Edelgard tried to keep the kiss—and by extension the feelings, and attempting to puzzle out how long she's had them—out of mind. Being able to negotiate with Dimitri came first, and in order to do that she needed to get rid of Cornelia. Thinking too much on romance could wait until she wasn't plotting anyone's murder.

Her main attempt to put it aside was to focus on what Byleth actually told her—that Edelgard died in the Holy Tomb, but somehow Byleth was able to change it. It wasn't very hard to believe—it seemed true, at least, and she couldn't see a reason for the mercenary to lie—so her thoughts continued through the conversation chronologically. How they were so close, how she wanted to see Byleth's faint smile, and how Edelgard thought—without really thinking—that a kiss would do that.

She wasn't wrong, but that made it harder to ignore it. She wanted to understand the moment and those feelings before dismissing them—even if she felt a bit ridiculous for caring, to some extent.

When she proved that recalling what was said wouldn't help—that she needed someone else to talk with to determine how she personally felt—Edelgard opted to focus on preparations so they could take care of Cornelia. She couldn't tell if it genuinely helped, or if it was an excuse to move on to the personal musings quicker.

Her goal was to leave when Count Bergliez's troops did, and travel with them for as long as it was practical. Some letters in the underground city noted that Cornelia would go to one of the people implicated in the Tragedy of Duscur, or travel into the Empire and stay with Arundel if she was declined. Edelgard decided it would be best to check the Kingdom first; if Cornelia wasn't in either place, either by bad luck or if she heard about the city's fall, then they would have to return to the monastery empty-handed. The same outcome would result if Cornelia had more people with her than expected.

They were able to leave in the first few days of the Pegasus Moon's second week. Edelgard's little group only consisted of half a dozen people—herself, Hubert, Monica, Byleth, Dimitri, and someone to act as the king's guard of sorts. They moved without drawing too much attention to themselves if they were able, mostly for practical reasons; Cornelia would likely hear the king—or someone like him—was traveling alongside five others either way, but it helped not to have anyone else question them.

The guard led, alongside Dimitri; Byleth stayed close to the king, mostly warily watching him but occasionally entertaining conversation with Edelgard if prompted. Monica gladly took the opportunity to speak with Edelgard more, it seemed, whereas Hubert added on when it was needed or appropriate and otherwise scowled silently.

"…I'm curious," Edelgard said, glancing at Hubert and Monica on either side of her. Byleth was holding a kind of conversation with Dimitri's guard; the three could discuss it without the others noticing. "If what happened in the Holy Tomb two years ago was any different—if I had been injured, for example—what would you two have done?"

She asked partially because she still hasn't entirely decided how the idea personally seemed to her—if she should feel anything more than relative indifference towards the event itself.

"First, I would question in the moment why you're thinking of such a thing," Monica replied, frowning. "Especially with him"—she lightly gestured to Dimitri—"here. He still looks half-ready to stab someone."

"It's close to the anniversary," Edelgard reasoned. She could use that as her excuse. "The whole thing could've worked out both better and worse. I just want to reflect on it."

"Logically speaking," Hubert pointed out, "If anything had happened to you, it would depend on the severity of it. In the case of an injury, one would just need to find an excuse—the group you allegedly brought inside being mages, for example. If they didn't accept the excuse, or if it was a greater wound than what you could manage, you would simply disappear from the academy for the remaining month. Monica and I would have to stay, in that case."

She cast him a curious look. "And if I had died?"

Monica let out a small unhappy murmur, and Hubert glanced at her but looked back ahead again.

"We wouldn't have been able to stay, in that case. Someone would have removed the mask—either before or after you fell—and we would naturally be implicated alongside it. We could lie, and say we didn't know anything; I doubt anyone would have believed us."

"Not that staying would have achieved anything," Monica mused. "Your Majesty is rather crucial to these battles—especially in the academy, when Hubert and I were your most trusted allies."

"I would hesitate to call you one of Lady Edelgard's most trusted," Hubert said dully, not even looking at her.

Monica looked directly at Edelgard for the answer. "I am close, at least, aren't I?"

"I rely on you both," Edelgard reasoned. Any real attempts to prevent the argument would be rendered useless in seconds—they only truly got along if they were agreeing about what happened in the Holy Tomb; they could bicker even on the battlefield if they were close—so she found it easier and a bit more fulfilling to play along instead.

Monica seemed content to take it as a compliment, but Hubert still cut in.

"Byleth knows more than you do at this point."

"Hubert." That's all she could really manage for a few seconds, but for any reason Edelgard tried to add, she could easily imagine his response. Eventually she decided not to say anything else—which itself would warrant a response, since it was admitting defeat in a sense.

Oddly, neither one questioned her. Monica glared at Hubert for a moment—he likely noticed, and if he was any more prone to it he might have smirked—before she looked at Edelgard again, any frustration fading.

"But speaking of the mercenary," Monica said curiously, "I did have a question about the other day. When I gave you some more work after the meeting—why was the mercenary still there?"

Edelgard hoped that if she gave a partial response, she could avoid blushing too deeply as she recalled the kiss.

"She had some concerns," she replied, attempting evenness but slightly failing.

"The meeting had ended a good ten or twenty minutes prior," Monica pointed out. "It doesn't take that long to request coming along, and you don't need a closed door to do it."

Edelgard tried not to comment, and fortunately Hubert misread the expression.

"You told her even more, didn't you?" It managed to sound both disdainful and show disappointment specifically towards her.

"She shared something with me, actually," Edelgard said, looking at him. "Equally important to her as my past is to me, I'd imagine."

"Someone telling you their secrets doesn't justify telling them yours."

"Could you manage to feign belief that I actually trust her?"

"I have no trouble believing you trust her," Hubert replied simply, returning the look after a moment. Surprisingly, he actually spoke it a little quieter, "I have reservations on where that trust might lead. Simply put, if you would walk astray when proven wrong—walk astray when proven right. I assume Byleth is here because of the latter."

"Byleth is here because she asked to come," Edelgard argued. "She made good points, and I accepted."

"What were these 'points?'"

That, Edelgard couldn't explain without telling the full story; the 'points' were built into past experiences, and she didn't want to give away the other half of the conversation—didn't want to admit to the kiss. She knew one or both would make some comment towards it, and that would lead to a whole other discussion.

They fell silent, and neither one questioned her so the conversation ended. She was partially relieved—that, somehow, she avoided hinting to much towards the kiss—yet somewhat frustrated—in part because she had another reason to believe Byleth wouldn't betray her, and she couldn't explain it to them.

Not everyone would attempt to change what already happened—nor did anyone even have the opportunity, strangely excluding Byleth. It took conviction to dare to try; a certain belief that one could succeed. Whether that came from simple loyalty or ran a bit deeper as a cherished friendship or even some kind of unintentional romantic gesture was yet to be seen.

Edelgard decided that would be her way to look at what happened in the Holy Tomb; an act that, whether or not the mercenary realized, did mean more than saving someone's life. At least to her, it meant someone considered Edelgard worth saving.