chapter 41
“Mmm…”
Flita murmured faintly, as if talking in her sleep, and rubbed her cheek against Roze’s arm. Roze looked down at the child, gently stroking her hair, when she suddenly felt a gaze and lifted her head.
“…!”
Her eyes met Haven’s, sitting across from her. She quickly turned her head away. How long had he been watching her? Her heart began to pound for no reason.
“We should be arriving soon.”
“…Pardon? Ah, yes.”
At that moment, Haven’s low voice reached her. Roze hurriedly replied, then glanced out through the small carriage window. Just as he’d said, perhaps they were nearing the city—there were many carriages and lines of people in sight. And in the distance, the city walls seemed faintly visible.
…Middlepion, wasn’t it?
She recalled the name of their destination and muttered inwardly. It was a completely unfamiliar place to her. Well, considering she had lived in a small border village until coming to the capital, there probably wasn’t a single place in this land that wouldn’t feel foreign.
“Is your stomach feeling better now?”
Lost in thought while gazing at the scenery, Roze turned her eyes toward Haven when his voice sounded again.
“You were feeling sick the whole way here, weren’t you?”
“Ah… yes, I’m fine now.”
She blinked in surprise, then, only after hearing his follow-up, quickly lowered her head in reply. The unexpected question made her face heat up, while her fingertips grew cold with tension.
She forced herself to calm down. She couldn’t let the man across from her notice her reaction.
When she thought about it logically, it was nothing—just the kind of thing one might say without much thought to an employee who had gotten queasy from a bumpy forest road.
“…Though, I’m not so sure about that.”
But before her efforts to appear composed could take root, Haven looked at her with those blue eyes and tapped the wall toward the driver’s seat twice.
The sound of the horses whinnying followed, and the carriage came to a stop. Pedwin, who had been riding as Haven’s escort, came closer.
—Did you call for me, Your Highness?
“We’ll rest here for a moment.”
—Yes, sir.
They were not far from Middlepion now, so it might seem strange to stop, but Pedwin obeyed without question.
“Um… Your Highness.”
Everything happened so quickly that Roze didn’t know what to do when the carriage halted at Haven’s word. Perhaps sensing her restlessness, Flita stirred with a soft sound, rubbing her eyes as she awoke.
“…Are we there?”
Pulling on Roze’s arm, the girl asked in a drowsy voice. Only then did Roze manage to steady herself, patting the child as she answered.
“No, my lady. We still have a little way to go.”
“Then… whyyy…”
Flita rubbed her eyes again, more awake now, and lifted her head from Roze’s embrace to peer out the carriage window.
“We’re taking a short break,” Haven said then.
Hearing her father’s voice, Flita turned to look at him, blinked a few times, and then nodded.
“Okay…” she murmured softly.
She didn’t ask why—they were stopping. She simply accepted his decision.
Roze frowned slightly at the sight. She had thought Haven and Flita had grown closer, but apparently not yet.
Well, I suppose… after so much distance between them, a few shared meals and a bit more time together wouldn’t make them close right away.
She hoped this trip would help them grow closer. As that thought passed through her mind, Haven addressed her.
“Would you care to step outside for a moment?”
“…Pardon?”
“Fresh air helps with motion sickness. Let’s step out. You too, Flita.”
“I want to get out too!” Flita exclaimed, even before he finished. She then blinked, startled by her own eagerness. Haven watched her quietly for a moment, then let out a small chuckle and nodded.
“All right. Let’s get out together.”
With that, he opened the carriage door. Pedwin hurried over from outside, but Haven raised a hand to stop him.
“It’s fine, Pedwin. You take a break as well.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Pedwin paused, then turned away. Haven stepped lightly down from the carriage and extended a hand toward the inside. Roze, intending to help Flita out, widened her eyes when she saw his hand.
“…?”
“Take my hand. The ground’s muddy—must have rained earlier.”
Blinking, she glanced down. Sure enough, the ground was damp.
“Then, I’ll hand the young lady to you—”
She tried to place Flita into Haven’s arms so she could step down herself; muddy shoes wouldn’t matter for her.
But unexpectedly, Haven held Flita in one arm and extended his other hand toward her.
“Your… your hand—”
“Don’t step directly down—land a bit farther ahead. The ground’s firmer there.”
“Uh… Your Highness, your hand…”
She barely heard what he was saying. Every bit of her attention was focused on her hand—more precisely, on her left hand, which he now held.
“Is something wrong?”
Noticing her frozen in place, he looked at her. She fidgeted, trying to free her hand.
“I… I can get down by myself. You don’t have to help me.”
“Is it unpleasant for you?”
His sudden question caught her off guard, and she looked up at him in surprise.
“I asked if my action bothers you. I only offered my hand because the ground is muddy…”
He frowned slightly, looking troubled, then released her hand and added firmly:
“There’s no other meaning to my gesture. I swear it on my honor.”
“Ah…”
She realized he had misunderstood—thinking she believed his intentions improper. He was even trying to explain himself.
The thought that she’d made him out to be some shameless man who would harass a woman made her feel embarrassed.
“I didn’t take it in a bad way, Your Highness. It’s just… it felt unexpected that you’d offer even to me.”
If it had been the hand from her memories, she would have taken it without hesitation. But this man was not the one from her memories.
This was Haven Guenters.
Not the cheerful wanderer who had settled in a small border village.
Not the warm, sometimes mischievous man who had loved her—and whom she had loved in return.
This was the Duke of Guenters.
A lofty figure she could never hope to reach.
The warmth that had once embraced her still lingered vividly in her memory, but the man himself was no longer by her side. Even standing so near, he was no longer hers.
She couldn’t afford to want more. She had already wanted too much; more would only leave behind lingering regret. She had to let this be nothing more than a faint trace, like dust, and then let it go.
As she gave a faint, self-mocking smile without realizing, his voice reached her again.
“I’m glad you didn’t take it wrongly. Then, I suppose it’s fine if I hold your hand?”
“Yes… what?”
Still chasing her thoughts into the past, she nodded absentmindedly—then blinked in shock when his hand appeared before her again. He waited patiently, a faint smile on his lips.
“…Um.”
Her mouth felt dry. Then she noticed Flita watching them with wide, curious eyes, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
It was a pure, innocent smile—free of any complicated thoughts.
To her, everything was simply amusing: being held in her father’s arms, and seeing him and Roze awkwardly negotiating about holding hands.
Looking at that bright smile, Roze suddenly found herself feeling foolish. Haven seemed to think the same, for he let out a short laugh and made a small gesture toward her.
“Then… excuse me, Your Highness.”
Roze hesitated, then awkwardly placed her fingertips into his hand. He flinched faintly at the contact before closing his grip firmly around hers.
“The ground’s slippery—be careful.”
“…Yes.”
She forced the word out and pressed her lips shut again—afraid she might cry if she said more.
It was the same warmth she remembered. The warmth that had once held her.
Stepping down from the carriage, she squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, her lashes damp.
It stung, realizing that while the man was no longer the same one from her memories… the warmth was still exactly as it had been.
