TFCF 14📃

Chapter 14

The air hung heavy with awkwardness, and Aila hesitated.

“Should I just let this slide?”

After all, wasn’t today the very first step with the Crown Prince?

“No. If I’ve decided to be his friend, I can’t start off with a lie.”

Aila believed no one would trust a liar.

She cleared her throat and called out.

“Your Highness.”

Roland was crouched down, silently gathering acorns from the forest floor.

Turning her back to him, Aila began to pick up fallen fruit as well.

“Actually… what I said earlier was a lie.”

He raised his head slightly. “What do you mean?”

“The part about me getting angry when I see blond hair. I’m sorry. I lied.”

Not having to look at his face made speaking easier somehow.

“From now on,” Aila added quietly, “I won’t ever tell a lie like that again.”

The words lifted a weight from her chest. She listened closely, waiting for Roland’s reply—

But before he could speak, a piercing scream split the air.

Aila shot to her feet. Another shriek tore through the forest, sharp with genuine terror.

Her heart froze. Perotti!

That elegant young lady was not the type to scream over nothing.

Leaves scattered underfoot as Aila bolted toward the sound. Roland clicked his tongue as he followed close behind.

“Does she run every day after meals or something? And she’s supposed to be frail?”

Aila bounded through the woods like a swift, brown deer.

From a distance, her eyes caught the scene:

Perotti and Khun stood rooted in place. In front of them, a beast the size of a hunting hound—its quills bristling, eyes glowing—blocked their path.

Not a normal porcupine.

“A beast!”

How could a monster appear in a forest under the Sage’s watch?

But her body moved before her mind could catch up.

With quick fingers, Aila tore off her leather belt.

Roland’s startled voice rang from behind—“What are you—?”—but she ignored him.

Snatching up a stone the size of her fist, she slipped it into the belt’s loop and began to spin it.

Whirrr, whirrr! The sling sliced the air.

“Hi-yaaah!”

With a sharp shout, she released one end. The stone flew straight and struck the porcupine square in the face.

“Skreee!”

The beast reared back, squealing.

“How’s that!” Aila grinned fiercely. This is the very sling-throw that once shattered the Crown Princess’s skull!

She grabbed another stone, spinning the belt until it hummed like a buzzing hornet.

“Get lost!”

Her voice rang loud and clear. The circling stone and the growing number of children behind her made the porcupine falter. With a final shriek, it bolted into a nearby burrow.

Aila let out a long breath of relief and hurried to Perotti’s side.

The young lady’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“Lady Perotti, are you all right?”

“Aila!” Perotti sobbed, flinging herself into Aila’s arms.

It was unexpected, but Aila returned the embrace with a gallant smile.

“No injuries, I hope?”

“N-no…”

Perotti hiccuped, wiping her eyes. Aila turned to Khun.

“And you?”

“I’m fine.” He grinned. “That was an impressive throw, Lady Aila.”

Glancing at the belt in her hands, Aila laughed sheepishly.

“With proper aim, I can hit a leaf within seven hundred paces.”

Years of practice. I trained until my fingers bled—just to kill the Crown Princess.

Her grip tightened. Even now, her hands remembered.

Roland’s calm voice cut in. “We should move. If that thing has companions, we’ll be in trouble.”

At his words, everyone cast a wary glance at the burrow before hastily leaving the spot.

Perotti pressed a hand to her chest, still pale.

“I thought it was just a squirrel’s den filled with acorns, but to think a beast would crawl out… I was certain I’d die.”

Aila only nodded gravely. “It’s best not to meddle with holes in the ground.”

“Yes. I’ll be careful from now on.”

Perotti paused, glancing nervously toward Roland. Before Aila could guess why, the prince spoke, smiling softly.

“Since Lady Perotti was startled, it may be best if she and Aila move together. The Sage will allow it, I’m sure.”

Even without looking, Aila could hear the warmth in his tone.

Strange. His voice… it feels familiar. Not the sound, but the way he speaks.

Almost like the way I used to feign a girl’s voice when I pretended to be one… a softness that feels false.

The prince must be struggling too.

When he and Khun departed, Perotti quickly whispered:

“Lady Aila, you’d better put your belt back on.”

“Oh—right. Thank you.”

Grateful for the reminder, Aila fastened it again.

Perotti watched her with wide, curious eyes.

A sling…! Who even thinks to use something like that?

The memory of Aila’s whirling strike, fierce and unflinching, replayed in her mind.

At first, I only thought her clothes were unusual. But this… Aila Solarlune is truly fascinating.

Looping her arm through Aila’s, Perotti smiled brightly.

“Aila, may I call you just by name?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll speak casually too.”

Her openness startled Aila at first, but she quickly laughed. It was her first time with a friend of the same sex—and without the suffocating presence of the Crown Prince, her heart felt suddenly light.

Perotti tilted her head.

“But why use a sling instead of a bow?”

“Well…”

Aila’s mind raced. Because it’s easy to hide. Because it’s the perfect assassin’s weapon—quiet, subtle, lethal.

But instead she said lightly:

“You can use it anywhere. A bow needs special tools, but a sling only needs a stone.”

“That’s true.” Perotti nodded thoughtfully. “And with centrifugal force, even a weaker arm can throw hard. But to reach your accuracy… you must have trained for years. Amazing, Aila.”

Aila flushed crimson at the praise.

Perotti gasped softly. Oh my…

She had heard only rumors—that Aila Solarlune was a frail girl. But this?

A frail genius? How enchanting.

Perotti resolved not to pry—it wasn’t proper for nobles to dig too deeply.

Still, the thought made her pulse quicken.

Classes with the Sage will be far more exciting now. I must tell the others about this—though Aila herself may not realize just how charming she is.

Later, as they gathered acorns together, Aila suddenly remembered.

The Crown Prince’s voice… it’s just like my own disguise. Sweet, soft, but somehow false. As if he too is playing a part.

She frowned faintly.

And yet, despite everything, he still attends society functions without fail. What on earth is going on?

The Fish Decoration

The Sage’s lessons proved delightful.

Although Aila twice succumbed to shortness of breath and once nearly vomited, she fit in well enough. Master Dessa taught with clarity, and each day Aila was shocked anew by her own ignorance.

After class, the children shared sweets and visited one another’s villas. Because of their gender, Aila and Perotti often spent time together privately, and their bond deepened quickly.

For Aila, who had never known the joy of a same-sex friend, Perotti became precious. Her natural ability to anticipate what a “lovely young lady” would think made their companionship effortless—and Perotti soon found herself utterly captivated.

Perotti cupped her cheeks with a sigh.

“If Aila were a man, I’d be hopelessly in love.”

Aila only smiled as she poured tea into Perotti’s cup.

“But I already am hopelessly in love with you, Perotti.”

Her words brought a flush to the young lady’s face.

“See? That’s exactly the problem. Aila, you say things like that so easily.”

Perotti lifted her cup delicately and went on.

“But perhaps… it’s even better that you’re a girl. Men are noisy, always competing over foolish things.”

“You said ‘noisy’ twice.”

“Because they truly are.”

“Really?”

“Just look at them pushing fishing of all things. Fish stink, the bait is disgusting—absolutely horrid.”

“I thought it was kind of fun.”

“That’s so like you.”

Perotti laughed softly. “At least these boys are well-mannered. My brothers, on the other hand…”

She pressed a finger to her lips, then smiled coldly.

“…they’ve had less training.”

“I imagine your brothers will still grow up quite proper,” Aila said gently.

“They’d better. By the way, you have a younger brother too, don’t you?”

“Yes. But he’s close with our mother, not with me. We hardly speak.”

“Oh…” Perotti’s ears flushed pink. She leaned closer, whispering:

“I think that’s exactly what I like about you.”

“Whatever it is, thank you.”

Perotti laughed softly at Aila’s casual reply. Then, gazing at her over the rim of her teacup, she asked—

“Tell me, Aila. Do you… dislike the Crown Prince?”