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Summary
joshua rosfield, archduke of rosaria, makes good on a very old promise to his first shield.
“Do you remember, dear brother,” the Archduke’s voice is a fond croon, “that we were promised to each other as children?”
As much as he’s shivering under the fiery gaze of the Phoenix, Clive cannot help the smile that comes to his face—something near shy, as he resists the urge to hide it behind his hand. The question dredges up old memories, from when Joshua was barely out of his swaddling clothes and Clive yet unmolded, traipsing valiantly through the meadows of Rosalith’s courtyards, taking Clive by the sleeves of his fine dress to hold tight to him. It’s a warm memory, the feeling of sunlight on his cheeks and the earnest declaration of a child, Did you know we’re supposed to get married someday, like Mother and Father? Close to his heart, something flutters. A pleasant heat spreads from somewhere in his chest through the rest of his body.