Rixton was absolutely frantic when I saw him again. I had just entered the school building sopping wet from rain when he careened into me, checking for wounds by patting me down and interrogating me like a jailer.

Conversely, I snapped at him harshly, which he seemed to feel like he deserved. But I was tired of him blaming himself for something that was obviously not his fault.

He was blubbering about losing track of me nearly the entire day when he suddenly paused and took a better look at me. "My lady, you're all wet."

“You didn't notice that when you were touching me all over?”

"I-I’m so sorry!! We need to get you to the infirmary immediately! What if you catch cold? I'll grab some blankets, and stoke the fireplace- wait, what if there's no fireplace in the infirmary?! Well, there must be bed warmers! I'll ask the nurse where to get some heated coals-"

I was half-tempted to kiss him just to get him to shut up when another nuisance arrived to fuss over me.

Marion appeared at the end of the hall carrying a woman in his arms. At the sight of me he rushed over, still holding the woman, concern evident in his eyes. 

"Lady Raine, you're soaked in rain!" He waited for me to laugh at his terrible pun, and when I didn't, he looked pensive. "I should write a poem about that. Lady Raine was soaked in rain, looking like a wet rose from Spain-"

"That sounds more like a limerick." I would walk outside in the downpour again rather than listen to his poetry. I glanced down at the woman, who was clutching Marion's vest and looking up at him with a rapt expression on her face. I swear this man must be using some kind of charm magic, since the only thing he has going for him is his looks. "Who is that?"

"Who is who?" Marion looked confused. 

I gestured to the woman.

He looked down, let out an "Ah!," and jolted in surprise, dumping the woman unceremoniously on the ground. He patted the dust off her dress and apologized ruefully before she scurried away.

He put a hand on the back of his head, smiling like an idiot. "I carried her over a puddle in the courtyard and forgot I was holding her!"

How do you forget you're holding up an entire human? 

In the midst of all the nonsense, my stomach grumbled. I realized I had missed lunch break to have that chat with Luce in the garden.

Marion and Rixton had heard it too. "Lady Raine, did you miss lunch?"

Ugh. "No matter, I will just go to a cafe after my last class."

"Here, please eat this!!" Both of them said in unison, each holding out an item of food. Rixton's was some kind of bun that was likely his own lunch, which he probably missed to look for me, and Marion's was a cupcake in a lacy packaging that had probably been given to him by a woman. They glared at each other.

If this were a scene in Garden of Dreams, making a choice would probably impact my favorability in each of their routes.

"Forget it." I grabbed Marion's arm, causing Rixton to immediately look distressed. "We have to get to class."

I could practically hear Rixton whimper. He usually waited outside my classes while guarding me, but apparently that wasn't enough for him anymore.

Thinking about that made me realize something. Occasionally Rixton spoke with the other guards of high-profile students at the academy. He might have information about the rebellion if a noble was behind it.

I would ask him later. I practically pushed Marion to our classroom, which was Mathematics.

Thankfully, our class had some free time after the lecture to partner up and work on problems. Since I had not been alone with Marion until now (other than the first time we met, when I made him cry by insulting his poetry), it had been hard to gauge his opinion on royalty and discover any hidden sides under the gullible veneer.

Marion, for his part, looked incredibly happy when I chose him as a partner.

As soon as I sat down, he once again offered me the cupcake. “You really should eat something. I don’t think it should taste bad…” he looked down at the sweet worriedly, as if examining it for flaws. “I didn't taste test this particular batch, but I’ve made this recipe before.”

“You made it?” It was highly unusual for nobles to cook or bake, since they usually left that to the kitchen staff. 

Marion scratched his head in embarrassment, causing his orange-pink hair to flip up in the back. “It’s a hobby of mine.”

A ridiculous image of Marion stirring a bowl while reciting poetry and wearing a frilly apron intruded into my mind. Somehow, the picture didn’t look off in any way.

I let my arm slip over the back of my chair and leaned back to look at him.

Did he make that for me?