In the Doghouse - Chapter 162
XII.
It had been five days since Courtney had sequestered herself in her private quarters, and Richard’s thoughts were anything but carefree. Each day, he closely tracked her every minor action, ruminating over and over.
Where had it gone wrong? Had he pushed her too hard? Yet he clearly remembered Courtney being fully engaged, deeply involved. Even with his eyes covered, he knew it couldn’t have all been his own misinterpretation.
If she had simply told him what bothered her, he could have made an effort to change. But all she had done since was push him away. He had believed that, with one final step, she would fully embrace his feelings. Now, however, everything they had painstakingly built seemed to be crumbling.
Richard’s grip tightened around the pen in his hand, pressing down until the paper tore with a harsh, grating sound. It was an important report due to the Emperor by the next day—a fact his aide made clear with a loud sigh.
“Are you planning on ignoring your work entirely, Your Highness?”
“Do I look like I’m in any state to work right now?”
“Regardless, it still has to be done.”
Richard’s harsh glare was enough to make Anton, his aide, instinctively draw back.
It wasn’t unusual for the Crown Prince to let his responsibilities slide, and Anton had endured it in silence countless times. Yet now, with his recent promotion, Anton gathered his courage and stood straighter, speaking with newfound boldness.
“If you keep this up, I’ll have no choice but to inform Her Highness the Crown Princess!”
Richard’s gaze grew even darker, and Anton reflexively shrank, uttering a startled sound. He regretted testing his luck and imagined his elderly parents’ faces, wondering why he hadn’t written a will.
To his surprise, Richard sighed, speaking in a weary tone that betrayed none of the anger in his eyes.
“…That might not be such a bad idea.”
“What?”
“If she storms over here in anger, maybe I’ll at least get to see her.”
He imagined Courtney storming in, wielding a stick, and sighed again, realizing it was only a foolish hope. She’d gone so far as to avoid meals to keep away from him. She wasn’t going to come running.
When Richard slumped over the desk, Anton, tentatively relieved, relaxed his shoulders. The sight of the once-imposing Crown Prince so visibly deflated was strangely both satisfying and worrying. People didn’t change so drastically unless something serious was amiss. If anything happened to him, what would happen to the Empire?
Anton cautiously resumed speaking.
“Then, shall I go see her immediately?”
“Are you looking to get yourself killed?”
Naturally, Anton scowled, his mouth drawn into a grimace.
Richard kept his handsome face pressed against the desk for a while longer, until, abruptly, he lifted his head. Anton momentarily hoped that he might finally be ready to work.
But the small spark of hope was quickly extinguished. Richard crumpled the torn report and tossed it aside before declaring,
“Go.”
“Where exactly…?”
“To the Crown Princess’s office.”
“You’re not sending me on some strange errand, are you?”
Richard’s narrowed eyes left no room for argument. Anton forced a polite, if strained, smile.
But Richard was far from inclined to waste any time reprimanding him.
“You know the ladies-in-waiting chosen by Her Highness?”
“Yes, there’s Madam Millen and one more… what’s her name…”
“I don’t know either. Just bring one of them here, quietly.”
“Why?”
The instant Anton asked, Richard reached for the desk lamp. Years of experience and survival instincts warned him: if he didn’t move, that lamp would soon be crashing over his head.
“I’m on it!”
He dashed out of the office before he finished his sentence.
Richard set down the lamp, tapping his fingers on the desk. It was no time to sit back and feel helpless. Determined, he steeled himself to overcome this hurdle and find a way to restore—and even strengthen—their relationship.
* * *
A week later, Courtney returned to the dining hall. She hadn’t reached any particular conclusion in her absence. She felt guilty for leaving Richard in the dark and, more than anything, she missed him.
Richard, who had been sitting idly with his chin propped up, poking at his food, leaped up at the sight of her.
“Courtney.”
“It’s been… a while.”
Seven days. A short time, perhaps, but long enough when living under the same roof—even if their ‘home’ was a palace—to go without even crossing paths. Especially for a couple who used to see each other at least twice a day.
Perhaps that was why he looked her over from head to toe, his expression more disapproving than glad. It was understandable, of course. Courtney lowered her head, feeling even more apologetic.
