"Ahem. My apologies."
Duchess Prelati gently lowered herself onto the grass, her skirt fluttering before settling over her milky-white thighs. A warm, almost disarming smile appeared on her lips as she tilted her head at Lancel.
"I merely wished to provoke you. That's all."
"Uh…"
"Will you forgive me?"
If her eyes had been open, Lancel was certain they would be shimmering with a pleading light.
Now he understood where Ishtar had gotten her slyness from. It was from her mother herself.
"…Do you think I'm a joke, Duchess?"
"Eh?"
"L-Lancel, w-what are you saying—"
Duchess Prelati suddenly waved her hand, looking flustered as a faint blush spread across her face.
"I-I understand that you're upset, but—"
"Since you've observed my fight with Heidi Ermengarde, I'm sure you're aware of my disposition toward witches," Lancel said. "I've never had a pleasant time in Riviere until recently. So I'm tired of being pushed around."
"I… I'm sorry…"
