Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

A FEW HOURS EARLIER, Raul heard that the ship had gone up in flames at the canal—and something about it struck him as odd.

A ship fire? And right when those two are on a canal-side stroll?

Galkhein’s crown prince and his future wife had gone out together after their evening meal. They’d brought several guards with them for security, but Raul had stayed behind at the villa to keep an eye on Joel as ordered.

From the frenzied exchanges between the Imperial Guards and Arnold’s attendant Oliver, it seemed the fire had broken out just as the ship passed by Arnold Hein and his fiancée.

Is this what His Highness warned me might happen? Resting his chin in his hand and his elbow on the banister, Raul denied his own idea. No…there’d be much more panic if it were.

Judging by the orders Oliver was giving at the front entrance, there was only one ship ablaze. What’s more, Arnold Hein and that girl were present at the site of the fire.

This isn’t what I should be prioritizing right now. With that monster couple taking charge of the scene, it’d be strange if things weren’t under control out there, Raul told himself to quell the bad feeling that had settled in his heart.

He was forced to admit he was wrong when he saw Rishe’s face as she climbed the stairs well past midnight.

“Raul!”

She’d supposedly just gotten out of the bath, but her cheeks were as ashen as if she’d taken a dip in a frozen lake. Raul had been waiting on the stairs so he could “coincidentally” run into her. He immediately noticed that she was out of sorts on her way up to her bedroom, somehow restless and listless at the same time.

She’s trying real hard to act like she always does so nobody finds out something’s wrong.

Her still-wet coral hair was proof enough that she wasn’t even in a state to bathe properly at the moment.

Raul had noticed Arnold heading to bed a few moments earlier as well. Should I have gone out there even if it meant disobeying His Highness’s orders? Regretting it now won’t change anything, though.

Suppressing the urge to curse at himself, he told Rishe, “I’ll tell the servants and knights that no one’s to come up to this floor.”

Rishe gasped softly.

“‘The crown princess isn’t feeling well, so she’d prefer not to be disturbed.’ I’ll have Oliver back me up.”

In truth, Oliver hadn’t been inside the villa for some time now. There might have been rumors that Rishe herself was trying to keep people away, but if one of her “knights” spread the word that she wanted some privacy, people should at least not catch on that she had something she desperately wanted to hide.

“Thank you, Raul.”

“Just get some rest. Sweet dreams.” Raul casually waved her off, but he was secretly beside himself with worry that she’d miss a step as she raced up the rest of the stairs. That was just how out of sorts the normally stouthearted Rishe had seemed to him.

Now… There were some things he had to take care of before the sleeping Joel woke.

Without a sound, Raul slinked back down the stairs.

 

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Rishe had been suppressing her panic up until now. She’d been working separately from Arnold, treating and calming down the woman they’d rescued and assisting with the ­evacuation efforts.

But even after finally returning to the royal villa, she shoved down her impatience and bathed to avoid attracting suspicion—lest she race upstairs still covered in soot. She’d abandoned the idea of fooling Raul from the start, but she was fairly certain no one else had caught on that something was amiss.

“Prince Arnold!”

When she finally burst into his bedroom, Arnold was just sitting on his bed looking no different than usual. He was even holding some paperwork. Rishe’s eyes filled with tears as she grappled with relief that he was alive and frustration that he wasn’t resting.

“You must lie down and rest, Your Highness!” She scampered to his side and seated herself on the floor next to his bed.

Observing the way she sat there, utterly exhausted, Arnold placed his hand on her cheek. His thumb traced soothing circles on her skin. “There’s no need to panic.”

“But you’re injured!”

“I’ve already stopped the bleeding. It wasn’t a very deep wound.”

Rishe shook her head, thinking of the wound’s location and the amount of blood on the deck. “Please allow me to examine it.”

“Rishe.”

“I’m not saying that I don’t trust you to treat your own wounds, Your Highness. Just…please.”

Arnold likely didn’t want anyone seeing his wounds, since it was a display of weakness. Still, Rishe pleaded with him, clutching at his bedsheets. “Please, Your Highness.”

When he saw that she was on the verge of tears, Arnold set his paperwork aside. He crossed his arms, grasped the hem of his shirt, and pulled it over his head. His toned, sculpted torso was bared before Rishe. When his head emerged from his shirt collar, he shook it in irritation, his disheveled hair falling back into place. He always seemed slender when clothed, but when his muscular frame was exposed, his diligence in training became blatantly clear.

If nothing was wrong, Rishe would probably be beside herself with embarrassment at the sight of his statuesque physique. Right now, all she felt was worry and agitation.

There were two severe wounds on his body. One was the old scar on his neck. The other was covered in fresh white bandages.

“Here.” Arnold laid Rishe’s hand atop his bandages. “Do as you wish.”

“Thank you.”

With his permission, Rishe slowly unwrapped them, noticing the unique way they were tied at the end. It must have been the way Arnold had learned to wrap his own injuries as he fought on the battlefield. From her seat on the floor, Rishe took her time undoing the knot. Arnold began loosening the bandages himself, unable to watch.

The bandages fell away with a rustle, exposing his solid abdomen. Rishe’s eyes were glued to the wound at his side; she whimpered at the sight of it.

Then she picked up the disinfectant on Arnold’s bedside table. She had asked Oliver to deliver it to him from her belongings. Once she’d disinfected her hands with it, she said, “Please close your eyes for a moment, Your Highness.”

Arnold obeyed in silence.

Rishe gingerly touched the area around his wound, careful not to hurt him. She traced a line down his skin and asked, “Can you tell what I just did?”

“…You moved your finger down my skin.”

She was relieved to learn that he had feeling in the area. His skin was hot near the wound, but it didn’t look too discolored from bleeding. Rishe took Arnold’s wrist with her other hand and measured his pulse.

It’s a little fast…but still pretty relaxed for someone who’s just been stabbed. If he were in terrible pain or distress, his heart rate would have been higher. She peered into his eyes, but he was merely watching her, his face neutral as always.

The wound had indeed stopped bleeding, and judging from its angle, it was shallow. Rishe pictured the dagger that had fallen on deck and estimated how deeply it had scored him, based on how much blood was on the blade.

“I’m going to gently press and move my hand. Is this where the pain stops?”

“Yes.”

If he was stabbed at this angle and it truly only hurts up to this point, then it really isn’t a serious wound, just as he said. But…

The bleeding had stopped far too quickly. It was possible she just wasn’t able to pick up on the pain he was feeling. If that was the case, then she had to be more careful with her examination. Just as she came to that conclusion…

“It’s the goddess’s blood.”

Rishe jumped at Arnold’s unexpected words.

“It makes my wounds heal faster.” Arnold, a descendant of the goddess, gave her a self-deprecating smile. “If I told you that, would you believe me?”

She considered it. As far as she was aware, Arnold was a realist. He wasn’t the sort of person who would joke about something like this, let alone say as much to another person. But several things were now becoming clear to Rishe.

It would explain the wound on his neck.

The gruesome wound had clearly been the product of many repeated stabbings. Considering the location, it was a miracle that he’d survived such a thing. Not to mention that the wound hardly limited his mobility in any way after healing. Yet Arnold was able to keep the scar a secret from almost everyone around him. He was even unparalleled on the battlefield, his sword skills peerless, injury or not.

I’m sure Prince Arnold trained himself with incredible rigor since childhood, but what if he also possessed an exceptional ability to recover?

She thought back to her fourth life, when she’d served Millia. The girl was related to Arnold as well, and possessed the same ­divine blood as his mother. Mistress Millia was such an active child. She was always running around here and there, but she hardly ever got scrapes or bruises.

Rishe gulped.

If the goddess’s blood has some natural healing ability, then…

Arnold let out a breath, smiling softly. “I didn’t think you’d take it so seriously.”

“W-well, I can’t think of any other reason for the bleeding to have stopped so quickly! I mean, the wound is so shallow, I can hardly believe you were stabbed.”

“So whatever the reason is, you’re satisfied that the wound is shallow?”

“I-I…!”

She had confirmed as much with her own eyes and hands. If this were a normal examination, it would be the part where Rishe smiled to comfort the patient and told him not to worry. But her heart was still hammering painfully.

I know the wound’s not deep, but I’m so scared.

While she examined him, she’d been able to concentrate enough that her fingers had remained steady, but now that she was feeling even a shred of relief, the terror had returned full force.

“I’m sorry, Prince Arnold.” She leaned her cheek against his knee. “This is all because you protected me…”

She heard a sigh from above her. Then Arnold bent over and picked her up. He put her on his lap and held her close.

Rishe went wide-eyed. “P-Prince Arnold?”

Arnold just held her tight. Seated as she was on his lap, their faces were right next to each other. Yet Rishe couldn’t forget about his wound, so she tried to escape his grasp.

“Y-you mustn’t, Your Highness! It’s bad for your injury!”

“If you’re concerned for me, then stop struggling.”

“Ugh…” There was no way she could put up a fight.

Rishe at least tried to relax so that there would be less of a strain on Arnold’s wound. When she did, Arnold began patting her back soothingly.

He’s touching me like… Rishe remembered the first time she’d slept in the same bed as him, the day after Theodore had kidnapped her. It had happened about a month after they’d met. She had lain beside him and patted his chest to simulate a heartbeat, telling him it would relax him. Arnold was doing the same for her now.

His life had just been in danger, and he must have been in pain, but here he was putting Rishe above all else. She understood that so well that she wanted to cry.

“I never intended to frighten you so.”

Rishe flinched. She’d shown him her naked terror when he was injured aboard the burning ship. Though she ached to say something, she feared it might come out as a sob instead. She stifled the urge to cry as best as she could.

“Will you scold me?” Arnold asked her gently.

She hastily shook her head, and he let out a puff of laughter that tickled her ear.

“You don’t have to apologize for me protecting you.”

That only made Rishe want to cry even more. “You’re forgetting something important. You were injured doing so…” she managed, barely able to prevent herself from breaking down in tears. She was having trouble holding on, so she clung to Arnold’s back. His skin was smooth and warm, and touching it directly made it very clear to her that his blood was still pumping underneath it.

“I…” She pressed her forehead to his neck, staunchly refusing to look him in the eye. “With you by my side, Prince Arnold, I feel like I can do anything.” She rubbed her face against his old wound, down to her lips. Though she was acting affectionate, she knew he could tell her voice was twined with small tremors. “I always believed that people could do more by joining hands with one another…but Sir Joel says you’re stronger when you fight alone.”

His exact words tolled in her head like a bell.

“I just don’t see what use you could possibly be to him.”

“Well, aren’t I right? He’s stronger than me, I can tell that much. Yet he’s playing along with your silly little strategy, protecting you. It’s strange that he’s taking such a roundabout way to handle things.”

And Rishe did know someone who was stronger when he fought alone. Joel…

The genius swordsman had died protecting Rishe. I know Joel’s strength better than anyone.

True, Arnold would likely still have beaten him, but if Joel had fought on his own, he may have survived long enough to make sure the royal family could get to safety. Then there would have been no reason for him to remain in the palace, and maybe he could have even gotten away.

“Prince Arnold…” Rishe let the question die in her throat.

What sort of life did you have in all those futures after I died? Rishe could only know what had happened up until her own death. Did you obtain the goal you wanted so badly that it drove a kind and gentle person like you to start a war?

Emperor Arnold Hein waged war on the world, invading any country that stood in his way. Did he carry his conquest out to the end, or was his violence eventually stopped? Rishe had no way of knowing. She knew nothing of the world beyond the next five years despite living her life over and over again.

Rishe reached out with trembling fingers and touched the hot skin near Arnold’s wounded side. I don’t even know if you lived or died…

She had never even thought about Arnold dying until now. In a way, she’d believed Arnold Hein the emperor to be almighty, a force no one could possibly stop. Right now, however, the thought of his death brought her endless terror.

“Your strength wanes with me at your side, Prince Arnold.” She wrapped her arms around Arnold and buried her face in his neck.

“Rishe, that—”

“If you would tell me that it isn’t true…”

Rishe knew it was unfair of her to tearfully plead with him, but she pleaded nonetheless. She whined like a child to her kind fiancé.

“Then please, please,” she begged, bringing her lips to the scar on his neck, “never get hurt again.”

Arnold gently stroked her hair. “Never again, eh?” He held her close, burying his lips in her hair with a wry chuckle. “I’m sorry.”

Though he allowed her selfish outburst and apologized for worrying her, he made no promises.

The future that he sees… Rishe knew better than anyone that he was not the type to make promises he could not keep. No matter what he hid from her, he had never broken a promise, after all. It was his sincerity that devastated her so.

What he wishes for lies somewhere far in the future, after his war. Rishe slowly closed her eyes, trying to keep her tears at bay. She rubbed her cheek against him, desperately holding back her emotions. I’ll never reach it with how I am now. I’m still so far away, even after seven lives…

Still, there was one thing she was certain of. I will use everything I’ve cultivated for Prince Arnold’s future.

Arnold couldn’t possibly know what Rishe was resolving herself to do, yet he didn’t begrudge her clinging and stroked her hair over and over.

Arnold began wrapping new bandages around his side. As she assisted him, Rishe pressed her forehead into his neck once more and pleaded, “May I stay with you for just a bit longer, Your Highness?”

He probably didn’t want anyone near him while he was injured. That was why he’d tended to his own wounds while Rishe had treated the woman they’d rescued. But Arnold relented, entwining his fingers with hers.

“Sure.”

Rishe was relieved. This only made her want to ask for more, however.

“Can I stay forever?”

“I don’t mind.”

She finally felt herself relax, just a little. Rishe nuzzled against Arnold like a child might. She couldn’t see his expression, but his fingers brushed affectionately against hers. Surely he was smiling.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Rishe tried to keep the tears out of her voice as she mumbled, “You seem warmer than usual when I hug you.”

“Do I?” Arnold asked after a beat.

She’d touched him enough to know that his body temperature was usually lower than hers. The heat of his skin must have been related to his injury.

“You might have a fever…”

Arnold fell back onto the bed, arms still wrapped around her.

“Ack!”

He lay down with a soft whump, Rishe falling on top of him. She scrambled to get off.

“Oh no! Your wound will open again!”

“I told you, it stopped bleeding.”

Rishe nevertheless shot up and peered down at Arnold’s side. She couldn’t see the wound, newly wrapped as it was, but there was no red stain on the bandages.

Is it really the goddess’s blood at work?

Arnold put his hand on the back of Rishe’s head and forced her to avert her eyes from the wound. She let him pull her to his chest once more, lying atop him as he stroked her hair.

When she thought calmly about how she was lying on top of a half-naked Arnold, embarrassment threatened to devour her. Even so, she felt his warmth and the comfort that it brought all the more keenly.

I can hear his heartbeat.

She slowly lowered her eyelids and spoke her relief aloud. “The blood you inherited protects you…”

Arnold flinched at that.

“What is it, Prince Arnold?”

“I can never predict what you’re thinking.” Arnold traced a finger over Rishe’s ring. “Any effects the goddess’s blood might produce are fact mixed with fiction at this point. I’ve pored over holy scriptures in the ancient Crusade language, but I was never able to come to a concrete conclusion.”

Arnold had told her before that he’d learned Crusade, the goddess’s language, as a child. It was an incredibly difficult language, but it was one with close ties to his mother. He must have been all alone as a child, reading books that an adult might toss aside in frustration.

“That man…” Arnold murmured, and Rishe thought of the hooded individual they’d faced aboard the ship.

That man knew Prince Arnold’s mother.

Rishe sat up slightly and reached for Arnold’s neck. She touched the scar she’d secretly kissed a moment ago and rasped, “This wound… Did your mother do this?”

She’d asked him how he’d gotten the scar that first night she saw it at the party right after they’d met, but Arnold hadn’t told her anything then.

Now he answered her, his voice so soft that it brought fresh tears to her eyes. “Yes.”

She was devastated to hear her suspicions confirmed.

He was still so young… Oliver had regaled her with the tale of when he’d first met Arnold, a boy of nine with bloody bandages wrapped around his neck. And she stabbed him enough times to leave all these marks…

Tears swam in Rishe’s eyes. What she knew of Arnold’s mother from his own mouth made her feel anxious, but she also wanted to know why things had gotten so bad between them.

Instead, the first words from her lips were, “It must have hurt terribly…”

“Oh?”

Arnold’s expression hadn’t changed in the slightest when he’d been stabbed protecting her—but there was no way he didn’t feel pain.

Rishe traced the lines of his scar with her fingers, pursing her lips into a tight line. For his own mother to do this to him…I can’t even imagine how he might have felt.

Arnold sighed and stroked Rishe’s hair. “I don’t really remember the pain.” She murmured his name, and he appeared to pick up on the question she couldn’t ask. “What stands out more in my mind is the memory of killing her afterward.”

Rishe’s breath caught in her throat as Arnold continued caressing her hair.

“What was your mother like?” she asked him.

There was a gazebo set aside in a corner of the imperial palace for her. A brand-new structure that showed no signs of use.

“I have no way of knowing.” Arnold’s blue eyes glazed over; perhaps he was recalling some faraway scenery he’d laid eyes on long ago. “The mother I knew was always like a soulless doll.”

It was rare for him to speak in metaphor like this. Rishe locked eyes with him as his shapely fingers combed through her locks.

“She’d break down when she saw me, so I never had a proper conversation with her until just before she died. I can hardly ever remember hearing her voice, and I can count on one hand the number of times our eyes met.” Arnold spoke emotionlessly, filling in the information Rishe wanted to know as if he were mindlessly following a routine. “I ran into her that day and triggered one of her fits. I was covered in blood, which is probably why she snapped.”

“Blood? Why?”

“I was on my way back to the tower after killing my newborn sister.”

Rishe gasped. He’d told her about his father’s horrific deeds once before. Arnold’s father took brides from other countries as hostages, but he only allowed children who strongly inherited his own blood to live. The rest would die as infants. As his heir, Arnold had been forced to take part in the slaughter at a young age.

“She walked over to me calmly, as if nothing was wrong. The only clue was the single glance she’d given the sword at my hip.”

Rishe could picture it. Arnold’s mother, the royal priestess, would have had violet hair just like Millia’s. If Arnold resembled her, then she must have been stunningly beautiful. She was normally like a “soulless doll,” but she’d walked toward the bloody Arnold of her own free will. What expression could have possibly been on the young Arnold’s face then?

“I misjudged the situation.” Arnold cast his eyes down softly. “My mother smiled at me, cursed my birth, and drove the blade into me.”

He cupped her cheek when he saw her eyes grow misty. “There’s no need for you to look at me like that.”

“But—”

“I told you I don’t remember the pain. It’s true.”

Rishe bit her lip and shook her head. Voice barely a whisper, Arnold said, “The last thing she pierced was her own throat.”

His eyes were calm, like the sea on a day without a breeze.

“I think she cursed me once more as her blood coated me.”

“Oh, Your Highness…”

“She didn’t die quickly. She suffered. The wound she’d given herself was fatal, but if the goddess’s blood really helps a person heal, all it served to do for her was prolong her pain.”

Rishe understood immediately the course of action the young Arnold had taken. “You freed your mother from her suffering.”

So that was why it was said that he’d killed his mother. Rishe also realized why he had to kill his brothers and sisters. Arnold hadn’t blindly obeyed his father’s orders; she was sure the choice had been forced upon him. Just like with his mother, the children had been put in situations where death was the only way to save them.

That’s why he thinks marrying me is such a terrible thing. That he’s forced me into it.

Rishe hung her head and wrapped her arms around Arnold. She pulled him to her and buried her face in his neck again, and he gently returned her embrace.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispered. It was rare for Arnold to beg, but Rishe couldn’t help digging her heels in like a spoiled child. Arnold called her name to soothe her. He kissed her hair.

Being forced to kill his mother and his newborn brothers and sisters… He endures it all as if it’s his sin to bear. It was kindness through and through, as far as Rishe was concerned.

“Those bloody days of your childhood…” she said slowly, willing her voice not to tremble. Her tears still hadn’t fallen. Arnold waited patiently as she mustered the words she wanted to say. “That’s what marriage means to you.”

His father had waged war on the world, and the countries he’d conquered had offered him brides as hostages in exchange for these fleeting days of peace. Arnold had seen it all through his ocean-blue eyes. By contrast, as almost all his siblings were killed, the emperor’s wives viewed Arnold with nothing but bitter resentment.

“That’s why you respect me as an individual and not as a consort, and why you give me so much freedom…”

“That’s not true.”

His fingers ventured down from her hair, brushing against her ear and cheek. Rishe peeked up from the comforting crook of his neck, and their eyes met. He’d never taken those calm blue eyes off her.

“I just enjoy it.” Arnold put his hand on the back of her head and pulled her close to him again. “Your freedom.” His husky voice in her ear was like the shell-bound roar of the sea. “Your strength. The way you pull anything and everything along with you as you fight for what will make everyone happiest.”

He was always like this. He affirmed the way she wanted to live like it was only natural. He’d probably never been able to live as he wished, yet he permitted Rishe to choose what was most important to her even after she’d already lived her life over and over again—not that he knew it.

He lets me have my way even if it would pit us against each other. When he’d refused the alliance with Coyolles or when he’d tried to take the archbishop’s life, he’d never refused Rishe the option to fight him.

He’s so strong and so kind. He must have been thinking that he’d gotten Rishe wrapped up in his plans after bringing her back to Galkhein.

What if I told him I was in love with him? Rishe shot down the thought immediately. No, I can’t. That wouldn’t change Arnold’s mind. She could become a heavy shackle binding him, but he would continue to move forward.

“There’s something I’d like to ask you, Your Highness.” While she wouldn’t demand an answer, this was something she needed to say to him. “If, say…by the time I turn twenty, I lose my life—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he said flatly. Another rare display of selfishness in which he rejected her whims. But Rishe couldn’t listen to him this time.

I’m sorry.

Arnold had asked her not to, yet she continued. Rishe knew painfully well how fragile her own life was. This man had been the reason for her death in every single life thus far. Remembering the pain she’d felt when he’d personally ended her life in her sixth loop, she said, “If I die…I want to be your bride in my next life too.”

Arnold’s hand froze atop her head.

If my wish to live a long life doesn’t come true this time… Rishe took Arnold’s hand with her left hand, the one bearing the ring, and entwined their fingers tight. If it doesn’t end there, and it repeats again…

Up until now, every time she’d died and returned to that day, her heart had danced at the new possibilities before her. Even if she lost things she’d built up to that point, the view before her had seemed full of opportunity.

But now, in her seventh life, Rishe couldn’t stop wishing for one thing and one thing only: In my eighth life, and in my ninth life, and my tenth… She could never choose anything else, and it didn’t even feel like a restraint.

“I want to be by your side, Your Highness.”

“Rishe…”

No matter what life she lived from now on, she wanted Arnold to be there with her. Yearning to hold hands with him in all her futures henceforth, she prayed.

“Please.”

She had told him once in a chapel that she was resolved to be his wife. Arnold had kissed her then and told her she didn’t need to be.

“If it’s not a resolution but a wish,” she said, keenly aware of how feeble her grip on him was, “would you allow that?”

Arnold gave Rishe’s hand a light squeeze, and she timidly raised her head from his neck. He was staring down at her with his ocean-blue eyes. They looked the same as they had when he kissed her in the chapel.

I wish he would just nod and say, “Fine,” in that gentle voice of his.

That’s not what he did, however. He simply closed his eyes and pulled her hand to him, reaffirming his grip on it. Then he placed a soft kiss on the ring on her finger.

“Your Highness…”

The gesture signified a proposal to both of them. There was no tradition that dictated it so, but when he had given her this ring and Rishe had asked him once again to be her husband, he’d kissed her ring just like this that evening on the shore.

There was no way Arnold had forgotten. Rishe’s eyes swam once more, precisely because the kiss wasn’t a rejection of her wish.

He won’t give me a promise in words…

In an instant, Rishe was pressed against his chest.

“Rishe.”

There almost seemed to be a wish of his own in the strength of his hold on her. But Arnold would never vocalize that wish.

All she could hear was his heartbeat.

He loathes his father’s way of doing things. Yet he still proposed to me and keeps me at his side, accepting me. Arnold thought of even that as a sin.

He really is kind. More tears welled up in her eyes at that, and she could no longer hold herself back. Arnold’s kindness devastated her.

I don’t want Prince Arnold to feel any more pain! She didn’t want him getting hurt for her sake.

Arnold stared down at her, tracing her wet lashes with his thumb.

“Ngh…”

“Rishe.”

When he gently called her name, she shook her head. And for a time after that, Rishe fell to pieces in front of him just as she had once before. No matter how many times he stroked her hair or murmured her name, her tears never seemed to end.

She burdened the kind Arnold for some time after that.

 

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“Have you calmed down?”

“Yes…”

Rishe sniffled, burying her face in her pillow. She’d put away the first aid kit and changed into a nightgown that didn’t expose much of her skin. Arnold had put a nightshirt on and was resting his head on a pillow beside Rishe’s.

The light summer blanket was almost too hot with both of them under it, but Rishe found Arnold’s body heat too comfortable to leave his bed.

“You really don’t mind if I sleep with you?” she asked shyly.

“I’d prefer it if you went back to your own room and got some proper rest.”

“Hrk…”

“But if you plan to stay by my side all night, then I at least want you to sleep instead of staying up.”

It was the exact opposite situation from the night Rishe had been struck by that poisoned arrow. Back then, it was Arnold who wanted to watch over Rishe all night, so she had thrown a fit to get him to rest. They’d ended up sharing the same bed.

I never expected His Highness to do as I did.

Burrowed into the covers up to her nose, Rishe snuck a glance at Arnold. She was both embarrassed by her own childish antics and plagued by the same sorrow as before.

I’ve always known that I have to prove myself with actions and not convince him with words. I can’t just cry and tell him not to get hurt. I must make sure of it, she told herself, clutching the blanket. If what he wants is beyond his war—the one he’ll wage even at risk to his own health—then I have to stop it from happening and offer him an alternative means to his goal.

Renewing her determination, Rishe thought, When we return to the capital, I really should try to see him before the wedding…

She rolled over to face Arnold. “Say, Your Highness…” Arnold returned her gaze, lying on his back. “Is your wound really all better?”

Her anxiety must have been plain on her face. Arnold ­responded, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not just saying that so I won’t worry?”

“You rebandaged it yourself and examined the wound thoroughly.”

“But what about the fever you seemed to have earlier?”

Arnold patted her cheek with one hand. “See for yourself.”

Rishe’s heart throbbed. She tried not to show it, reaching out slowly over the sheets. The moment she touched Arnold’s hand, he grasped hers.

“Oh…”

His eyes closed, Arnold pressed Rishe’s hand to his own cheek and nuzzled up against it.

“Eep!”

It was hard to say who was indulging whom now.

Arnold slowly opened his eyes, the shadow of his lashes falling across the most beautiful blue in the world. “You’re warmer.”

“Well, I-I…”

Arnold’s body temperature was usually lower than Rishe’s, but she felt like there might be some other factors contributing to the difference in their relative heat.

I was fine just a moment ago! Rishe protested.

Just a short while ago, she’d seen plenty of Arnold’s bare chest, sat on his lap, lain atop his half-naked body, and pestered him for affection. The facts of the situation made her face burn hotter and hotter.

Is it just me or have I been behaving most immodestly?!

Arnold chuckled at the way Rishe chewed her lip. He was clearly amused, but he wouldn’t remove his hand. The kind

---

and sometimes teasing

---

Arnold stroked Rishe’s ring finger, bared now for sleep. “Your expressions sure do change quite a bit.”

“Mmgh…” Rishe was both frustrated that she had no retort and relieved that things were once again status quo between them. Arnold’s wound really didn’t seem to be bad.

Weakly squeezing his hand in return, Rishe prayed, May your pain ease soon.

“The woman from the ship is resting in a room under the Imperial Guard’s watch,” she told him. “As you requested, I left things to Oliver after finishing with her treatment.”

Before dealing with his wound, Arnold had issued a number of commands to his vassals. Rishe had gone with the woman, treating her scrapes and calming her down, steeling herself to ignore Arnold’s injury so no one would find out about it.

In reality, she’d been in no state to calm someone else down. If she let her concentration slip for a moment, her hands would start trembling, so she’d done all she could to keep her composure in front of the Imperial Guards.

She recalled the way Oliver had comforted her upon visiting the villa where they were keeping the women they’d taken in. He’d just been caught up to speed.

“Lady Rishe, please allow me to take over. I’ve heard the details from my lord, so I’ll see if I can get any more information about what happened before the ship was set ablaze.”

“Thank you, Oliver.”

“Please don’t mention it. In exchange, I only ask that you stop my lord if he insists on working in his bedroom!” The joking way he’d spoken was surely meant to reassure her.

Rishe had turned to Arnold’s trusted retainer and said, “Oliver, I’ll tell you what I’ve already heard from her…”

She told Arnold now what she’d told Oliver then. “The man in the cloak was the very same one who enticed the women to join him on his ship in Siarga.” The woman had been sure of it when she saw him. “She didn’t see his face either, of course, but she was certain he was the same man from his voice and build.”

Arnold said nothing in response.

“When they met, he had blond hair and deep-blue eyes. I’ve given his description to the knights, but he could have disguised himself. They’re focusing their search on individuals with injuries matching his.”

Arnold had stabbed the man in the stomach and broken his arm. Wounds like that would be much more difficult to hide than one’s hair or eye color. Still, they couldn’t be optimistic about their chances.

“I’m sure he’ll get away,” Arnold muttered.

“Right.”

They were in agreement on this.

Arnold’s Imperial Guards were excellent. Having faced off against him directly, however, Rishe could tell that the man’s abilities were far superior to theirs. That was clear enough from how much trouble Arnold had with him, though he was injured and protecting Rishe as they fought.

Then there was the way he unhesitatingly jumped into the canal from that height. If Raul had been there, he may have been able to track him, but…

He was a man with the strength of a knight and the mobility of a hunter. Even if the Imperial Guards did everything in their power to find him, he had no doubt taken measures to avoid capture.

“The name he gave her was Thaddeus, but I’m sure it’s fake.” A bigger hint to his identity was what he’d said to Arnold in the end. “Is it true that you resemble your mother, Your Highness?”

Rishe was hesitant to ask him things of this nature. The last time he’d seen his mother, she would’ve been a ghastly sight.

It must have shown on Rishe’s face that she felt terrible making him remember such a thing, as Arnold rolled over to face her. Their pillows were right next to each other, and their fingers were still entwined. In this position, they gazed into one another’s eyes with hardly any distance between them. She was worried about the wound on his side, but with that side raised, the burden on his wound should have lessened.

“Objectively speaking, I suppose so.”

Arnold squeezed her hand again. His hands were rough from wielding a sword on an almost daily basis—but the distinct shape of his bones and joints made them beautiful as well, like works of art. Rishe’s eyelids lowered as she took comfort in the strength of his grip.

“Then did that man know your mother was the royal priestess?”

“He could also have met her after she married my father.”

It wouldn’t be strange if portraits of the former royal priestess existed somewhere, but there should have been very few people who knew her to be Arnold’s mother. Even if the man had only known her as Arnold’s birth mother, that should have narrowed down his possible identity by a fair margin as well.

“The tower where the emperor’s wives resided could only be reached through my father’s living quarters.”

Rishe thought of when she’d seen Arnold’s father, lit by the moon high in the sky behind him. She hadn’t been anywhere near him, yet his dreadful bloodlust had been plenty palpable. The very air around her had dropped a few degrees, to the point that she’d found it difficult to breathe in his presence.

“The only people allowed to enter were the servants who cared for his wives, but they’re all dead now.”

Grimacing at the unjustness of it all, Rishe asked, “Then would he only have had the opportunity to know your mother as the royal priestess before she came to Galkhein?”

“If he did, he would have ties to only a few individuals high up in the Church.”

Rishe gulped. “Someone with ties to the Church, with a ship that can take him across the sea, who does business with nobility as a merchant…”

She had a strange sense of déjà vu.

If you factor in his knight-like combat abilities and his hunter-esque moves, he’s…

Rishe frowned, puzzled.

He’s…like me?

She gripped Arnold’s hand tighter.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” She was worried those blue eyes would see right through her, sharp as they were. “It’s clear that this man who calls himself Thaddeus is no mere slave trader.”

Rishe pretended that was her true concern.

“This international human trafficking incident is shaping up to be much more complicated than I expected.” Thinking back to several things that had occurred recently, she added, “What worries me most is the possibility that this man intends harm to Galkhein somehow.”

Arnold lowered his gaze.

The Fabrannian royal family manufactured counterfeit currency to weaken Galkhein. But it wasn’t King Walter’s own idea; someone led him to it.

That wasn’t the only incident of clandestine maneuvering to date.

Whoever was behind that incident also attempted to rope my former fiancé, Prince Dietrich, into his schemes as well. And this was likely another trap designed to do harm to Prince Arnold and Galkhein.

Galkhein was a major world power with significant military might. It had influenced the history of nearly every other nation in this world at some point and would continue to do so, given what Rishe knew of the future. Countless people were wary of Galkhein, wanted to make use of it for themselves, or desired to see the whole nation destroyed.

“That man must be…”

Arnold narrowed his eyes and shifted. “In any case…”

Rishe gasped when Arnold tapped his forehead against hers.

“Granting your wish comes first.” He relaxed his hand, pulling back his fingers and enclosing his hand around hers instead. “You want to rescue the human trafficking victims, don’t you? It will be more efficient to concentrate our efforts there for now.”

“True enough, I suppose.”

He traced the edge of her nails with his thumb, the touch ticklish. The gesture was almost playful. She never imagined Arnold might touch someone like this in any of her past lives.

“You pushed yourself too hard today,” he told her.

“Ugh… Speak for yourself,” she said, confident that she had the upper hand this time.

She pouted and he let go of her hand, instead reaching out to touch her cheek.

“Ngh…” Rishe hunched her shoulders as his fingers brushed her near her ear. Arnold had surely noticed that she didn’t resist, though. Hardly able to bear the embarrassment she felt, Rishe timidly began, “Hey, Prince Arnold?”

“What?”

“You’re a bit needy today, aren’t you?”

Arnold merely blinked at her.

I mean, you keep touching me and all. His touch was obviously intended to calm her down, but he also ventured into teasing territory.

“Are you sure your injury isn’t bothering you?”

“…”

“Is it uncomfortable being in that position? If it hurts to lie on your back and on your side, it would be best to lessen the burden on your wound as much as possible.” If they had a thicker winter blanket, it might be able to provide some support; the thin summer pillows weren’t likely to help him much.

Rishe thought for a moment, then snuggled closer to Arnold.

“…Rishe?”

“Um, a body pillow may alleviate your pain somewhat.” She steeled herself and locked gazes with him. The best item to serve as this “body pillow” was Rishe herself. “I-I implore you to embrace me however you like, Your Highness…”

Arnold peered at her, eyes still devoid of emotion. His hand, however, stopped his gentle stroking of her cheek and instead roughly tousled her hair.

“Ngh?!”

Rishe remembered how, as a child, she used to pet a stuffed toy she’d loved to bits. The way he touched her now was less needy or soothing and more scolding, if she had to guess.

“Ack! Your Highness!”

“I can’t believe you.” He finally released her, breathing a short breath whose huffiness seemed laden with meaning.

“I-I’m sorry.” It was just a ridiculous suggestion. There was no way he’d be more comfortable with Rishe in his arms. In fact, he’d likely only exacerbate his wounds.

“I just wish there were some way I could help you get more restful sleep somehow. I feel like there’s nothing more I can do for you.”

She was painfully aware of how little she could offer, even with all her medical knowledge and maid training. When a person was badly wounded, there wasn’t much anyone other than the goddess could do for them.

“I understand,” Arnold said after a lengthy pause. There was a shine to his blue eyes. This time, he gently combed Rishe’s tousled hair back into place and said, “Let me borrow you, then.”

“Huh?”

The next moment, he wrapped her up in a hug. Rishe squeaked as he pulled her waist to him with one arm and slung the other around her back. She buried her face in his chest, temporarily unable to breathe due to their closeness.

I can feel His Highness’s warmth…

Rishe felt herself going red up to her ears. Her heart did somersaults as he rested some of his weight on her, practically clinging to her. With each beat of her heart, Rishe was reminded of her feelings for Arnold. Her chest tightened as she clutched at Arnold’s shirt.

“I suppose I am being a bit needy with you,” Arnold whispered, pressing a kiss to Rishe’s forehead.

“Really…?”

He didn’t continue, but Rishe sensed what he might be thinking. He told me once that making me his wife, keeping me by his side, was just one aspect of his goal.

Arnold would never forgive himself for what he perceived to be his sins. Even if Rishe herself wished to marry him, he despised the things he and his father did. He probably conceived of Rishe marrying him as sacrificing herself. Even though I stand to interfere with your plans more than anyone else could. She was a terrible wife who was determined to stop his war and lead him into a kinder future.

Rishe wrapped her arms around Arnold’s back and held on to him as well. Arnold seemed a bit surprised by the gesture, but he stroked her hair gently nonetheless.

“May you have good dreams, Your Highness.”

“Oh?”

Arnold had told her that his bad dreams went away when he slept next to her. Rishe hoped they would stay away again tonight.

“May a day one day come when you are able to desire even such a small blessing for yourself…”

Listening to Arnold’s heartbeat, Rishe closed her eyes as he caressed her hair with his large hand. She’d wanted to stay awake until he fell asleep himself, but she was already sinking into a warm sea of slumber. Nuzzling her cheek against the beloved warmth before her, Rishe settled into sleep.

Arnold pulled back slightly from Rishe, entwining his fingers with hers once more. “I won’t desire such a blessing,” he said, though his words never reached her.

He cast his gaze down, kissed Rishe’s ring finger, and told her, “But I do hope you’ll make my wish come true one day.”

For this last utterance, his voice was cold and foreboding.