Chapter 11

"Is Cordelia safe?!"

――――――――――It was as if a prince on a white horse from a fairy tale had come to her rescue.

Leonhardt rushed to protect Cordelia from Zayd.

"Leonhardt d――――――, kyaa?!"

"Cordelia, stay there."

Cordelia was pulled behind Leonhardt, who firmly grabbed her shoulder. Through his broad back, she could see Zayd's lips twisting.

"Haha, you're quite desperate, Leonhardt. Are you that infatuated with this woman?"

"Brother, what exactly are you doing? To force yourself on a woman who is clearly unwilling, have you lost your mind?"

Leonhardt, facing his half-brother, had a stern look on his face. Though he often wore a gentle smile, seeing his current expression, she felt he resembled Zayd.

(We are connected by blood, even if only partially.)

Leonhardt, with his golden hair that seemed to gather sunlight, and Zayd, with his black hair that seemed dyed by the night. They were two beautiful men, one of light and one of darkness, different in direction but with a certain similarity.

While watching the half-brother princes, Cordelia took a deep breath.

When Zayd had approached her, she had honestly been at a loss. If she fled from the crown prince, it would undoubtedly lead to trouble later. Thanks to Leonhardt, she could take a breath and perhaps start over.

"Thank you, Your Highness Leonhardt."

"Is something wrong, Cordelia?"

With a swift movement, she slipped past Leonhardt and stepped forward.

"What are you planning to do? If it's about your brother, leave it to me―――――"

"It's fine, Your Highness. Prince Zayd is my savior."

Zayd frowned, as if to say, "What are you talking about all of a sudden?"

Without giving him a chance to speak, Cordelia continued smoothly.

"Prince Zayd saved me when I was trembling in fear of being attacked by bandits. But my fear didn't subside immediately, and I reflexively tried to run away from my savior."

As she spoke, Cordelia raised her right arm. Her fingers trembled slightly, eloquently telling the story of her agitation. It was half an act and half genuine fear. Even for the tough Cordelia, being approached by the tall Zayd was indeed frightening.

"I was shaking so much and couldn't calm down. ... But this fear is not directed at Prince Zayd, but at the bandits."

"Hmph. What a convenient story, woman. Which mouth did you use to spout all those rejection words just now?"

"Just now, I was flustered... Your Highness must have known that my rejection was not out of genuine dislike. I can't imagine that a wise prince like you would do something as criminal as forcing yourself on an unwilling woman."

Emphasizing the word "wise," Zayd's eyes narrowed.

In essence, Cordelia was proposing:

"Zayd was only trying to calm me down, and I didn't genuinely reject him. Zayd did not act like a criminal."

This was a proposal to end the matter here.

Zayd's behavior was infuriating, but if she openly accused him, it would lead to a serious conflict with the crown prince, which she wanted to avoid. Zayd, too, would want to avoid the scandal of being accused of assaulting an unwilling woman.

"Indeed, it was a situation that could have led to misunderstanding, and it's understandable that Your Highness Leonhardt might have misunderstood. Therefore, let's keep today's incident to ourselves and prevent any unfounded rumors from spreading."

"...... Are you saying we should pretend nothing happened?"

"That would be the best course of action for both of us. ... I am already a pitiful lady who has been jilted four times, and my reputation is already tarnished. Whether I become the subject of more rumors depends entirely on Your Highness..."

If Zayd accepted her proposal, it would be a great help.

Appealing to him and flattering him, Zayd's lips relaxed. His pride seemed satisfied, and he appeared ready to accept her reasoning.

"Hmph, if you insist, I have no choice."

With a swish, Zayd turned and walked away.

"I didn't meet anyone here, and I didn't help any pitiful woman. Consider it that way and be grateful."

Servants, who had been hiding in the shadows, followed Zayd as he left gracefully.

(I thought he wouldn't be alone as the crown prince...)

Indeed, he had dismissed his attendants. His coming here was not a spur-of-the-moment action but a plan to trap Cordelia. If she had tried to run away from Zayd, she might have been restrained by several people.

(If Prince Leonhardt hadn't been here, it would have been dangerous...)

She might have been killed or her dignity as a woman taken away. As the tension eased, the fear returned. Her spine chilled, and her heart made an unpleasant sound. Trying to calm her fear and regain her composure,

"Leonhardt, you don't have to hold back."

"Your Highness...?"

Leonhardt was gently holding Cordelia's hand.

"Your brother is gone. You don't need to be on guard or suppress your fear anymore."

"...... The trembling of my hand earlier was an act. As proof, there's nothing wrong with me now, right?"

She was supposed to be smiling as usual and not trembling. But,

"It's okay to tremble if you're scared. It will probably help you calm down faster."

I'm not trembling and I'm not scared.

Just as she was about to say that, Cordelia hesitated.

(It's warm...)

It was probably because Leonhardt's words were so calm. He didn't pity her weakness, didn't mock her bravado, and didn't pressure her to open up. He simply told her it was okay to tremble and show her fear. All that remained was the warmth of his hand.

"...... Thank you, Your Highness."

She couldn't shake off his hand, and she couldn't show her fear. The result was a cliché and common, but heartfelt, expression of gratitude.

If it were Priscilla, she would probably cling to Leonhardt with tears in her eyes. Imagining this with a strange certainty, Cordelia gently lowered her head.

She realized her fear had subsided. She had been trying to maintain a calm appearance, but she had indeed been shaken. Once calm, she realized it was inappropriate to hold hands with Leonhardt, who was not her lover.

"Your Highness, I'm sorry. I'll let go of your hand."

"Ah......"

As she pulled her fingers away, Leonhardt let out a pained voice. Looking at his wistful face, Cordelia examined her own arm.

The back of her hand, the joints of her fingers, and the pale pink nails. She was bare-handed today, without gloves.

Yet, he was looking at her hand.

"...... Are you a glove fetishist?"

"Gloves...? Is there something wrong with me?"

"No, it's just a thought. Please don't worry about it."

Danger, danger.

She had let her guard down, and her true feelings had slipped out.

Leonhardt, who seemed to have a favorable view of her, was still a prince. In front of royalty, she needed to be even more cautious. Cordelia steeled herself.

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