The Oblivious Saint Can't Contain Her Power: Forget My Sister! Turns Out I Was the Real Saint All Along! Volume 2 [Parts 1 to 5] by Almond

Author:Almond
Language: eng
Format: epub

Prince Edward and I headed to Lord Teodore’s chamber at once to seek clarity about the incident with Lady Marielle, and to our surprise, we were immediately greeted with fervent apologies. Not one, but two figures received us when we entered, one with golden hair and the other with raven locks. Both bowed deeply before us.

My, so this is where Marisa was? In Lord Teodore’s chamber?

Lord Teodore spoke first, his voice tinged with regret. “This situation was mine and Marisa’s to resolve, but we thought our direct intervention might exacerbate matters.”

Marisa, her voice equally remorseful, added, “We never anticipated it escalating this far when we sought assistance from the butler and the knights. I deeply regret the trouble this has caused Your Highnesses.”

Their heads remained fixed in penitent bows; it was clear that the situation distressed them greatly. Their apologies were so formal that even I felt uncomfortable. The circumstances had been beyond their control, and I wished they could see that.

“There’s no need for such talk,” Prince Edward briskly reassured them. “Part of our duty as royalty is to ensure the well-being of those under our care. There’s nothing more to it.”

“But, Your Highness...” Lord Teodore began to protest.

I chose that moment to interject. “Prince Edward has chosen to overlook the issue, which means he has no desire to pursue blame. Unless you mean you find issue with His Highness’s judgment?”

It was a last resort, a low blow to use their earnestness against them, but I deemed it necessary to cut through their stubbornness. It had immediate effect—the both of them fell silent, though their internal struggle was yet evident. In unison, they both breathed a sigh of resignation.

Marisa was the first to concede. “I understand. I will speak no more of today’s events. But I do wish to express my gratitude for your intervention with my sister. Thank you.”

Lord Teodore echoed her sentiment. “Allow me, as well, to extend my thanks.”

As one, they performed a graceful bow, their bodies aligning in perfect right angles—their shared sense of duty was such that they even rose from their gesture of gratitude at the same time. Observing their synchronized movement, it was clear that in more ways than one, these two were remarkably suited to one another. Poor Lady Marielle; it seems that you are out-matched.

“Now, please step inside, Your Highnesses,” Lord Teodore spoke again. “I’ll ring for tea, and we can—”

“I shall handle that, my lord,” Marisa interjected promptly. “Kindly entertain Their Highnesses in the meantime.”

My observations about the appropriateness of their union aside, the betrothed pair could stand to talk to each other with a little more warmth, couldn’t they? I was aware that I, matched in political marriage myself, was in no position to judge, but I found myself curious. Did they ever talk about matters unrelated to work? Did they ever drop their stiff formality around each other? The thought that they were more akin to business partners than fiancés brushed past my mind, a realization which stirred an inexplicable sense of dissatisfaction.

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