Home/I confined you, but I have no ill will/ch 28

28.

"Alright, alright, I get it!"

Leonhardt tugged at his wavy golden hair.

"So when will the engagement ceremony be?"

"After His Majesty's birthday."

"Isn't that too soon?"

Preparing a noble engagement ceremony was no simple task—invitations had to be sent to allied houses, responses collected, and a banquet hall prepared to accommodate them.

"I don't plan to invite many people."

"Does Lady Ibelin agree?"

"Yes. Since I am still inexperienced in many things, I would find it burdensome to be shown before a large crowd."

The two answered in perfect harmony.

"Fine. If that's the case, I suppose it can't be helped. But there will be opposition—you know that, Uncle."

"I know."

This time, Kite wore a dangerously amused smile. Go ahead—try to stop me if you dare. Reading his meaning clearly, Leonhardt sighed again.

"Uncle, honestly..."

"Honestly?"

He had much to say—but Leonhardt brushed it aside. Because he knew that Kite wouldn't change no matter what he said.

"Never mind. More importantly, now that you're back, you need to take over the duties Draven was handling."

"Was Duke Draven guarding Your Majesty?"

"Yes. I didn't assign him the post, but he insisted on staying by my side."

"Oh dear—that must have been unpleasant."

"It wasn't that bad. Just annoying."

"He really doesn't know when to give up."

"Then get back to your post as soon as possible!"

Normally, Kite did as he pleased—but when it came to matters of importance to the Empire, he always protected Leonhardt. As one of the Empire's greatest swordsmen and a Swordmaster, it was necessary. He could threaten other nations and keep Emperor Leonhardt safe—that was Kite's duty.

"Understood. I'll return immediately. Is the room prepared?"

"Don't ask that—your room is always kept ready. But what about Lady Ibelin?"

"Wherever my beloved is, I should be too."

"Then I ask that another room be prepared in the palace."

"You should have said that earlier."

Leonhardt waved his hand but accepted their request.

"I'll have a room prepared as quickly as possible. Though it will be somewhat distant from your quarters."

Kite's quarters were the rooms he had used when he was still a member of the imperial family, so they were far from the guest rooms.

"Can't I have Ibelin stay within my palace?"

"No! An unmarried couple sharing the same space—absolutely not!"

Ibelin agreed with Leonhardt on that point. Since they would eventually part ways, it would be troublesome to let rumors run too deep.

"How disappointing."

What's there to be disappointed about! For once, Leonhardt and Ibelin were of the same mind.

---

Ibelin was guided to her new room by a maid. The rooms at Kite's mansion had been extraordinary, but the palace rooms were even grander—lavishly decorated, almost boastfully, with details that inspired awe.

"Wow."

After the maid left, Ibelin slowly admired the room.

"The bed is huge, too."

Large enough for four people to lie down and roll around.

Normally, guests from baronial or viscount houses weren't offered palace guest rooms. Even when granted as a reward for service, they were much smaller rooms. So this room was a special consideration from Leonhardt, who adored his uncle.

But Ibelin, unaware of that, simply marveled at the palace's wealth.

After exploring the room, exhaustion washed over her. She had been tormented by maids since morning, then came to the palace for an audience with the Emperor—it was only natural.

Come to think of it, I heard we're to have dinner with His Majesty.

There was still time before dinner.

"Should I sleep for a bit?"

She didn't intend to lie down and sleep openly. She just wanted to lean against the bed and close her eyes for a moment—truly, just a moment.

"Those madmen!"

She saw the back of a man with long black hair tied back. He was thin—not a swordsman, it seemed. Who was it? Moving ahead to see his face, she recognized him.

The Emperor's maternal relative—Draven, head of House Barkel. He spent a long while cursing the Emperor and Kite. Over 90% of the curses were directed at Kite—he clearly harbored a deep grudge. But that was nothing new.

Based on what Ibelin had uncovered while investigating Kite, he had no shortage of enemies.

Draven's pace quickened, and soon he left the palace. The place he arrived at was a massive mansion—overgrown with vines, imposing yet somehow gloomy.

And there, a second figure appeared.

"Duke Draven."

A man wearing a hood pulled all the way down.

"Unknown."

"In the end, you were pushed out, weren't you?"

"Pushed out—who!"

"Didn't the Mad Dog come back and complicate things?"

"I have words about that. You told me he would be dead! So why is he back?"

Despite Draven's reproach, the man called Unknown merely shrugged.

"We failed. Someone got ahead of us."

Got ahead of them? Ibelin soon realized that someone was her. So confining Kite had indeed been the right choice.

Draven's voice grew louder. But the man remained calm, dealing with him coolly.

Then, suddenly, he lifted his head—and looked directly toward the room where Ibelin was. Through the hood, silver eyes gleamed.

"Hah!"

Ibelin woke with a gasp.

What had she just seen? Calmly sorting through her memories, she soon reached a conclusion.

Draven had allied with someone to kill Kite—but because Ibelin had kidnapped him first, their plan had failed.

"Supposed to be his maternal uncle."

Instead of helping his nephew Leonhardt, he was consumed with killing Kite. Once Kite was dead, Leonhardt would be next. He could serve as regent—and if Leonhardt died, he would likely claim the throne himself.

But at the end, those silver eyes had looked straight at her—was it just her imagination?

Ibelin wiped the cold sweat that had broken out on her skin. Her carefully prepared appearance was ruined, but the maids would fix it.

I'm sorry.

Her prediction proved correct. When a maid came to check on her before dinner, she was horrified at Ibelin's disheveled state. She quickly prepared a new dress and fixed her sweat-mussed face and hair.

"Your dress changed?"

Her green dress had become blue—it was only natural Kite noticed.

"I lay down wrong and wrinkled the back."

"You must have been tired."

"I was!"

Ibelin glared at Kite in protest.

"It's fine—Leonhardt isn't a fussy person. You'll get used to him."

"That's not the issue."

"You'll need to get used to it if we'll be together from now on."

With that, Kite fell silent. It was infuriating, but there was nothing Ibelin could do but wear a dissatisfied expression.

Even that had to change upon entering the dining hall—she couldn't very well grumble before the Emperor.

"Welcome."

Leonhardt, only fourteen, spoke like an old man—a mannerism that must have become ingrained from sitting on the throne since childhood.

"I ordered extra meat dishes today."

"Meat is the right choice."

Kite nodded and pulled out a chair for Ibelin. The moment she sat down, he took the seat beside her.

"Lady Ibelin—what do you like?"

"I also like meat."

House Frillie wasn't wealthy enough to have meat at every meal. But occasionally, the table would be filled with meat—when she and her grandfather returned from a successful hunt.

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