As soon as she had been dismissed by her brother and shown into a room to rest, Camilla turned sharply to Lucrezio.
“Lord(1) Lucrezio… I—none of this makes any sense to me…”
“Please,” he said at once, “call me Luke.”
After that single sentence, Luke lowered himself onto the sofa and swept his bangs back.
“…I, too, am doing all I can to keep up with the situation. Ever since I was informed that the engagement was annulled, I haven’t even been allowed to see Lady Pamela…”
“Pamela—yes! What about her?” Camilla burst out. “How is she faring now? To be married off to the Asshar Empire…”
The moment her sister’s name left her lips, anxiety seized her, and Camilla began to pace the room as if she could not remain still.
The Asshar Empire was a great power to the south of Lapladia. It was said that among the imperial princes, taking multiple wives was the norm. The crown prince—Camilla recalled he was perhaps eighteen or so, he surely already had a consort, and likely many concubines.
(At least he isn’t far older than she is… but an imperial prince? That was never meant to be a possibility. What does Pamela think of all this?)
Luke watched Camilla’s restless pacing for a time, then finally released a quiet breath.
“…My apologies. I could not defy the king’s command.”
“Ah—no, please,” Camilla said hurriedly. “If anything, I ought to be the one to apologize.”
Only after speaking did she realize that Luke—eight years her junior, was far calmer than she was, she’s a little ashamed. She sank onto the sofa, shoulders drooping.
“…I’m sorry,” she murmured. “That you must marry someone like me, instead of a sweet girl like Pamela… an unwanted woman who’s been left behind.”
“Unwanted–”
“And besides… if you had married my sister, you were to become a count, weren’t you? Yet it’s been reduced all the way to a baron. It must be because His Majesty despises me.”
Gerald—and the former queen, now queen dowager, had always disliked Camilla. If anything, that was the natural reaction. It was Pamela who had been unusual.
Gerald had wanted Luke as her sister’s husband because Luke had value. As long as Luke swore loyalty to the kingdom, as he had been made to do earlier, nothing else truly mattered.
At Camilla’s words, Luke’s nose creased.
“…I don’t need a title. I can manage on my own strength.”
“L-Lord Luke…”
“And you needn’t add honorifics either.” His voice lowered, as though forcing to keep it steady. “…At the very least, I will ensure you face no discomfort. So please, be at ease.”
There was no light in his eyes. Four months ago, beneath the summer gazebo, when he spoke with Pamela, he had seemed so full of life.
(I may be a bastard, but I’m still a royal blood… he must have had no choice except to swear loyalty.)
If the late king had not died, Luke might have married a beautiful princess close to his own age—one he could speak with easily, like a friend. Instead, what had been forced into his hands was a disastrous losing draw: an older princess, an old maid.
And still, as a knight, he seemed determined to conduct himself with sincerity.
(…I owe Luke and Pamela an apology I can never truly repay.)
Dropping her gaze to the amber-toned table, Camilla let out a quiet sigh she had not intended anyone to hear.
Afterward, Camilla was able to meet with Pamela. But surprisingly, Pamela claimed to have accepted both the annulment and her new fate as an imperial prince’s concubine with complete nonchalance.
“How do I say this,” Pamela said lightly, “Luke and I were never engaged because we loved one another in the first place.”
Camilla pressed her, trying to find out what was going on and whether her sister was truly fine.
Pamela answered as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
“Of course I intended to get along with him, if we were to marry. But it wasn’t romance, nor love.”
“…It wasn’t?”
“It wasn’t,” Pamela affirmed cheerfully. “And besides—if I may be honest, the crown prince of the Asshar Empire is quite exactly my type! Being the principal consort would come with endless troublesome obligations, but as one concubine among many, I can live comfortably enough!”
Pamela laughed as she spoke, and Camilla found herself struck entirely speechless. She had always known her sister to be adaptable and shrewd—but she had never imagined this degree of composure.
“…I will be fine,” Pamela said at last, her expression turning serious as she reached out to touch Camilla’s shoulder. “The one I am worried about is you, Sister.”
Camilla blinked.
“I heard from Luke about what happened before our brother…” Pamela continued quietly. “…I asked brother, at the very least, for Luke to be made a viscount so he might hold land. But brother and mother simply would not agree. I am truly sorry.”
“Don’t say such things,” Camilla replied firmly, taking Pamela’s hand in both of hers. “This incident is not done by you.”
Then she forced herself to smile.
“I will be all right. I lived simply in the convent by choice, you know. If anything, becoming a lady with land would have overwhelmed me. The duties, the sudden change in environment… I’m sure it would not be good for my own health. As a baroness—supporting Luke from where I am is far more fitting.”
“Sister…”
“But,” Camilla admitted softly, “I still feel sorry for Luke… You see, I’m eight years older than he is. And I’m very plain.”
“That’s not true!” Pamela cried, her voice ringing out as she leaned in, closing the distance between them.
“And Luke will be fine as well, because he–”
She cut herself off.
“…No. It’s nothing.” Pamela bit down on her lip. “In any case, you needn’t worry about Luke. What you must do is be careful around our brother. He seems like the sort to do petty harassment…”
Gentle as she was, Pamela had always worried over the poor relationship between her siblings. Even now, she had been trying—softly, carefully—to prevent Gerald from turning his malice toward Camilla.
(To be worried over by Pamela, when she is the one being sent to a great empire…)
Camilla straightened her back and drew her sister into a tender embrace.
“I understand. I will be all right. You, on the other hand, must take care as you go to the Empire.”
She did not want to remain a pathetic and unreliable sister.
If only so that Pamela could marry without hesitation or guilt, Camilla had to be strong.
Pamela clung to Camilla for a moment, then nodded.
“…All right. Sister, even after we’re married, let us remain close. We’ll write to each other, and on our birthdays we’ll exchange gifts.”
“Of course.”
“And if I have a child, I’ll tell you at once,” Pamela continued brightly, lifting her face with a smile. “So you must promise me the same! If you and Luke are blessed with a child, you absolutely must tell me. I will certainly celebrate it!”
Camilla’s greatest effort then was simply trying to keep her expression from crumpling.
She could imagine Pamela having Luke’s child, she even could imagine Pamela, even as a concubine, bearing children in a foreign land as the future emperor’s consort.
But herself—bearing Luke’s child—had never, not once, crossed her mind.
(It’s all right, Pamela. That will never happen.)
Stroking her sister’s back, Camilla smiled—small, careful, and faintly brittle.
(1) Changed Sir to Lord because Luke has gotten his noble title
