Chapter 11
The prince hesitated for a moment before saying that he wanted to take a bath.
A short while later, Maeve led the prince into the forest, a little distance away from the village. Though he staggered, he managed to follow behind her quite well. Every so often, she turned back to make sure the prince was keeping up.
As they continued deeper in, the gentle sound of flowing water reached their ears. Passing between two tall trees, they soon came upon a body of water—too large to be called a brook, yet too small to be a river.
“This will do. This place is fine.”
Prince Declan looked at the sparkling water with a satisfied expression. It had been a while since he’d had a proper bath. The water seemed a bit cold, but since the weather wasn’t too chilly yet, it would be bearable.
Declan began to pull off his boots and toss them aside, but then, as if realizing something, turned to look at Maeve. The maid was staring back at him with a flat, unreadable expression.
“…My clothes?”
“Here.”
Maeve jerked her chin toward the prince’s new clothes, which were draped over her arm along with an empty sack. Declan looked off into the distance with a reluctant expression.
“Ah, I’ll handle the bath myself. I don’t need any assistance.”
Not that she had any intention of helping anyway.
Instead of replying, Maeve simply nodded, as if to spare him the embarrassment.
“You know, Maeve? That is your name, right?”
“Yes.”
“I know this is your first time doing something like this.”
The prince said it out of nowhere.
“I know that your experience was all a lie.”
How tiresome.
Maeve wanted to say that, but she only nodded.
“You said you came from the countryside, didn’t you? From a tiny village outside the city walls. What about your family?”
The same sort of persistent questioning that had once been directed at Rory and Fionechta soon turned toward Maeve as well.
Finding it somewhat bothersome, she answered,
“I lived with my grandmother.”
“I see. Then you must have never met city folk in your life, right? Let alone served a noble.”
Declan rolled his eyes as if the conclusion were obvious.
“I don’t expect much from you. Do you understand?”
Maeve found it difficult to understand the prince’s oddly roundabout words—nor did she have any desire to.
When she didn’t respond, Declan only shrugged, as if unsurprised.
“I mean, I don’t expect you to have the manners or refinement of those who live in the citadel. Even if you are a maid, you don’t need to force yourself to imitate them when attending to me.”
“Ah, yes.”
Maeve promptly replied as if glad to hear it.
Declan looked at her with mild bewilderment, as though puzzled that she still hadn’t left despite her eager answer.
Ah, so that’s what you were after. Declan spoke with a weary, reluctant expression, as though already fed up.
“Maeve. I’m not going to get any closer to you than necessary.”
“Of course.”
Something about her answer sounded off.
Declan wondered if this maid was mocking him and decided he had better make himself clearer.
“If you happen to be interested in me, I’d appreciate it if you gave up on that. I don’t have the room in my heart to allow anyone in right now. Don’t take it personally—it’s not because you’re a maid. I’m simply not ready to allow anyone, regardless of who they are.”
Maeve, too, began to realize that this conversation was taking a strange turn.
“Don’t worry. I’m not interested.”
Declan gave a short, dismissive laugh.
Everyone says that on the surface.
“Well, I’m glad you understand. Anyway, could you set my clothes down over there?”
Maeve did as he said, placing the prince’s change of clothes on a nearby rock and stepping back a few paces.
“No, what I meant was, set them down and then give me some privacy.”
Declan was starting to grow irritated, wondering if he really had to spell everything out.
Maeve, looking equally unimpressed, replied,
“I was going to keep watch.”
Declan felt a twinge of embarrassment.
“Thank you, but I’d prefer if you stood a bit farther away. I’d rather you didn’t accidentally see me bathing.”
Maeve gave him a look that seemed to say he was being overly particular, but she nodded nonetheless.
“Understood. Then if anything happens, shout for me.”
“…All right.”
I won’t shout.
Declan almost said that, but instead, thinking her effort somewhat admirable in its own way, he told her he would.
Ask for help by shouting to a girl barely half his size? That was something that would never happen.
Declan was, before anything else, a man. And he was acutely aware of that fact.
Only after Maeve walked away with the empty sack did Declan finally relax and begin undressing.
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