Home/I confined you, but I have no ill will/ch 53

53.

Ibelin stared blankly at her empty hand, then belatedly shouted.

"My gun!"

She lurched toward Kite, swaying—but drunk as she was, she only ended up clinging to him.

The woman from the kitchen, Mary, smiled warmly.

"You two make a lovely couple!"

"Mary—is there any hangover cure?"

"None—this is a tavern!"

She declared, waving her hand. No one was helpful. Kite sighed and held up the still-limp Ibelin.

"I'll give the gun back when we get home."

"Really?"

"Yes—now climb on."

She could barely walk on her own. At his offer, she nodded and climbed onto his back, hooking her arms around his neck.

"Let's go!"

The others had heard.

"Leaving already?"

"Stay longer—we got good ale in from the north, it's great!"

"Right—you should drink too!"

"No—you drunkards!"

Kite pushed them off and carried Ibelin out of the tavern. He'd brought her here to show another side of himself—but it backfired.

All he got was a drunk Ibelin.

"Hmm."

She nuzzled his neck—it tickled.

"What a drunk."

He chuckled and walked.

"I'm not drunk."

She still talked back.

"Then what are you?"

"What else? I'm me."

"True—you're you."

Darkness had fallen, and street lamps were being lit one by one. The streets grew quieter, but someone might still see him carrying her—yet he didn't feel like putting her down.

"The stars!"

She leaned back. The lamps weren't bright enough to obscure the sky—it was full of stars, a sight for sore eyes.

"Do you like stars?"

"Does anyone hate them?"

Her counter-question made him smile bitterly. The northern sky had looked like this too—some called it beautiful, but he'd only found it lonely and frightening.

But now—

Looking at the night sky, he found it beautiful. And that beauty came from the drunken woman on his back. They said love changed how you saw the world.

"Then I'll try to like stars too."

At his words, she stroked his head again.

"Good boy."

It felt like he was being compensated for his childhood loneliness.

"If I'm good, will you do something else?"

"Something else?"

At his casual question, she nodded.

"Yes—I will."

She said boldly—and soon fell asleep, her face pressed against him. Her breathing stirred his heart—the vague, incomprehensible emotion now had a name.

"Ibelin."

She didn't answer.

"I like you."

No reply came.

---

She woke in the afternoon, suffering from a hangover.

"Ugh!"

She didn't remember clearly after the ale—but she'd surely caused trouble. Why else would the gun she always carried be on the bedside table?

"What did I do?"

Imagining drunken possibilities, she paled. What if she'd confessed all her grievances? Please no.

She slowly crawled out of bed and drank the hangover remedy the maid had brought. It was bitter and foul, but it eased her headache.

"Lord Kite said he'd cancel today's schedule—please rest."

His kindness only scared her. She changed out of her nightclothes and went to find him—she needed to see his state to feel at ease.

She found him in the training ground.

Kite with a sword, Seren opposite—sparring. She hid behind a distant tree—but they didn't move.

Kite seemed to be asking Seren something—too far to hear.

Ugh—are they talking about me?

About how to deal with the insolent drunk? Kill her? Spare her? The thought chilled her spine.

Burying her timidity, she crept closer. If he said he wouldn't let it slide, she'd run—even if she couldn't get far, it was better than immediate doom.

Half-crawling, she moved to a nearer tree. Now she could catch bits of their conversation—Kite's back was to her, but she could see Seren's expression: a mix of disbelief and shock.

"Good heavens—my lord!"

Seren spoke.

"I never thought you'd have such feelings."

"What?"

"Recall how you've treated approaching noble ladies."

"Wasn't that justified?"

"Normally, regardless of reason, one doesn't treat a noble lady so harshly—have you forgotten knightly duty?"

"I remember vaguely."

Seren sighed deeply.

"Vaguely is better than nothing—so what will you do?"

"First, keep her by my side."

Her? Ibelin pricked up her ears—in this context, it was likely her.

"What difference does keeping her make?"

"I'll make it different."

"Do you have a plan?"

"Hmm—first time for this, no plan yet. Should I ask someone else?"

"Not recommended."

"Alex does spend time with women, doesn't he?"

Seren shook his head.

"Most of them are older, acquainted with his sister—none have become close."

"Oh—then Lucen?"

"He's worse than Alex."

"And you?"

A pause.

"...Since morning, I've cleared overdue documents, received new ones, coordinated training schedules, observed them, and received reports on the estate—I haven't stopped since waking."

"Though the butler delegates, some things need cross-checking, so I couldn't rest—no time for lunch, just a quick sandwich."

"Sorry."

"If you're sorry, sit at your desk! And find a duchess soon!"

"That's not as easy as you think."

It was enough to make Seren angry—only his deep loyalty kept him there. Anyone else would have fled. Ibelin nodded in understanding.

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