Chapter 35 - The Engagement of the Marquess's Daughter Ariarein
It was two days later that Arveil regained consciousness.
Waking up to the brightness of the sunlight hitting his face and the coldness of the wind stroking his cheek, Arveil gazed blankly at the ceiling for a while.
He didn't know where he was now, and he didn't understand why he had been sleeping.
The pain in his left arm, which asserted itself with a throb, made Arveil remember that time.
"—The young lady is..."
He intended to speak clearly, but it hardly became a voice.
Only a raspy sound leaked from his lips.
Still, that sound seemed to have reached the ears of the lady-in-waiting who was tidying the room.
His eyes met with the lady-in-waiting who looked back in surprise.
He tried to sit up, but he couldn't even lift his head.
"The young lady is..."
His mouth was parched and didn't even produce saliva, but this time he could pronounce it a little more clearly.
"She is safe."
At the lady-in-waiting's reply, the strength left his whole body.
His head, which he had somehow managed to lift slightly from the pillow, fell back onto the pillow once more.
The voice of the lady-in-waiting hurriedly calling someone remained in the ears of Arveil, who had closed his eyes.
Ariarein received that news in the office of her father, Marquess Randolph.
"Master Meiros has reportedly opened his eyes."
The footman who came in with a knock announced.
From the scribes, voices of "Oh!" rose up.
Arveil, who had suffered a serious injury losing his left arm, had been treated immediately by the family physician since then.
Although his life was saved on the spot, the physician's assessment was that it was fifty-fifty whether he would wake up.
If he had opened his eyes, it meant he had passed the immediate crisis for the time being.
Without joining the scribes who were exchanging various words, Ariarein turned her gaze to the ceiling and took a very, very deep breath.
Along with relief, regret and a sense of apology spread within Ariarein's heart.
"Can I see him?"
"No, not yet. However, it is said there is no longer any worry for his life."
"I see. Then, let me know when I can see him. I must visit him."
They were words that could even seem blunt.
Randolph was the only one who saw that the corners of Ariarein's mouth were smiling slightly as she took another small breath and returned her gaze to the documents at hand.
It was four days later that the master and servant were allowed to meet.
Arveil had somehow become able to spend time sitting up in bed.
It was a recovery that even surprised the family physician.
Seeing Arveil straighten his back when Ariarein entered the room, Ariarein gestured for him to stay as he was.
She softly ordered the lady-in-waiting who had followed her, "You, wait outside."
The lady-in-waiting bowed silently and withdrew, and the door was closed.
Ariarein herself sat down on Arveil's bed.
"My lady."
"—I'm glad. I thought I had to say my thanks and my apologies."
"I am sorry for being in such a state."
It was two days ago that he had somehow become able to stand up and relieve himself.
Even so, he still needed the help of others to stand up from the bed.
"It's fine. You saved me, after all. Thank you, Arveil. I'm sorry."
Ariarein's gaze was directed toward the left arm that remained wrapped in bandages.
From the middle of the wrist and elbow that Arveil had cut off himself at that time, there was nothing beyond.
"No, there is nothing for you to apologize for, my lady. It is what I desired. I was able to protect you. I am also still alive like this—it is thanks to the treatment you provided."
That was Arveil's true feelings, without falsehood.
Even so, there was a lingering regret that tightened his chest.
It didn't seem like he could stand by her side as a guard like before.
Even if the wound healed and his physical condition returned to normal, it would probably be impossible.
With only one arm, fulfilling the role of a guard—protecting Ariarein—would be uncertain.
"I suppose it will no longer be possible for me to stand by your side as a guard, but..."
"—That might be so."
It was a tone that was unusually vague and noncommittal.
"Anyway, the war is over. I heard it snowed at Alas Pass. Until spring, the army from over there won't be able to cross the pass anymore."
At Ariarein's words, Arveil nodded with a "Yes."
"Besides, the King's Shadow too. They failed after using that many people. They shouldn't be able to move for a while."
"Yes."
"So, Arveil, heal your wounds without worrying."
"—Yes."
She was trying to encourage him even a little.
Because he thought so, Arveil made a smile and nodded.
A short silence fell in the small room.
"Hey, Arveil."
It was Ariarein who broke the silence.
"That night in the carriage, you said it was an ill-matched engagement, didn't you?"
Inside Arveil's chest, his heart gave one large throb.
—To think she remembered.
It should have been words he let slip without much thought.
"I did say that, indeed."
"What kind of partner would be a good match?"
Trying to answer, Arveil was at a loss for words.
It wasn't status or social standing. That was for sure—since the Crown Prince hadn't been a good match.
Was it personality, ability, or something else?
Thinking for a few moments, he realized it was a matter he had no way of answering himself.
"If it is a partner who understands you, my lady, and with whom you can be happy."
There was nothing else. Because that was what Arveil himself wished for.
"I see," Ariarein nodded slightly.
"What kind of gentleman do you think would be suitable, my lady?"
After asking as if on impulse, Arveil thought, 'Oh no.'
It wasn't something that would lead to anything even if he heard it.
Besides, if a partner who embodied the young lady's wishes appeared in the future, he had no confidence at all whether he could sincerely bless them.
"Well..." Ariarein responded and tilted her head slightly.
Arveil, who had become somewhat awkward, averted his gaze to the open window.
The curtain swayed.
The wind must have carried it; there was the scent of the tide.
The sound of hammers.
The sound of people's shoes walking.
The voice of someone calling someone else.
The sound of a carriage running on the cobblestone street.
Into the room where the conversation had paused, the clamor of the city could be heard.
"Someone who knows me well," Ariarein began to speak slowly.
"Someone who understands me properly."
One by one, as if counting on her fingers.
"Someone who supports me by my side."
It was a tone with pauses.
"Someone who gets angry on my behalf at the irrationality directed at me."
'Oh?' Arveil felt a small sense of incongruity.
As if only now, he felt the gaze directed at him.
"Someone who fights for me in times of need."
"My lady, if you are jesting—"
Arveil, unable to bear it, turned his gaze toward Ariarein.
Their eyes met head-on.
Without stopping her words, while speaking each one, her slanting eyes with gray pupils were staring straight at Arveil.
"Someone who would protect me even at the cost of an arm,"
Arveil reaching out his healthy right arm and pulling Ariarein close, and Ariarein speaking the final words, happened at the same time.
"—My retainer."
"My lady."
In a raspy voice that couldn't fully suppress heat and passion, Arveil called Ariarein.
At the shoulder of Arveil who had pulled her close, Ariarein took a small breath as if relieved.
"It's no good, Arveil."
Being told that, Arveil tried to pull away, but Ariarein's arms went around his back.
Entrusting her body softly to Arveil of her own accord, while embracing Arveil, Ariarein whispered.
"—At times like this, you must call me Aria."