Chapter 16
Plita was sniffling, her eyes brimming with tears. She hadn’t even noticed her father’s arrival and only had eyes for Roze.
“H-Hayven. What are you doing here…?”
But Hayven couldn’t keep looking at the child. The former queen, Isabel, approached and spoke to him. He turned away from Plita and looked at her.
“I don’t believe I’ve come somewhere I’m not allowed. After all, this is also a residence where I am staying.”
“Oh, of course, I didn’t mean to criticize you. I just… um, I was caught off guard seeing you so suddenly.”
Isabel flustered, her eyes darting around quickly. She was trying to figure out how long Hayven had been standing there.
She bit her red lips nervously, wondering if he had overheard her earlier harsh words about Plita and her bloodline.
‘Of all times to run into him…’
Isabel frowned in irritation, glancing sideways at Plita, then quickly shifted her gaze to the maid with the green eyes.
Truthfully, this whole situation was because of that insolent maid.
It wasn’t the first time Isabel had scolded Plita when Hayven wasn’t around. Back then, Plita’s nanny would play along, chiding the child as well. But this maid had dared to take the child’s side—looking her straight in the eye and arguing back.
‘I disliked her from the start. And those green eyes—of all things, why do they have to match that woman’s?’
Isabel scowled at the maid before turning her eyes away. She saw Plita sniffle, looking back and forth between her and Hayven, then quietly reach for the maid’s hand.
‘Of course. Low-borns are drawn to their kind…’
She muttered internally. Even when pretending to be kind to Plita in front of Hayven, the child had never come to her like that. Far from taking her hand, Plita always hid behind her nanny. Nothing more needed to be said.
‘They’re naturally drawn to each other, filthy blood and all.’
Isabel smirked silently, then put on a concerned expression and spoke again.
“Still, I worry that Plita is becoming too attached to the maid. As you can see…”
She deliberately turned her eyes to Plita and the maid, prompting Hayven to follow her gaze. The two of them flinched as they held hands. They looked like two startled squirrels—perhaps a mother squirrel and her baby…
‘Squirrels? What?’
Hayven scoffed involuntarily at the ridiculous thought that popped into his head. Isabel, misinterpreting his reaction, nodded confidently.
“I knew you’d agree, Hayven. Plita, let go of that hand and come here.”
Isabel spoke gently, though her brow was slightly furrowed. But Plita only flinched more and tightened her grip on Roze’s hand.
“Plita, you need to act like a proper lady.”
“…Mmm.”
Plita’s eyes wavered with anxiety. Roze felt the child’s hand trembling in hers and leaned down slightly toward her.
“My lady.”
“…?”
Plita looked up at the sound of Roze’s voice. Roze smiled softly, locking eyes with the child.
You don’t need to be afraid.
It’s okay—go ahead.
Even without words, Roze’s eyes conveyed it all. Plita looked deeply into Roze’s gaze, took a deep breath, and turned her head back. Her scary aunt and cold, expressionless father were both staring at her. The pressure almost made her cry, but she held it in.
For Roze’s sake.
Drawing courage from Roze’s warmth, Plita opened her mouth.
“She hit Roze.”
“…!”
Isabel’s eyes widened at Plita’s words. At the same time, Hayven’s brow furrowed. Isabel’s lips twitched, unable to hide her panic, but she forced a smile.
“Plita, what are you talking about all of a sudden? Come now, let go of the maid’s hand and come to me. What if someone sees this…”
“Just a little while ago, the head maid hit her.”
Plita pointed toward the middle-aged woman standing behind Isabel. Though her finger trembled, she didn’t lower it. The head maid’s face turned pale.
“P-Princess, you must be mistaken…”
The head maid stammered, gripping her skirt. Isabel frowned at her, then turned to Hayven. His expression remained calm despite what Plita had just said.
After all, it was only a maid. Making a fuss over a lowly servant getting slapped would be even stranger.
“Yes, Plita, you must have misunderstood.”
Buoyed by Hayven’s indifference, Isabel spoke with more confidence and turned toward him.
“The maid attending the princess lacked manners, so the head maid reprimanded her. I suppose Plita misunderstood the situation. Surely, you don’t think the same?”
Hayven didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes turned toward Roze. She stood there looking helpless, glancing at Plita, not knowing what to do.
His gaze dropped to her cheek. Just as Plita had said, there was a red handprint on Roze’s face. By the next day, it would surely bruise.
And what he’d seen earlier now fit into place—he had witnessed the head maid about to strike Roze, and Plita crying beside her.
“What sort of rudeness did she commit?”
Hayven’s cold voice directed at Roze. She turned her head away from Plita to meet his eyes. His blue gaze was fixed on her.
“I’m curious what great offense was committed, that the head maid, who isn’t even her superior, dared to reprimand the princess’s personal maid.”
“Ah! Hayven!”
Isabel shot a sharp glare at the head maid, whose face had gone stiff with realization. She bowed her head deeply.
Regardless, Roze was a maid of the Grand Duke’s residence. Any punishment should have come from the Grand Duchy. Even if she were the palace’s head maid, what she had done was clearly overstepping.
“Y-Your Grace, I made a mistake. I simply thought the princess’s maid should be more respectful. I acted with the princess’s best interest in mind…”
“I wasn’t asking you, madam. I asked my daughter’s maid.”
Hayven replied icily to the head maid, then looked back at Roze. She stared at him in shock, then bit her lip.
Somehow, it hurt. Hearing him say “my daughter’s maid” made the distance between them feel painfully real again.
Of course, that’s what she was—and it was a precious opportunity she’d been given. Yet, hearing it from his lips still made her heart ache.
Roze swallowed a bitter smile and met his eyes. His blue gaze hadn’t wavered.
“May I take the princess to her room now?”
“…?”
That wasn’t the answer he expected. He frowned slightly. At the same time, Plita clung to Roze’s skirt.
“She hurt her leg and needs treatment.”
“What? She hurt her leg?”
Hayven’s face hardened. He turned his eyes from Roze to Plita. She peeked out from behind Roze’s skirt and flinched like a guilty child when their eyes met.
“Are you hurt, Plita?”
“…A little.”
She hesitated before replying a beat later, then quickly buried her face in Roze’s skirt again. Hayven’s face twisted in frustration, but Roze gently comforted Plita and stepped in.
“The princess fell and scraped her knee. It’s not a serious injury, but I was concerned it might scar if it gets infected…”
Roze’s voice trembled slightly, as if afraid he might scold the child. She didn’t seem to care at all about her own swollen cheek.
Hayven’s eyes briefly flickered. Then, as if returning to his usual cold demeanor, he nodded.
“Then she must be treated. Take her in.”
“Thank yo—”
“Hayven! But we haven’t finished talking yet…”
Isabel finally found a chance to speak, but he turned to her with a cold glare.
“The child is hurt. What could be more important?”
“…!”
Isabel’s face froze. She couldn’t respond and instead forced a calm voice.
“I didn’t know Plita was injured. Had I known, I would’ve acted right away. …Go on now, attend to your mistress.”
If one could harm someone just with their eyes, Roze would have been torn apart on the spot. That’s how sharp Isabel’s gaze was as she stared at her.
But Roze bowed calmly and turned to take Plita inside. The queen dowager’s gaze burned into the back of her head.
…Because of that, she didn’t notice that Hayven’s eyes were still fixed on her.
