Chapter 6
“…Why must I leave as if I’m being chased, when I’m no fugitive…? The people would surely wish to see me off as well. I want to see their faces before I go.”
It was a statement perfectly in line with a prince loved by all.
“My goodness, Your Highness. The people wouldn’t want to see you in your current state. When you return healthy and strong, they’ll be even happier to welcome you back.”
“My current state? Do I look so haggard?”
“…Ah, well, your beauty remains untouched, of course. But yes, you’ve grown a bit thin. Why, even that princess from the neighboring kingdom who visited recently—”
“Don’t even mention that woman’s name, Craig.”
At last, a sigh escaped the prince, as though he had come to a decision.
The door opened again, and the prince—still dazzlingly handsome—appeared once more.
Facing those waiting for him, he smiled apologetically, smoothly offering a lie as if nothing had happened.
“Forgive me for keeping you waiting. There was a memento of the late king I wished to bring with me—it took a little longer to find than I thought.”
At that moment, a faint trumpet sounded in the distance, and a procession of people began approaching in orderly lines.
It was the royal procession of King Aidan of Lutea.
“Declan.”
When Aidan came near, Declan no longer seemed to have even the will to pretend composure as he had earlier.
Though a grown man, his eyes were wide and glistening like a child’s as he hurriedly went to meet his only living relative.
The brothers’ embrace was long.
It was so tender that, to any onlooker, they would have seemed nothing less than loving, devoted brothers.
At last, Aidan released him, pressing a final kiss to his brother’s forehead as though offering a blessing for the path ahead.
Of course, it was a kiss that carried Aidan’s heartfelt wish.
Go on your way, …and never come back.
“I entrust my younger brother to your care.”
Aidan did not forget to exchange glances and words of request with each of them, beginning with Rory, who stood at the front. When it came to Craig’s turn at last, he placed a hand on Craig’s shoulder and gave it a meaningful pat as he whispered something quietly.
Craig looked at the King with eyes filled with obedience — a look Maeve had never seen him give to Prince Declan — and nodded.
Maeve, who had never doubted that the two brothers shared a close bond, felt an odd sense of dissonance in that instant.
However, the thought quickly slipped from her mind. Following Craig’s instruction, she climbed onto the supply wagon at the rear.
Declan turned one last time to look back at his brother and the servants who had followed him out.
The Prince reluctantly blew a parting kiss before finally boarding the carriage with Craig.
Only then did Sir Rory and Sir Fionechta, who were mounted at the front, set off, with the carriage following behind them.
Maeve’s supply wagon trailed at the very end. From her seat, she tore small pieces from the dried bread in her pouch and tossed them to the donkey trotting faithfully beside the wagon.
The sun was only just beginning to peek over the horizon.
The Prince’s party made their way toward the city walls, following a route carefully designed to avoid the public eye.
When the Prince and his group had finally grown small as a speck in the distance, Aidan, King of Lutea, turned away with an inscrutable expression.
His loyal advisor, Malachy O’Doherty, was already standing nearby.
“My brother has departed at last. How very sad.”
“How heartless. I knew he was a free-spirited man, but I didn’t think he would leave as if he had been waiting for the chance.”
It was a performance so poor it hardly counted as a rehearsal, yet neither of them cared.
The servants — carefully chosen for their discretion — quietly followed them back inside the castle.
When the sun had fully risen, the King would, before his unsuspecting courtiers, pretend to weep as he announced that Declan had departed.
He would lament with a face full of sorrow, saying that his brother refused even his request to leave with a proper farewell and slipped away at dawn instead.
The nation’s most beloved Prince would thus vanish from their hearts in shock — and, gradually, be forgotten.
Rumors might spread that the Prince had left in search of a witch who could cure his illness. Yet, as the castle servants had, people would scoff at such nonsense, dismissing it as a dreamer’s tale.
Was the second Prince truly such a foolish man?
Some would be disappointed.
That was exactly what Aidan desired most.
“I should warm myself by the fire.”
The autumn dawn air was not merely cool but biting, and Aidan hid his hands inside his cloak, rubbing his arms as he walked back into the castle.
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