, when you put the facts together, everything becomes clear.” Arnold paused, then stated the brutal truth: “Leo has been trained as an assassin.”

Rishe nodded, eyes downcast. The reason for the peculiar way he moved and the excessive training he’d gone through at his age was because he’d grown up in a very particular environment. She and Arnold agreed on this point.

“If you knew that, why’d you send him with the message?”

“Well, you agreed to teach him despite your suspicions, Your Highness. Isn’t that because you hadn’t yet determined where his allegiances lie?”

Arnold’s brow scrunched ever so slightly. “It was nothing so dramatic. I just thought if I brought him back and gave him to Theodore, my brother would find some way to make use of him.”

That was a lie. Arnold had agreed to teach Leo even after he said he wouldn’t go back to Galkhein with them.

“In all likelihood, Leo was trained to be an assassin at Bishop Schneider’s orphanage. He would only have left the orphanage if there was no reason to keep him anymore. Either he was acknowledged as an assassin and sent to work, or he was deemed a failure and released.”

“What, you think Leo’s already washed his hands off the assassination business?”

“No, Prince Arnold.” Rishe met Arnold’s eyes. “I believe that Leo is an assassin.”

Arnold took a quiet breath. “Then why send him to me?”

“Because I judged that he wasn’t a threat even if he is an assassin. I believe he’s too kind to make a career out of killing people.”

On the day they arrived at the Grand Basilica, Leo had ridden his horse as fast as he could to inform them that the duke’s carriage had crashed. When Millia went missing, Leo explained the situation to Rishe with a genuinely pale face. If he were trying to kill Millia, all he had to do was keep quiet and then tell a convincing lie later. Yet he’d gone so far as to seek Arnold for his help.

“I took advantage of that fact. I judged that, no matter Leo’s skills, he was too kind to take a person’s life.”

That was why she’d forced Leo and Millia to interact with each other even though she knew it was cruel. After all, Rishe knew his future. Leo was destined to screw up at his job and lose his eye to a beating from his employer.

His injuries were so bad that if he hadn’t escaped, I’m sure he would have been killed.

That “employer” wasn’t Millia’s father, the duke. It was the person he worked for as an assassin.

His “mistake” might have been made during his attempt to assassinate Mistress Millia. Perhaps Duke Jonal’s paralysis by way of illness was a lie, and it was actually inflicted by a poisoning he received in Mistress Millia’s place.

Though Rishe and the seamstresses had survived their poisoning, if their treatment had come too late, they could have been paralyzed in much the same way. Now that she thought back on it, Duke Jonal’s symptoms could absolutely have been caused by this poison compound.

His Grace probably lied about it in my fourth loop.

Duke Jonal hadn’t wanted to tell the truth of his condition for Millia’s sake. He might have changed out all his servants for fear of one of them telling her the truth.

The duke’s paralysis and Leo’s terrible injuries must both come back to the events here at the Grand Basilica.

All the chaos had probably been the cause of the clergymen’s dismissals. Millia blamed herself for the misfortunes and brought that wound with her all the way to adulthood.

I need to make sure that Leo never carries out the assassination, and that the duke and Mistress Millia go home safely. But if the enemy targeting Mistress Millia is the most powerful Church in the world, what can I do?

It became too much for her to bear, and she murmured, “Why would the Church want to kill the royal priestess?”

Arnold gave a small snort. Her head shot up in surprise. “Do you really believe the Church wants to protect the royal priestess?” he asked.

What is he saying? She couldn’t ask him because she’d caught on to the same thing. “You’re referring to the death of the previous royal priestess twenty-two years ago.”

“Heh. What do you think?” He chuckled as if he found it funny, but there was a darkness in his smile. Rishe had seen that smile somewhere before.

The previous priestess would have died a few years before Prince Arnold was born.

He couldn’t have been personally familiar with the accident, but something about this just didn’t sit right with Rishe.

I’ve been wondering about this since my fourth loop.

If they really wanted to protect Millia, why not announce her status officially and protect her with the full force of their organization? The royal priestess was the reincarnation of the goddess, an object of worship for the faithful worldwide. If her existence was publicized, surely it would be easier to guarantee her safety. So why had they hidden her existence and had a duke adopt her?

“Rishe.” Arnold smiled and met her gaze. “Do you want to save that priestess girl?”

Rishe nodded firmly.

Arnold’s large hand stroked her cheek and tilted her head up. “The festival will proceed today as scheduled,” he said softly. “They rushed the preparations so that everything could go as planned.”

“Oh no!”

The archbishop, the other bishops, and royal priestess Millia were the festival’s central figures. She would be alone with the very group of people trying to kill her. Whatever happened there, no one would protect her.

“Why would they agree to that after you warned them about the assassination? The duke couldn’t possibly have ruled out the Church as suspect.”

“That’s a strange thing to say.”

Rishe gave Arnold a confused look.

“Duke Jonal is a devout believer. He’s raising the priestess precisely because the Church ordered him to, is he not?”

“Huh?”

“Now the Church wishes for her death. In this situation, what reason would the duke have to protect a child he didn’t father?”

Arnold honestly believed his words. Rishe hurried to refute him. “That’s not true! Lady Millia is Duke Jonal’s precious daughter. He would never expose her to danger no matter what the Church wishes, regardless of any blood ties.”

She knew full well how the duke cherished Millia and how much care he took in raising her. His love for her was real; it surpassed any blood ties or orders from the Church.

“I want to save them. Lady Millia and Leo and Duke Jonal—all of them!”

Arnold’s gaze dropped. “Then don’t worry.” His next words to her were gentle. “If that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen.”

“Are you sure, Your Highness?”

Arnold stood from the bed and picked up his jacket from a nearby chair, then shrugged it on. “You keep resting for a little longer,” he told her, leaving the room and closing the door quietly behind him.

I have Prince Arnold on my side. Nothing should be more reassuring, but…

Worry still lapped at her heart like waves. Rishe stood, her mouth taut in a hard line, and began to get ready.