I watched Isolde out of the corner of my eye. She was still upset.

I moved closer, standing beside her, breaking the silence with the subtlety of a dagger slipping between ribs.

"Why didn’t you let me go with her?"

"Why? Because you can’t wander off. If you get lost, Mom and Dad will be furious."

She was lying.

I studied her calmly.

"Are you jealous?"

Her ears turned red.

Oh. Bullseye.

I didn’t fully understand it. Was this one of those childish sibling jealousies? The need to not share someone she considered hers?

"Why so quiet now?"

I leaned slightly to see her face. It was completely flushed, her pout barely concealed. I smirked, amused—but when she tried to turn away to hide, I schooled my expression.

"S-So what if I am?!" she blurted suddenly. Oh hell, she was really worked up. "You can’t go with anyone but me. You’re still too little."

She wasn’t wrong. Logically, I was far too young for that kind of thing.

"...Then… let’s make a deal."

"What?"

…Wait, I haven’t even thought this through.

I scrambled for an answer. Technically, I am too young to date. What’s the standard age here? Fourteen? Fifteen? No clue. I never had a girlfriend in my past life. And the one time I got close… well, I ended up killing her during sex. Not exactly proud of that, in case you were wondering.

I never experienced love that way.

But… for Isolde, I can do this. I’m resolved.

"I won’t go out with anyone but you until I’m fifteen. Deal?"

"What do you mean?"

Come on, really? I’m out here negotiating romantic terms with my eight-year-old sister.

But if this reassures her—if it guarantees I won’t have a girlfriend before fifteen—then it’s worth it.

"I mean, until I turn fifteen, I won’t go out with anyone else like that. Just you. All the time. Every day."

A small smile flickered across her face. Still, she hesitated, as if weighing whether the offer was favorable enough.

"Mmm…" She finally met my eyes. "Deal!"

I smiled back and hugged her. Her cheeks were cold, but her hands were warm. We never did buy her gloves, so I ended up giving her mine. Though, as a substitute, we found another solution: Syrix.

I’d managed to manipulate it to warm my skin, turning it into an improvised heat source. Efficient? Yes. Exhausting? Absolutely.

"Hey, Lucy…" She suddenly broke the hug. "Don’t you think he looks too lonely?"

She pointed behind me.

The king.

I looked.

Yeah, he did seem solitary. But not in the way of someone who chooses to be alone—more like the distant sadness of a man carrying too much weight on his shoulders.

"Maybe," I murmured. "You think something’s wrong?"

"Mmm… Dunno. Since he’s been with us, he’s had this… sad look. Maybe it’s ’cause his wife and daughter aren’t here."

Wasn’t this veering into adult gossip territory?

"I’ll talk to him," I decided.

The king probably needed company—someone to talk to. Though, if I was honest, I wasn’t sure a conversation with an eight-year-old would be particularly stimulating for him.

"What? Wait, you’re actually gonna talk to the king?" Isolde asked, bewildered.

"Sure. Why not? Just wait here."

I started walking toward him.

Isolde made a half-hearted grab for my sleeve but missed.

So I kept going.