Sugar Apple Fairytale - Volume 5 - Chapter 6

Chapter 6

WHAT THE FAIRY SAW

“A contest against the Silver Sugar Viscount?! That’s absurd!”

Elliott’s mouth hung open. He had just heard about Anne’s plan.

They were on the second floor of the east wing. The hot air made the room where they were drying the silver sugar feel like a sauna. Elliott, who had been working there, had rolled up his shirt sleeves, and his whole body was dripping with sweat.

“But if I don’t do it,” said Anne, “Kat won’t come.”

“I expected as much. He’s a strange one. But he seems to have a soft spot for you, Anne, so I thought he might agree. I guess he’s still the same old Kat in the end.” Elliott’s shoulders drooped, and he sighed. “So what’s the Silver Sugar Viscount up to?”

“He told me to summon you. It sounds like he plans to stay here until the day after tomorrow to make his sculpture. That’s why he wants to speak with you.”

“It’s not like I have any say in it. I can’t exactly defy the Silver Sugar Viscount. Well, here I go. The lesser hall, was it? Anne, you go tell the others about Kat. Tell them he’s not coming right away. They were hoping he’d be with you, too. Oh, and set these down somewhere over there. I’ll be back soon.”

Elliott handed Anne a fire poker and his insulated leather gloves. “I won’t ask what you think your chances of victory are,” he said. He looked down at Anne like someone might look at a mischievous child. “Just do the very best you can.”

He clapped his hand down on her shoulder and left the room. It seemed he, too, understood that Anne was taking on a ridiculous challenge.

The grinding of the millstones continued unabated. Anne set the fire poker and gloves down near the door and peeked into the next room, where the stone mills had been set up.

Orlando, King, Nadir, and Valentine were each operating one of the mills. The machines were knee-high and big enough that Anne’s arms could just wrap around one of them. They had long handles that reached about waist height, and they were operated by turning the handle from a standing position.

Each one was about twice as big as a typical mill intended for home use. Of course, that meant they required twice as much power to work, too.

“Ouch!” Nadir let one of his firmly planted feet slip, and he pitched forward. He must have hit his nose, because he was holding the middle of his face uncomfortably.

“Are you all right?” Valentine offered a frail attempt at sympathy, but the moment he did, he also staggered to a halt.

Both of them were so fatigued that their legs were shaking.

Orlando and King were steadier on their feet. But King’s whole body was dripping with sweat. He had been gritting his teeth and working his mill hard.

Orlando grimaced painfully and stopped. He looked down at his hands, opening and closing his fists repeatedly.

“Here, put this on,” said Mithril. “Your blisters burst, didn’t they?”

Mithril noticed the way Orlando was acting and came bouncing out from the corner of the room to hand him some anesthetic ointment made from medicinal herbs.

The four candy crafters had been operating the mills continuously since morning. They must have been at the limit of their endurance. It was obvious how strained they were, because none of them even noticed Anne. They were all working desperately, trying to get even a little bit ahead.

The ground silver sugar had formed little mountains around each of the mills. As the millstones rumbled around and around, waves of dry white powder tumbled out from where the two stones joined in the center.

I’ve made a reckless wager. I know that. There’s no way I can win against Hugh with my skills. Anne focused her strength into her hand where it held the door. But I don’t want to lose, she thought firmly. For the sake of the other crafters, she wanted to win.

“Everyone?”

When she spoke, the candy crafters finally turned to face her. “Anne!”

Mithril looked overjoyed and promptly ran over to hop up on her shoulder.

Then Nadir’s voice came alive with hope. “So what about Kat?!”

Answering him was painful. “Not here yet,” she said. “But I think he might join us.”

Orlando frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It seems Kat won’t be persuaded so easily. But the Silver Sugar Viscount has the right to make him do anything he asks. I’m going to enter a contest with the Viscount to receive that right. When I win, Kat will come to us.”

“A contest with the Silver Sugar Viscount?” Valentine asked uneasily.

His reaction was only natural. No matter what kind of contest Anne entered against the Viscount, a young lady like her surely had no chance of beating him.

“Yes. I’m going to try. Because we need Kat.”

For a moment, the candy crafters went still and silent. Their disappointment, anxiety, confusion, and other feelings jumbled together.

Not long after, Orlando raised his head. “We’ll leave it to you, then, head crafter,” he said. “We will do our jobs. You do yours.”

King grinned. “That’s right,” he agreed. Then he turned to the others, “Okay, let’s get through another batch! Nadir, Valentine, don’t just stand there!”

The two of them nodded and went back to their mills.

Anne could clearly feel their confidence in her. She could tell that she had their trust. They believed in her and wanted her to do her best to not let them down, no matter the outcome. That was what they were trying to tell her, and she understood.

“Anne, the great Mithril Lid Pod will assist you!” Mithril flexed his biceps for her to see.

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to do my job.”

In terms of real ability, she fell far short of the mark. If she wanted a chance at victory, it was up to her to find it or to make it.

Anne had to fulfill her responsibilities to the candy crafters who called her their head crafter and who believed in her. Their faith gave her courage.

Following Elliott’s instructions, Danna and Hal hastily cleaned one of the rooms on the third floor of the west wing. Soon, Hugh settled in. The following day, he would spend all his time working there.

Despite it being the middle of the night, Salim had run off to Lewiston. Apparently, he was rushing to bring Hugh a barrel of silver sugar, his various tools, and his workbench.

Anne would make her sculpture in the east wing’s first-floor workspace. She hadn’t procured any silver sugar specifically for the contest, so it was decided that she would use some of Hugh’s.

Anne finished setting up everything she would need, and then before she collapsed from exhaustion, she went to briefly check on Noah.

Challe was in the room, and Noah seemed to be asleep. Danna and Hal had told her the boy had yet to eat a single bite, even while she was making her round trip to Southcent.

Although his true age was much higher, Noah appeared to be a child of eleven or twelve, and he looked rather sweet when asleep. As she gazed at his peaceful face, Anne felt from the bottom of her heart that she wanted to help him.

“It might not all be a waste,” she muttered. “Not if Hugh makes an incredible sugar candy sculpture that Noah can bring himself to eat. Even if I lose the match, it won’t be a waste. Noah’s life will be saved.”

I can’t fulfill Master Herbert’s request, but his wish will still be granted.

Sitting in the room, though faded, was one of the sofas with the elegant cabriole legs. Anne guessed that Danna and Hal had moved it in that afternoon, probably because they needed it while looking after Noah.

Challe was sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed comfortably. He was propping his chin up in his hand on the armrest, looking listless.

“There’s a possibility that he won’t choose either of your candies,” he said.

“You’re right. But don’t you think Hugh proposed this contest because he’s confident he can get Noah to eat? Are sugar candies really that attractive to fairies, Challe?”

Challe thought about this for a moment.

“If it’s in a form that has particular meaning for the individual, yes, they are,” he answered. “And the more beautiful and sweet-smelling the candy is, the more attractive. It’s like the feeling of wanting to touch and kiss someone you love. Though, even I can’t tell you whether Noah will be able to suppress it.”

Challe was an obsidian fairy—he was levelheaded and strong. Mithril had once said that obsidian fairies were exceptionally tough. If it was difficult for someone like Challe to restrain himself, Anne reasoned that Noah would likely give in and eat the candy.

But in order to entice him to eat, she had to make something beautiful that held meaning for him.

Something that was meaningful to Noah…

There could be nothing more meaningful than Herbert, the master for whom he had been waiting for fifteen years. But what about Herbert could she craft into a candy that would hold the most meaning for Noah?

Challe jerked his chin toward the door. “Get some sleep already. Use my bed. You have candy to make tomorrow, don’t you?”

“But what about you, Challe?”

“I’ll be here watching over him.”

“You’ll feel awful if you don’t sleep,” Anne said, standing in front of the sofa. “We can take turns sitting here. Go ahead,” she urged. “I’ll take the first watch.”

Suddenly, Challe squeezed her hand. It startled her.

“You have a tough match coming up, don’t you?” he said. “Go sleep.”

“But—”

“Do you need another good-night kiss? If so, I’ll give you as many as it takes.”

At that, Anne recalled the feeling of his lips against her cheek. In a flash, her ears were on fire.

Challe snickered and let go of her hand. “Go sleep.”

“G-good night!”

Anne ran away to Challe’s room, extremely embarrassed.

The following morning, Anne carried breakfast up to Hugh. When she reached the third floor of the west wing, she saw that Salim was standing in front of Hugh’s door.

“Salim. Have you been there all night?”

He answered the surprised Anne with a blank expression. “A lookout is absolutely essential whenever the Viscount stays outside Silver Westol Castle under his own identity.”

“I didn’t realize that being the Silver Sugar Viscount was such a dangerous job.”

“Normally, it isn’t. But this Viscount had all sorts of problems back when he became maestro of his faction and even before. He still does, to this day. From time to time, there are those who try to cause him harm.”

Sure enough, Anne had heard that back when Hugh became maestro of the Mercury Workshop, vicious rumors circulated that he had hijacked the position. Perhaps some were still carrying those old grudges.

“I see,” said Anne. “Well, there’s breakfast here for you, too, Salim. How about going inside and eating with Hugh? Surely, he wouldn’t object?”

Salim flashed her a strained smile. “Indeed. Even at times when he must consider his station, he tells me to eat with him, putting me in an awkward position.”

With that, he knocked on the door. “Viscount. Anne has brought breakfast.”

Hugh told them to enter, and Salim opened the door.

Hugh’s workbench, a cask of cold water, and a barrel of silver sugar had been brought into the room. There was also a small table and chair, as well as a large sofa, probably for resting. Hugh’s boots were propped up on the armrest of the sofa. Apparently, he’d lain down without any regard for manners.

Several leather-bound books were lying on the ground around the sofa.

As Anne set the tray on the table, Salim gathered up the scattered books. On their open pages, Anne saw lines of small text and depictions of people wearing old-fashioned garments. They appeared to be historical figures.

“Viscount,” said Salim. “Please treat the books with more care. When you borrowed these, you were strictly warned by the priest to take good care of them. Consider my position, as the person who is going to have to return them.”

“When they said to take good care of them, that’s not what they meant.” Hugh slowly sat up and smoothed down his wild hair. “They meant not to show them to anyone or carelessly expose them to the public eye. These are books that I wouldn’t even be permitted to read if I didn’t have a noble rank. They’re banned, so to speak. They were only barely allowed to remain with the Church of Saint Lewiston Bell for research purposes. Oh, hello, Anne.”

“Good morning. What are those books?”

Hugh walked briskly over to the table, reached out for a piece of crispy, toasted bread, and bit into it without taking a seat.

“Yesterday, I had Salim go wake up the priests at the Church of Saint Lewiston Bell in the middle of the night and borrow these,” he said.

“What’s written in them?”

“Now, now, I’m not about to help out the opposition. Anyway, after we eat, I want to see that fairy again, the one named Noah.”

“Fine.”

“Did you already decide what you’re going to make?”

Anne found his question difficult to answer. She had made up her mind to choose something to do with Herbert but hadn’t yet decided specifically what it would be.

“Not yet…”

“Decide quickly. We only have until tomorrow morning.”

“I know.”

Hugh seemed confident. When she saw how relaxed he was, Anne started to panic.

As Hugh had requested, after breakfast, Anne showed him to the room where Noah was staying.

“Noah, sorry to wake you,” she said. “There’s a guest here who wants to see you.”

She entered the room, accompanied by Hugh. Challe, who was sitting on the sofa, glanced over at them but didn’t say anything.

Noah didn’t seem able to get up, but he moved his head a little on top of his pillow. When he saw Hugh’s face, he frowned. Several days earlier, on one of Hugh’s visits, the man had gawked at Noah like a curious spectator, so the boy’s unfriendly expression was probably well deserved.

But Hugh strode boldly over to Noah’s bedside and announced himself.

“I am the Silver Sugar Viscount, Hugh Mercury. I forgot to introduce myself last time. My apologies.”

Anne was surprised by Hugh’s formal tone, but Noah seemed even more shocked, and his eyes widened.

“What? The Silver Sugar Viscount? Oh, p-please excuse me,” Noah said, struggling with all his might to prop himself up with his arms.

“No, no, you’re fine where you are.” Hugh stopped him, and Noah shrank back. Sure enough, he didn’t seem able to rise, and with an apologetic look, he put his head back on the pillow.

“Um… Please forgive my rudeness the other day,” he said.

Noah had been Herbert’s page, and it seemed he respected the ranks and hierarchy of noble society, just like his master.

Hugh had heard about the boy’s former position from Anne, and he had almost certainly divulged his standing on purpose.

“Never mind that,” said Hugh. “More importantly, I have two or three questions for you. Is that all right?”

“Yes. Please ask me anything you wish.”

“Lord Herbert was a fine man who lived up to the Chamber family crest, correct?”

“Yes.” Noah nodded.

“Did you sometimes play games of fyffe with Lord Herbert?”

“Yes,” Noah said again, then smiled a little. “Master Herbert was— Well, it’s rude of me to say, but he wasn’t very good at fyffe. I was his only opponent in the whole castle. I never saw him play fyffe with anyone here other than me.”

“He wasn’t very good at it?” Hugh asked. He seemed surprised.

“No, he wasn’t.”

“…I see.” Hugh was quiet for a moment, as if he was thinking something over, but soon, he smiled. “Great. That’s enough. Please forgive the intrusion, Noah. To thank you, I’ll bring you something good tomorrow.”

Hugh turned around, a confident smile on his lips.

It seemed his questions had been meant to confirm whether the direction he was thinking of taking was correct. Apparently, it was.

Once Anne left the room with Hugh, he announced, “I’m going to start working now. And you?”

Anne concealed her panic and nodded. “Me too. I’ll make my candy.”

Anne went directly to the workspace on the first floor of the east wing, accompanied by Mithril Lid Pod.

The sound of grinding millstones echoed from the second floor.

Anne opened the barrel that she had received from Hugh and scooped up some silver sugar. She spread it out on top of her chilled workbench, which was topped with a stone slab. Then she touched the silver sugar with her fingers, checking the feel of it.

I wonder what aspect of Lord Herbert I can craft that will make Noah happy?

She turned the question over in her mind.

Mithril was waiting quietly in the corner of the room, trying to stay out of Anne’s way.

Noah was always looking at his portrait.

She called to mind an image of Noah sitting there in the dark, looking up at the portrait. She had no doubt that he would be delighted if she re-created the damaged picture for him. If she could reproduce that image of the master whose return he had been so eagerly awaiting, Noah would certainly be overjoyed.

But she couldn’t win the match unless Noah ate her sugar candy.

Even if she managed to re-create the figure of his cherished patron in sugar, he wasn’t likely to eat it. If a sugar candy sculpture in Emma’s likeness appeared before her eyes, Anne would probably be happy to see it. But there was no way she would want to eat it. Precisely because it was an image of someone she’d lost, she’d want to preserve it.

In that case, what should I make instead?

Even when she touched the silver sugar, the shape of what she would create wouldn’t come to her. Anne grew impatient. She rubbed her face hard with both hands.

“Mithril, I’m going to the portrait hall. I’ll be back.”

With those words, she headed for the lesser hall.

Let me take a look at the thing Noah was looking at.

Anne made her decision and was soon standing before the portrait in the lesser hall. As before, Herbert’s picture was there in its pitiful state. The likeness of the kind master who had tried to let his fairy go had been shredded.

Anne’s chest ached as she looked up at it.

“I heard you’re having a competition with the Silver Sugar Viscount.”

Suddenly, a voice came from behind her.

Startled, she turned around to find Gladys standing there. She wasn’t sure when he’d arrived. His hair, a color like green and blue dyes dissolved in milk, was captivating in the afternoon light.

Challe had told her not to let her guard down around Gladys. Deciding to be a little more cautious, Anne discreetly put some distance between them. Gladys seemed to notice and smirked.

“What is it, Anne? Did Challe warn you not to get too close to me?”

“No, but…”

She tried to smooth things over, but Gladys took a step toward her. She backed away with a start.

“See, I knew it,” he said. “But, Anne, there’s no need to worry. I haven’t talked to Challe about this yet since he’s being so cautious, but he and I share a very close bond. I simply haven’t been able to confide in him for now because I can’t read his true intentions—that’s all.”

Gladys gazed at Anne earnestly.

“Close?” she repeated.

“Yes. I would never bear any ill will toward him or things that are important to him. I have no intention of harming him. He and I…”

Just as he was about to explain—

“Gladys. What are you doing?”

—a voice cut him short. Bridget came down the stairs. Gladys smiled at her as she slowly descended.

“Nothing at all,” he replied. “I decided to go out for a walk, and Anne was here. I was just asking her about her competition with the Silver Sugar Viscount. Are you out for a walk, too, Bridget? Shall we go together?”

Bridget came closer and casually linked arms with Gladys. She looked at Anne.

“A competition with the Silver Sugar Viscount? Are you serious?” Her face was harsh.

“We’re having a contest. That’s all.”

“…You can’t possibly win…”

Bridget looked a little crestfallen, then she lowered her eyes and walked off. Anyone who thought about it could tell that Anne had basically no chance of winning. But Bridget had seemed disappointed.

Does she want me to win for the sake of the workshop?

Bridget was proud of being the daughter of the Paige Workshop’s maestro. She’d said it was why she had worked so hard at her studies, even though she didn’t enjoy them.

Anne watched Bridget and Gladys walk away, then looked up at the portrait again. Suddenly, she felt uneasy. Gladys had been about to say something.

“He and I…” Where was he going with that?

“Oh, Anne! This is just perfect!” Hal cried happily as he came up the stairs.

In his hands, he was holding a tray with a set of tea utensils on it.

“I was just about to bring some tea to the Silver Sugar Viscount’s room, but, um, I’m kind of…frightened of that bodyguard of his. Could I ask you to take it up instead?”

“Sure. No problem. That’s easy enough.”

It sounded like Hal and Danna were afraid of Hugh and Salim simply because Hugh was the Silver Sugar Viscount.

Anne took the tray, but when she arrived at the room on the third floor, Salim was not standing in front of the door. Finding that strange, she looked around. Then she heard Salim’s voice coming through the door.

“Now, Viscount?”

She could hear the surprise in his voice. That was unusual for Salim, whose emotions were normally difficult to read.

“Yes,” Hugh answered coolly.

“Why?”

“Why? Let me see, because I am the Silver Sugar Viscount.”

She heard Salim sigh. “So you are.”

“I have another errand for you. Go to the place specified here and ask them about the item mentioned there. All I need you to do is listen to their description. If they have a sketch or an example, even better. Make sure you come back before the sun goes down at the very latest.”

“Understood.”

Suddenly, the door opened, and Salim came out.

“Anne,” he said.

“I brought up some tea.”

“Thank you.”

Salim accepted the tray and glanced back into the room. Over Salim’s shoulder, Hugh waved with a smile.

“You seem calm, Anne,” Hugh said. “Everything going well?”

“…Not too bad.”

In fact, she hadn’t made any progress at all. Hugh had a clear basis for his sculpture and was already moving ahead with his work. Compared with him, she was in quite a pitiful situation.

Hugh grinned suggestively. He seemed to see right through her bluff and down to the shame beneath.

“Keep it together, Anne. Don’t let me down now that you’ve challenged me to a match.”

“I know.”

For the sake of everyone in the workshop, she would have to come up with something.

I’m just not as clever as Hugh.

Anne went down the stairs and stood in the lesser hall again, in front of the portrait of Herbert.

That’s why I can’t keep my thoughts from wandering off in all directions. If I’m making something for Noah, I have to try to understand how he feels. I have to see what he saw.

The tragic portrait was the only thread that Anne had to cling to. Noah, who could barely move, had planted himself in front of it. She had to imagine what he had been feeling as he gazed up at it.

Just as Noah had done, Anne sat with her arms around her knees, facing the portrait.

She could hear the millstones. Apparently, the candy crafters were wolfing down their meals whenever they had a moment. Around noon, Danna and Hal made sandwiches and took them into the workshop. When they found Anne sitting on the floor facing the portrait, they seemed startled, but they stepped around her quietly without saying a word.

Anne tried imagining that it was a portrait of her beloved mother—Emma—or Challe, or even Mithril, hanging there in front of her.

The more she imagined it, the sadder she became. Why was the portrait so damaged? Gazing at something like this would only make a person even more miserable.

But this portrait alone was free of dust. It was likely that Noah had been keeping it clean. How had he been able to look at something so pitiful with such love?

Before she knew it, the room had grown dim. The sound of the millstones continued.

Suddenly, she sensed someone behind her.

“Still not tired of staring at it, huh?”

The cold, prickly voice belonged to Challe. The sound of it was refreshing, like the burble of a clear stream. It brought a cool, pleasant feeling to her when she was at an impasse.

He knelt next to her and looked up at the portrait as well.

“Did you think of anything?” he asked.

Anne shook her head. “I just don’t know. Noah was always looking at this picture. But I don’t know what he was thinking about when he looked at it. What was he seeing, exactly? I’ve been staring at it forever, but I can’t make anything out.”

“Maybe it’s something you can’t see. Something only visible to him.”

“Something I can’t see?”

His words gave her pause.

“I wonder why I can’t see it,” said Anne. “There must be something, or he wouldn’t have stared at it like this.”

If the picture had been painful to look at, it would have been agony for him to stare at it.

And if he was just using his imagination to remember something, he could have done that while still in bed. There would have been no need to go all the way to the hall and gaze at such a thing.

Something was there, for sure, in that portrait. Something that brought Noah comfort. It had to be there, but she couldn’t see it. She wondered why that was.

“If I can’t see it…maybe that’s because it’s hidden…”

Anne looked up at the portrait once more and realized something with a start. She stood up and put her hand on its unassuming frame.

“Challe! I want to take this portrait down off the wall. Please help me!”

Though he shot her a curious look, Challe stood up without comment and put his hands on the frame. The two of them together managed to get the portrait off the wall and lower it to the floor.

“Let’s turn this over,” said Anne.

Without stopping, they lifted it slightly from each side and, by switching positions, flipped the portrait over.

The dim light revealed the back of the large canvas. Torn fabric jutted out here and there. But the center area was undamaged. And there, on that undamaged stretch of fabric, in delicate brush strokes, was a painted crest about the size of a fist.

Two swords crossed over a white shield. On top of the swords was a purple lion with its front legs raised. A fluttering dark-blue banner adorned the edge of the shield. The colors were quite dark, but they were regal and powerful.

“A crest… Could it be the Chamber family’s?”

Anne mumbled the question, and standing beside her, Challe nodded.

“Looks like this one escaped the eyes of the Millsland royal family.”

Every Chamber family crest had been stripped away, destroyed, and burned in an attempt to erase their existence. The only example that still remained was right here. Noah must have known about it. He must have known that the last crest was hidden there.

A crest is the pride of any noble family. For Noah, who had been Herbert’s page, the Chamber crest must have seemed like the embodiment of Herbert’s spirit. That’s why he had been staring at it.

This was the thing that Noah had been looking at.

“I’m going to make this.”

“This is a banned crest,” Challe said quietly. “This is the crest that the Millsland royal family tried to erase from this world. You would revive it?”

Anne felt a shock run through her. It might incur the displeasure of His Majesty and the royal court. She might be regarded as someone who defied the royal family. She probably wouldn’t be executed, but her title as a Silver Sugar Master had been bestowed on her by the king. She wasn’t sure whether she would be forgiven for making a piece of sugar candy that His Majesty found disagreeable.

Yet at the same time, something close to rage welled up inside her.

“Every member of the Chamber family is gone now. It’s not like anything is going to happen just because some people see this crest. Why, then, was it violently ripped from this castle? Because it displeased the royal family? Is that all? But I’m not making candy to present to the royal family. I’m making it for someone who really needs it. It’s wrong to ban something that people want to create, that people want to look at.”

She gazed again at the crest.

“I can’t accept such selfishness. If I can’t make candy to help people, then the title of Silver Sugar Master has no meaning. To make what’s required, and the very best version of it—that’s what being a candy crafter is about. If there’s a possibility that someone might desire something, we make it. That’s why I’m going through with this.”

Challe broke into a smile. “You really are fearless. To go behind the Millsland royal family’s back.”

“It’s not that I want to quarrel with the royal family. I simply think this is what Noah wants, so I want to make it for him—that’s all. My explanation may not be understood or accepted, but I can’t stop just because of that,” she declared, gazing into Challe’s eyes.

“Make it,” Challe said. “Make what you want to make. And whatever happens after that, I’ll protect you.”

His words had a quality to them that sank deep into her heart. But why would Challe go so far as to say that? It was unbearably strange.

Suddenly, Anne felt anxious. What if Challe felt tied to her in some way, just like Noah had been tied down by Herbert’s words? She didn’t feel the least bit pleased by what he had said.

“Why would you protect me? There’d be nothing in it for you, Challe. Because I gave you your wing back, and you feel obligated to me? If that’s the case, you don’t have to worry about it. I gave it back because I wanted to, so there’s no need for you to feel obliged. It was my own decision. I just wanted you to be free, so…”

“I’m not crazy enough to risk my life for an obligation.”

“So then why?” Anne asked.

Challe fell into a perplexed silence, but his right hand slowly moved to touch Anne’s hair. His fingers shifted from her hair to lightly graze her cheek, then to stroke the nape of her neck and her shoulder.

“Obligation, advantage, desire… Do I need a reason?”

His fingers ghosted over her skin, tickling her and giving her chills. They brushed her hair again and toyed with the ends.

“Don’t ask me for reasons. Even I don’t know why I feel this way. The reason doesn’t matter. I want to protect you, so I will. Whether you’re being chased by the Millsland royal family or the gods themselves, I will protect you. I’ll be by your side. Forever.”

Anne’s feelings became unsettled. Ripples of joy and confusion were spreading through her heart.

“Forever? But why?”

“I told you not to ask.”

“Oh right. You did, sorry.”

She apologized in a panic, and Challe chuckled. Then with the fingers that had been playing with her hair, he gently stroked Anne’s chin and brought his lips close to her ear.

“Your scarecrow brain forgets everything so quickly.”

His voice was sweet, like teasing pillow talk. He grazed her earlobe lightly and planted a kiss there.

“Remember this, if nothing else. I’ll be by your side always. I will protect you. I swear.”

His whispers sounded like honeyed declarations of love. But Anne decided they probably meant something completely different. She couldn’t be sure. Challe himself had said he didn’t understand his feelings, so how could Anne?