Theodore thought back to several years ago, when Galkhein was still at war. He signed up as a battlefield medic, working at a first-aid station where the injured were transported. By mutual agreement of both sides, it was designated as a safe zone.
Someone attacked them anyway. They were brigands, rather than soldiers. They'd looked feverish, intent—rendered destitute by the war. They'd shouted at the medics to hand over their medical supplies, valuables, and food, menacing them with blades.
Those who could flee did so, leaving the ruffians to target the most severely wounded. Theodore had tried to run as well, but then he'd realized something.
He recognized their attackers: they were men from the slums. The realization rooted him to the spot, and then he'd reflexively run to them.
Theodore had grown up ignored by his father and constantly compared to his prodigy brother. He knew these people. They'd smiled at him as he went about his charity work, the way his father never had. They'd worried for him in place of his late mother. They were dear to him. He refused to fight.
He might be injured. He might even lose his life. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the moment he'd feared never came. Instead, he had heard a hoarse scream.
When Theodore opened his eyes, he saw his brother, back to him, wielding his sword.
Brother…?
He forced the word out around the fear.
His brother, Arnold, slowly turned. A crimson arc was painted across his face, arterial spray from the man whose throat he'd cut. Red droplets dripped down to the ground. The crown prince's expression didn't change as he surveyed the bodies at his feet. He wiped at the blood on his face with a cuff, careless.
For a moment, Theodore was sure his brother would kill him as well. After all, he could count on one hand the number of times they'd spoken in living memory. His beautiful, terrifying brother. The stranger.
Theodore knew of Arnold's achievements on the field, and of his cruel nature that didn't bother to distinguish between friend or foe. He was paralyzed with fear.
But after a moment, his brother withdrew his icy gaze and said, "You did well."
Huh?
Theodore was dumbfounded, unable to comprehend what his brother could mean.
Arnold didn't meet his eyes. "Despite your trembling, you were right to protect our subjects. It's hardly a royal's job, but an admirable deed as a lord, nonetheless."
Theodore was at a loss for words.
"Next time, don't risk your own life." Arnold said gently.
"But you should be proud of how quickly you acted."
Arnold had been watching him. He had been watching Theodore, the child who couldn't wield a sword and could only assist in the camp. It made him indescribably happy to know this.
—
Back in the present, Theodore glared at Rishe, who wore his brother's black jacket on top of her dress.
I adore my brother. And that's why I cannot permit this. I didn't want to hurt anyone, but if I must…I don't care. I'll die. I'll die if it will hurt him. I'll kill her. I'll kill her and then my brother will hate me—
"Trying to kill me would be an exercise in futility." Rishe said.
Theodore flinched. Was she reading his mind? Under normal circumstances, he could have hidden his disquiet, but his mind felt storm-tossed. Her manipulations had left him utterly lost.
"I know I said I was here to settle this, but I'm not going to fight you," Rishe added. "I entreat you to tell me your goal."
Theodore scowled. "Isn't it obvious? I want to be the next emperor. Why else do princes fight?"
Rishe shook her head. "I don't think that's true. I beg you to take this chance to explain yourself to us both."
He would never tell her. He refused to tell her. However, Theodore's determination was immediately overruled.
"Your true objective is to wear the stigma of a heinous criminal," Rishe guessed. "You want people to believe you a usurper. You don't actually want the throne."
Arnold frowned. Theodore was even more surprised.
How does she know? He nearly blurted the question out loud, but he didn't dare let his brother hear it.
"What are you talking about?" he snapped. "Nobody commits crimes simply to become a criminal."
"Well, I suppose calling it your 'true ' objective is misleading. But let's assume your goal is what happens after you are named an enemy of the state." It had to be just a random guess, but Rishe sounded so sure of herself.
"I couldn't figure it out for the longest time. Why would you go after me of all people? But this theory explains that, and everything else."
"How? I told you already—I did it to hurt my brother." Theodore forced a smile. "You're just dismissed as a hostage inside the palace, but the nation will celebrate you as the crown prince's bride. And my brother's reputation would be ruined if he failed to protect you."
Theodore didn't dare look at Arnold; he couldn't risk him seeing how shaken he was. "You were far more useful than I could ever have predicted. That's why I chose now to make my move. I was going to threaten Arnold with your safety and force him to give up his line in the succession!"
"To outsiders, my only value is that I'm the crown prince's fiancée. His position matters, and nothing more."
"I suppose."
"You didn't possibly think it would work, did you?" Rishe asked. "Using me as a means to force His Highness to hand over his title?"
Her words were humble, but Rishe stood confidently. It didn't seem to bother her at all that other people saw her as worthless.
"I can say definitively that there was very little value in having me abducted. You're not stupid. Why did you bother? Was it just to annoy everyone?"
"No." Theodore said, averting his eyes from Rishe.
"You've had next to no official duties as the second prince for the past few years, is that right?"