ITMFYWCLBU 14

The day of the Flower Appreciation Gathering arrived.

Beneath a brilliantly clear sky, elegant laughter and lively conversation rang through the air.

Across the fountain, the flowers cultivated by Queen Félicité were displayed opposite those grown by Joanne and Princess Wiejeny.

Invitations had been sent to houses of count rank and above, and the castle gardens were now crowded with nobles eager to admire the queens’ blossoms.

Tea and sweets were served, and the castle maids hurried busily about.

Clarisse, though a lady-in-waiting, worked in shifts at Félicité’s side on such occasions, so her actual duties amounted to little more than two hours.

After spending the first two hours attending the queen, Clarisse now stood at ease, nibbling on a confection while gazing at Félicité’s flowers.

To prevent guests from carelessly touching the displays, fences had been set up around them, with knights standing guard.

As Gracian’s aide, Alexis had no duty watching over the flowers; for some time now, he had been accompanying the crown prince, receiving nobles who came to pay their respects.

…Honestly, it’s pathetic how I keep looking for Alexis without meaning to.

Before she knew it, she found herself searching for him again. Determined to focus on the flowers instead, Clarisse turned her back toward the direction where he stood.

The blooms cultivated by Princess Wiejeny and by Joanne were magnificent, but the undeniable star of the venue was Félicité’s rainbow rose.

Félicité’s improved roses had always been popular. After being unveiled at the Flower Appreciation Gathering each year, requests for seedlings reportedly poured in.

These improved varieties were supplied only to a select few horticultural shops, and the profits went directly into the national treasury—apparently not an insignificant sum.

Though the rainbow rose seems difficult to grow… so perhaps it won’t be sold this year.

According to Félicité, the rainbow rose was reluctant to bud. Coaxing it to bloom required meticulous temperature control, fertilizer management, and pruning. She was currently attempting to refine the variety to make it easier to cultivate; perhaps she intended to release it to the market once that effort succeeded.

A bright, bell-like laugh drifted over.

Turning her head, Clarisse saw Félicité and the king conversing cheerfully a short distance away.

It seemed His Majesty was once again taken with the queen’s flowers this year. Snatches of their conversation carried phrases like, “I want that rose.” Surely he meant the rainbow one.

“Once the gathering ends, I shall cut a few and have them brought to you.”

“Ah, please do. That one over there is lovely as well.”

“That one might be better enjoyed in its pot rather than cut. At this time of year it doesn’t require the greenhouse, so we can send it to your chambers as it is.”

Listening to the affectionate exchange between husband and wife, warmth spread through Clarisse.

According to her memories, Félicité’s flowers would be chosen again this year—but after the recent incident in which the greenhouse blooms had been slashed, she had harbored some anxiety. From the look of things, however, all seemed well.

…When His Majesty took Joanne as his wife, how did Lady Félicité feel?

As she watched the royal couple, the thought came unbidden.

She had always accepted such arrangements as natural for royalty. But now, suddenly, it unsettled her.

Félicité might be queen, but she was still a woman.

When Clarisse learned that Alexis had taken an interest in Princess Wiejeny, it had felt as though her very body were being torn apart. And yet Félicité had been required not merely to endure infidelity, but to accept another woman as her husband’s wife.

If it were me… I couldn’t bear it.

The thought of the man she loved taking another wife was something Clarisse simply could not accept.

Though Félicité had no choice but to acknowledge it for the sake of her position, what had she truly felt? Had she suffered as Clarisse did? Or had she managed to reconcile herself to it?

Was her own heart simply too narrow?

Even beyond the royal family, nobles often kept mistresses. Was it something one ought to accept as commonplace?

In Clarisse’s case, Alexis’s betrayal had led to her death two years in the future.

But even without that, it would have been unbearable.

More than the matter of life or death, it was the transfer of Alexis’s heart to another that wounded her most.

It seemed she was deeply—perhaps excessively—attached to him.

She had known it vaguely, but now she acknowledged it fully.

It was precisely because she was so attached that it hurt this much. And that was why she wanted to escape that attachment—wanted to be free. To turn her great love for Alexis into hatred, and live without this agony.

If only this feeling of “love” would simply vanish.

“Clarisse, may I have a word?”

Lost in the unanswerable question of how love might become hatred, Clarisse started at Félicité’s voice.

“Yes!”

She hurried to the queen’s side.

Félicité pressed a hand gently to her cheek, looking faintly troubled.

“I’m sorry to trouble you during your rest. I’ve just remembered—there’s a pot we meant to display that seems to have been left in the greenhouse. It’s a small one. Would you fetch it for me?”

“Of course. That’s no trouble.”

Even as she answered, Clarisse tilted her head slightly.

Had there truly been another pot scheduled for display? She had been told the number beforehand, and she didn’t recall any small one among them.

Yet if Félicité said so, it must be true.

“It’s placed near the greenhouse entrance.”

“I understand. I’ll retrieve it at once.”

“Oh, there’s no need to hurry. Take your time. Go slowly.”

“…? Y-Yes, as you wish.”

Go slowly?

The gathering was already halfway through. Would it not be better to hurry?

Perhaps she means I should not forget my grace.

In the presence of so many nobles, rushing about would indeed be unseemly.

So Clarisse offered a proper curtsy to Félicité—and to the king at her side—before making her way toward the greenhouse.