Chapter 30
He raised his bandaged index finger.
“That woman told Your Highness, didn’t she?”
The prince did not deny it. He only looked at him in silence.
So that was it. No wonder he had suddenly turned on him and started pressing him.
Craig felt fury burning inside him as he continued.
“The medicine… you must have heard about that as well. Yes. Of course, it must have disappointed you. Naturally so, Your Highness. Even I would have felt the same. But please understand this—since Your Highness fell ill, I’ve searched everywhere to find a medicine suited to you. I still think of Your Highness before anyone else. How could you possibly consider traveling with those halfwits without me? Once I’m gone, they’ll show their true colors.”
“……”
“They’re all untrustworthy. Those two knights? They were just mercenaries from the area. They’re not even real knights. And that maid? Her background is just as dubious. No one knows where that woman came from. And look at what she’s already done to me—she can’t even hide what she really is.”
Declan looked at Craig with an unreadable expression. Seeing the man who had once been closest to him suddenly lash out so violently twisted something inside him.
He wondered if this was truly the Craig he knew.
Or perhaps… this was who he had always been, and Declan had simply never seen it.
“Maeve didn’t tell me anything. I overheard your conversation nearby at the time. Does that explain it?”
“Your Highness!”
Craig now looked at him with a face full of anger and betrayal.
Yes—what surfaced on Craig’s face was unmistakably betrayal.
“I am Your Highness’s most loyal servant. Please understand my true nature.”
“No. Your true nature is that of my brother’s most loyal servant.”
If he had even a shred of conscience—and any affection left from their time together—Declan had hoped Craig might at least show a hint of remorse.
He had already decided to dismiss him, but deep down, he had still wished Craig would regret it, even just a little.
Truly.
If he had even a shred of emotion, he should have felt sorry.
Craig had been Prince Declan’s most loyal attendant since the prince had first learned to walk—someone he had treated almost like a foster father. How could he do this to him?
…How could he do this to me?
Craig gritted his teeth, his vision blurring. Unlike the others in the group, he had come here without any proper compensation. His final duty had been to carry the prince’s body back. Aidan had promised him that once that final duty was fulfilled, he would be granted honor and wealth equal to that of a chancellor.
And yet, for everything to shatter like this.
The prince was naïve and innocent, but equally stubborn. Craig knew that better than anyone. Once the prince made up his mind, he would never look back.
But even so, Craig could not simply return alone. Not only would he receive no reward for his efforts, but Aidan might even punish him.
Of course, the prince wouldn’t know that. He never did—always lost in his own thoughts, thinking only of himself. Wasn’t that right?
Craig’s grim thoughts drifted toward the scabbard resting diagonally across the bed. His gaze followed his thoughts, landing on it.
“Your Highness’s illness cannot be cured.”
Craig spoke in a low murmur.
“The witch of the West? That rumor may not be entirely false. At the very least, His Majesty readily handed that precious information from a mage over to Your Highness. Do you know why? Because he knew you would die before you ever reached that place. Without me, that is exactly what will happen.”
“……”
“You misunderstand me, Your Highness. Yes, of course I am loyal to His Majesty, but the one I serve most closely, the one I truly attend to, is you. I mean it! Please, believe me. No one understands your circumstances as I do—no one else can handle what you carry.”
His words trailed off.
Craig looked up at the prince with a vacant expression, as though he had already said everything he could.
“So this is your true nature, Craig.”
Declan spoke quietly, his face twisted with emotion.
For years, Craig had obeyed Declan. No—it was more than obedience. It was a kind of servitude he had forced upon himself. The memories of submission etched into his body were stronger than he had ever realized, allowing him to hide his vile intentions and serve as though his devotion were genuine.
But now, for the first time, the shackles of that long-ingrained servitude were breaking. Craig’s eyes flicked wordlessly toward the bed where the sword lay.
At that very moment, the door burst open.
“Forgive me for interrupting. The voices were so loud that I couldn’t help but overhear, and it sounded like things were getting rather serious.”
Fionechta—appearing every bit the languid, middle-aged mercenary—walked in with a smooth, easy smile.
Instead of rebuking his rudeness, Declan glared silently at Craig, who had half-risen from his seat, frozen mid-motion.
“Take him.”
As if waiting for that command, Fionechta grabbed Craig by the back of the neck and hoisted him effortlessly over his shoulder.
“Put me down! Let me go!”
Craig screamed, thrashing wildly.
Declan watched him, his expression now beyond description, as Craig struggled in disgrace.
Whatever faint resolve he had built the night before had long since crumbled. A storm of betrayal and countless other emotions consumed him.
Declan turned away from Craig’s screams, and Fionechta did not wait any longer—he carried Craig out of the room.
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