Emilie handed the letter back to Madeleine, her movements slow, as if reluctant to let it go.
Madeleine accepted it with an understanding smile. Without needing to check its contents again, she folded the paper, slipped it back into the envelope, and tucked it into her dress pocket.
She lifted her teacup once more.
After sipping it gracefully, she placed it back on the small saucer without a sound.
Her lips curved into a smile, and this time, the corners of her eyes crinkled softly, radiating genuine warmth. Her gaze locked onto Emilie.
"Would you accompany me?" Madeleine's voice was gentle, yet the invitation was unmistakably meant for Emilie alone.
Emilie's eyes widened slightly, her breath catching for a moment. A chance to see the palace up close! A spark of excitement flared in her eyes, though she knew she might only reach the gate.
After a brief pause to gather her thoughts, she nodded firmly. "With pleasure!"
But the smile on her face faded as quickly as it had appeared. A thought struck her.
Her gaze shifted to her two friends, lingering on Philippe with an expression hard to read—a blend of hope and concern. Her lips parted slowly.
"I… want to bring them along too," Emilie murmured, her voice heavy with a plea as she turned back to Madeleine.
Madeleine, as if reading her mind, nodded without hesitation. "Of course. The more, the merrier the journey."
Emilie's face lit up again. Brimming with enthusiasm, she turned to Armand.
"What about you two…?" As she said "you two," her eyes flicked to Philippe.
Her tone softened instantly, dropping lower, as if haunted by memories of dangers that had once shadowed her friend.
A stiff smile tugged at Philippe's lips. She must be recalling everything that happened to me, he thought.
"I'm fine," Philippe said, forcing the smile to mask any hint of fear.
Armand slapped his thigh. "If Philippe's in, I'm definitely in! It's been ages since I've gone on a long trip."
"Then it's settled," Madeleine said with a smile. She rose from her seat, her dress rustling faintly. "Tomorrow morning, we meet at the main gate."
Emilie followed Madeleine's departure with her eyes, then quickly turned to Philippe. She leaned in close, her lips brushing near his ear, her warm breath grazing his skin.
"Don't worry," she whispered, her voice soothing. "If anything happens, I'll protect you."
A flush of heat surged to Philippe's cheeks. He jerked his face away, dodging Emilie's gaze, so close it unnerved him.
After a few seconds of steadying his racing heart, he sighed. Protected by a girl? What's left of my pride?
"Ahem-ahem." A deliberate throat-clearing cut through from across the table. Armand watched them, one eye cracked open, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
In an instant, Philippe and Emilie sprang apart, their faces burning red. And at the same moment, the same thought flashed through their minds:
This is all Armand's fault!
* * *
The morning sun had just begun to warm the stones at the village's main gate. A grand horse-drawn carriage stood waiting, its door open, ready to take in their belongings.
Philippe wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his breathing slightly ragged after hauling several of Madeleine's chests. He turned, squinting toward the bustling village streets.
"Armand's taking forever…," he grumbled. He glanced at Emilie. "Can I go fetch him?"
Emilie, adjusting her scarf, closed her eyes and shook her head. "No need. He'll be here soon."
"I don't mind waiting," Madeleine chimed in from beside the carriage, her hands deftly repositioning a leather bag. "But I hope he's not a whole day late," she added with a playful lilt.
As if on cue, a familiar shout pierced the air. "Oiiii!" In the distance, Armand came into view, sprinting breathlessly, waving with gusto as a massive backpack jostled on his shoulders.
Emilie shot Philippe a triumphant smile. "Told you, didn't I?"
Philippe's lip twitched at the sight. His eyes fixed on Armand's backpack, swollen to the brink of bursting at the seams. What in the world did he pack in there?
Moments later, Armand stumbled to a stop before them. He doubled over, hands braced on his knees, chest heaving as he gulped for air. After a deep breath, he straightened up.
"Sorry," he said, flashing his signature grin.
Philippe sighed in resignation. "Hurry and load your stuff." He paused, still eyeing the absurdly stuffed backpack. "What exactly did you bring?"
Armand, wiping sweat from his brow, turned with a cryptic look. "Secret."
Philippe opened his mouth to argue but held back. Probably just a bunch of useless junk, he muttered to himself.
His gaze swept the surroundings, then froze on a spot near the gate. His eyes widened, his jaw slackened, but no sound escaped.
Someone was there!
The figure lurked in the thick shadow of the gate's pillar, staring directly at them—no, directly at Philippe!
A chilling unease slithered up his spine, raising the hairs on his neck. It felt as cold as ice, urging him to wrap his arms around himself.
The stranger wore a hooded cloak, their face entirely shrouded. Yet Philippe could sense the piercing stare cutting through the gloom. And he could have sworn he saw the faint curve of hidden lips—a smile that promised trouble.
"Hey," Armand's voice jolted him, paired with a slap on the shoulder that nearly made Philippe yelp. "What're you staring at?" Armand peered in the same direction, head tilted, seeing nothing.
Philippe narrowed his eyes, then leaned close to Armand's ear. "Secret," he whispered, echoing Armand's earlier dodge.
A sly smirk curled his lips. Payback feels good.
He climbed into the carriage without delay. Soon after, the coachman cracked the reins, and the carriage lurched forward. Philippe sat across from Armand. Beside him, Emilie was already chatting lightly with Madeleine.
Philippe watched their exchange, not out of curiosity, but biding his time. Waiting for a chance to whisper to Emilie about the figure watching them. Yet their conversation rolled on without a break.
How long are they going to talk? Philippe groused silently, stifling a wide yawn. Guess I'll be waiting another year…
...
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