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alpindale

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light-novels

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Rishe tried and failed to contain her excitement. She couldn’t help but imagine what seeing all these places up close would be like. The grand library, the beautiful church that told the time, and the morning market with fresh, delicious food—she wanted to experience it all.

Seeing Arnold’s bemused face, she said, “What?”

“I’m just wondering where all this interest is coming from,” he said. “You were so reluctant to come, yet here you are, brimming with curiosity for my city.”

“Well…” she trailed off, unsure of how to respond.

What should I say? Should I just tell him the truth?

This wasn’t a secret, but talking about her hopes and dreams to the man who had killed her was a little awkward. A strange self-consciousness settled on her, her cheeks heating as she mumbled, “Because I’ve always wanted to.”

Arnold looked at her keenly. “Wanted to what?”

“I’ve always wanted to come here.”

During her life as a merchant, Rishe developed her single dream to visit everywhere in the world. That dream was cut tragically short when only one country remained: Galkhein.

In each of her consecutive lives, Rishe’s priority became staying alive. Every time, without fail, just as she found her footing, the world was plunged into chaos. She never had the chance to see Galkhein. This betrothal was her chance. “It’s probably why I agreed to marry you,” she added after a moment’s hesitation.

Arnold swept a tepid glance over the city. “There’s nothing here worth seeing.”

“That’s not true! The places you just told me about sound amazing! Your citizens are clean and happy, your knights are proper and kind. Oh, and another—”

Rishe broke off enumerating Galkhein’s charms as Arnold turned to look at her. His face was impassively calm, but something seemed to pass by underneath, like a shadow in deep water.

“I’m sorry,” Rishe said. “Did I say something odd?”

“I’m just amazed you could be so unaware of yourself.”

Wh-what a rude thing to—

“I’ve never met anyone like you. No one has ever spoken to me the way you do. I don’t know any girls of your class with the knowledge or the physical abilities you possess. Noblewomen don’t concern themselves with such things.”

Rishe, there is no need for you to think for yourself.

She frowned. “Perhaps you’re right, but everything I’ve learned is precious to me. No one can take my skills away—I value them with my life. Some may say that my knowledge is worthless, but it makes no difference to me.” She turned from the balcony, fixing him with a piercing gaze. “I’m the one who decides what I value.”

Rishe had clawed free of her mother and father’s indoctrination a long time ago. Man, woman—it didn’t matter. She could do anything. Being queen was not the culmination of her life; she wouldn’t trade her freedom for anything.

Arnold matched her intensity. “You’re right.” He gently cupped her cheek in a one hand, swiping his thumb along the line of her jaw, smearing dust. “Live your life here however you wish. I vow to do my utmost to protect you.”

“Huh?”

His vehemence took her by surprise. Arnold had every right to demand she act the part of a proper consort. This was a political marriage; Rishe was essentially a hostage, after all. Yet here he was, cosigning her misbehavior. Moreover, he was all but swearing to defend her from the consequences.

“Why?”

“You know why. I’m enamored with you.” Arnold fed her the same line. “I know you said you don’t care about other people’s approval, but I like your asymmetrical talents. I don’t find them useless at all.”

Rishe didn’t know how to respond.

“I thought I’d already made that clear.” He took his hand back, drawing away, stopping just on the threshold. He turned back to a stunned Rishe and said, “Let me know if there’s anything you desire. I realize I just broke our agreement—the one about not touching you.”

And with that, he was gone.

Shaken, Rishe sank to the floor of the balcony. I can’t predict him at all! Just what is Arnold Hein planning?

The quiet of evening fell over the imperial capital of Galkhein.

***

“Mmm.”

Sunshine streamed through the window as Rishe roused from sleep. She rolled over, basking in the morning light. The wall she expected wasn’t there, and the bed seemed larger than usual. Taking advantage of it, she stretched out as far as she could.

Was this her chamber at home? Or maybe she was a merchant again, spending a night at the desert king’s palace. Perhaps this was her bed of straw from her life as a maid? Her memories met and interwove as she drifted into wakefulness.

When Rishe finally opened her eyes, she grew even more confused.

Light blue curtains surrounded the bed, thin enough to allow sunlight to pass through. She pulled them aside to find herself in a bare room devoid of furniture and carpet.

Oh, right. She didn’t need to report for morning training, tend to her herb garden, prepare breakfast, or see how the bottles she had brewed overnight were coming along.

Realizing that, Rishe buried her face in the pillow. “So soft,” she murmured.

Judging by the position of the sun, it was about six o’clock in the morning. She was pretty sure she had gone to bed around midnight last night.

I slept for six whole hours? Rishe couldn’t believe it. Generally, she was used to getting about four hours of sleep. On bad days, at the height of an emergency as a knight or apothecary, she wouldn’t even get that much.

I’ve got nothing but cleaning on the schedule today. Hostages can sleep in, right? At least a little? Excitement suffused her at the thought, but that was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Lady Rishe, are you awake? It’s Oliver—Prince Arnold’s attendant.”

Rishe sat up with a start. “I’m awake!”

Oliver continued to speak through the door. “I apologize for bothering you at such an early hour. I’m here with a delivery.”

“Just a moment!” Rishe slipped out of the bed, dressed quickly, and tugged the bed’s canopy closed. She opened the door to find Oliver standing in the hallway with a polite smile.

He apologized again. “This was the only time I could slip away from His Highness’s office. I’m glad to see that you’re already dressed.”

“Not at all.” Rishe paused, stepping back to allow him inside. “Oh my. You look exhausted.”

Oliver grimaced. “Is it that obvious? We’ve been climbing through mountains of paperwork, but never mind me. His Highness has been working around the clock.”

Rishe thought back to yesterday, how he had come all the way out to the balcony. He should have used that spare time to sleep. “He’s in high demand, isn’t he? He was even working on the trip over.”

“He finished all the work he brought along with us,” Oliver confirmed. “Now he’s dealing with everything that piled up during his visit to Hermity.”

“Oh.” Rishe grimaced in sympathy. He may have killed her in a past life, but she wouldn’t wish the bureaucracy of kingship on anyone. “It’s a shame he had to put his work on hold to attend a silly engagement party.”

“No matter. That party was how a committed bachelor finally found a bride.”

His smile was sincere, but Rishe knew better. She spread her arms. “Go on. Shall I spin around so you have a better view?”

Oliver blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re looking me over like I’m a horse for sale. If there’s anything I can help you with, please let me know.”

Oliver’s brows went up. He let out a little breath of resignation. “His Highness was right. You do possess the keen perception of a knight. Of course, I’m purely an amateur myself.”

I’d say this was a merchant’s sixth sense, rather than battle intuition.

This wasn’t the first time Rishe had caught Oliver looking at her. It reminded her of the way her noble customers would examine a product, assessing worth and authenticity. Or a merchant weeding out potential merchandise from a wide array of choices.

In other words, he was appraising her.

Oliver moved into a deep, sweeping bow. “My sincerest apologies, my lady. I have been unaccountably rude to my lord’s consort. My behavior was unacceptable.”

Rishe shook her head. “Please don’t, it’s fine.” It wasn’t unreasonable for the prince’s closest attendant to be wary of strangers. But it did make her curious. “How long have you worked for Arnold? Have you always been a valet?”

“I trained as a squire, actually,” Oliver replied. “But I was injured and dismissed from the order. His Highness took me into his household soon after. I have served him for nearly a decade.”

“Then maybe you can answer this,” Rishe said. “Why is Prince Arnold so very intent on making me his wife?”

Oliver hesitated, as if weighing the pros and cons of speaking, “To be quite honest, I was as surprised as you were. He’s always insisted he had no interest in marriage. But the sight of you in Hermity has changed his mind. Apparently.”

So not even his attendant understood his motives. Rishe remained at a complete loss.

“If I may, however?” Oliver mistook Rishe’s confusion for anxiety and added, “I have served Prince Arnold for a long time, and never before have I seen him so happy. When he is with you, he laughs. His smiles are sincere.”

Rishe was taken aback. She’d figured all of Arnold’s laughter and teasing was at her expense. His own private jokes.

“Are you…unhappy with him?” Oliver ventured. “With his looks, His Highness is exceedingly popular with the ladies of the court, you know.”

“I’m sure he has many admirers.” She paused. “Would you really call the way he acts around me ‘happy’? To me, it seems more like a cat with a mouse.”

Oliver laughed. He didn’t deny it. “I am pleased you understand His Highness so well. Oh, I nearly forgot. Here.”

He held out a sheaf of three documents. “This is the guest list for your wedding. His Highness bids you look over it.”

“Thank you,” Rishe said, pleasantly surprised. She hadn’t even needed to ask. She gave it a quick glance, quickly identifying the most prominent and powerful names.

King Zahad, Prince Kyle, Princess Harriet. And from the Kingdom of Domana, we have Lord Jonal attending as the representative of the king. No surprise there.

More than a wedding guest register, this was a list of key people from the countries Arnold would go on to antagonize. Even before the murder of the king and the start of the war, there must have been a trigger—a sea change in the affairs of state. Everyone on this list was most likely involved.

King Zahad. I hope we can be friends again like in my first life. Hmm… Prince Kyle is rather frail. I hope he isn’t working himself too hard. He has a strong sense of responsibility—he’ll attend the wedding even though it’ll be a long trip.

The sight of these names filled Rishe with a longing for those lives, for the people she’d once known. And sometime in the very near future, they would all be Galkhein’s enemies.

If I take matters into my own hands, perhaps I can salvage some of these relationships before they sour. Even if we aren’t allies, we don’t have to be enemies. Anything to stave off the outbreak of war.

Oliver had no idea what was going through Rishe’s head. Brightly, he continued their conversation. “The ceremony will be held in three months’ time. All preparations must be complete by then. And now…we need to discuss tonight’s party.”

“Tonight’s what?”

Oliver stiffened. “Did His Highness not tell you?”

“No, he most certainly did not! There’s to be a party?”

“Ugh, not again!” Oliver dug his knuckles into his forehead.

Rishe put two and two together. She hesitated, then said, “So there is one, then. As you must know, His Highness is trying to stamp it down without telling me.”

“I’m sorry,” Oliver replied. “He should have mentioned it to you. You don’t need to attend, but he will. At least, I hope he will. I think I managed to convince him.”

She sympathized with Oliver. Under normal circumstances, it would be unheard of for the crown prince and his fiancée to fail to appear at a banquet. “Don’t worry, Oliver. I’ll go.”

Oliver let out a sigh of relief. “Really? Thank you so much, my lady. I’ll put finding you a maid at the top of my to-do list.”

“No need.” Rishe smiled. “I can prepare for the party on my own.”

This maid-selection process made Rishe uneasy. After witnessing that exchange between the servants in the garden, she imagined quarrels breaking out all through the palace. And she doubted the disputes would go away even after they decided.

Oliver frowned. “But won’t dressing be difficult without a lady’s maid?”

She shook her head. “I can do my hair and put on a gown by myself. I brought dresses and cosmetics from home. Don’t worry.”

Rishe ignored Oliver’s stunned look, already reevaluating her cleaning plans.

***

The first thing Rishe said to Arnold that night was, “Your Highness, I have a request.” Her gown rustled as she leaned in close. “I would like some herb seed and a corner of the gardens. I made a list. I hope we can discuss this in more detail later.”

Arnold was silent a moment. “Rishe.”

“What? Didn’t you tell me to let you know if there was anything I wanted?” She looked at him quizzically, and Arnold sighed.

She’d heard that he’d finished his mountain of work and even managed to sleep for a while. He was dressed in his usual military black, trimmed with a red mantle and black gloves.