The Secret Wrapped In Quilts (3)

The women sighed openly in disappointment—so that Kardia would hear just how unfortunate they found Noi’s “selfishness.”

“My, how frightful. Children don’t know their limits. Lord Kardia, if you need consolation, summon us at once.”

“We were the ones who intruded. Lady Noi may still find this difficult… so please, do not scold Lord Kardia.”

They insisted on treating Noi not as a bride, but as a child.

Noi’s response to such women had already been decided the moment she saw Kardia, clothes trailing as he came forward.

“Being tolerant and lacking propriety are different things. Rest assured—Kardia will be properly kept under my thumb.”

It was an unchildlike, singularly un-cute reply; the women were struck speechless. Perhaps finding it amusing, Kardia let out a short, breathy laugh.

“…Your thumb is light. It won’t be a hardship.”

“Oh? And you think you know how heavy my thumb is?”

“My, my. I remember your weight on my stomach quite well.”

Noi frowned, suspicious, then recalled the one time she had sat on his stomach.

“Ah—that was—!”

Her cheeks flared red; the women looked even more dumbfounded. There was a hint of something risqué in Noi’s fluster, and they must have misunderstood—thinking there was that sort of relationship between Kardia and the girl they’d never considered a rival.

While Noi sputtered and scolded Kardia in a huff, the women slipped away. Left behind were only Noi, Kardia, and Aidoni—who looked, frankly, a little taken aback.

“…Lord Kardia. If you’ve welcomed Lady Noi as your bride, please keep your dalliances in check.”

“Oh? Knowing you, I expected you to beg clemency for yourself next. Has she already brought you to heel?”

Kardia’s teasing made Aidoni’s cheeks color.

“To win someone over with a single bath—your skill surpasses mine.”

“Honestly, you…”

Noi reached for Kardia’s clothes.

He stiffened with a start; gently, as if to reassure him, Noi straightened his loosened attire.

“You hate exposing your skin—so what are you playing at?”

Kardia drew a faint breath.

“…Did I ever say that?”

“I can tell by watching.”

He always wore close-fitting clothes. He kept to them even in bed; surely he had his reasons.

Noi tapped Kardia’s arm—ton, ton—and, practiced, he set her down. When Noi stepped into the room, Kardia slunk in after her.

The bed was sized for two. Seeing the rumpled bedding, Noi spoke.

“Are Kardia and I sharing a room?”

“That was the plan—but… perhaps we should prepare another.”

Aidoni cast Kardia a jaded look. Girls this age were fastidious; after glimpsing an intimate scene with a man she knew, her regard might have plummeted.

“No—I want the same room!”

The one who insisted was not Noi, but Kardia.

“Then at least let us prepare a different room. This bed…”

Aidoni stared down at the tangled sheets as if they were something unclean.

“What are you saying? You can re-make the sheets.”

“But what if there’s… something… on them…”

When Noi moved to pull the sheets back into place, Aidoni flushed red then pale, trembling.

“There shouldn’t be anything on them. —Kardia, I’m sorry.”

At Noi’s words, both Aidoni and Kardia gaped.

“M-my lady, he is the one who committed infidelity.”

“Ha ha. So he was.”

Noi smiled, then turned to Aidoni.

“Now then, I have to scold my bridegroom for his wandering eyes. I’ll see to the bedding—go and rest. Thank you for today, Aidoni.”

Thus dismissed, Aidoni had no choice but to leave.

Alone together, Noi tugged Kardia by the clothes.

For Kardia, that alone was enough; he followed easily, like a dog who knew he was about to be scolded.

She sat him on the bed and took a seat beside him, then patted his head—there, there.

“I’m sorry I came back late… Did I frighten you?”

Through the fringe of black hair, wide crimson eyes peered at Noi.

That alone was enough for her.

Meeting his eyes squarely, Noi saw Kardia turn his gaze aside as if to flee.

Then, wearing a formed smile, he faced her again.

“What are you talking about?”

“Whether I protected you.”

Kardia pressed his lips together. Tall and slender as he was, his eyes wavered like a lost child’s.

After a silence, he spoke carefully, breath laced with a sigh.

“…If I say I was scared—will you believe me?”

“Of course. I promised.”

Noi answered at once and took Kardia’s large hand in both of her small ones.

His body trembled.

—Perhaps.

Until that day—until feverish Kardia said “I’m scared”—Noi might never have even conceived that a man so capable, so adult, so complete could fear anything. Much less that the thing was the softness of a woman’s skin.

But Noi had heard Kardia’s words then.

And she remembered, from a hundred years ago, the nameless boy trembling at the corner of a table.

“I believe your words, Kardia.”

She tightened her grip; Kardia lowered his head.

At length, he squeezed out a small voice from his throat.

“…It’s not fear. It feels filthy.”

Kardia, hands quiet in Noi’s, murmured.

In that moment, he could not have looked less like a mage of a hundred years.

“Once, that treacherous old bastard meddled. Since then, I can’t bear the disgust.”

“The treacherous old bastard”—proliferating epithets aside, the only one Kardia called “old bastard” these days was Fengalow. It suggested they had dealt with each other even after Noi’s death.

(What did he do to you…)

Noi stroked Kardia’s head—there, there—and he exhaled from his whole body; the rigidity in him loosened a little.

“What did you do with lovers before?”

If he disliked joining skin to skin, he must have struggled—she asked, and Kardia let out a resigned smile, close to self-mockery.

“To have a lover, you need someone you long for.”

Far more earnest than she had imagined, the answer widened Noi’s eyes.

“…There wasn’t?”

“No. Not for a very long time.”

It sounded like resignation—and yet, somehow, like a wish entrusted to a distant star. Noi’s chest thrummed for no clear reason.

It felt like peeking at the treasures in his precious box without permission—though she had not been granted the right.