The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Cerys moved through the forest with Mikhailis, their steps careful and quiet. The night was dark, and the towering trees around them blocked most of the moonlight, casting deep shadows across the ground. Mikhailis, however, seemed unperturbed, moving with a confidence that belied the darkness. He knelt by a patch of plants, examining them closely before pulling out a few, tucking them into his bag.

Cerys watched him, her skepticism evident.

"Are you sure those are edible?" she asked, her voice low.

Mikhailis looked up at her with a grin.

"Of course. This is the forest—there's plenty here if you know where to look." He held up a small, leafy plant, waving it slightly.

"See this? It's a wild herb, good for seasoning and safe to eat. Adds a nice flavor to the dish."

Cerys raised an eyebrow, her gaze dubious.

"I'll take your word for it," she said. She wasn't used to relying on someone else in situations like this. As a knight, she had always been the one to protect others, the one to know what to do.

But this forest was different—its atmosphere was eerie, its paths unfamiliar. And it frustrated her to admit that Mikhailis seemed to handle it better than she did. He walked with confidence, his eyes sharp, his movements efficient as he collected branches, vines, and even small animals using traps he quickly fashioned from the materials around them.

She found herself admiring his adaptability. He might joke around and act frivolous, but there was no denying that he knew what he was doing. He didn't seem fazed by their predicament—in fact, he almost seemed to enjoy it.
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"Do knights usually have survival tests like this?" Mikhailis asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. He glanced at her, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Cerys gave him a sideways look, her brow furrowing slightly.

"We do. But this forest is different from anything I've trained in. The knights are given provisions and basic tools during our survival tests. We aren't expected to... craft everything from scratch like this." She watched as he used a sharp stone to cut through a thick vine, his hands deft and steady.

"Ah, so you're saying that what I'm doing here is a bit advanced, huh?" Mikhailis teased, his grin widening.

Cerys huffed, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Are you questioning my capabilities, Your Highness?" she retorted, her voice laced with irritation.

Mikhailis suddenly stopped, turning to face her. His gaze met hers, his expression serious for a change. He held her eyes for a moment, and Cerys felt a jolt run through her. There was something in his gaze—something deep and knowing.

"In this world, we don't have to have anything. The world already provides it," he said, his voice soft but firm. He picked up a branch, holding it out to her.

"Take this branch, for instance. It can be a spear, a walking stick, or even firewood. The vine I just cut can be a rope, a snare, or something to secure a tent." He paused, his eyes meeting hers again.

"All we need is knowledge. Everything else is already here."

Cerys stared at him, momentarily stunned. There was wisdom in his words—a depth she hadn't expected. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure of how to respond.

"Are you trying to boast about yourself?" she finally asked, her voice softer, almost uncertain.

Mikhailis shrugged, his grin returning.

"Kind of," he said, and with that, he continued walking, leaving Cerys to follow in silence.

They continued gathering supplies, moving through the forest with a strange kind of synergy. Cerys's eyes scanned their surroundings, her senses sharp, while Mikhailis focused on collecting what they needed. He caught small forest animals using traps he fashioned from vines and branches, and Cerys found herself slowly letting her guard down, trusting his lead. The traps were cleverly set up, using the natural environment to their advantage. Mikhailis had positioned several loops of vine in areas where small animals were likely to pass, baiting them with berries and scraps of food they had collected earlier. The loops tightened as the animals stepped through, efficiently capturing them without causing harm.

She was a knight—strong, capable. But being alone with Mikhailis, she realized that even she had limits. She struggled with her vulnerability, her self-doubt creeping in as they worked. She had been the one who failed to control her horse, leading to their separation from the group. She felt like she had failed her duty—like she had let everyone down.

During a quiet moment, as they sat by the fire they had built, Mikhailis glanced at her, his eyes softening.

"You seem lost in thought," he said, his voice gentle.

"Something on your mind?"

Cerys hesitated, then sighed, looking down at the fire.

"I... I feel like I failed," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I was supposed to protect the group, expected to protect you by Her Majesty. But I let my guard down, and now we're separated from everyone. It's my fault,"

Mikhailis was silent for a moment, then he reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," he said softly, his eyes meeting hers.

"You didn't fail anyone. You didn't fell from that cliff by choice. Only madman does that. We're here now, and we're fine. We're making do with what we have, and we're surviving. That's what matters."

Cerys looked at him, her heart pounding as she saw the sincerity in his gaze. He wasn't mocking her, wasn't judging her. He genuinely cared—not just about surviving, but about her, about how she felt.

She felt something shift within her—a realization. This man, this frivolous, eccentric prince consort, wasn't as carefree as he pretended to be. The way he spoke, the way he reassured her, the way he worked tirelessly to keep them safe—there was more to him than he let on. Perhaps that was why Queen Elowen trusted him so much. He was dangerous—but not in the way she had initially thought.

And more importantly.

He is not a merely no-good prince consort

As they returned to their camp, Cerys noticed several small animals lying near the fireplace—creatures that looked like a cross between a rabbit and a squirrel, with soft fur and long tails. They were caught in simple snares made of vines and branches that Mikhailis had crafted earlier. The traps had been set near the camp, using the warmth of the fire and bits of leftover food as bait. The small creatures, drawn by the heat and the smell, had wandered into the traps and gotten caught.

"We're lucky," he said, glancing up at her.

"Looks like we got some more meat to eat tonight. They must have been curious about the tent and the warmth of the fire."

Cerys raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a small smile.

"And what are you planning to do with them?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Mikhailis looked up at her, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"I'm going to cook, of course," he said, standing up and brushing his hands together.

"Just sit back and relax, my lady. I'll take care of everything."

He moved with purpose, gathering a few flat stones and setting them up to create a makeshift cooking area. He used a piece of wood as a cutting board, carefully preparing the small animals by skinning them, removing their insides, and squeezing out the blood. His movements were precise, his focus unwavering as he worked.

"First, we need to clean the meat thoroughly," Mikhailis said, his tone almost instructive. He used water from his flask to rinse the meat, making sure it was as clean as possible. He then gathered herbs and wild vegetables they had found earlier, laying them out neatly beside him.

"Next, we season it," he continued, sprinkling salt he had brought with him onto the meat, along with the herbs. He rubbed the seasoning into the meat, his hands moving with practiced ease. He used a stick to skewer the meat, placing it over the fire to cook.

Cerys watched, her eyes widening slightly as she saw how carefully he worked. He wasn't just throwing things together—he was putting thought and care into each step. He chopped the wild vegetables, adding them to a small pot with some water, creating a simple but fragrant stew.

"And now we wait," Mikhailis said, sitting back and watching the meat as it cooked over the fire. The smell was incredible—rich, savory, and mouthwatering. The vegetables simmered in the pot, their aroma mixing with the scent of the roasting meat.

Cerys found herself captivated by the scene—the flickering firelight, the smell of the food, the sight of Mikhailis working with such focus and care. She had never imagined that he, of all people, would be capable of something like this. He was full of surprises.

When the food was finally ready, Mikhailis handed her a makeshift bowl, filled with the stew and a piece of the roasted meat. Cerys's stomach growled audibly, and she felt her face flush in embarrassment. Mikhailis grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I guess my lady is hungry," he teased, handing her a makeshift spoon.

Cerys took the bowl, her eyes narrowing at him, though there was no real anger behind her gaze. She glanced at the bowl—the stew looked surprisingly appetizing, the meat tender and juicy. She took a deep breath, bringing the spoon to her lips.

The taste was incredible—rich, savory, and full of flavor. The herbs added a depth to the meat that made it taste far better than she had expected, and the vegetables were perfectly cooked, their texture just right.

"This is... surprisingly good," Cerys admitted, her voice soft. She took another bite, savoring the flavors.

Mikhailis sat beside her, sipping from a cup of the matcha tea he had prepared. He looked up, his gaze drifting to the sky. Cerys followed his gaze, her eyes widening as she saw the sky above them.

The canopy had opened up above their campsite, revealing a sky filled with countless stars. It was breathtaking—more beautiful than anything Cerys had ever seen. The stars seemed to stretch endlessly, their light twinkling against the deep blue of the night sky.

"I guess this is what they call a blessing in disguise," Mikhailis said softly, his voice filled with wonder. He glanced at Cerys, his eyes warm.

"The sky, the food, the company... It's not that bad, is it?"

Cerys looked at him, her heart swelling with a warmth she hadn't expected. She found herself smiling, her gaze softening.

"You're as carefree as always, Your Highness," she said, her voice gentler than it had ever been with him.

Mikhailis grinned, taking another sip of his tea.

"That's the only way to be happy with life, Cerys."

They sat in silence for a while, eating their meal, the warmth of the fire keeping the chill of the night at bay. The stars above them seemed to shine even brighter, and for a moment, Cerys allowed herself to forget their predicament—to simply enjoy the moment.

When they had finished eating, Mikhailis stretched, letting out a content sigh. He glanced at the tent, then back at Cerys, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"Well, it's getting late," he said, his voice casual.

"I suppose it's time to rest. Let's sleep together."

Cerys blinked, her eyes widening, her face turning bright red.

"Eh?!" she exclaimed, her voice cracking slightly.

Mikhailis chuckled, his grin widening.

"What? It's just practical. There's only one tent, after all. Don't worry, I'll be a perfect gentleman," he said, winking at her.

Cerys opened her mouth, then closed it again, her mind racing. She could only stare at him, speechless, as he stood up, stretching again.

"Come on, it'll be fine," Mikhailis said, holding out a hand to her.

"I promise I won't bite."

Cerys hesitated, then slowly took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. She looked at him, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"You're impossible, Your Highness," she muttered, though there was no real anger in her voice—only a hint of exasperation, and something else she couldn't quite name.

Mikhailis just laughed, leading her towards the tent. "I'll take that as a compliment, Cerys."