“Ha.”
The Emperor tipped his chin up slightly and let out a hollow laugh. He had actually been not bad while dancing. Perhaps the special training was paying off. He had certainly made fewer mistakes than before.
He’d even maintained his form after a full turn, so Guien had given him a bit of praise.
“Still so damn cocky.”
Tsk, tsk. Clicking his tongue, the Emperor turned his gaze back to the pavilion. Michel D’Albret was awkwardly getting to his feet, staring in the direction Lev had fled, as if he might rush after him at any moment.
As for the runaway consort, there were only so many places he could go. For now, this side needed watching.
When the Emperor returned to the pavilion, Michel finally snapped to.
“Sir Lev…?”
“Who knows? Seems he was embarrassed. We’ve only ever danced alone; this was the first time we showed anyone else.”
Guien dropped an ice cube into his teacup and spoke as if it were nothing. But Michel pressed his lips together as if it wasn’t nothing at all.
“Well, well?”
A sneer ghosted over Guien’s mouth, hidden by the teacup.
“You must dance with Sir Lev often.”
“We practice every day.”
“Do you mean to dance together at the birthday celebration?”
The Emperor chuckled as if to say, Isn’t that obvious? Michel’s fingers tightened slightly where they hooked the rim of his cup.
Lev was the Emperor’s consort, after all. Perhaps it was only natural but hearing it said out loud set his heart roiling again.
“We’ll be making our entrance together as well.”
At that, Michel lifted the head he’d dropped. His eyes locked on the Emperor, frozen in disbelief.
“If you do that, Your Majesty’s honor will…”
Is that all he can think to say? Guien didn’t bother to hide his derision, though his tone stayed bland.
“If I say it’s fine, who’s going to claim otherwise? You? Or the Marquis D’Albret?”
“No. That’s not what I meant.”
“Right. It’s not your concern. Lev is my consort.”
Watching Michel’s eyes sink lower and lower, the Emperor set down his emptied cup and rose from his seat.
“Rest a while longer, then. I’ll be going ahead.”
He gave Michel D’Albret, who looked up at him speechless, a cursory glance and turned away. He’d made Lev’s identity plain. There would be no more foolish ideas. Now it was time to go find the consort who’d bolted.
Crazy. This is crazy. This makes no sense. Why is this happening?!
“Sir Lev? Sir Lev! What’s wrong?!”
Lev barreled along… well, speed-walked, since he couldn’t exactly sprint, without even looking back at Marco, who was anxiously calling his name and hurrying after him.
With every step, his face changed shade until it was outright flushed red. Not just his face. His ears and fingertips felt feverish too.
“Aaagh!”
“Gasp! Sir Lev! Are you all right?”
Marco, startled by Lev’s scream as he clutched his head, rushed up and then stared, eyes round.
What do you even call that expression? The despair of someone crushed by an unforgivable mistake? Or the grief of someone who’s just suffered something that must never happen?
Anyway, Lev’s face looked exactly like that.
No. No way. Are you insane? Why the Emperor? No matter how handsome he is, that’s a no.
Even if he helped the two leads get together, survival would be a toss-up. What good would realizing his own feelings do? Especially when he didn’t even have the guts to confess them.
But no matter how he tried to deny it, the moment he had danced with the Emperor kept replaying in Lev’s head.
When his chin was seized, his head tilted up, and he met those warm, gentle eyes and that smile… The instant he saw them, his heart reacted strangely.
No. ‘Strangely’? I was just startled! Startled!
If asked what had startled him, he couldn’t give a clean answer. Lev shook his head hard, trying to rattle the fantasies out of his skull.
“Eek! Sir Lev!”
Marco, alarmed by how hard Lev was shaking his head and wobbling, grabbed his arm.
It was bad enough that Lev had rudely turned his back on the Emperor and run off; what he’d been doing since was beyond Marco’s understanding.
“Marco.”
“Y-yes?”
Something about the way Lev said his name, even a little forceful, made Marco stammer.
“Where’s the swimming pool.”
“The swimming pool?”
“Do they not have one here? Or is there a pond or lake I can just plunge into somewhere?”
Marco blinked at him as if to say, What on earth?
Lev hurried to rephrase. Then Marco realized what he was after, nodded like he understood, but still looked puzzled.
“There is a lake on the west side of the palace, but…”
“Let’s go!”
Lev seized Marco’s arm and urged him on. Marco, dragged along, reflexively set course for the lake.
It meant skirting the palace, passing through several gardens, and heading farther out. It wasn’t near. Halfway there, Lev almost thought this had been a bad idea.
But he couldn’t back out now. What Lev needed was water to cool his fever, water he could plunge into and dive deep.
That was why he’d asked about a swimming pool. He felt sure that if he went under, the weird behavior he’d been showing would settle.
Following well-tended plantings and shaded paths, they finally caught sight of rippling blue. At some point Lev surged ahead of Marco and started to run.
“Sir Lev!”
Marco called out in alarm, but Lev only ran faster. His cravat came loose from his neck; his waistcoat slipped off.
Reaching the lakefront, Lev sucked in a breath and leapt straight in.
SPLASH!
“Eek! Sir Lev!”
Marco, arriving a moment later, shouted in panic. But Lev had already vanished, leaving only a scatter of bubbles.
Marco stamped his feet at the water’s edge, frantic. Lev had been under for a long time and still hadn’t surfaced.
“What do I do! What do I do!”
Just then—
“Pwah!”
Lev burst up, spitting water. He sucked at the air, breath rasping between his lips after holding it so long.
His heart pounded, hard and fast. It was the same as when he’d seen the Emperor’s smile—and yet somehow a little different.
“Damn.”
Lev shook his head violently to fling away the thought that had shot back up. Droplets flew from the tips of his hair.
“Sir Lev!”
At last he heard Marco’s desperate voice. Lev waved once at him then dove back under.
The sun-warmed water wasn’t cold. The temperature was perfect, the pressure around him gentle; his vision went milky; he could feel the thump of his heartbeat vividly.
Lev dove until his lungs hurt and his breath was ragged, then shot back up only when he couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Hu-aa…!”
Spitting water, Lev lay back on the surface. Hot sunlight poured over him from head to toe.
With his eyes closed, he heard nothing but his own ragged breathing. The odd lurching of his heart finally seemed to calm.
Right. This had been “odd.” There was no way, no way, he’d developed special feelings for the Emperor.
“Right. Of course not.”
Feeling he’d finally found his composure, Lev opened his eyes. He took a deep breath in and out, righted himself in the water, and looked to where Marco should be standing. What he saw instead was the Emperor, wearing a furious expression.
“Eek!”
With an operatic shriek, Lev ducked back under in a flash. The Emperor’s brows twitched; then he let out an incredulous huff of laughter.
After leaving the garden, he’d asked after his consort’s whereabouts and heard he’d headed west rather than back to the palace. Guien had been on his way to run him down, figuring he’d slink off to his rooms, when the chamberlain cautiously suggested they might be at the lake.
“What, there?”
Puzzled, Guien arrived at the lakeside to find only the scatterbrained attendant he’d set to shadow Lev. The man was wringing his hands and staring at the water.
“What’s going on!”
Sensing something wrong, the chamberlain rushed up to ask. Only then did the attendant, realizing the Emperor had appeared, stammer out a ridiculous answer.
“Sir Lev dove straight into the water and isn’t coming up.”
“What?”
Before the chamberlain could say anything, Guien barked and strode forward. When the attendant and a knight moved to stop him from jumping in, his face turned murderous.
Just then, with a great splutter, Lev surfaced, dripping. The Emperor stopped dead and stared at his consort.
Lev, apparently unaware of who had appeared on shore, lay back as comfortably as if it were his own bed.
A hush fell. The chamberlain, Marco, and everyone present glanced at the Emperor to take his temperature.
The Emperor folded his arms and shifted his weight to one leg, glowering at his consort floating on the water.
How long did it go on? At last Lev pushed himself upright and their eyes met.
“So he dove right back under, did he?”
Guien dropped his arms and strode straight into the lake with a splash.
“Y-Your Majesty, please—steady yourself!”
“Your Majesty! You mustn’t! It’s deep there, it’s dangerous!”
The startled knight and attendant belatedly tried to stop him, but the Emperor waved them off.
He stopped where he could see Lev. A face shimmered beneath the surface. For Lev, the bottom was just out of reach; for the Emperor, the water lapped about his chest.
Lev lifted his head under the water and rolled his eyes around. He had no idea why the Emperor was doing this. Honestly, he wished he’d just go away.
This is insane.
His heart, which he’d thought had finally settled, started pounding again.
“No, that’s just because I’ve been underwater too long.”
He denied it as best he could, but he couldn’t ignore the Emperor standing above the surface. Then Guien dropped his arms and bent sharply at the waist.
“—!”
In an instant, he was close to the surface; he plunged his hands into the water. He didn’t care that his clothes were soaking, that his body was half submerged. His hands found Lev’s arms—one in each—and seized them.
“Pwah!”
Dragged up out of the water, Lev gasped for breath. The grip on his arms didn’t loosen.
But Lev barely noticed that. He just stared blankly at the Emperor. His heart hammered like it was going to blow.
Was it the grip on his arms? The locked gaze? The beating sun?
Or was he simply not right in the head?
“Are you crazy?”
He probably was. It sure felt that way. Words Lev couldn’t say aloud tangled in his head until they slowly fell into place.
He seemed to have fallen for the Emperor—for Guien Angoulême, the very man who might one day drive him to his death.
“Dammit. This is ridiculous.”
So flustered that the filter failed, the words popped out.
The Emperor’s eyes flew wide. He stared at Lev in disbelief. Only then did Lev realize what he’d said.
“No, no, I mean, that is…Your Majesty, what I meant—”
“So you really are out of your mind. Get out. Now.”
The Emperor clamped one hand around Lev’s forearm and hauled. Even if Lev wanted to dig in, he couldn’t. Unfortunately, no matter how he stretched his toes, he couldn’t touch bottom.
“Your… mmph—Maj—wait….”
He wanted to say, I can get out on my own; let go. But every time he opened his mouth, water got in, and he couldn’t form the words as he was dragged along.
Guien shot him a look over his shoulder as Lev’s lips flapped uselessly, his brows lifting in a fierce warning.
“Quiet.”
Just one word, but with enough force to silence him at once. Lev had no choice but to kick along as he was towed.
Soon his feet found the bottom, and the two of them came out of the water.
“Your Majesty!”
The chamberlain had somehow already procured towels. The Emperor snatched one roughly and all but threw it at Lev, who had dived in wearing nothing but a thin shirt and now stood with his upper body fully exposed.
“If you were going to run, you should’ve gone quietly back to your room. What the hell is this?”
Lev, who had reflexively thrown the towel over his head, scowled and tried to glare at the Emperor—then couldn’t quite meet his eyes and looked at his throat instead.
“Why come chasing me just to pick a fight?”
At this point, Guien should’ve fired off some cutting line. Why was he so quiet? Finding the lack of reaction strange, Lev slowly raised his gaze. The Emperor was looking at him as if weighing whether to hit him or what to do at all.
And there was something… odd about it.
“What is that expression supposed to be?”
Wherever it landed in Lev, it tickled in a strange, itchy way.
“Why don’t you tell me why you ran.”
When Lev, unable to endure the awkwardness, fidgeted and tried to hide his face behind the towel, the Emperor tossed out the question. Was that why he’d followed him because he wanted to hear this?
Something about all of this felt off.
“I didn’t run.”
“Didn’t you? You bolted in the middle of a dance.”
“‘Bolted,’ he says.” Honestly—what kind of Emperor talks like that? Lev grumbled inwardly and tossed out a line.
“I said I didn’t.”
“Oh?”
Really, he hadn’t. Yet even while making excuses, Lev’s gaze skittered away from the Emperor’s eyes and landed somewhere around his jaw.
Guien watched him quietly. He was clearly hiding something—but clearly had no intention of saying it.
“Then why did Your Majesty come here?”
At a loss for an answer, Lev lobbed the question back.
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