When Rishe opened her eyes, she found herself in a patch of sunlight.
To be more precise, she was in a bed bathed in light. Enveloped in silky sheets on a soft mattress, she felt as though she were in a dream. Distantly, she heard the comforting scratch of a pen. She listened to it, feeling sleepy again.
Wait, a pen?
Eventually, the strangeness hit her, and she lifted herself up. Arnold sat working at the desk.
Huh?
Arnold stilled his pen and gave her an amused smile.
"Oh? Finally awake?"
"P-Prince Arnold?!"
Rishe sat up with a bounce, hands planted behind her on the bed as she looked around wildly.
"You don't have to get up. Feel free to sleep a bit longer. You've only slept for half a day."
"Half a day? What do you mean?"
This was her room in the detached palace, no doubt about it. To keep her from floundering, Arnold explained, "You passed out on the rooftop of that building. I brought you here in Theodore's carriage, and I couldn't just leave you alone after all that. Your maids didn't know what happened; they wouldn't have known how to take care of you."
"W-wait, don't tell me you've been here the whole time? Have you slept any yourself?"
"I would have been awake anyway. I had work to finish."
"I'm so sorry I fainted!"
Rishe bowed as well as she could from a sitting position. She realized as she did that she was wearing a nightgown instead of her torn dress.
Wait, why am I wearing this? Who changed my clothes?
"Don't worry. I had that maid come in. Elsie, I think her name was?"
Rishe sighed in relief, not even annoyed that he'd done his usual mind reading. She watched as Arnold stood up and came over to the bed.
"How are you feeling?" He asked gently.
Having him and his handsome face so close made her feel self-conscious. "I'm fine now. Sorry to be a bother."
"I don't care as long as you recover."
Arnold held out a letter to her. Rishe opened it to find familiar handwriting—it must have been from Theodore.
Dear Sister,
I'd like to apologize for the terrible things I did. There are too many to count, but I'll do my best. I swear that someday I will repay my debt to you, and I'll lend you the aid of the people of the slums. If you can give the people of the undercity a place to belong, then you can count on us whenever you need us. You better be grateful.
Rishe smiled wryly. She appreciated the offer, but she'd prefer to never be in a position to require aid.
P.S. Thank you.
Rishe traced the letters with her fingertip. "You and Prince Theodore had a talk, didn't you?"
Arnold frowned. "What makes you say that?"
"If you hadn't, you wouldn't be the one handing me this letter."
Arnold said nothing, but his lack of denial made her sure she was right. The letter eased her mind, at least for now. Perhaps this was a small change in this life from the last six, shrinking the distance between the two brothers. She couldn't prevent the happy grin from spreading over her face.
"Why are you smiling like that?" Arnold asked.
"I'm pleased. Why wouldn't I want my husband on good terms with his family?"
"Sometimes I think you're the strangest woman I've ever met." Arnold said, his eyes downcast, mouth softer than usual.
That pleased her too. In fact, she was very happy with this whole turn of events.
Arnold looked back up. "I forgot to mention. Think up something that you want. A penalty."
"A what?"
Did he want to…buy her something?
"I broke my promise again," Arnold said. "I touched you."
"Huh?"
"You gave me permission at the party to touch you with gloves on, but this was different."
What was he talking about?
Rishe cocked her head, puzzled. He always wore black gloves. He was wearing them right now.
Finally, it hit her. "Oh."
He was talking about that night a week ago in the chapel. Arnold had been wearing gloves, but he hadn't touched her with his hands.
Rishe's face burned.
He touched me with his lips.
"I-I don't need anything!"
Flustered, she snatched the sheets to hide her face.
Arnold's smile went distinctly sly.
"You could just tell me why…" She trailed off.
"Why I did that?"
"Never mind!"
Rishe did want to know, but she couldn't help denying it. That night had been weighing on her nerves increasingly ever since. It had made last night even more difficult.
She'd resolved to speak to Theodore, but she'd frozen at the sight of Arnold. She'd been so relieved when he'd acted like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Maybe it didn't mean anything?! Or maybe it did? I don't know! And that's why I've tried so hard not to think about it!
"Rishe."
"Now what?" Rishe revealed only her eyes for glaring.
Arnold chuckled. "I'm sorry about all the trouble my brother caused."
Rishe could barely believe she was hearing this. Words spoken by a true older brother who felt a sense of responsibility and sympathy for his sibling. She wished Theodore could have heard.
Rishe shook her head. "It was no trouble at all. He'll be my little brother soon too."
Arnold looked briefly surprised, then pleased. "That's true."
"Mm-hmm."
The burning flush had gone down, but Rishe's heart was still pounding. The feeling was strange. She wasn't sure if she liked it.
In the grand scheme of things, today might be trivial. But it was with these little things, one after another, that she would change the future.
Or so she prayed.
**************************************
That evening, Arnold's attendant, Oliver, rubbed his forehead in consternation as the prince summarized the day's events. "So, all that's really happened is Prince Theodore becoming Lady Rishe's ally."
"And that troubles you?"
"You know it does."
When Arnold didn't respond, Oliver dropped his voice to a murmur. "Your brother is no ordinary prince. He is a king in his own right to the underclass, all those who flirt at the edges of legality and treason."
"So it would seem."
"What's more, the young women of the palace adore Lady Rishe. And now she has connections to the Aria Trading Company as well, which has been spreading its influence all over the world. She has the servants, a guild, your brother, and the people he commands." Oliver counted on his fingers the personal connections their future crown princess had made within the scant few weeks she had been in Galkhein.
"What else could she be doing other than building out her faction?"
A faction that could, in time, become a threat.
Arnold did not appear concerned. "So what? I far prefer this to my future wife finding herself alone and helpless."
"But Your Highness—" Oliver bit off his entreaty.
If Arnold was allowing it, he had his own reasons. Resigned, Oliver heaved a sigh. "Very well. All shall be as you will. Also, something arrived for you."
Oliver presented the prince with the letter. Arnold grimaced at the impression in the wax seal before breaking it and giving it a swift glance. He grunted and handed it back. Oliver bowed reverently as he accepted it, swiftly appraising himself of its contents. It was a missive from an individual of some importance from a distant place.
"Oh my."
It opened with words of congratulations for Crown Prince Arnold on his betrothal, begging indulgence for the writer's inability to attend the wedding ceremony in the coming months. Instead, the letter writer intended to visit Galkhein before the ceremony, with a gift.
What now? Oliver rubbed at his temples.
More trouble, that's what.
To be continued…