Chapter 45
Fionechta opened his eyes wide at the horrific pain he had never felt in his life. Beyond the armor, his ribs were crushed, and the internal organs within were mashed. Fionechta collapsed sideways without even managing a scream.
The muscular, tall figure, nearly 190 cm, fell, splashing mud in all directions. Maeve looked down at her apron stained with the color of dirt, then raised her head. The man, covered in mud, who had been charging towards them, stopped and stared blankly at her.
Should I ask if he’s okay? That thought crossed her mind for a moment, but the Prince Declan before her looked far from okay to anyone. Maeve, being particularly inept at this kind of communication, simply rolled her eyes.
Prince Declan paused for a moment, then moved his legs again, approaching Maeve. He only stopped when his foot thudded against Fionechta’s fallen body.
“Are you all right?”
The Prince Declan instead asked her if she was okay.
Maeve could not contain a small, forced laugh at that moment. After all, he was the one who looked utterly not okay to anyone.
It was not a sneer. After letting out a laugh that was closer to a sense of futility, Maeve nodded without replying. Only after seeing her reaction did the Prince Declan slowly sink down onto the spot.
“…That’s a relief.”
Prince Declan muttered, finally looking relieved.
“You must not… understand the situation. I don’t really understand it well either. Fionechta suddenly hit me and knocked me out. No, before that… what were we talking about? When he suggested bringing in another maidservant and coachman, and I said I didn’t want to…”
It was more of a mumbling recollection than a kind explanation. Prince Declan uttered this with a dazed look, then belatedly realized Fionechta’s scheme and let out a hollow laugh.
“Your Highness.”
Maeve was not concerned with his sense of futility.
“Give me your arms, this way.”
Prince Declan looked blankly at her, then obediently turned his back and offered his bound arms. Scratch, scratch, only the chilling sound of a sharp knife slicing the rope was heard. Prince Declan, with his back to her, craned his neck out to look at the fallen Fionechta.
“Did you stab him with that…?”
Prince Declan asked, his face devoid of color, as he examined Fionechta’s unconscious face. He then belatedly discovered a mark left in the center of the armor Fionechta was wearing. There was a small indentation, shaped like a fist.
Prince Declan stared at it. After staring for a long time, he turned his body towards Maeve just as the rope binding his arms was completely cut through.
Before Maeve could say anything, Prince Declan lifted and held both of her hands. Hands that were ridiculously small and dry at the joints.
Maeve took a deep breath, preparing herself, thinking he was going to bother her with prying questions about this and that. However, Prince Declan merely stroked her hands for a long time with his muddy hands.
“Thank you, Maeve.”
“…”
“You saved my life.”
Maeve parted her lips as if to counter his words, then closed them again.
It was uncomfortable.
She had experienced helping people and receiving thanks in this way a couple of times before, but now her heart felt uncomfortable in a different way than before. Maeve looked at his face.
He reached out and consecutively pulled off the blindfold that was barely covering one side of his eyes, and the cloth that was caught under his chin.
Eyes far clearer and more beautiful than that lake stared straight back at her.
Maeve intentionally changed the subject, avoiding eye contact with him.
“Was Fionechta trying to kidnap Your Highness?”
Prince Declan nodded at Maeve’s question.
“Yes. From what I heard him say, it’s not my brother. Someone from another place commissioned the kidnapping. To bring me back alive.”
“Saying?”
“Yes. He was having a conversation with someone who wasn’t here. I think it was with some kind of magic tool…”
Listening to Prince Declan’s explanation, Maeve boldly lifted Fionechta’s body and quickly searched it. Then, she saw a necklace with a shimmering blue pendant near his neck. It was an object that looked quite dissonant for a man of his intimidating appearance to wear.
Maeve stared intently at it. Because it was an object she knew. That was because it was an item made in Sorten, the place she had escaped from.
Though it was not intentional, the momentary repulsion caused her to lose control of her strength, and Maeve crushed it while holding it.
“It might have doubled as a tracking device.”
Maeve calmly offered an excuse. It was a lie. That object had no tracking function.
Prince Declan looked at the pendant shattering into powder, then slowly nodded.
“Ah… right. Anyway, my guess is that it might be the princess of a neighboring country.”
“A princess? The mastermind of the kidnapping?”
“Yes.”
Maeve rolled her eyes, somehow looking like she had clearly expected it.
“She wants to have me entirely taxidermied.”
“…No way.”
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