Chapter 29
The maid did not answer, nor did she look back at him as she walked ahead.
After they passed the food stalls crowded together, they began to see stands displaying a wider variety of goods. Prince Declan followed her closely, holding onto her sleeve, and whenever she stopped, he stopped as well, looking over the items on display as she did.
The nearby merchants glanced curiously at the tall man clinging to a much smaller woman as if he were a child.
Maeve bought a sturdy-looking leather bag, a pot, and finally, a small knife that looked rather sharp.
Watching the much smaller woman buy a throwing blade, as if preparing for what lay ahead, Declan felt an odd sense of awkwardness.
“You already have two knights. Is there any need to buy one?”
He said this only to fill the silence and mask his discomfort. The maid replied without turning around.
“It’s faster than a longsword. You can throw it and strike immediately.”
Declan was dumbfounded and couldn’t find a word to say. Maeve, unconcerned, simply walked ahead again.
It was then that Declan realized she was actually quite strong. He had been too preoccupied with the humiliating memory of being naked to remember that this same maid had once carried him—much larger than her—over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Declan suddenly found himself curious about her.
“You seem pretty strong. Were your parents also strong?”
It was an innocent, casual question, without any ill intent.
But when the maid, who had been silent for what felt like an eternity, suddenly turned her head and fixed him with those glowing yellow eyes, Declan was taken aback.
“Why are you asking about my parents?”
She asked him that in return.
“…Just curious. Was it something I shouldn’t have asked?”
To Declan, parents were a source of pride—people he loved and missed dearly. They had been the ones who had poured endless affection on him, who had given him love without any price or condition.
He realized, belatedly, that it might not have been the same for her.
“No, I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer.”
The air turned awkward in an instant. Instead of replying to his apology, the maid simply turned her head back and continued walking.
Maeve walked with an expressionless face, eyes fixed straight ahead.
Her father, once a knight, had considered her a disgrace to their family. Believing her to be a gifted mage, he had sent her to the cradle, but when it was revealed that she was a useless being, he had not hesitated to hurl cruel words at the young girl who returned home.
That was the kind of man her biological father was—a man who, consumed with preserving his own pride, shamelessly blamed his child for the shame he felt.
When Fergus later demanded her presence, her father, without hesitation, dragged the young Maeve—who had refused to go—and handed her over to the Great Archmage.
And her mother?
Her mother swayed like a reed in the wind, changing her attitude according to her husband’s mood.
When her husband despised Maeve, she too acted cold and unpleasant. When he was affectionate, she managed to be somewhat kind.
Her parents were nothing more than that sort of people…
Maeve stopped walking.
Suddenly, an image of her mother—the last time she had seen her—flashed vividly in her mind.
“Eve, I’ll get you out of there. Just wait a little longer, alright? I’m looking for a way.”
That woman, who had always seemed weak and helpless, had come to sixteen-year-old Maeve and said those very words. But after saying that to Eve, she had never returned.
Maeve had waited another year or so before finally escaping from the tower on her own.
“Maeve?”
The prince, walking behind her, asked curiously. Maeve came back to herself.
As if steadying her own mind, she slowly shook her head and began walking forward again.
“…You want me to go back?”
“Yes. Craig. Pack your things and return to Lutea.”
The prince spoke as he sat before a table so shabby it could hardly compare to those in the castle. Craig blinked in disbelief.
“Wh-why, Your Highness? Is it because I’ve been ill and unable to serve you properly?”
“That’s right. You’re too weak.”
“But Your Highness also had an upset stomach!”
Craig shouted before realizing what he’d done and quickly regained his composure.
“M-my apologies, Your Highness. As you know, I was unwell all day yesterday because of what I ate, and my mind hasn’t been clear. But to say you’ll leave me behind—surely that cannot be.”
“I’m not leaving you behind, Craig. Didn’t I just say? You’re to pack your things and return to Lutea. There’s a merchant caravan headed there. I’ve already paid the fare, so you’ll travel safely with them through the forest.”
“You’ve… already paid?”
Craig let out a hollow laugh, unable to believe it.
Craig knew Declan.
He knew just how much Declan trusted him—trusted him to a foolish degree.
Then, as though he had suddenly found the reason, his face reddened and twisted with resentment.
“That woman.”
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