Chapter 18
“……You. Why did you go in there?”
The sharp, icy voice of a man struck her the moment she stepped out of the carriage.
Maeve turned around with an expression that betrayed no surprise. She saw Craig standing side by side with Fionechta.
“Answer me. What were you doing in there?”
“You hadn’t eaten dinner, so I brought you your meal,” she replied flatly.
Craig took a threatening step toward her instead of responding
“Don’t. Lie. To me.”
His outstretched finger jabbed at her forehead in open contempt.
“You tried to seduce His Highness, didn’t you?”
“No. I’m not interested in the Prince,” she said without flinching.
“Everyone says that! Now tell me properly what you did in there, you low—”
Craig stopped mid-sentence. What was the point in raging now, accusing her of having laid a hand on the Prince’s noble body? There was no need to protect him so fiercely anymore. Not like before.
Having raised his voice out of habit, Craig stood there, breathing heavily as he tried to calm himself.
“So what, are you saying His Highness was the one who seduced you?”
“I don’t know why your thoughts always go there. He had a fever, so I tended to him for a moment.”
At the maid’s impudent retort, Craig’s flushed face tightened with irritation — but as soon as he heard her next words, his expression turned strangely blank.
“Ah. I see. His Highness… is unwell, you say? Yes, that makes sense. He did suddenly collapse a few days ago, didn’t he…”
It was a strange murmur. Neither a smile nor a frown, Craig waved the finger that had been prodding Maeve’s forehead to the side, gesturing sharply for her to move away.
“Maeve, step aside,” Fionechta said from behind, unable to watch any longer.
Maeve reluctantly stepped aside and added,
“But he’s a little better now.”
Craig, halfway to opening the carriage door, stopped and turned back toward her.
“What are you talking about? A fever doesn’t subside that quickly. It usually lasts for days, at least.”
“He’s sleeping now. It would be best not to wake him,” she replied.
“…You dare speak as though you’re giving orders. No matter how uneducated you are, to speak that way to me—”
This maid had a talent — every word that came out of her mouth managed to scrape his nerves raw.
Craig nearly lost his temper again and was about to lash out at the maid, but he forced himself to calm down and took a steadying breath. He glared at Maeve, then cracked the carriage door open just slightly.
The moment he confirmed that the Prince was sleeping quietly, he shut it again at once.
The Prince was especially bothersome when feverish, and Craig dreaded the idea of him regaining consciousness and calling out for him.
“……I see. He’s fallen into a deep sleep,” Craig muttered under his breath, before turning back toward Maeve. Then, in a tone that assumed obedience, he said to Fionechta,
“You may go.”
The sound of Fionechta’s footsteps faded without further reply. Once Craig confirmed she was far enough away, he moved toward Maeve.
There was a distinct smell of alcohol about him. He had supposedly gone out on patrol, but clearly, he had been drinking and indulging in a little reckless escape of his own.
“Did you give him that potion?”
“The purple one?”
“Yes, that one.”
Craig nodded to confirm.
Maeve hesitated for a brief moment. To explain truthfully that it was the Prince’s condition, that she had calmed him with her magic—none of that seemed wise. A lie would serve her better. This attendant did not seem the type to be easily handled.
“Yes. I found it on the shelf,” she said calmly, already deciding that she would later sneak back into the carriage to remove the potion.
“……Good. Yes, very good. You must have been startled, but you handled yourself well. If His Highness’s illness flares up again, just give him that medicine.”
The conversation was taking an odd turn, and Maeve raised an eyebrow.
“You’re rather composed. And it seems His Highness is quite at ease with you, too.”
“For the past few days, every time he’s seen me, he’s gone into the carriage as if he’s seen something dreadful,” Maeve replied.
“His Highness is simply shy. Since you’re of similar age, you’ll make a good companion for him,” Craig said, paying no attention to what she’d said and continuing on his own.
After glancing around suspiciously, as though checking for anyone nearby, he reached into his coat and pulled out a couple more small flasks, handing them to her.
“From now on, you’ll attend to the Prince yourself. It won’t be difficult. Do what you’ve been doing, and if he seems unwell, just give him this medicine.”
“But this is…”
“If you run out, come find me. Soon, I’ll even teach you how to make it. Understood?”
He leaned in close, and Maeve caught a stronger whiff of liquor from the man with the goatee.
Craig grinned at her with an oddly satisfied look, chuckled, then yawned and wandered off into the distance.
And so Maeve was left standing there, holding the bottles that the self-satisfied attendant had thrust upon her.
It seemed things had just become even more troublesome than she had expected.
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