Before leaving, Riley repeatedly urged them to be careful. It wasn’t until Ares, impatient with her nagging, told her to stop that she finally departed.
The next day, Sasha asked, “Do I have to be alone again today?”
Kirine, who was handing a freshly squeezed glass of orange juice to Sasha, tilted her head in confusion. Sasha took a sip and continued, “I don’t want to be alone…”
Both Kirine and Ares’ eyes widened in surprise.
Unable to hide her shock, Kirine glanced at Ares and asked quietly, “Has she been alone all this time?”
Ares responded defensively, “Do you think I would know?”
Kirine nodded as if she understood, but a realization dawned on her. “So, every time we went to the palace, she was left alone?”
Ares realized the truth too late and his expression hardened.
The two of them couldn’t shake off the shock of having completely forgotten about the child. Even if they had lost their memories, Sasha was still their daughter. The thought of the child left alone in the mansion made them feel overwhelmingly guilty.
“What should we do?” Kirine whispered so quietly that only Ares could hear. If they hadn’t known before, that was one thing, but now that they were aware of the truth, they couldn’t leave the child alone again.
As if thinking the same thing, Ares, who had been biting his lip in silence, suddenly spoke up. “Let’s take her with us.”
“Where to?”
Kirine asked, but strangely, there was no response. She stared at Ares in confusion, and then, with a sense of foreboding, asked again. “You don’t mean the Imperial Palace, do you?”
“Is that not an option?” Ares replied.
“Of course not! That’s ridiculous!” Kirine exclaimed.
“So, it makes sense to leave her alone in this mansion again?”
Ares countered.
“Well, that’s…” Kirine faltered. When had he become so good at arguing?
Kirine couldn’t find the words to rebut and closed her mouth. Ares shrugged his shoulders lightly. “We can take her secretly. It’ll be fine.”
Kirine let out a small, exasperated laugh, too tired to tell him he was crazy. She had always known he was a bit unhinged, but not to this extent.
“But there’s one problem,” Kirine said. “How exactly do you plan to take her secretly?”
“Well, that’s…” Ares trailed off.
“And who’s going to watch over her?” Kirine asked.
They stared at each other, the unspoken agreement clear: You should be the one to do it.
Finally, Ares spoke. “I’ll figure something out, so you—”
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Kirine interrupted.
Refusing to take on the responsibility Ares was trying to foist upon her, she offered a compromise. “Let’s do it this way: we’ll split the time. You watch her in the afternoon, and I’ll take the morning.”
Ares agreed. “I have training in the morning. I’ll take the afternoon shift.”
“Alright, I’ll watch her in the morning, and you take the afternoon,” Kirine said.
“Deal,” Ares replied.
Kirine and Ares both sighed in relief, but their smiles were strained. They had finally reached a compromise, but it didn’t bring them any joy.
***
“Isn’t that the Captain of the Imperial Knights, Ares, over there?” a voice whispered in the crowd. “And next to him, isn’t that the Chief of the Imperial Magic Division, Kirine?”
“They’ve entered the palace together again today,” another onlooker remarked. “But what’s that they’re carrying?”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd as they watched the two figures, who seemed unusually close. Ares, typically a man of action with a sword at his waist, was now burdened by a sack. His steps were deliberate, as if he were carrying something fragile.
“Good day, Captain,” a passing knight greeted them, his voice filled with curiosity. “But what’s that you’re holding?”
Ares and Kirine froze, their expressions hardening. Before the knight could probe further, Ares snapped, “It’s none of your business.”
The knight, taken aback, stammered, “Oh, uh, yes, I suppose it isn’t.” But his eyes lingered on the sack, his curiosity piqued. It almost looked like Ares was cradling a child.
The sack twitched, a subtle movement that caught the knight’s attention. He pointed a trembling finger. “I-I think it just moved!”
Ares and Kirine exchanged a glance, their expressions oddly serene. “You must be mistaken,” Ares replied, his voice dripping with condescension.
“No, I’m certain it moved…” The knight persisted, his voice rising in alarm.
“You must have definitely seen wrong,” Kirine insisted, her tone equally dismissive.
Before the knight could protest further, the two hurried off, their faces etched with a strange sense of urgency. As they disappeared into the palace, the knight was left alone with his growing unease.