Please Die, Your Highness - Chapter 33

Even after Fionechta dragged Craig out, Prince Declan remained standing there.

The sense of relief that came with betrayal lasted only a brief moment before it was quickly devoured by the former. Yet, an emotion far heavier than betrayal churned within him—sorrow.

Declan pitied himself for his circumstances. At the same time, he was in shock after seeing the true face of Craig, whom he had depended on so deeply. It was cruel. How could he do such a thing?

He had known Craig to be somewhat of an opportunist, but since the man had raised him alongside his nurse, Declan had thought he might at least cherish him as one would a son.

It had all been his own delusion.

Soon, his beautiful lower lip began to tremble. Declan sniffled, hurriedly wiping away the tears that threatened to fall down his cheeks.

It was the first time in his life he had ever felt betrayal. No matter how base Craig was, he must have felt some pang of guilt. Declan had been so resolute—perhaps the man would, even belatedly, come to his senses.

Only about ten minutes had passed since he had sent Craig away. Declan wiped his remaining tears. He was curious whether the banished man was showing any sign of remorse.

Still, to open the door and look as though he were seeking him out would seem far too pathetic. They would not be leaving immediately anyway, so he decided to wait until evening. Just as he sat back down, there came a knock.

Knock, knock.

Declan replied, “Come in,” and looked at Fionechta and Maeve as they entered, his expression as calm as though nothing had happened.

The red-haired maid, as always, stared at him with an unreadable face.

To be precise, she was looking at his nose—it was the only part flushed red, obvious proof that he had been crying.

“…Right. You sent him away?”

The prince, his nose still pink, asked in a solemn tone.

“Yes. I sent him off right away. He’s likely left the village by now.”

At Fionechta’s smooth reply, Declan’s composure crumbled at once. The prince gaped in disbelief.

“Right no… right now?”

This time, Maeve answered instead of Fionechta. “Yes.”

Startled, the prince rose to his feet, then sat back down.

“Ah, good… good. That was quick. Very quick.”

Prince Declan muttered as if talking to himself, running a hand down his face.

Well, isn’t this for the best? He’d said he couldn’t return like this—sending the man away before he could beg was the right thing to do. He hadn’t the slightest intention of forgiving him anyway, so yes, it was for the best. Right. Yes.

Declan convinced himself so.

“Good. Then… did he say anything before he left?”

“No. Nothing of the sort,” Fionechta interjected before Maeve could answer. Maeve gave the ever-genial mercenary a brief, oddly searching look.

“No, I mean—did he say anything to me? Beg for forgiveness, perhaps? Not that it matters now. Even if he did, I have no intention of taking him back!”

The prince rambled on incoherently.

Fionechta realized that the ‘words’ the prince wanted to know about were not the ones he feared, and his face showed an expression that said it didn’t matter either way.

As neither of them answered, Declan’s expression grew increasingly awkward and uneasy.

“There must have been something he wanted to say at the end. At the very least, he could’ve cried and said, ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’”

“Ah.”

Maeve nodded as if she had just realized something.

“‘You bastard.’”

Maeve clearly relayed the words Craig had spat out with a venomous face just before stepping into the carriage.

Prince Declan stared at her for a moment, as though doubting his own ears.

“Craig said that?”

“Yes.”

“……”

“…You’re not just taking this chance to say something you’ve always wanted to say, are you…?”

“No.”

“So his final words were, ‘You bastard.’”

“Yes.”

“Then, who exactly was that ‘bastard’ supposed to be? Me?”

Maeve, who had been answering promptly until then, said nothing and simply gazed at him.

Fionechta also did not answer. He let the prince assume it was him.

“…Both of you, get out.”

Declan gave the order with a stunned face.

Rory didn’t return to the inn until well past noon. Despite Fionechta’s warnings, it seemed he had not only drunk too much the night before but also spent a very free and affectionate time.

“Hey, Maeve. What’s going on?”

His face was haggard from the hangover, and his exposed neck was covered in bite marks and scratches. Maeve looked up at Rory, who clearly looked like he had enjoyed a wild night, then slowly jerked her chin toward Fionechta.

They were all gathered in the inn’s lobby. Colm, who had returned earlier than Rory, had already heard from Fionechta and Maeve that Craig had left suddenly. His face had gone pale as he bit at his fingernails, muttering anxiously to himself.

Fionechta gestured for Rory to come over. Rory sauntered lazily toward him and soon heard the explanation.

“…Oh. Lucky me. I’d been meaning to deal with that bastard myself one day, but so that’s how it turned out, huh.”

That was Rory’s only reaction. He yawned widely, then winked at Maeve.

Maeve didn’t respond and only looked upstairs. The prince still hadn’t left his chamber.

It was around evening when the prince finally appeared again.

He summoned Maeve and told her to gather the remaining members of the group in his room. When everyone had assembled, the prince was sitting on one side of the bed, dressed in much neater clothes.

“You all know why I called you here.”