18. A Walk
I realized that Lord Keith intends to stick close to me just because he was ordered to. Once I noticed that, a lot of feelings of emptiness welled up inside me.
Still, I had to go to the garden where Queen Marguerite and Brother Roland might be having their tea party.
“…Understood.”
Resigned, I nodded slightly.
“In that case, let us go together. Please teach me many things, Master Keith.”
“I am aware.”
As I lowered my head deliberately, Lord Keith bowed respectfully in return. Ugh… he’s so cool!
I, on the other hand, was filled with mixed emotions, but there was no helping it.
(Lord Keith is the son of a marquis. He cannot disobey orders.)
I knew that, yet my chest still ached just a little. He wasn’t following me because he was interested in what I was doing—he was acting solely under the marquis’s orders, to keep an eye on me.
Even so, it was true that I had been helped by Lord Keith’s presence. Fortunately, I had been able to see his true thoughts. That alone was enough to be grateful for.
I would continue learning from him as before, while searching for a survival route.
“Lord Keith. I want to go to that garden over there.”
“Yes.”
I said it, brushing aside all other feelings, and Lord Keith positioned himself a little behind me, then started walking quietly.
A perfect distance. I had to give up on being alone.
Walking along the path that led deeper into the garden, my eyes landed on the grass and flowers underfoot.
“Lord Keith, do you know what plant this leaf comes from?”
I held up a small leaf I had plucked, and Lord Keith glanced at it before answering.
“It’s Mireina Grass. If dried and wrapped in an herb packet, it can be used as an insect repellent.”
“I see… Then what about this one?”
I pointed at a low bush with narrow leaves I had found next. Lord Keith stopped walking and replied gently.
“That’s a Luluka Tree. If you dry and decoct the young leaves that appear in early spring, it helps reduce throat inflammation. Its white flowers, which bloom during the rainy season, are the identifying feature.”
“And this one…?”
Next, I pointed at a small plant with tiny purple flowers. Surely he wouldn’t know this one—at least, that’s what I thought.
“It’s the Sorané Flower. It blooms at dawn and withers by evening. It has hallucinogenic properties, so it’s unsuitable for medicinal use.”
…Incredible.
Half amazed, half in admiration, I couldn’t help but speak up.
“Lord Keith, that’s amazing! As expected of my teacher!”
It was a heartfelt comment. Surprised, I forgot all my earlier doubts and smiled brightly. Lord Keith’s long eyelashes fluttered, and his golden eyes looked at me.
And—just for an instant—his mouth curved softly into a faint smile.
(Huh… did he just look a little happy…?)
Before I could dwell on it, Lord Keith resumed walking.
“If Lady Lilybell says so, then my efforts were worthwhile.”
Even though he spoke with his usual calm, detached tone while his back was turned, I somehow felt a faint warmth in it.
A little further along, through a gap in the trees, I caught sight of a flash of white cloth and held my breath.
“Oh… over there…”
I whispered softly, careful not to point. Lord Keith followed my gaze and immediately nodded.
“…That would be Queen Marguerite and Lord Roland.”
As expected, he answered quickly. Even from a distance, the two exuded elegance as they sat across from each other at a table in the far end of the garden.
Queen Marguerite, wearing a pale green dress that matched her delicate frame, had her red hair loosely braided. She looked almost like a fragile flower.
She seemed even more fragile than I remembered from the dream.
Yet, holding her teacup, she smiled gently.
Opposite her, Brother Roland sat properly in his knight’s uniform, his red hair matching hers, occasionally glancing at the queen with concern.
Even from a distance, I could sense how deeply he cherished his mother.
“They seem to be in the middle of their tea party. We should go back so as not to disturb them—”
“Perfect! Let’s watch secretly!”
“Huh?”
Before Lord Keith could respond, I tugged his sleeve quietly, not wanting to waste time explaining.
“Lady Lilybell—”
“Shh, quietly.”
If the dream had been accurate, there might be a clue here.
I quickly pulled myself back, tugging Lord Keith’s sleeve slightly more, and hid behind a gazebo, watching the two as they enjoyed their tea in the garden’s shade.
(It really is exactly like in the dream.)
Hiding in the shadows, I watched the scene intently.
“…I heard that your health hasn’t been very good lately, Mother.”
“Yes, a little. But having tea with Roland like this makes me feel very calm.”
Their voices carried softly on the wind. It was a peaceful, gentle moment.
A very warm scene—but why did it make me feel so uneasy?
Queen Marguerite’s voice was calm and elegant, but her complexion was slightly pale. They picked cookies from the table and laughed together.
(In the dream, didn’t Lilybell make some observation about her health?)
I traced the memory of the dream in my mind. What had she said… something about food, right…?
The novel’s plot where Queen Marguerite had already died.
There’s no proof that this is the truth. Yet, the dream-self who seemed to know something, and the two in front of me now, felt perfectly connected, and it made my chest ache.
“Lady Lilybell, how long are we going to keep standing here like this?”
“Eek!”
Lord Keith’s low, slightly flustered voice fell beside my ear, and I instinctively looked up at him.
He was incredibly close. Foolishly so.
When I opened my eyes and looked at my hands, I realized I hadn’t just grabbed his sleeve—I was pressed completely against him, clinging.
“Ah, I-I’m sorry! I got too caught up hiding…!”
I whispered, trying to sound quiet, and carefully stepped back.
Lord Keith blinked slowly. Though his expression remained neutral, somehow it seemed that the corners of his lips twitched slightly—was that just my imagination?
“There are no impure intentions at all! But… you smelled really nice, thank you!”
What on earth was I saying?
Flustered, I realized my words were all over the place.
As I bowed my head so hard I thought my face might catch fire, Lord Keith’s golden eyes suddenly narrowed. That was a wry smile, wasn’t it?
