The Amber Knight Swears His Love on the Saintess’s Left Hand - Chapter 22

It had been a long time since Quill had sustained such significant injuries. Even though the situation had been sudden, the experience left him painfully aware of his lack of expertise in urban combat.

Despite the Saint’s protection, six Black Wolves had appeared within the capital, and they had even summoned an Orthos. Even during the eighteen-year gap between Saints, the city walls of the capital had never been breached.

There had been no notable reports from the squads stationed across the various regions. This meant those magical beasts had intentionally avoided human eyes to target the capital directly.

I only hope this isn’t a harbinger of something worse.

It was a heavy topic to ponder while sitting on the grass in the townhouse’s backyard. Deciding he ought to rest his mind—at least during this “vacation” masquerading as a suspension—Quill turned his attention to the peaceful scene before him.

The sky was a deep, inviting blue. The chirping of small birds tickled his ears, and the weather was exceptionally mild. Adele and Lynette, who were busy weaving flower crowns, noticed his gaze and smiled.

Lynette’s expression was entirely different from the social mask she had worn until now.

What exactly was the catalyst? It had happened in the midst of the incident Marius caused at the Marquis’s estate.

At first, he thought it was his imagination. Lynette had praised Nicola, and her smile at that moment didn’t look like a fabrication. Quill had initially rejected the thought, telling himself such a thing was impossible.

But rejecting it had, for some reason, made him feel lonely. To stave off that loneliness, he had reached out to her.

From that point on, everything that happened in front of him felt like a storm. Even Lynette herself seemed overwhelmed, as if she were unable to stop the surge of herself.

“Like spring flowers in full bloom…”

The monologue slipped out of his mouth. Feeling embarrassed—I’m no poet—he cleared his throat to cover it up, even though no one was particularly listening.

“Brother, here you go.”

A flower crown was placed upon Quill’s head. Right now, the marguerites in the garden were at their peak. The white petals were delicate, and the yellow centers caught the eye. Quill wasn’t well-versed in flowers, but he could at least distinguish this one. It was Adele’s favorite.

Living at the townhouse had taught him that Lynette and Adele often played like this. Adele told Quill at every opportunity how happy she was to have an older sister. He felt like he was being slowly encircled, his ground being reinforced bit by bit; she wasn’t his “sister” yet, nor had it been officially decided that she would be.

Adele wore a slightly smaller crown on her own head. In the crown Lynette had made, small blue and pale-pink flowers were woven in alongside the marguerites. Adele was in high spirits over the elaborate craftsmanship.

“Lady Lynette is so good at this!”

“Lady Adele’s work is wonderful as well. It looks very striking against Lord Quill’s hair.”

Quill wished she would first notice the massive incongruity of a flower crown on a man like him. He scratched the bridge of his nose in embarrassment, and Lynette smiled at him.

Yes, there it was.

Something entirely different from the social smile she had trained was floating on her face.

“Lady Ceryes. About that…”

It wouldn’t be strange to ask what was happening, would it? But then again, would it sound as if he didn’t welcome her emotions?

To ask, or not to ask. Ultimately, Quill fell silent. Looking at him with a puzzled expression, Lynette sat down beside him. She took out her notebook and leafed through it.

“What are we ‘clearing’ today?”

“A picnic.”

There, Lynette pointed. He could see Nicola coming out of the house carrying a basket.

Her wishes. Some of them were like things a child would beg of their parents.

Lynette’s parents had passed away when she was five. She had been taken in by the House of Earl Ceryes afterward, but what awaited her was a life of rigorous education. She said she had only faint memories of being a free-spirited, tomboyish child who climbed trees.

Painful memories tend to linger the longest. Happy days become blurred and hazy, leaving behind only the vague sensation of having been happy. Life was rarely fair.

Nicola arrived out of breath and set the basket down on the ground with a thud. Then, she and Adele spread out a cloth. There was a table set in the garden, of course, but it seemed that in the pursuit of “picnic-ness,” such things were merely obstacles.

Nicola began to lay out light snacks and baked goods. Lynette squinted against the brightness, so Quill opened a parasol beside her.

“But then you won’t be able to eat, Lord Quill.”

“I don’t mind eating later.”

At that, Lynette picked up a round cookie and held it close to Quill’s face.

“Please, have one.”

When Quill tried to take it with his free left hand, Lynette shook her head. Understanding what she was implying, Quill lowered his eyes and opened his mouth. He took the cookie from Lynette’s hand with his teeth. Smiling with satisfaction, Lynette popped a stray crumb from her fingers into her own mouth.

On Lynette’s right hand, the faint scar from the wound Marius had inflicted remained. The wound she had received on the day she was welcomed into the Langbart house had healed easily.

As expected, she had changed significantly since that day. And yet, her duty remained the same.

“…I will have to go to the cathedral soon.”

The Holy Sword was calling. When that voice—which only Lynette could hear—grew loud, she would head to the cathedral.

The intervals between visits, which she had said would gradually increase, showed no sign of widening. Twice a week, she continued to visit the Holy Sword even now.

“At the cathedral, do you perform something like a ritual?”

When he asked casually, Lynette’s shoulders gave a small jolt.

“Yes, it is. Something like a ritual to soothe the Holy Sword.”

The rituals of the Saint were forbidden from being disclosed. Therefore, Quill didn’t know the specifics of what Lynette did during her frequent visits. Until now, he hadn’t given it much thought because her face told him nothing.

Now, he was able to see that she headed to the cathedral with such a bitter expression.

“Next time you go, I will escort you to the cathedral. We can walk there, and take a carriage back. While you are on duty, I’ll drop by the Knights’ headquarters.”

Lynette raised her left hand, adding a smile to the gesture.

For some reason, the Pledge Lock dangling from her wrist suddenly felt heart-wrenchingly fragile.