Hand-Me-Downs and Royal Blue
I must have been in rather a hurry. I wanted to see Cassion just as badly, so I followed straight on Bella's heels. At last, the moment had come to see whether my eye had held true. Brimming with anticipation, I fixed my gaze on the royal carriage.
Dayson climbed down first. Then Cassion followed him out…
"What on earth is he wearing?"
Bella said it for me. Cassion's outfit was a complete disaster. He had come not in the clothes I'd bought him, but in the ones Dayson had worn and handed down—an enormous garment folded over and over just to hang on his frame. My anger shot straight to the crown of my head.
"Diana, the gentleman behind him is a prince too, isn't he?"
I barely managed a nod.
"But his outfit is a little…"
Irritation flaring, I didn't even want to deal with Bella. Before she could finish, I brushed past her and planted myself in front of Dayson. The royal escort knights closed in around the four of us.
"Lady Diana, why don't you head inside first?"
Dayson greeted me with a slack grin. I returned his courtesy politely, then turned toward Cassion. Under ordinary circumstances I might have traded a few words with Dayson, but one look at Cassion's state and I couldn't bring myself to smile and chat with the man.
"Lady Diana?"
Dayson called after me. I wanted to ignore him, but forcing myself to remember that, for now, he was not someone I could afford to snub, I turned back with my fists clenched tight.
"Your Highness Dayson, I quite forgot—I was to introduce my cousin. Bella, come here."
If I wanted even a moment's peace to speak with Cassion, it was better to hand Dayson off to Bella. She came running as though she'd been waiting all along, her face flushed pink. In the carriage I had explained Dayson to her at length, and that explanation alone had driven her fondness for him to its peak.
"The First Prince is coming, Bella. You know he's Queen Julia's legitimate son, don't you? I won't trouble you with an explanation of Queen Julia. The way I see it, His Highness Dayson will suit you perfectly."
"And the Third Prince accompanying him?"
"The previous queen's child. Even you know that much, surely?"
It was rare for children our age to have the royal genealogy down pat, but Count Kolkos had very likely already fed Bella the information. Sure enough, she gave a faint nod, professing she knew it all. And then I saw it—the smile curving at the corner of her mouth.
I had wondered, once, when exactly Bella had fallen for Dayson. For the briefest moment I had even asked myself whether my end might have turned out differently had she confessed her feelings for him to me beforehand. But watching her now, I concluded it would have changed nothing. From the instant Bella learned of Dayson's existence, she had wanted to possess him—and to have him, she would have stopped at nothing.
She coveted his rank, the power he would one day hold.
In the past, Bella's transparently scheming behavior would have turned my stomach, but today it left me almost pleased. If you'll take Dayson off my hands, I'll be grateful. The Bella I'd known before my death had been cunning; this young Bella was nothing but a fool. Humiliated under our own roof, yet scurrying out at a single summons from me. Straining to impress a man without realizing I had deliberately tangled her up with him. Without the faintest idea what the future holds. I almost laughed at myself for ever having been so wary of her.
"Your Highness Dayson, they say some terribly famous mages are coming to the festival today. Have you heard?"
Bella chattered at him, and Dayson's gaze slid her way. I used the opening to speak to Cassion.
"Your Highness, what are you wearing? Did you not see the clothes I sent?"
Lest anyone nearby overhear, I spoke without parting my lips, which naturally drew us close together.
"I saw them."
Cassion answered through clenched teeth, lips pressed into a thin line.
"You didn't like them? I was certain they'd suit you beautifully."
Cassion's brow furrowed. So Flac's report—that he had raised a fuss the moment the clothes came out of their wrapping—was true, then. Even if he hated them, surely they beat the flour sack he's wearing now. Out of respect for a man's right to his own taste, I would concede a hundred points, but the clothes Cassion had on today were an affront to his very face.
"Don't tell me you're about to say what I sent was worse than what you have on."
"He wouldn't let me wear them."
Cassion made as if to kick at a pebble, lifting his left foot and tapping its toe forward—aimed precisely in Dayson's direction.
"I can't fight him."
He added, his face full of apology. Just as I'd expected. The clothes weren't to his taste, but the fact that he had tried to wear them anyway was so endearing I asked nothing more. He must feel worse about not getting to wear them than I do.
"Still, you can't go around dressed like that. People will compare you to His Highness Dayson."
Cassion looked from Dayson to himself and back, then screwed up his face. His pride had taken quite a bruise, it seemed.
"I did suspect you might pull something. That's why I packed a spare."
Dayson would never stand by and watch Cassion appear at his side in splendid clothes. Still, I never guessed he'd forbid it outright. I'd assumed he would spill food down Cassion's front or shove him into a filthy puddle. Either way, I had ordered a second outfit in a different design and stowed it in the carriage. The seamstress swore it absolutely couldn't be done—talking her around nearly wore me out. The persuasion had drained me so thoroughly that I'd briefly wondered if the effort was wasted, but thank goodness I'd seen it through.
"You think he'll sit still?"
"We'll make him sit still. Go on, get in the carriage."
With a word to Jenice, I had Cassion ushered inside.
"Cassion, where are you going?"
Dayson shouted the moment he saw him climb aboard.
"Your Highness Dayson, I have something to discuss with you."
I stepped into Dayson's line of sight. When his gaze swung to me, Bella, who had drifted aside, glared up at me—then, the moment our eyes met, broke into a smile. Already acting as though Dayson were her husband-to-be. In the past she had always played the good girl, the innocent, the devoted cousin; but perhaps because she was still young, Bella could not yet govern her own face.
"Your Highness Dayson, I have prepared a set of clothes for His Highness Cassion."
"You, Lady Diana? Whatever for?" Dayson asked, startled.
"I was worried His Highness Cassion might cast a shadow over you."
Dayson only blinked, as though the words refused to make sense.
"I had heard that His Highness Cassion has rarely gone out in his capacity as a prince. Having met with him a few times myself, I can confirm the rumors are true. His Highness Cassion's attire is…"
I let the sentence trail off and glanced at Bella. She was often slow to read a room, but this time she took her cue flawlessly.
"I was shocked when I saw it earlier, that's all. Your Highness Dayson practically glows, while His Highness Cassion's clothes are…"
"Tacky and shabby. That's what you mean."
Dayson cut in, snapping her sentence in two. For an instant Bella searched his expression, wondering whether she had blundered, but she soon relaxed. His voice had been level, yet his face brimmed with delight.
"The mages cooperate with the crown, but they are not wholly the crown's men. So there is no need to hold your tongue. If His Highness Cassion goes about dressed so… shabbily, as you say, it will drag down people's estimation of you as well, Your Highness."
Dayson seemed to chew over my meaning, then burst into a hearty laugh.
"Hahaha, Lady Diana, your thoughtfulness is truly exquisite. And Lady Bella has the most refined taste."
Well, well. Dayson's keeping both fish on the line.
Having smiled impartially at Bella and me alike, Dayson launched into a rambling monologue. How he'd been meaning to buy Cassion a proper outfit anyway, since his clothes were so tacky; how often his fashion sense had drawn praise—utterly worthless talk, every word of it. Bella clapped along, delighted by stories that were neither entertaining nor instructive. What exactly was so wonderful, I couldn't say; neither of them lost their smile for a moment.
Half a day together, at the very least. The mere thought made my head begin to throb. I feel more drained than when I deal with Count Kolkos. I was just resolving to pry the two of them apart somehow when—
"My lady, His Highness Cassion is coming out."
Jenice announced it, and every gaze swung to the carriage door. Through the wide-open gap came a glimpse of sleek shoes, and Cassion stepped down from the carriage. He moved like a wind-up doll with a broken spring.
"Wow."
Unlike his stiff, awkward movements, he was handsome enough to wring gasps from onlookers without their meaning to. He wore vivid blue trousers tailored to his frame, cuffed just enough to bare his ankles. Over a shirt trimmed with ruffles at the collar and buttons he wore a waistcoat of the same fabric, the same blue, as the trousers. The buttons, this time as well, were brilliant gold—the very gold of Cassion's eyes.
The seamstress had worried the colors were too vivid, but her fears proved groundless; on Cassion, both the piercing blue and the blazing gold looked stunning. I knew that pale skin of his would carry them. It was an outfit made for a festival. The austere splendor of the blue set off his radiance all the more.
No one would ever guess he was a sickly child. From his clothes alone, anyone could tell Cassion was someone precious. Blue cloth was astronomically expensive—and money alone could not buy much of it. The dye used to produce it was exceedingly rare and ruinously dear, so only a limited quantity of the fabric was woven each year. And yet the world, apparently, contained rather a lot of royalty and high nobility. Since everyone and their uncle wanted garments cut from the precious blue, the price soared year after year—and still people queued for it, the blue cloth shortage running on for years without end. If only blue could be made by artifice. Then I'd have every last one of His Highness Cassion's garments made in blue. It suits him, after all. Pride swelled in me at how well my choice had turned out.
"Diana, do I look strange?"
Cassion shuffled up to me, hesitant and stiff, and asked.