Mr. & Mrs Meropide

Chapter Sixteen: To Know or Not to Know

The day had unfolded differently for Wriothesley.

Wriothesley felt the persistent throb in his head, a reminder of the cold that had steadily taken hold since the previous day's rain-soaked excursion. He wasn't one to let a simple cold slow him down—he had too much to do and too many responsibilities to manage. Yet, the scratchiness in his throat and the dull ache behind his eyes were getting harder to ignore.

He groaned inwardly, knowing exactly what was coming if he didn't nip this in the bud. Sigewinne's potions were notorious throughout the fortress for their effectiveness—and their taste. Bitter, pungent, and something that lingered on the tongue long after it was swallowed. Just the thought of it was enough to make him wince. No, better to go to the infirmary now and get away with something milder: a cup of herbal tea, a pill, and some rest. He could keep going without letting the symptoms get worse, and, most importantly, avoid that awful potion.

With a sigh of resignation, Wriothesley decided to make his way to the infirmary. As he walked through the fortress, he could feel the usual weight of the place, the unrelenting routine and order that he had helped build. But today, each step felt a little heavier, the cold slowing him down just enough to be noticeable.

As he approached the infirmary, he could hear Sigewinne's voice, calm and soothing, as she treated another patient. He paused just outside, listening to the familiar sounds. Her voice was always comforting, a sign that things were being taken care of, no matter how chaotic the fortress could get.

He stepped inside and immediately noticed a guard seated on one of the infirmary beds, already being attended to by Sigewinne. She was sipping tea, her posture relaxed as the little Melusine checked her over. It wasn't unusual for guards to visit the infirmary—after all, the fortress's conditions could be harsh on everyone. Seeing that it was just another guard and not an inmate, Wriothesley decided to let his posture relax. No need to put up a front here. He could just be another person dealing with the discomfort of a cold.

As he looked at the guard, he couldn't help but notice she had a rather pretty face. There was something about her features that caught his attention, a sense of familiarity that tugged at the back of his mind. His eyes lingered a moment longer, and that's when it hit him. This wasn't just any guard—this was Clorinde.

He recognized her despite the subtle changes in her appearance: the slightly darker hair, the contact lenses, the posture that was just different enough to make her seem like someone else. But there was no mistaking it; the woman sitting on that infirmary bed was undoubtedly Clorinde. Wriothesley's realization hit him like a wave, but he quickly masked his surprise.

He immediately reminded himself that under no circumstances could he blow her cover. There was a reason she was disguised, and whatever mission she was on, it was vital that no one suspected her true identity. Still, the fact that no one had informed him about this grated on him slightly. As the Duke of Meropide, he was used to being in the loop about everything that happened within his fortress. But now, he found himself playing along, keeping up appearances as though she was just another guard.

"Good day, Wriothesley," Sigewinne's voice broke through his thoughts, her tone as warm and welcoming as ever. "Are you not feeling well?"

Wriothesley forced himself to refocus, pushing aside the surprise that threatened to show on his face. "It seems like I've caught something. My head's been pounding all day, and my throat is on fire," he replied, rubbing his forehead as if to emphasize his point.

As Sigewinne moved to prepare another cup of tea and gather more medicine, Wriothesley couldn't help but let his gaze drift back to Clorinde—or rather, to the guard she was pretending to be. His eyes lingered on her a moment longer than he intended, and he saw the faintest flicker of uncertainty cross her features. She's good, he thought, but not good enough to fool me.