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Chapter 17
The next day, evening.
I didn’t refuse Frederick’s invitation. For Eleanor’s sake, I couldn’t. Eleanor came to my bedroom; Dixie and Jane barely managed to keep straight faces as they retreated. Eleanor wore a flowing, pink dress.
It was the complete opposite of the watery-blue dress I had on, as if she were deliberately amplifying her innate sweetness. Eleanor normally favored pinks and pale coral dresses anyway.
“Are you all ready?”
“Yes, sister!”
Eleanor beamed. Lately, the carnivorous rabbit had been spiking Eleanor’s meals with medicine instead of eating my portion of meat. It had found the best task it could perform.
“That His Highness the Crown Prince invited you to dinner today! He must have wanted to see you!”
“Perhaps.”
Eleanor hugged me lightly from behind.
The moment her body touched mine, goosebumps crawled up my back, but I forced myself to endure it. Eleanor once pushed me into the abyss at the very moment I believed my life was perfect.
I would return it all, exactly as she gave it. The thought alone made me grit my teeth.
“But perhaps… he wants to see you as well.”
I spoke gently.
“Huh?”
Eleanor’s eyes widened. In the mirror, her bright, innocent face twisted ever so slightly with confusion—then a flicker of unease. Because I knew what lay beneath her mask, I could recognize that tiny twitch of anxiety.
“He may be curious about my family, don’t you think?”
“Ah… well, that could be true.”
Eleanor folded her eyes into a smile.
“Of course, His Highness will find you adorable. I do, after all. Why wouldn’t he? I hope he grows to like you a lot. As much as I do.”
“Sister…”
My words—so carefully wrapped—fooled Eleanor with ease. She pressed her head onto my shoulder. I placed my hand atop her smooth one.
“We’re family, aren’t we? Family who’ll stay together for life. When I struggle, you’ll support me, and when you struggle, I’ll be your strength. Isn’t that right?”
Eleanor nodded.
I patted her hand and drew mine away. She smiled at me.
Meanwhile—
Lucian heaved a sigh as he glared at Amelie, who stubbornly clung to his hand. She had refused the nanny’s help, left her hair loose like a haunted ghost, and was gripping a ribbon in her fist.
Lucian pressed his fingers to his forehead.
Amelie was unquestionably the greatest challenge of his life.
“You’re going in looking like that?”
“Amelie is pretty no matter what. Lucian knows nothing.”
Right. He knew nothing—hell, he wanted to know nothing. The once unshakeable fortress of his reason crumbled every time Amelie opened her mouth. Lucian rubbed his face. He was uneasy about showing her to Frederick but couldn’t win a battle of will with her.
He tried to warn her one last time.
“There will be a strange man there.”
“Not a man.”
“What?”
“You said not to use bad words. Lucian is bad.”
“…Right.”
Lucian swallowed his irritation whole. Fighting Amelie was pointless; accepting her was easier. He clenched his jaw.
“There’ll be a blond man there.”
“Mm.”
“He’s a very bad person. Be careful. You understand?”
Amelie thought hard. Watching her chubby cheeks twitch made Lucian regret bringing her. Amelie was far too harmless to present to Frederick.
“All right. I’ll be careful. Bad person.”
“Good.”
Lucian hugged her tightly and pressed a kiss to her round forehead. Amelie wrapped her plump arms around his neck. Another carriage entered—they were not the only guests for Frederick’s dinner.
Lucian halted mid-step.
“…Princess Belisa.”
“Oh my!”
Before Belisa could greet him, Eleanor rushed forward with a bright smile.
“It’s been so long, Your Grace!”
Lucian nodded curtly.
To him, everything lay beneath his feet—arrogance was his nature. He looked down at Eleanor with cool disdain.
“Your Grace.”
Belisa nodded calmly, far more composed than Eleanor. Her expression was more refined than before. Then her eyes widened—she had spotted Amelie.
“Amelie.”
“Hello.”
Amelie waved her tiny hand. Eleanor gasped.
“Oh my, who is this tiny princess?”
“Amelie.”
Amelie mumbled, pouting, and clung tightly to Lucian. He stroked her back. The four of them stepped inside the mansion.
A servant ran over.
“Welcome! My apologies for the late greeting!”
Panting awkwardly, he continued:
“His Highness the Crown Prince is preparing at this moment.”
Lucian scoffed. That insufferable habit—inviting guests, then keeping them waiting—was still intact.
“Where should we go? I have a child. I’d like to eat quickly and leave.”
The servant bowed humbly.
“Of course, right this way. His Highness will be along shortly.”
They followed the servant. Amelie, held in Lucian’s arms, locked eyes with Belisa. Belisa smiled warmly and waved.
“Hello.”
At the soft greeting, Amelie snapped her head away.
She wouldn’t be calling Belisa ugly today—not a chance. Belisa’s eyes gleamed knowingly.
Later, in the dining room—
Honestly, I hadn’t expected the Grand Duke Lucian and Amelie to come. Frederick excelled at catching people off guard. Whatever his intentions were, I doubted this evening would be pleasant.
We were seated first.
Amelie wriggled beside Lucian, gauging the room. Before he could stop her, she hopped off the chair and circled the table.
“Amelie.”
Lucian’s voice held warning, but he failed to seat her. Nothing in the world defied Lucian—except this child. He pressed a finger to his temple, frustrated.
Amelie wandered near Eleanor. Eleanor watched her with interest—the silver hair and green eyes were striking, sweet in a way Lucian never was.
Eleanor held out her hand.
“Should I tie your hair?”
Amelie blinked, then shook her head.
“Not you.”
“Then who?”
Amelie stared at Belisa. Belisa smiled and reached out.
“I’m not very good at it. Is that okay?”
“It’s okay.”
Amelie nodded. Belisa sat her down and began fiddling with her hair. Memories stirred—once, she used to braid Eleanor’s hair like this. The soft, childish strands tickled Belisa’s fingers.
‘…The past doesn’t matter.’
Belisa exhaled a faint laugh.
Her braiding was clumsy, but she tied a ribbon around the hair anyway. Amelie swung her feet and whispered:
“Sorry.”
“Hmm?”
“I take it back. The ugly thing. It was a lie. Amelie is sorry.”
Her voice was so small only Belisa could hear. Belisa’s eyes widened. The child’s soft, silver fluff of hair was impossibly delicate and adorable.
Unlike Lucian—Amelie was straightforward, honest, sweet. Belisa hadn’t felt anything like this since her return.
She hugged Amelie gently.
“It’s okay. I forgive you.”
Amelie nodded.
