The day five days before the long-awaited banquet. An unexpected stroke of luck came her way. Without having laid any groundwork whatsoever, her target had suddenly approached Millicent first.
“Are you the maid called Millicent?”
She had been tending to the golden hostas and irises along the garden path. The royal gardener had nagged endlessly, insisting they present a perfect garden to the distinguished guests attending the banquet.
But then, of all things, someone who couldn’t even be bothered to help had the nerve to act familiar.
“I am the Queen’s lady-in-waiting.”
Millicent recognized who she was at once.
Charlotte Brennan.
She was a woman built like a famished squirrel. Exceptionally petite. Even in heels high enough to strain her ankles, the hem of her pink gown dragged through the dirt.
Even so, her proportions were wondrous. From a distance, she might even have looked like a stylish lady of quality.
Millicent, who had been crouching, quickly straightened up.
“I heard you know how to read fate with cards.”
Charlotte was holding a wolfhound puppy with patchy fur in her arms. It was the one Queen Jaydalin kept. She must have come out to walk it in the Queen’s stead.
“Go play over there. Jaybie. No, Gravy.”
As if annoyed, she shook the puppy out of her arms.
“Whatever your name is, don’t come near me, you stupid beast.”
While the wolfhound pup sniffed at the unfamiliar world, Charlotte brushed the hem of her gown with her hand.
“I can’t stand furry things. Is Her Majesty deliberately making me take care of that creature, or what?”
She grumbled incessantly.
Millicent, on the other hand, liked dogs. She watched blankly as the creature toddled about on its stubby legs. Animals were simple and had never once harmed her.
Unlike humans, who were far too complicated and harmed her far too frequently.
“Read my fortune with cards, too.”
Charlotte snapped her fingers in front of Millicent’s eyes.
“I’ve met every astrologer in the capital, and not one of them was satisfactory. They all say the same thing; it’s grown dreadfully dull.”
She pushed out her pink-painted lips like a spoiled child.
“You look a bit more interesting.”
“What sort of fortune would you like told?”
“Love luck. Success luck. Perhaps a fortune that combines the two.”
Word that the King was selecting a Royal Mistress already seemed to be circulating through the court. Charlotte’s brown eyes flashed with desire.
“Have you ever seen His Majesty the King?”
“No.”
“He is a truly magnificent man.”
Charlotte spoke as if she were having a fantastic dream.
“Of course, what he can give me is far more magnificent.”
And with that, she concluded her reverie with a practical calculation.
“Come to the Queen’s palace after dinner later.”
She did not even wait for Millicent’s reply.
“We’ll be practicing our entrance dance for the masquerade there.”
Charlotte arbitrarily concluded that the matter was settled. Still, it was not a bad proposal. It would be an opportunity to formulate a plan, however impromptu.
“One more thing.”
Charlotte added this to Millicent, who was bending her knee.
“Can you tell me what the main dish will be at the banquet?”
She wore a rather cunning smile.
“You come and go from the kitchen and manage the food stores, don’t you?”
“I was told not to spread rumors about it beforehand.”
Millicent answered blankly.
“I want to know.”
In an instant, Charlotte’s attitude turned overbearing.
“If you don’t want to be beaten, speak now.”
As if anyone would be frightened of an ill-mannered noble girl in a drooping pink gown. Millicent snickered.
That was a slight mistake.
Even a highborn lady ignorant of the world seemed to possess animal instincts. Charlotte flinched, her face taking on a frightened look.
Her mother had emphasized that she should be especially careful when smiling, and moreover, that she had to use her eyes and mouth together to appear normal. Millicent still found that lesson difficult to follow.
“If you truly wish to know…”
Lest word spread of a maid with strange eyes, Millicent quickly smoothed things over.
“The truth is, I accidentally lost my weekly wages last week.”
Charlotte understood at once.
“Hmph, maids!”
Seeing behavior much closer to the expected norm, she was relieved. She held out the bracelet she wore. Thin, but gold-plated, with a tiny sapphire set into it.
“If you give a good reading, I may give you more.”
Charlotte spoke as if dangling bait.
“It’s lark dish.”
Millicent wondered what one would eat at a mere banquet was worth such a price, but she answered readily.
“Ortolan, is it? How tragic. I happen to like larks.”
Her face showed no trace of sadness whatsoever, but Charlotte said this anyway.
“Don’t forget to come later.”
Then she strode off in a flash, even forgetting the simple common sense that she ought to take the puppy she had brought with her.
Millicent picked up the wolfhound pup, now dirty from dust and scampering about in that brief time.
She had once seen Queen Jaydalin bury her nose in the creature’s fur. She tried the same. It was soft and warm.
“Hey! We’re busy—why aren’t you moving?”
The royal gardener, who seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown, shouted.
“Lady Charlotte left behind Her Majesty the Queen’s dog.”
Millicent cast aside the tedious trowel with a swing.
“I’ll have to chase after her and return it.”
As expected, the gardener could only groan, unable to argue.
Where winter had passed was refreshingly crisp. As human presence grew sparse, Millicent let the squirming pup out of her arms. Together they smelled the vegetation greeting spring.
But the pup, which had been walking calmly ahead, suddenly strayed from the path. It ran toward the hill where a towering forest had been cultivated within the palace grounds. Millicent followed.
The more time she spent on the Queen’s dog, the more she could put off maid work; it was not a bad trade.
“You are…?”
Where the pup stopped, she encountered an unexpected figure. It was precisely that man rumored to make people faint on sight with his fantastical beauty.
He was sitting in the grass. Today, too, he wore rather luxurious clothes, without a care that they might get dirty.
The Queen’s dog circled his feet, wagging its tail. It seemed overjoyed to meet someone it knew as well as its own master.
“If it isn’t that con artist from before.”
“First you called me a hunter, and now a con artist?”
He tucked the lavish gold locket necklace at his throat inside his linen shirt and laughed incredulously.
“Then a con artist it is! Because of you, I lost all of last week’s wages.”
Perfect timing. Millicent assailed him like a storm.
“You took way more than two deer are worth. You didn’t even give me a receipt! And wasn’t I not supposed to take venison in the first place?”
“I was merely playing along with your tune, miss.”
The man answered shamelessly.
He’s annoying; should I just kill him? Millicent considered it seriously. Reflexively, she checked that no one was watching nearby and felt for the knife hidden in her bodice.
“Goodness, that’s a frightening expression.”
He clicked his tongue at her eyes, which had gone cold in an instant.
“My apologies. Back then, I got swept away because it was my first time meeting someone as unusual as you.”
Then he pulled a slender watch chain from his trouser pocket.
“I had worried you might be in a difficult situation… I’m glad we’ve met again. Would this be sufficient compensation?”
Receiving it in the rush of the moment, her eyes went wide. It was a luxury item intricately crafted from gold. It would more than cover a maid’s weekly wages.
“Do the people here all lack any sense of money?”
Recalling the bracelet from Charlotte, she clicked her tongue.
“And no one carries cash; they only barter, truly…”
“Hmm?”
“It’s nothing. I forgive you, I suppose.”
Since he insisted on giving her far more than enough, Millicent stopped grumbling.
“Wait, what’s with your face?”
Only now did the man’s face fully come into view. He was as handsome as when she had first seen him, but today he strangely had bright red liquid smeared around his mouth.
“You must have been very hungry.”
Millicent spoke as if she understood.
“But how could you tear into a hunted beast raw like that? You’ll get sick. And it looks gruesome.”
She clicked her tongue.
“Goodness, even I don’t do such things…”
Of course, she had tried before. Though it had ended in nothing but a scolding and failure.
“It isn’t that.”
The man smiled, understanding a beat too late.
“This isn’t animal blood…”
He wiped his face with a handkerchief.
“Well, you see…”
He seemed about to gloss over it as if it were a truth more terrible than having blood on his face.
“It’s pudding.”
“What?”
“I ate custard pudding. I put plums on it, and the juice spilled everywhere, so…”
He shook his head.
“Why are you hiding that you ate pudding?”
“Because it’s not a sight for others.”
When Millicent did not understand at all, he added:
“I suppose it’s not the sort of dessert a man who looks like me would enjoy.”
“What does appearance have to do with what you eat?”
Millicent, who was confident she could tear into a whole roasted chicken even in front of an ambassador, still could not understand.
“Ah! You stole it from the royal kitchen, didn’t you? That’s why you’re flustered?”
Instead, she offered a far more plausible guess.
“That’s not—”
The man started to refute but muttered to himself.
“…since I did secretly sneak it out, it’s not entirely wrong.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell on you.”
Millicent wasn’t listening anyway.
“I steal food sometimes too. I’d starve to death if I only ate what I’m given.”
She showed him a single grape she had secretly swiped that morning, tucked into her apron pocket while avoiding the head maid’s glare. Of course, she had no intention of sharing it.
“Anyway, Miss Smith…”
“Who’s that?”
“Isn’t your name Millicent Smith?”
She had fabricated it and then forgotten it completely because it was too shabby.
“…I’ll just call you Millicent.”
The man let out a hollow laugh.
“If it’s a made-up name, it has no meaning anyway.”
“That’s true.”
Millicent shrugged.
“Anyway, Millicent, please don’t tell anyone that I was secretly eating pudding here.”
“I don’t know anything except that you’re a hunter named Phineas—who would I tell such a story to?”
“My name isn’t Phineas, and I’m not a hunter…”
He was about to sigh and refute when he suddenly stopped.
“I wanted to ask last time, too… Aren’t you afraid of me?”
Why did he keep saying such incomprehensible things?
True, he was conspicuously handsome, with an impression as cold as a wall of ice. But that was no reason to be afraid.
“No. Not at all.”
“That’s a relief.”
The man smiled.
“My name is Freddie.”
“A name that doesn’t suit your looks, so no one calls you by it.”
Millicent recalled belatedly.
“So you are a hunter?”
“That’s wrong, too. I simply left it be because you were mistaken.”
“So you never had a mustache either, then?”
“…Mustache?”
He asked back, puzzled. Millicent was busy thinking of the real hunter whose face had been needlessly clawed by the old maid Tracy, so she did not answer.
“Wait, then what are you? If not a hunter?”
Only now did suspicion dawn on her.
“You’ll find out soon. Next time we meet.”
The man donned a cryptic smile. Then he lightly lifted the wolfhound puppy, which had been clinging to him whining for attention, with one hand.
“I’ll take Tebbie back to the Queen.”
“Tebbie?”
“You brought him all this way without even knowing his name?”
He pointed at the pup.
“Lady Charlotte called him Jaybie or Gravy, at least until she went out to walk him and forgot him.”
“Charlotte Brennan hates animals, so it’s hardly surprising.”
He spoke in a tone as if he knew the ladies of the court intimately.
“She’s a woman who smacks her lips at the thought of skinning pelts to make clothes at every turn.”
For some reason, a displeased look crossed his face.
“That’s a shame. I like animals.”
Millicent said the first thing that came to mind.
“Though I’ve never raised one. No, I haven’t even been near them much.”
“Why is that?”
“The gentleman of the house I was indebted to in the past said I couldn’t.”
Mullery, the butcher, had blocked puppies and cats alike from coming anywhere near her.
He claimed it was because the shop held so much meat that would make them smack their lips, but… Millicent vividly remembered his eyes, filled with worry.
“…I think he was probably worried I would kill them.”
It had been a perfectly reasonable safety measure for Uncle Mullery to take.
“Why is that?”
The man raised his eyebrows.
“He was someone who worried a great deal.”
Pulling her bonnet string tighter beneath her chin, Millicent glossed over it.
“You seem to be someone who makes a lot of mistakes.”
The man understood this quite placidly.
“Then let us meet again, Millicent.”
Only when the man, with the dog in his arms, disappeared into the distant haze did Millicent realize that she had let him go too easily with just those words—that she would soon know his true identity.
But she did not even have the presence of mind to harbor questions about how he had smuggled food from the royal kitchen, how he had recognized the Queen’s dog at a glance, or why he had offered to return it to the Queen as if it were only natural.