The ard bodyguards who had appeared so suddenly were all n belonging to Dolores’s second brother—the second prince. The VIPs’ guards on the second floor had been able to respond so swiftly because the robbers had confined their attack to the main hall below; none of them had attempted to climb the stairs to the second floor, much less the third, where Jenkins and the others were.
“Sothing about this doesn’t add up, does it?”
Jenkins remarked.
“But surely your brother wouldn’t have staged this himself? That would be an incredibly foolish idea.”
“Unless there was more to it than just that.”
Dolores said with a frown.
Suddenly, another volley of gunshots erupted from below. A multitude of barrels were now aid at the windows of the upstairs boxes, unleashing a barrage of fire. Screams once again filled the air. The ice, never particularly sturdy to begin with, shattered instantly under the hail of stray bullets. Jenkins reached out without hesitation, pulling Dolores behind him for cover.
When the gunfire ceased, the box was in a state of utter disarray. The area near the window was particularly chaotic, littered with smoking wood splinters, half-lted blocks of ice, and shattered fragnts of the wall.
Jenkins held up a hand, stopping Dolores from craning her neck to see what was happening. He then caught his cat, which had leaped over in a frightened scurry, and settled it on his shoulder. With one hand clasped behind his back, he cautiously approached the ruined window.
He stood sideways, peering down. The commotion in the hall had been brought under control. Uniford guards were thodically restraining the robbers.
A young man standing before the ruins of the stage happened to look up just as Jenkins, cat perched on his shoulder, glanced down. Their eyes t across the distance. Jenkins could discern the hostility and arrogance in the young man's gaze, but the distance was too great for his own expression to be seen.
“That’s the second prince, His Highness Lack Stuart.”
Julia whispered from behind Jenkins.
“His hair color is... unusual. No one has hair that’s naturally blue, do they? Is it a unique trait of the Stuart family? Or perhaps his mother’s side has so peculiar lineage?”
Jenkins inquired softly. He couldn't see the telltale glow of an Enchanter on the prince, but he did detect an aura with an intensity that suggested a powerful, perhaps even a numbered, item.
“His hair wasn’t always that color. It changed three winters ago. He took a group of people out of the city to see the first snowfall and disappeared for a full day and night. He was the only one who returned, and he had no mory of what had transpired. The only lasting consequence of the incident was his hair turning that shade of blue.”
Dolores added.
Jenkins nodded, his mind racing. The incident below likely had nothing to do with him or Dolores, but it revealed a startling truth: the conflict among the royals had escalated to a dangerous, almost desperate, level.
He couldn't understand why the young royals were so impatient when King Salsi II was still in the pri of his life. But one thing was certain: his journey to the northern kingdom was shaping up to be far more eventful than he'd anticipated. The internal strife of the Stuart family, he suspected, would leave a lasting mark on his travels.
Jenkins remained at the window, observing the chaos below, the air filled with sporadic shouts and the faint sound of weeping. He narrowed his eyes. A feeling stirred within him, a sudden, ominous premonition. Perhaps this holiday in Ruen was destined to bring sothing far worse than the coming of an angel.
(Chocolate scampered on...)
That evening, Jenkins stayed at Dolores’s estate. Though the unfamiliar bed was a little too soft for his liking, making for a slightly uncomfortable night, the accommodations were otherwise excellent.
As usual, he was woken promptly at six in the morning by Chocolate. Despite Dolores having prepared a comfortable bed for the cat, it had still chosen to sleep by Jenkins’s pillow.
He had been sleeping on his side, so when he opened his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of Chocolate crouching before him, a pitiful expression on its face.
“What is it?”
Jenkins asked as he sat up. Not expecting the cat to suddenly start speaking, he continued,
“It’s not breakfast ti yet. You can’t be complaining about being hungry, can you?”
“eow~”
Chocolate let out a soft, pitiful cry, lifting its head to gaze at Jenkins with wide, amber eyes that seed to glisten with unshed tears. Even its tail, usually so full of life, drooped listlessly against the sheets.
“Didn’t you sleep well?”
He asked again.
“eow~”
The cat rose from its crouch and stretched out a paw, scratching a few tis at the sheet beside the pillow.
A puzzled look crossed Jenkins’s face. He threw back the covers, found his slippers, and slid out of bed. Still in his pajamas, he reached down and lifted the bedsheet, then peeled back the layers of mattress padding beneath. Finally, tucked between the last layer and the wooden bed fra, he discovered a few tiny grains of rice.
It wasn't a sign of careless cleaning by the staff, but a tradition in the Hamparvo Kingdom. When using new linens or bedding for the first ti, it was customary to scatter a few grains of rice on the bed fra. The practice was said to ward off misfortune and help the occupant acclimate to their new surroundings more quickly.
It was, of course, nothing more than a quaint and unreliable folk custom. But clearly, the grains had made Chocolate extrely uncomfortable. The cat must have felt the hard kernels digging into its side all night, but because Jenkins had forbidden it from wandering to other parts of the bed, it had simply endured the discomfort.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Jenkins stroked his cat soothingly. He couldn't help but wonder if Chocolate was secretly the feline incarnation of the Princess and the Pea.
“This cat has more refined sensibilities than I do.”
Because princesses who were not yet of age were forbidden from spending the night outside the royal palace, Dolores had escorted Jenkins back to the estate the previous evening before returning to the city with Julia. Thus, overnight, the only occupants of the manor aside from the staff had been the writer and his cat.
Jenkins had expected to eat breakfast alone. After coming downstairs, he was led by a maid down a long corridor and saw that the dining room doors were open. From within, he could hear the sound of voices.
“Oh, Alexia! I'm so glad to see you,” Jenkins exclaid as he entered. “Good morning. When did you get back?”
He walked briskly to her side and gave her a light embrace. She looked just as pleased to see him and gestured for him to take the seat opposite her.
It felt rather wasteful for only two people to be seated at such a long dining table, but they were the only guests at the estate, and the maids would never have dared to presu to join them.
“I returned at two this morning,” she explained. “I heard you’d arrived as soon as I got back, but I knew you’d be asleep, so I didn’t disturb you. How was your day yesterday? Did you enjoy yourself?”
She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and then expertly cut into the food on her plate. Jenkins watched Chocolate eating with its usual elegance, his mind elsewhere. He had a feeling her question was a trap.
“It was alright.”
It was a perfectly noncommittal answer.
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