Chapter 158: There, That Makes Me Feel Better
Ulrich looked down at Antonias as his eyes slowly closed.
The corridor smelled of spilled wine and blood.
Louise stood against the wall, frozen where Antonias had pinned her. A moment later, the glass slipped from her hand. It struck the white tiles and shattered beside the King’s discarded cup, red wine spreading across the marble in thin streams.
She raised her gaze from Antonias’s unconscious body to Ulrich.
Her mind was still burning with the last few moments.
She had thought she would have to fight Antonias off. If she had, he could have turned the situation against her. He was the King. His word could ruin her family if he decided to claim she had tempted him, insulted him, or attacked him. Kaliantha had watched Louise take Antonias from the dais. The Queen had no reason to know that Louise had done it for Ulrich’s strange request, and regardless, she wouldn’t have backed a woman who got herself into trouble with full awareness.
Louise had walked willingly into the corridor with him.
She had thought she had made a mistake she could not escape.
Then Ulrich had appeared and knocked the King unconscious as though Antonias were no more important than a drunken noble causing trouble at an inn.
"Why did you come?" She asked.
Her voice quivered despite her effort to hide it.
"I did this because you needed him away, and you just—"
"Are you hurt?" Ulrich interrupted.
Louise stopped.
The question caught her so completely off guard that she only stared at him.
Ulrich’s attention moved over her face, her arms, and the wrist Antonias had gripped. The marks were beginning to rise against her skin.
Louise shook her head faintly.
"No."
"How do you feel?"
He was not asking out of politeness. Louise recognized that much. His eyes were assessing her. He wanted to know whether she was drunk, whether she had been hurt, whether he needed to get her away from the event because she was mentally shaken.
Louise looked at Antonias again.
The King lay crumpled against the wall, blood still running beneath his nose. His coat had gathered dust from the floor. The sight should have satisfied her.
Instead, she felt a lump in her throat.
"I..." Her fingers closed around her reddened wrist. "I feel dirty."
A small laugh escaped her, thin and nervous.
Then she looked at the unconscious King again.
Her eyes widened.
"W-We have to—"
Ulrich stepped closer before she could finish.
Louise looked up at him.
He lifted one hand toward her face. For a second, she thought he meant to touch her cheek. Instead, his thumb brushed lightly beneath her eye and removed a loose eyelash.
"If you are fine," Ulrich said, "we are returning."
He turned away.
"W—What about His Majesty?" Louise asked.
"Leave him there."
Louise stared at his back.
"We cannot leave him here."
Ulrich stopped.
Her voice had risen. The loud sound carried through the corridor, though no one seemed close enough to hear.
He turned his head toward her.
"Once he wakes up," Louise continued, trying to keep the panic from showing, "he will know what happened."
"What happened?" Ulrich asked.
She fell silent.
His expression did not change.
Louise understood what he meant. He intended to deny everything. Antonias had been drunk, but not blind. He had seen Ulrich before losing consciousness. He would remember the hand at the back of his collar. He would remember the stone wall rushing toward his face.
Still, he was the King.
Ulrich had struck the King.
"There might be consequences," she said quietly.
"Only if there is something to answer for."
"U—Ulrich."
"Nothing happened," he said. "His Majesty drank too much. He slipped and struck his face against the wall."
"I was with him."
"No, you were not."
Louise’s brows rose.
Ulrich faced her fully.
"I found you afterward," he continued. "The King had already fallen. I brought you back to the ballroom for a dance. You aren’t aware of anything."
Louise parted her lips.
The lie was so simple.
It protected her first. If Antonias accused her of encouraging him, there would be no private meeting to accuse her over. If he claimed she had led him away, Ulrich could say Louise had merely been found in the corridor after the King’s drunken accident.
Ulrich had already decided the story.
He had decided it before he knocked Antonias down.
"You thought of all that already," she mumbled.
"I did not intend for him to corner you." The irritation in Ulrich’s voice returned, though it was directed at Antonias rather than her. "But I expected him to behave wrongly."
Louise looked at him.
The calm in his expression began to reach her. It was amazing how quickly it worked. She had felt the same thing years ago, after those boys had cornered her. Ulrich had been younger, smaller, and injured by the end of it, but once he stood in front of her, the fear had gone.
It was happening again.
Ulrich began walking toward the ballroom.
Louise looked once more at Antonias.
The King remained unconscious on the floor. Blood stained the pale tiles beneath his face. His glass lay in pieces nearby, and the wine had reached the edge of his embroidered sleeve.
She should have called for guards.
She should have insisted they bring a physician.
Instead, she followed Ulrich.
Her steps were not completely steady, but she kept pace beside him. The ballroom’s music became clearer as they moved down the corridor.
"Did I do all of that for nothing?" Louise asked after a moment. "You are here now."
"No."
Ulrich did not slow.
"I still have time before the traditional dance."
"Then why did you come after us?" Louise pressed. "You risked missing the opportunity I gave you. You asked me to take the King away, and then you followed us through the corridor. Since when were you following us?"
"From the beginning."
Louise stopped walking for half a step.
Ulrich continued ahead before noticing she had fallen behind. When he looked back, she was staring at him.
"Why?" She asked.
He considered the question longer than he should have.
Louise’s face had lost the strained smile she had worn near Antonias. Her hair was slightly disordered where her head had struck the wall. Her wrist remained slightly red. She looked tired, shaken, and far more vulnerable than she ever allowed herself to appear at court.
Ulrich’s gaze went briefly to the marks on her skin.
"I did not trust him," he said.
Louise waited.
"He was drunk," Ulrich added. "You could have found yourself in unnecessary trouble."
For a moment, she did not respond.
The answer was so characteristically Ulrich that it almost made her laugh. He could not simply say that he had worried for her. Instead, he described Antonias as an inconvenience and her fear as an unnecessary complication.
Yet he had followed her from the beginning.
He had waited close enough to intervene.
He had risked exposing himself, losing time, and angering the King because he had not trusted Antonias alone with her.
"So," Louise said quietly, "you were concerned about me?"
Ulrich kept walking.
He did not answer.
Louise caught his wrist.
The sudden pull stopped him. He turned back toward her.
Louise looked at him without smiling.
"I know Ashara is the only woman in your heart," she said. "Even now."
Ulrich did not correct her.
The admission seemed to cost Louise something. Her fingers remained around his wrist, but they had lost their earlier playful confidence.
"Still," she continued, "can you be honest with me once? At least make me feel a little better."
Ulrich looked at her for a moment.
"Why would I come this far if I was not concerned?" He said.
Louise’s grip loosened.
Ulrich had followed her and Antonias from the beginning. At first, it had been because her earlier words had upset him. Louise had admitted that his request hurt her, and the thought had remained in his mind.
He had watched Antonias take her from the ballroom.
He knew the King’s reputation. He knew the way Antonias looked at women who could not easily refuse him. The chance that something would happen had been small, perhaps, but it had existed.
Ulrich had followed.
And he had been right.
Striking Antonias had been personal, yes, for all the insults, but it would be a lie to say watching Louise cornered like that didn’t upset him.
Louise had agreed to help him.
She would not bear the cost of it.
If Antonias remembered Ulrich’s face, then his anger could be directed at Ulrich. Ulrich could handle that. Louise should not have to fear the King, her father’s reputation, or the Queen’s judgment because she had trusted him enough to accept an unreasonable request.
After saying those words, Ulrich turned toward the ballroom again.
Louise caught his arm once more, however.
Ulrich looked over his shoulder.
Before he could speak, Louise pushed a hand against his chest and backed him into the wall.
His shoulders met the stone.
Then she kissed him.
For three seconds, Ulrich did not move.
Louise’s lips were warm, and the scent of wine clung faintly to her breath. Her hand remained pressed against his chest, fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his coat. She kissed him with none of the hesitation she had shown earlier beside Antonias.
Then she pulled away.
Ulrich looked down at her.
Louise held his gaze, her green eyes bright again despite the strain that still lingered around them. A small, satisfied smile appeared on her lips.
"There," she said softly. "That makes me feel better."
Ulrich remained against the wall.
Louise turned before he could decide whether he had an answer for that. She adjusted her hair, straightened her shoulders, and began walking toward the ballroom doors as though she had done nothing more scandalous than accept another dance.
After several steps, she looked back at him.
"Are you coming, Ulrich?"
He pushed away from the wall and followed her.