Lost In Character: Transmigration Chronicles Of A Nameless Heroine 38 Impasse

The older man's back was to the larger crowd, which meant his face was finally in Hilde's line of sight. What she ought to expect to see in it, she had no idea. She'd decided to refrain from making any more a.s.sumptions for the moment, having already been yanked every which way the last half hour or so.

What she did know was that in case someone decided to peek at the expression she herself was wearing, it must always show the appropriate one. Earlier when Lord Alfwin spoke of her, she had been a deer in the headlights, frozen and largely unresponsive in shock, perhaps also in fear.

When it was her sister's turn to speak, she had been tense like anyone else might be. She had been confused by the direction the words took, and when the tears came, she'd felt thunderstruck – the cool-mannered, even-tempered, and levelheaded Queen was capable of such strong emotions? Or rather, of displaying them? Her confusion had returned, and with it, a touch of commiseration. She'd s.h.i.+fted her gaze to look at Prince Luca seated by her side. The boy's mouth hung open as he stared with round eyes at his mother.

And then, something that Hilde would never forget seeing: a faint glint of hope in his eyes, a slow and hesitant spread of warmth. It quickly disappeared when the Queen was guided back to the throne, then he caught his aunt looking at him. The young Prince turned his face the other way.

It bore saying that she recognized that set of looks and what they meant. But again, she was done with making a.s.sumptions.

Now, the face she wore showed worry and a hint of chilliness at being made use of so blatantly. It would seem she had difficulty making the rise and fall of her chest even and unnoticeable. White knuckles were visible as her hands gripped the ends of her chair's armrests.

If anyone had been stupid enough to be looking at her instead of at the choice entertainment happening right in their midst, they'd have witnessed the gradual easing of those hands from their tense hold. They would have found in her expression unspeakable relief when the Lord General got to his knee, raised one open hand in a wordless plea, and kissed the hand that the Queen laid upon it. Both had acted without any hesitation.

Then Queen Heloise did one better. She kept holding Lord Alfwin's hand as he got back on his feet, and when they were once again standing face to face, she lowered her head and placed a return kiss on the back of his own hand.

In Arnica, unlike in Lys and some other countries, kissing one another's hands was not a standard form of greeting. In Arnica, it meant something else – something deeper. If it were to be given at all, it would not be with a lighthearted intent. Between lovers, it was as good as a declaration. Between friends, it was something like a covenant. Between people with no deep relations.h.i.+p at all, it was simply not done.

Being reminded of a certain scene on a deserted road, Hilde was careful not to let her eyes stray in the direction of the Lyseans. She still wasn't certain if she should take back her earlier decision to limit her future interactions with them, if not altogether stay away, as Lady Ilse surely would.

Among other things, with the Lord General's seeming capitulation, she did not know where her current place was on the board. Any move she makes could spell a swift loss.

"Will you forgive me, Queen?" said the Lord in a tired voice. Despite its relatively low volume, it carried to those within two paces of the speaker.

"Your only fault was to give in to your despair, Lord," the Queen answered, her own voice a lot more difficult to catch, but catch it Hilde did. "Your apology is not necessary. It is enough for me that you can still be saved from its depths."

The older man's eyes crinkled. Their hands were still clasped at this point, so it was his free hand that he raised to cup the side of the younger woman's head.

"I shall continue to be behind you," he said. "You may count on it – I shall continue to watch over and defend the throne. And my heirs after me, and theirs after them. This, our line has long sworn to do, though some of us may have forgotten at times. Even I."

With that, Lord Alfwin released the Queen, who nodded solemnly before proceeding with the ceremony, awarding him Lothar's medals and other accolades. He returned to his place soon after, head unbowed yet somehow looking humbled. He did not once glance in the Princess' direction, and she did not expect him to.

The Royal Officiate closed the first part of the funeral rites, then called for everyone to exit the throne room. Starting from those at the back, the people complied. Those at the dais, particularly the ones nearer the center, sat still as they waited. There was no conversation. If any in the crowd streaming out looks behind them, all they'd find were exquisitely carved statues whose expressions were free for anyone to interpret.

Those who'd heard the exchange and those they'd tell the full account to could make of it what they will. Hilde herself would not be so quick to take it at face value, especially when considering the intimate gesture with which the Lord had accompanied his words.

But until either or both make another move that would affect her, all she could do for the time being was to guard herself and her interests.

No, that's not right – she couldn't directly attack, but she was free to take steps to improve her defenses.

In her personal quest to "collect weapons," Hilde decided that her first order of business should be none other than "image building." Of course, in her case "renovation" or even "complete overhaul" would be the more accurate term.

She fully expected to have her hands full with it.