ã€ŠRise of the Unfavored Princessã€‹


 Chapter 1

    Ch. 1: A Whole New World... Literally

    It was cold.

    That was the first sensation I felt. My eyes opened blurrily, then all at once as I remembered the events of the previous night. Surprisingly, my head didn¡¯t hurt that much, even though I had been generous with the self-medication of wine and my mom¡¯s Xanax pillsst night.

    I still can¡¯t believe what happened. After getting my evening math ss canceled, I had jumped in line at Jonathan and I¡¯s favorite bakery to buy our favorite macarons. I¡¯d chosen light pink ones for myself and blue for Jonathan, a fun distinction we liked to make so that way no one ate the other¡¯s desert. The packaging, frothy white with yellow ribbons, had alsoe out of my pocket as I wanted tonight to be even more special than usual.

    I¡¯d snapped a pic and texted it to my best friend since I was a little girl, Halle. It was such good luck that we had both ended up going to universities in the same city.

    [I just got this for Jonathan! He is totally gonna love it!]

    I had waited a minute, then two, but got no reply. She was a social butterfly, always up to something new so I wasn¡¯t too surprised. Then after I climbed into my parked Subaru, I texted Jonathan so he could also get excited.

    [A surprise for you...] I sent, along with a winky kissy emoji. Perfect.

    Jonathan and I were both busy people, with myself in college and him as a local mechanic. I had been dreaming of bing a politician someday and Jonathan was always standing behind me, working overtime to pay off most of the rent for our apartment.

    .....

    I could hardly wait to tell him that I had been hired onto our local mayor¡¯s reelection campaign. I would finally have my own sry and Jonathan wouldn¡¯t have to work extra hours at the shop to make our ends meet. My cheeks burned on the car ride home as I thought about how pleased my fianc¨¦ would be. His handsome, rugged face would break out into a smile and he would pull me in for a kiss and maybe more. Thank goodness I had been mindful enough to wear good underwear in the morning.

    I had skipped up the stairs of my apartment building like a happy idiot, my feet carrying me to the fourth floor where our apartment was. But I could tell right away that something was off. The door to our apartment was opened and unlocked, a sliver of light peeking out from inside. An intruder?

    There was the faint sound of a dog sniffing around inside and I had dug out my rarely used pepper spray from the depths of my bag and held it in front of me. Jonathan had a day off today and had promised me that he would rest at home. My heart constricted at the thought of anything happening to my beloved.

    ¡°H-Hello?¡± I asked hesitantly, kicking open the door gently. No one answered. But my heart slowly sank as I saw a red skirt, hastily discarded near the entrance. I picked it up and took a good look. I¡¯d seen this skirt before. On Halle.

    Still, I had foolishly tried toe up with excuses in my head as I slowly advanced into the room. Since we hung out so often, I had given her a key to my apartment before, maybe she hade to change. I noticed her bra on the floor and swallowed nervously. Maybe she had been in a hurry and forgot to pick up after herself after she changed. Tears had been filling my eyes and I didn¡¯t even get to the best part!

    Right on the couch that Jonathan and I had cuddled so many times to watch movies Jonathan and Halle were fully engaged and going at it on the couch, in grante delicto. Her light brown hair was bouncing on her shoulders as the hoarse noise I¡¯d thought was a dog came out of her mouth. It was clear they were enjoying it, as my presence was unnoticed by them.

    My world had fallen apart right there. The man I loved with all my heart with the girl I loved with all my heart. The bag of macarons that symbolized our love dropped the floor, finally drawing the bright green gaze of Jonathan that I love- no, loved. They widened and he stopped pounding into Halle.

    ¡°Hey, why¡¯d you stop baby?¡± Halle asked sexily, her back to me. My hands curled into a fist as I heard the sweet nickname she had for MY fianc¨¦. She turned around as well and I saw her eyes practically pop out of her head.

    ¡°Babe, it¡¯s not what it looks like,¡± Jonathan said, hastily extricating himself from Halle and walking towards me. I had taken a step back, then another. I didn¡¯t want those hands that had been on Halle touching me.

    ¡°No,¡± I¡¯d replied in a dazed voice, ¡°this is exactly what it looks like.¡±

    The next thing I remember was fleeing back to my car with Jonathan calling after me. I didn¡¯t answer. Maybe I should¡¯ve. But I was still reeling from the fact that the man I had nned on giving everything to could treat me like that.

    A familiar jangle filled the air, my personalized ringtone for Halle. My car automatically picked up the call as it had done so many times before.

    ¡°Maria,¡± she started, her voice thick with tears. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Pleasee back so we can talk to you.¡±

    We. I had clenched my jaw. Halle had always been a girl generous with her affections which had gotten her in some trouble before. But I never thought I would be on the receiving end of her games.

    ¡°What the fuck was that, Halle? Why are you having sex with MY FIANC¨¦?¡± I roared into the phone as I finally snapped. Tears were running down my face and I wasn¡¯t paying attention to the road.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry! One thing led to another and it just happened. I swear it won¡¯t happen again!¡± Halle cried.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. It won¡¯t happen again. Because from this day forward neither of you matter to me anymore. Tell Jonathan, who I can hear zipping up his goddamn pants in the background, never to talk to me again! Same with you! You¡¯re a shitty friend.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Halle sobbed into the phone. It was so pathetic.

    ¡°Everyone always said you were bad news, you know?¡± I said, a bit more quietly this time. ¡°But I stuck around. Even when other girls in the grade turned against you and even me. And this is what you do to me! I hate you!¡±

    ¡°No... please...¡±

    ¡°Never talk to me again! Ever!¡± I had hung up the phone after that and by some miracle I pulled into the driveway of my divorced mother¡¯s 2 bedroom house. I¡¯d banged on the door and dissolved into a puddle of tears when my mother¡¯s kind face looked back at mine in surprise.

    ¡°Mi amor,¡± my momforted in Spanish, wrapping me into a tight hug as I sobbed even harder. My heart was in tatters. I had never hurt so much in my life and I longed for Jonathan¡¯sfort even though he was the one who had hurt me in the first ce. She hadn¡¯t pried at all, just holding me in her arms. Eventually, she had gone to bed and I was left on the living room sofa on my own, feeling like I was dying.

    In a sorrowful haze, I had stumbled to the wine cab and to the bathroom with my mom¡¯s Xanax and had generously indulged in both. But the pain didn¡¯t hurt less or go away, the world only went dark. My phone kept pinging through the night, the sole apaniment to my tears.

    I had cleaned out a bottle of red wine by myself so why didn¡¯t my head hurt? The ceiling also looked unfamiliar, neither the ceiling of my tiny living room or of my apartment. Maybe I was in the hospital. I had gotten my stomach pumped once after a particrly wild night in my freshman year, the same had probably happenedst night.

    It felt like little needles were piercing my back so I slowly sat myself up in the prickly bed and held back a gasp. This was definitely not a hospital. The room looked like a set for a medieval house. The walls were made of dark wood with moss growing in the corners. A window was open, with a strong breeze that had awoken me in the first ce. The air smelled filthy, like a sewer. I could only raise my hands to rub my eyes and ensure I wasn¡¯t dreaming. But the hands that touched my face were miniature and pale, like a child¡¯s hand rather than myrger, well-tanned one.

    Was I hallucinating? I pped at my cheeks with my strange hands and my chest, only to see that my generous decolletage had simrly vanished. I would never drink again. I stuck three fingers up in the air. Scouts honor. Mentally berated myself for being stupid enough to pop pills while drinking, I scratched my head and white hair came tumbling down. White? I have chocte brown hair that I have diligently cut into a bob for the past 5 years. I can only conclude that I¡¯m in the middle of a dream and have somehow be a senior citizen. A frown tugged at the corner of my mouth as I stared at the white lock wrapped around my baby hands, which upon closer inspection had silver strands running through it.

    ¡°What da fwu-¡± I swore, then covered my mouth with a gasp. That was a child¡¯s voice. No, a baby? I touched my newly plump face, which felt unfamiliar and jumped as someone entered the room. Thedy, who also had pale hair, although hers looked more gray to my sparkly white walked into the bare room I was sitting in.

    Her unfriendly face only turned more unfriendly as they settled on my newly downsized form sitting up in what now appeared to be a crib. My little eyes bugged out of my head as she walked over and in a quick movement plucked me out of the crudely shaped crib

    ¡°Ah, Winter, I heard you babbling. Did you wet your diaper already? I just put you down for a nap 30 minutes ago goddamnit.¡± She began bouncing me up and down, but it didn¡¯t feelforting and my head wobbled all over the ce. How dare this strange woman pick me up this way! And my name was definitely not Winter, it was Maria! My lifelike hallucinations should at least get that right.

    Still, the unusual name rang a bell as I looked out into the bustling streets of an area that could only be described as a slum. I opened my mouth to let out a sharp retort but instead out came the loud cry of a baby.

 Chapter 2

    Ch. 2: I¡¯m Dead?

    Winter, Winter, Winter. My body was sobbing uncontrobly but my head was going in circles as I wondered where I had heard the name. Passersby looked curiously into the open window at the crying baby, me. The woman holding me walked over the window and mmed it shut in the face of onlookers. I felt embarrassed to be sobbing so openly in front of people, but it was like my new body couldn¡¯t help it.

    ¡°Just be quiet, you little bugger,¡± she muttered angrily, her heavy perfume washing over me. I was cold and hungry, and her strange clothes did not do much to warm me. I was wearing a loose white dress cut out of a fabric so rough you could sand wood with it.

    ¡°Cold!¡± I whined as she thrust me back down on my prickly bed. What had this woman stuffed the mattress with? Or at least I tried to say that. Instead, it came out more like ¡°cod¡±. I struggled against her arms but it was like hitting the wall, there was no effect. As soon as she set me down, she began to lift the flimsy dress I was wearing, forcing me to wail even louder. This is assault! 911!

    ¡°Yup, you did wet it,¡± she sighed. Her hands unfastened the pin holding my underwear together and I was mortified to see that not only was I wearing a diaper, but I also had wet the white cloth. The humiliation that washed over me at the sight was second to none. I hadn¡¯t wet my bed since I was in preschool, this was the worst dream or hallucination ever.

    How old was this body I was dreaming in? I don¡¯t personally know any kids to use as a reference but I wagered I was around a year old since I could walk. Something seemed too familiar about the moment and as the mean woman began wrapping my private parts in another diaper, I wondered where I had seen this. My tiny fingers were not much good for counting on, but I held them up any.

    Could this dream be rted to Lord of the Rings? I thought hard, then shook my little head. Nope, the only people with silvery hair were wizards and fairies, and I definitely wasn¡¯t a fairy. Harry Potter? That was an easy one to cross off my list. I would be a middle schooler right now if this dream was based on Harry Potter.

    ¡°There,¡± the woman said, and she tugged my dress back down after exposing me. I looked at her suspiciously, as she sounded much calmer than she had when she¡¯d entered the room. It seemed she was going to finally say something nice to me, so I looked at her expectantly.

    ¡°You look so much like her, Winter.¡± she sighed with a faraway look. ¡°But I¡¯d rather she was here rather than you.¡±

    .....

    I¡¯ve seen those words before and a realization hit me like a lightning bolt. In my free time, I¡¯ve taken up the habit of reading online novels on my phone and the most recent one I read was an isekai fantasy about a noblewoman, ra St. ire, who wakes up in a new world and ends up marrying the crown prince of the Erudian empire after oveing trials of love and politics in the pce. It had been an entertaining story written by the mysterious author under the pseudonym Peppermint.

    As for Winter, she was a minor character in the story, meant to evoke pity in the heart of the reader. She was a young ve born princess discovered in the slums of the capital and brought into the castle where she waster treated worse than dirt and used of a false crime worthy of execution.

    In the Erudian Empire, there is a prophecy that when the promised child of fortune is born, a star will appear in the sky and the tides of fate will turn in favor of the Empire. Winter had been born on this day as had the only daughter of the empress. In order to steal the glory for herself, the empress uses Winter of being a witch so that way her own daughter is believed to be the promised child of the Empire.

    When I had first read about this sorry side character, I only felt a passing sliver of sadness for her. After all, our heroine ra along with her royal beau eventually uncovers the empress¡¯ plots and avenges Winter in the story. A shiver ran through my body, but not from the chill. Why would I dream about myself as a minor character rather than therger than life ra? That¡¯s it, it was time to leave the dream. Even though my fingers were clumsy and pretty useless, I was able to grab enough skin to hurt myself. The stinging pain brought tears to my eyes, but I stifled my cries lest the mean woman came back in.

    It wasn¡¯t working.

    Everything felt too real. From the din outside my window to the blood welling up from the small cut I made on my arm. I throw two quick, sessive ps to my cheek, but nothing happens. I¡¯m still lying in a straw-filled crib in a tiny room the size of an office cubicle. Raucousughter echoes in my ears and someone bumps into the side of the tiny hovel I am trapped in. One of the windows is open a crack and I can only watch transfixed as a tiny red object flies in andnds on the floor beyond where I can see.

    Out of worry about the mystery object that has ended up in my room, I flip onto my stomach and drag myself towards the edge of the crib. All throughout, I check how I¡¯m feeling. The mattress feels real and when I reached the end of the crib, I gnaw on the edge of the crib, which already has a few bite marks on it. My little eyes widen. On the floor underneath the window, a single peppermint is lying on the floor. A sign? Was I brought here? I¡¯ve read enough fantasy books to know how these things work and seeing the little mint, I flop back onto my crib, feeling a thousand years old.

    Reality sets in over the next few days as I¡¯m albeit poorly taken care of by the gray-haired woman. She curses my existence and handles me roughly, but I don¡¯t think she really hates me. I¡¯ve slowlye to realize that I must have somehow died and passed into the world of ra St. ire.

    Dwelling on the way I had guzzled the wine and pills, tears well up in my eyes and my body starts to uncontrobly cry again. My real mother must have been beside herself when she came down the next morning and saw my lifeless body. It hurts my heart every time I think back to my idental death. I want to scream into the world that I am not Winter, I am Maria Lopez! But as Ie to every morning in the same bed, Ie to realize that there is no way back. I¡¯m stuck here, permanently.

    I spend my days lying inside the crib, as the gray-haired woman never lets me out. She sleeps during the days and works at night, always forgetting about me untilter in the afternoon. The thumps against the wall keep me awake in the darkness, followed by the familiar rattle of coins. Bianca stores all her money in a loose floorboard inside my little room. She never brings me out of it, so I have yet to see much of the world.

    When Bianca does remember that she has to take care of an infant, she feeds me milk but I am too old to solely rely on milk for sustenance and am frequently hungry. Last night, in the naps that I got between Bianca¡¯s ¡®work¡¯, I dreamt of tacos and hamburgers. I looked like myself, a tall, pretty Latina, and I walked arm in arm with a Jonathan who didn¡¯t cheat on me. Then the morning light streaming in from the window wakes me up from my world that has be little more than a dream now.

    Boredom is my constantpanion. Bianca has not been kind enough to give me any toys and my greatest entertainment these dayses from her reactions to me the few times shees in. I pretend to be asleep when she creeps stealthily with her bag of coins. The loosened floorboard creaks and she does her best to not awaken the sleeping beast (me). Then just as Bianca thinks the coast is clear and begins to escape from my cubicle bedroom, I burst into loud tears and ruin her n. I¡¯ve done it every day since I¡¯ve been reborn and it has been an efficient way to remind my terrible aunt to feed me.

    Sometimes when there is daylight I look outside the window if Bianca leaves it open and watch people. Lying around in a crib all day gives me a lot of time to think so I¡¯ve begun topile the meager information I remember about Winter.

    I¡¯ve clearly reincarnated into the young Winter before she was discovered and brought to the pce. This means that there is some hope for me. Furiously sucking my little thumbs, which doesn¡¯t do anything for my rumbling tummy, I¡¯vee up with a n to circumvent my fate. The written Winter ended up at the pce because she had been discovered by a nobleman who saw her gold eyes that only members of the royal family had.

    So, step one: Don¡¯t ever be seen by Bianca¡¯s ¡®guests¡¯.

 Chapter 3

    Ch. 3: Deviations

    After that, I didn¡¯t n any further. As long as I avoid all of Bianca¡¯s guests like the gue, I should be home free. I¡¯ve always been an optimist and this situation is no different. My whole life resided within the small four walls of my bedroom. Bianca never brought me out to see the room she met with clients and I never pestered. I¡¯vee to view her as a cranky roommate.

    I had no idea when my birthdays passed and Bianca never informed. Thus, I existed a constant limbo of eating, ying with the few knick-knacks I could find in the room, dressing up in Bianca¡¯s clothes as she slept, and sleeping. It was a simple existence that bored me, especially because Bianca did not speak to me often. But she doesn¡¯t yell at me as much anymore either. The only time I mostly hear her yell these days is when the man who owns her prostitution contractes to collect his dues. On those days, I just hide under the covers of my too-small crib until he goes away. Then I hear the quiet keening of Bianca through the thin walls.

    If I were a normal child, I would have a speech impediment since my aunt has not taught me to speak but I practice my speech in private when Bianca isn¡¯t there. I also practice math and writing on the few sheets of paper I find, but I¡¯m forced to draw with ash from the firece because ink is a preciousmodity and not something a poor prostitute can afford. I¡¯ve written as much of Winter¡¯s story as I can remember and have simrly loosened a floorboard to hide my story under.

    I¡¯m around five years old now. My white hair has only earned more silver strands, glittering in the light. Bianca¡¯s eyes always trail on it the few times shees in and I¡¯m sure it must have looked a lot like my mother¡¯s. There is a small handheld mirror buried in the cupboard that constitutes as Bianca¡¯s closet. I can¡¯t peek often, otherwise, she yells at me endlessly and doesn¡¯t feed me. But every now and then, I dig it out and look at my little face and golden eyes that are the source of my misery.

    If the royal feature was hair, I would dye it in an instant. But eyes, those are too hard to hide. Bianca knows that too so when she lied to me that going outside would harm my otherwise perfect health, I stayed inside withoutint. I am as familiar as I can be with this little room I live in and recognize the street outside the window like the back of my hand. I try to be satisfied with my lot of life, but it¡¯s hard.

    In a way, I should already be off the hook. Winter was brought to the pce when she had just turned 3 and I¡¯ve long since turned 5 years old. My little legs long to run around reach their full potential, but I¡¯ve long stifled the desire by doing jumping jacks until I can¡¯t stand.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Peppermint,¡± I say out loud to the author as if they can hear me wherever they are. I¡¯m not sure whether or not they can. Maybe someone else would conform to their fate of being some unfavored princess. But not me. I guess that¡¯s a part of me that will never change, no matter what body I¡¯m in.

    I¡¯m stubborn and willful, and I don¡¯t follow the status quo just because it is expected of me. It did lead me to mistakes, such as trusting Halle even though everyone else called her bad news. But it also brought out my urge to make mymunity a better ce, hence why I became a political science major in the first ce. I¡¯ve long made peace with the fact that I am no longer Maria. But parts of her will always be with me.

    .....

    Unfortunately, nothing goodsts forever.

    I¡¯m a very small kid right now and I can see my ribs distressingly well when I dress in Bianca¡¯s old dresses that I clumsily alter to fit me. The few times I¡¯ve been ill, I wet a cold rag in the bucket Bianca ced weekly in my room for me to wash and drink with, then ce it upon my head to lower the fever. But this time was different.

    I could feel it as soon as I woke up. My whole body was burning more than it ever had before and when I sat up in the crib I was curled up in, my vision swam and my neck was too stiff to bend. The room remained dark that day, as Bianca did note to open the window that afternoon.

    It felt strange. I couldn¡¯t even get out of my crib to stumble over to my bucket and get a coldpress going. It was spring, but the biting chill of winter chased at my weak, little body. When I tried to speak, just as entertainment for myself, all that came out was a hoarse croak.

    Was I dying? The thought first urred to me as my vision began to go in and out. I had been ill before and especially since I was a young, unvinated child, I tended to catch whatever weird strains of illnesses Bianca picked up from her clients. Drums were pounding in my skull and I whined a little from the pain.

    This was easily the worst part of living in this new world. I was entirely alone almost all the time, with no one to rely on. In between the haze of my illness, I watched the day slip through my fingers as my pain got worse. This illness felt very serious. Maybe I really did have the gue or something?

    There was a thumping sound in the other room, Bianca was meeting with clients. She would not be in any time soon. As usual, I would have to take care of myself. I heaved a loud sigh of resignation, then kicked a leg over the edge of my crib. I would personally bring my water bucket over and give myself a coldpress.

    But the moment I stood on my feet, the world went topsy turvy and I fell to the floor unconscious, burning with fever. What happened next urred in the brief shes I woke up from the oppressive illness that was wrecking through my young system.

    I recalled Bianca crying out, ¡°Winter? Winter!¡± and then cuddling my head as if I was precious to her. No, that couldn¡¯t be right. Perhaps it was a hallucination. The next thing I remember was her pulling off the floorboard of her special hiding ce and then wrapping me up in the nket like a burrito. Cool air touched the bit of my face that was peeking out of the nket and I btedly realized that I am outside. I hear Bianca rapidly speaking to someone in a hushed voice and the jangle of coins. Then, nothing else.

 Chapter 4

    Ch. 4: Doctor¡¯s Visit

    When I awoke, my head mysteriously felt much better, but much like the time I had woken up in ra¡¯s world, the ceiling was unfamiliar. It was much nicer than the one I am used to seeing, with actual, white ster covering the wood. The entire room smelled like vinegar and cleaning supplies and the sheets I was carefully tucked under were a crisp white as well.

    The room felt like a five-star hotel after my years inside Bianca¡¯s little room that had originally served as her closet and storage. A cough racked through my chest, filling the quiet room and attracting an unwanted guest. A strange man I¡¯d never seen before rushed into the open door of the room and instinctively shrank into my covers. He was short and a little bit dumpy, with excitement dancing in his eyes behind his sses.

    I¡¯d hardlyid my eyes on anyone other than Bianca and people walking around on the streets outside our tiny house so it all felt new. Where was Bianca? Why did she leave me here? Had she decided she had enough of me and given me away to this strange man?

    ¡°She... She¡¯s awake,¡± said a familiar voice in a tone of disbelief. I never thought there would be a day when I found Bianca¡¯s husky voiceforting but that day hade. I looked over at her, desperate for her to save me from the stranger. She crept into the room cautiously, as if I would fall back into illness if she moved too quickly, and then surprised us both with a short hug before pulling away.

    ¡°This is good,¡± she concluded, nodding her head. I was surprised too, because this was the first sign of affection she had given me in years. The heavy musk of her perfume was thick in the air, so I could tell she hadn¡¯t washed since she had brought me to what I presumed to be a clinic.

    ¡°Yes, she has passed out during the dangerous stage of the illness.¡± Dr. Strobum said, giving Bianca a rundown of what he had written on his clipboard. He kept taking asional nces at me, as if he were surprised by the sight of a little girl. Well, I do look a little unusual. From all the people I¡¯d seen on the streets, no one had brilliant white hair and gold eyes.

    Wait, my eyes! Btedly, I remembered that he could see the distinctive gold when he had entered. What if he recognized it as the gold of the royal family? If so, then all my self-istion would be for naught. Like the petnt child I appeared to be on the outside, I buried my head under the covers so he couldn¡¯t stare anymore. Dr. Strobum looked like a man too curious for his own good, his aging self at odds with his energetic disposition. If he summoned the royal guards or somehow got an audience with her father, then I would be dragged away to the pce.

    My ears pricked up under the covers as listened in on the conversation.

    .....

    ¡°...yes, she is severely malnourished, which is why the illness took hold even faster. You need to feed her more nutrient-rich foods.¡±

    I could practically hear Bianca frown. ¡°Sounds expensive,¡± she replied passively.

    ¡°Well, what do you normally feed her?¡± the doctor inquired.

    ¡°Bread, milk, oats,¡± Bianca listed off quickly. I nodded under the covers. That was usually what I ate throughout the week. I usually cooked my oats in water over the fire and then dunked my hard bread in it to soften the rock hard dough. Milk, which had be increasingly scarce, was usually a treat I received once a week. The doctor tsked at the small list.

    ¡°Consider supplementing her meals with beans. They will help make up for what she¡¯s missing in her current diet.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Bianca was curt. She was always a bit snappy, unless she was speaking to a client. That was when I¡¯d usually hear simpering, silly wordse out of her mouth.

    ¡°So... how much is it?¡± she finally asked after hitting Dr. Strobum with many one-word answers.

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t worry about it!¡± I stuck my head out of the covers at his words. ¡°Consider it free.¡±

    Free? I looked around the spic and span room and the neat little desk covered in trinkets. It must cost him a pretty penny to maintain his clinic and yet he was willing to do her treatment for free? Bianca also found it suspicious as her pretty blue eyes narrowed on the slightly shorter doctor.

    ¡°Do you think I¡¯m a charity case or something?¡± my aunt scoffed in disdain. Even though Bianca was technically a ve, as prostitution did fall under the ve act of the Empire, she had a little something called pride. It was why, even in the little hovel they were scraping by in, her dresses were in mint condition and her gray locks were twisted and braided into fanciful designs every day. I recall how she had to go into her secret stash that she kept under the floorboards in order to free herself from her contract and I understand how she feels.

    ¡°No, no, you misunderstand,¡± the doctor said, waving his hands in surrender. Bianca eased up her glower a tiny bit. He looked back at me and I fought the urge to dive under the covers again. ¡°Such a tiny beauty like that, I would feel bad if I charged you further.¡±

    I didn¡¯t like his words and neither did Bianca. From the expression she was making, I could tell she was about to give Strobum a piece of her mind and my eyes wandered over the room as she began to do so. I stared at the little poster mounted above his desk meant to gauge one¡¯s eyesight. I could read every letter, it seemed my golden eyes had perfect vision.

    Antsy where I sat I wanted to y with his fun trinkets on the desk. There was a small, blue rubber ball and a windup toy that he probably gave to children who visited his clinic. But every thought fell clean out of my head as I noticed a small jar of peppermint candies on the corner of the table. Peppermints. Was it a coincidence? Thest time I saw one was the day I¡¯d been reincarnated and realized that I had died in myst life. And now there was a whole jar of them, mocking me.

    ¡°Would you like one?¡± asked the doctor, interrupting my thoughts. I had been staring so intently at the jar it seemed the man had assumed I wanted candy. He took one out of the jar and popped it into my hand before I answered, which was good because I wasn¡¯t sure if I was going to respond. I haven¡¯t spoken all that much in my 5 years, other than to myself and a few words to my aunt.

    The familiar candy was minty fresh and slightly sweet, easily one of the best things I¡¯ve eaten since I woke up here. The feeling of ill-boding eased up a little bit as I fell into the pure childlike joy of eating something sweet.

    A heavy knock sounded on the door, interrupting Bianca¡¯s tirade. She raised a brow at him, displeased.

    ¡± I thought you said this clinic opens at 10. Why are there people here?¡± Her stare pierced him where he stood. Bianca would have made a sterwyer back in my world.

    Dr. Strobum rubbed his head, looking apologetic.

    ¡°I¡¯m wondering who it is as well. Sometimes emergency cases can crop up at times like this. Please excuse me.¡±

    He rushed over to the door and opened it, revealing my worst fears. Bianca gasped and took a half step backward while I burrowed into my covers, terror speeding up my little heart. The very people I had been trying to avoid for the past 5 years, the people who knew exactly what the royal gold eyes looked like: the royal guard.

 Chapter 5

    Ch. 5: Caught

    They were all 20 something-year-olds chuckling with one another andughing. The royal guards¡¯ uniforms were wrinkled and their cheeks were cherry red. Within the cramped office, one whiff quickly informed me what their condition was. Hangover. The Empire indulged in a lot of sweet wine and Bianca frequently kept her good bottles in a dark corner of my room so they wouldn¡¯t get warm. The scent of the cloying sweetness was thick like they¡¯d bathed in it, the way Bianca bathes in her perfumes.

    Therge guard¡¯s eyes, as expected, settled on the beautiful woman in the room giving me the distraction I needed to bury my face under the covers so only my white hair was visible. Hopefully, it would just blend into the white sheets.

    ¡°Oh, ho! What do we have here?¡± someone said, probably from noticing Bianca. Her face had long lost its charm in my eyes since I saw the ugly side of her personality every day, but in reality, my aunt is a real head-turner.

    A thwack against flesh echoed through the room followed by a cool, ¡°Look but don¡¯t touch, boys.¡±

    I stiffened at his words. Without a doubt, that was the voice of the leader of this little group.

    ¡°W-Wee gentlemen!¡± Dr. Strobum stuttered out. ¡°How can I-¡±

    ¡°These men are all indisposed. Give me something to treat them with.¡± the leader ordered in the tone of someone ustomed to being obeyed to the letter. Yup, I wasn¡¯t mistaken, he was definitely in charge.

    ¡°My little clinic only has ginger tea to treat hangovers.¡± There was a rustling as Dr. Strobum went to go grab what the soldiers wanted. I¡¯d barely seen anything in the capital, but it seemed already that royal guards had the autonomy to enter any business as they pleased. As Dr. Strobum ran around his little office to get the tea ready, I tried my best to stay especially still as this would be the time those vignt guard¡¯s eyes would case the room.

    .....

    ¡°So what are you doing here, prettydy?¡± a guard asked. Another thwack rang through the room.

    ¡°Sorry, I meant miss,¡± the guard quickly corrected as the leader presumably hit him for the second time. A weird chuffing sound came out of my mouth. Augh? I hadn¡¯tughed in so long, I forgot what it felt like. Unfortunately, this was the wrong time for me to rediscover my ability tough.

    ¡°Who¡¯s that under the cover,¡± the leader said, his steely voice leaving me trembling under the covers.

    ¡°That¡¯s my daughter,¡± Bianca quickly said with a sweet smile, covering for me. ¡°She¡¯s still young and a little shy, please excuse her gentlemen.¡±

    Bianca sure had a way with words when it came to men.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    ¡°How cute! I hope she takes after you, Miss.¡±

    I breathed a sigh of relief. The rest of the guards visit went by uneventfully, with a hitting sound filling the air every time a guard goofed with his words or actions. The front door of the clinic banged shut and I stuck my head out of the covers into the cool air. I breathed a sigh of relief and opened my eyes to meet another¡¯s discerning gaze just outside the window of the clinic. Oh, what to do!

    There was no question about who the character standing outside the window was. With a gruesome sh running down his forehead and over his left eye and shock of red hair, staring right back at her was Wolfgang Amarelius. The Mad Dog, head captain of the royal guards, head of the noble Amarelius family, and most concerningly, closestpanion of Emperor Helio.

    I sucked in a breath, my gaze transfixed on his as realized my fate had changed once more. To his credit, Wolfgang¡¯s face did not change much. He just looked at me with half-lidded, disinterested eyes and moved on. I waited a couple of seconds for the guards to bust in the clinic once more, swords zing, but nothing of the sort happened.

    Bianca had been standing with her back turned to the window so she didn¡¯t notice the life-shattering moment that had urred. Seeing me so transfixed by the ordinary window, she looked back at me confused. I didn¡¯t bother to borate on what had happened. Wolfgang had been standing a good distance away from the window, I recalled in an attempt to reassure myself, he probably just didn¡¯t notice the gold of my eyes.

    I felt a bit better, but also a little down as the minutes ticked by. Dr. Strobum had found an apple for me to eat and the crunchy fruit was delicious, a luxury she hadn¡¯t appreciated in her past life. Once I¡¯d eaten the entire fruit, core and all, as well as spat out all the seeds, I looked up to see an audience. Dr. Strobum had a pleased expression on his face, as if he had just fed an animal at the petting zoo and Bianca looked like she wanted to run back to our home as fast as she could.

    The doctor brought me a trashcan to dispose of what remained and a napkin to clean my hands and mouth. Embarrassingly, I finally noticed that I¡¯m still wearing my nightgown, but Bianca doesn¡¯t give me much time to dwell as she grabs my hand and drags me towards the door.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I call out to Dr. Strobum. Weird man or not, he had saved my life. He smiled at me, just before Bianca mmed the door shut behind us.

    My aunt red down at me with a venomous expression, not at all paying mind to how difficult it was for me to keep up with her after my illness.

    ¡°Why did you have to go and get sick like that, huh? Did you want to get taken by the guards?¡± she barked at me as we navigated through the streets.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I muttered, distracted by the world around me. This was all so new after being cooped up in my tiny room for my entire life. The world felt so big and uncharted. Had the sky always been this blue? Was everyone always this tall? I was experiencing sensory overload at the loud sounds and bright colors.

    ¡°Exotic pineapples from east of the Empire! 2 copper coins a piece!¡± a street merchant cried, his wares in a basket hung around his neck. I looked down at me and smiled and I smiled back, in a better mood than I had been in a while. Perhaps noticing me respond to him, he bent down to better interact with me. Gosh, being this small was annoying. I was about 5¡¯9¡å in my past life and rarely had to look up at people.

    ¡°Try some fruit, young miss!¡± he said, sticking a toothpick with a pineapple on the end in my face. I epted happily, munching down on the snack. Today was turning out to be a nice day. First a peppermint, then an apple, and now a pineapple.

    ¡°We can¡¯t afford this, sir. Keep peddling your wares.¡± Bianca said sullenly, dragging me along. I barely had a moment to wave goodbye to the friendly fruit seller before we were swallowed up in the crowd once more. Outside the house was so bright and beautiful, I wished it would never end. It was the first time I was seeing the nice side of Radovalsk that gave it the title ¡°Jewel of the Empire¡±.

    My new world looked nothing the US cities I was used to. Clouds looked like cotton balls in the clear, smog-free air of the capital. There were European style architecture and tall buildings made with brick and wood. There was afortable hum of wheels over cobblestone and a soft toll as the nearby clocktower struck 10. Shiny awnings covered the entrance of nice stores and I felt foolish in my nightgown amongst the impably dressed citizens of the Empire. Loveliest of all were the tall spires I could see in the distance. The pce!

    Considering how the US has no royalty, the concept of nobility was exciting even though it was ultimately the cause of my death in the storyline. But I suppose that was how power works. It looks beautiful on the outside, but only when you are caught up within do you realize the ugliness beneath the surface. Ever so slowly, the lively streets full of pedestrians dwindled, reced with duller colors and less excited faces.

    A man spit on the ground right before the unpaved road my barefoot was about to step on. My weary legs were forced to jump to avoid the nasty green substance. Home, I thought to myself. We are getting closer to home. The streets were quieter and more crowded. Trash became a constant obstacle for me to dodge and Bianca held me tighter and closer to her body. The entire time I had been admiring the capital, her head had been swiveling left to right looking for anyone suspicious. Her nerves were high, considering our close encounter with the royal guard.

    At longst, we arrived at our little house. It was the first time I had seen it from outside and I let go of Bianca¡¯s tight grip to walk around the shack I¡¯ve been living in since I came to. Home sweet home. My little cubicle room was the same as it had always been. A few of my favorite toys, a Rubix cube a client once left behind and a small rag doll were in their usual spots on the wall. My window was closed and the small space felt stuffy as well as smaller than usual.

    Well, I had just had my first foray in this strange world. Of course my little room would now feel too small. I sat down sideways in my crib, my legs hanging over the side, and a tear slid down my face. As soon I was old enough, I would go to the furthest corners of this Empire, far away from the guards and the Emperor and my horrible storyline, and just disappear.

    I stayed like this until slivers of light stopped slipping in through the cracks of the window and Bianca lit the single candle mounted on the wall of my room. She seemed sad too. The circumstances had to be hard for her as well, which was why even though she treated me like garbage I couldn¡¯t bring myself to hate her.

    The webnovel never gave her backstory, but as a prostitute in the slums, Bianca did not make a lot of money. I¡¯ve peeked under her floorboard before and there is but a small pile of mostly copper coins with the asional silver or gold one. She had a beloved sister she¡¯d lost and instead got an expensive baby to rece that void. Days like today, where she had to dip into her secret saving probably made her question why she had bothered to raise me in the first ce.

    I looked down at my little body. Grow up fast so you can leave and spread your wings, I pleaded. I¡¯d been delirious with illness for 3 days and now felt even thinner than I usual. I knew I was much smaller than other children my age, given that I don¡¯t eat nearly enough. It would take me a while to berge enough to move around on my own. And even then...

    My thoughts trailed off as someone knocked on the door. Bianca¡¯s first client was already here. Time is difficult to keep track of without a watch but I¡¯ve gotten pretty good at guessing the time. And it was only around 7 right now.

    ¡°Coming,¡± I heard her say in a sultry voice. There was the sound of the door opening and a surprised yelp from my aunt. It seemed that today¡¯s client was a little too excited. I turned around to pick up my doll on the floor, a personal creation named Doll that I had forged out of scraps of Bianca¡¯s old dress. Yes, a very original name.

    The sound of heavy boots filled Bianca¡¯s room, concerning me quickly. This was not the usual bedroom noise I was ustomed to hearing. Heavy boots such as these were too many men for her to entertain at once. Were we being robbed?

    A great sense of fear filled me. The robbers were quick and silent. Bianca cried out once and then I never heard her again. It would be best for me to hide before they realize there is another room in our little house. There were rare asions Bianca would speak to me, on the rare night she wasn¡¯t servicing someone. She would get stered, drinking her special collection of wine and sit inside my room with a dazed look, the fire¡¯s light dancing across her fluttering eyes.

    Those were the times she would yell the most. But sometimes she would also just sit and cry, big fat tears tumbling down her cheeks. Rarest of all, she would speak to me, not like a pesky pet, but like another person. I always like those days best. It was on such a day that she had told me where to hide if a client or a robber got into the little back room I was tucked away in. And then with a shaky hand still wrapped around the neck of the bottle, she had pointed to her small dress cab.

    Still dressed in the same nightgown from that morning and clutching Doll to my chest, I climbed into Bianca¡¯s clothing cupboard that she had instructed me to hide in. But I was short and the cab was a tough reach, requiring me to stand on my water bucket in order to reach it. Unceremoniously dumping the dirty water on the floor, I climbed up my upended bucket and then gently kicked it away so it wouldn¡¯t be apparent that I had just used it.

    I was moving as quickly as I could, even though I still felt weak from my illness. My legs still felt sore as I tucked them under me and closed the dress cab. I was instantly shrouded in ckness. Good thing I was used to being in my dark, little room.

    ¡°Pay attention, men. Find the girl.¡± I looked with a jolt, even though I couldn¡¯t see anything.

    That voice, I knew it!

 Chapter 6

    Ch. 6: Fate

    My stomach churned, even though I haven¡¯t eaten anything since the apple Dr. Strobum gave me and that little piece of pineapple. I was a fool. Aplete, and utter fool.

    Wolfgang¡¯smanding voice reverberated through the thin walls of my home, making me burrow under a pile of dresses to hide further. This man was called the Mad Dog for a reason. I was an idiot to believe that just because he didn¡¯t acknowledge my presence at the clinic, he hadn¡¯t noticed me.

    There were many boots hitting the floor and I just knew that thismotion wasn¡¯t going unnoticed. Royal guards in the slums at this hour. Every rat and crook hiding in this area would run for cover ore investigate.

    ¡°Oy, what¡¯s goin¡¯ on? We ain¡¯t doin¡¯ nothin¡¯ illegal ¡¯round here!¡± an irritable voice squawked. It was Bianca¡¯sndlord and the man who owned her prostitution papers, Mr. Darwin.

    ¡°Sir, this is official royal business we will have to ask you to step out,¡± a guard ordered the man. Any other sane person would have skedaddled by now, but Darwin was a unique individual.

    ¡°Eh, you raid the house of my best girl and expect me to leave? Some of us got coins to earn, unlike you nobles who have your job ¡®anded to ya.¡± I winced inside the cupboard. Darwin only got this mouthy when he had a lot to drink and wanted to let off some steam. It wouldn¡¯t end well for the man.

    My prediction came true two secondster as Mr. Darwin yelled while getting tossed out of the house. Bianca had been smart enough to hide the door to my backroom behind a g of the Empire. It was considered a punishable crime to tarnish the g in any way, so it was a clever way to keep clients away from me.

    My existence hasn¡¯t necessarily been secret, as I did cry a lot as a baby when it was difficult for me to speak. Our neighbors and people who passed by our house frequently knew that Bianca had a child somewhere in there and a few had seen my little head popping out my window. But in the slums, there was a bit of a don¡¯t ask don¡¯t tell policy. People tended to look the other way at other¡¯s activities, both legal and illegal.

    .....

    ¡°Sir, I¡¯ve found something!¡± a youthful voice cried. A fist banged firmly on the door of my room and I started shaking underneath the warm winter dresses I¡¯d buried myself under. They found it so quickly without any help, I would have been impressed under any other circumstances.

    The door mmed open with a bang, obliterated with a well-ced kick. My precious water bucket was also ruthlessly kicked aside and my tiny crib was shoved to the side. My room was a humble ce, but it was mine. And now these oafs were destroying it!

    ¡°Sir, didn¡¯t you say she was a young girl? Why is there a crib?¡± the same voice that had discovered my room inquired. Ugh, not my crib! Those guards were going to mess up the straw mattress I¡¯d spent years perfectly matting down so it wouldn¡¯t poke me anymore. Wolfgang ignored the kid guard. Someone shattered ss, probably Bianca¡¯s bottles of wine that she had been keeping. She would be angry about that the next time she got a day off. The room I had lived in for the past five years was getting ransacked and now I knew it was only a matter of time before they dig through the dress cab and find me.

    I shouldn¡¯t have heeded Bianca¡¯s words to hide in the dress cab. The window is just at the edge of my fingertips and whenever I stand on my bucket I can see out of it. If I had escaped from there, I wouldn¡¯t be caught. But what could I do out there on my own?

    Bianca had no friends and no family who bothered to visit this shack of a house. Every day was the same monotony of dealing with clients all after the same thing. It was then I understood, as the guards drew closer and closer to my lousy hiding spot that Bianca had always meant for me to be found. Because life stuck in the pce would be safer for a young girl in the long run rather than one on the streets like her.

    Goodbye to my rtively peaceful existence. You were a bit cruel, but it wasforting knowing I wasn¡¯t going to get murdered even for a few years. It was nice while yousted.

    The cab door was flung open, sending light flooding in. They must have been holding torches as they searched my dingy, little room. Iy as still as possible underneath the dresses, my little fingers crossed as I hoped by some fluke they wouldn¡¯t bother to move the heavy winter dresses and discover me. My hand covered my mouth as I tried to silence my breathingpletely.

    ¡°Sir, this cab is all clear!¡± a voice cried. The door banged shut, bathing me in darkness once again. I clutched Doll even tighter to my chest and the strands of hair I¡¯d cut out of a ck dress tickled my nose. The sensation began to build and to my utter horror a sneeze shuddered out.

    ¡°Achoo!¡± I squeaked out, before pping both hands over my mouth. Just when I got out of the clear, I¡¯m thrown back into hot water. I sat with my knees huddled in my chest, hoping and praying that the thick dresses and the cab door had obscured the sound.

    But it was wishful thinking. Light flooded the tight cab space once more and I could feel someone digging out the dresses. The final gown, a velvet blue that Bianca wore for noble clientele who asionally frequented our house, was tugged off my head without resistance and I looked into the smirking face of the Mad Dog.

    ¡°Gotcha,¡± he said, a clever smirk on his face that was level with the high cab. It was a terrifying moment as we looked at each other the same way we had through the window of the clinic and I only responded with one word.

    ¡°Peppermint.¡± I squeaked out in shock. That goddamn author! But Wolfgang didn¡¯t pay attention to what I had said. But it truly seemed that in this world peppermint candies were a harbinger to all my troubles.

    He looked me up and down, his eyes intently scrutinizing my face and settling on my eyes for a long time. The guards huddled behind him did the same, staring at me with a wide-eyed wonder that made me want to hide under a dress and nevere out.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got the real deal, boys,¡± Wolfgang finally concluded. He crossed his arms, seeming pleased with himself before he reverted back to hismander self.

    ¡°You two,¡± he barked. ¡°Send an urgent missive to the emperor. If they ask, tell them it¡¯s about the royal lineage. As for you, you will ensure that the princess is safely brought to the pce. Otherwise, it¡¯s your head.¡±

    Princess. That is the first time I¡¯ve been called that in this world. And I already hate the title. A cute guard who was clearly still in his teenage years stepped forward at Wolfgang¡¯s designation, his arms outstretched towards me.

    ¡°Pleasee with me to a safe ce, your highness,¡± the blondie asked, a friendly smile on his face. This was the same astute guard who had found my little room. Instinctively, I shrank away, burying myself further in the cab. This was all too sudden, too unknown. And there was the matter of Bianca as well. Since the guards had entered, I hadn¡¯t heard my aunt speak once.

    A weak cough filled the air and I looked down from the cab in shock. Bianca had been tied up and gagged like a trussed-up pig, but with dexterous tongue had managed to free her mouth from the gag.

    ¡°Leave my daughter alone, you fiends,¡± she snarled from the floor. Shey in a helpless position, but her eyes were burning with hate. The few guards who were still casing my room looked at her in bewilderment, but Wolfgang stepped forward with practiced ease.

    ¡°Miss, we have reason to believe that your daughter is a royal offspring. Byw, we must take her to the pce to examine the truth for ourselves. If she proves to be ofmon blood, then she will be back in your arms before the sun goes down tomorrow.¡±

    He sounded perfectly even and reasonable as if he were speaking of the weather.

    ¡°No! Y-You can¡¯t take her. Her eyes are that color because of a childhood illness, not the royal lineage.¡± Bianca argued, coughs interrupting her words. She almost sounded like she truly cared about me, but as I recall in the webnovel, she was only fighting because she had promised my mother that she would keep me away from the imperial family.

    Wolfgang could see through Bianca as well.

    ¡°If that is so, then how would amoner like you know that her eyes were proof of royal blood?¡± he mused. Bianca¡¯s eyes widened at her slip of the tongue.

    ¡°Uh, I just assumed that-¡±

    ¡°Enough,¡± Wolfgang said in a tone that brokered no argument. Bianca shut up instantly her eyes downcast. But a thought quickly struck her as she looked up at me resolutely from where she was tied up.

    ¡°Winter, go with them.¡±

    I looked at her bug-eyed. This was new. It was like all the fight had bled out of her and she was giving in to fate. My fingers tightened on the edge of the cab I was holding on to. I did not have the luxury of going wherever my fate took me. I had to fight mine bitterly, with tooth and nail. Otherwise, I would die. I shook my head at my aunt and Bianca red at me even more vehemently.

    ¡°Just leave!¡± she burst out. ¡°Gosh, can¡¯t you see how much of a burden you are? I¡¯m sick and tired of taking care of you. You cost a lot more than you¡¯re worth. I wish I¡¯d neverid eyes on you!¡±

    Ouch. A weird pain filled my chest, somewhat akin to when I¡¯d walked in on Jonathan and Halle in my past life. Heartbreak? I didn¡¯t even like Bianca that much, so why were her words hurting so much? My bottom lip began to wobble and when Bianca saw that, she pressed further.

    ¡°You are a mistake! You already ruined one person¡¯s life do you want to ruin another? Just go and let me get on with my life. With you around, I will never be a free woman!¡± Her voice sounded rough with unshed tears, but I could hardly notice as a few began to stream down my face and drip onto Doll.

    I already knew that in this new world I had found myself in, no one truly cared for me. It was a sense of duty and loyalty to her deceased sister that kept Bianca from tossing me into an orphanage. But being presented with this knowledge in an upfront way really did hurt my heart. I think back to thest eyes that had tenderly looked at me with love and kindness, my mother when I was just Maria. I¡¯ve always tried not to think of her, but I missed her so, so much.

    I was just a single, lonely ship adrift in the great, big ocean that is the Erudian Empire. Was it too much to ask to have one person care about me? It was all too much for me to handle on my own. In my past life, I had been let down by those closest to me, and history was doomed to repeat itself as Bianca stared at me with utter disgust from the floor. Was there something the matter with me that everyone but me was able to see?

    ¡°And don¡¯t forget to pay me for her when you take her,¡± Bianca spat, herst words directed to the guards watching the soap opera unfold.

    ¡°She¡¯s the child of a ve so that automatically makes her one as well. It¡¯ll cost 10 gold coins.¡±

    My existence is worth 10 gold coins. My head felt heavy, so heavy as if a boulder were resting atop my shoulders. If only I couldy down, just for a bit. Then maybe like a dream, my sudden illness, the guards, all this will go away like it never happened. My little 5-year old body toppled to the side onto the dresses and thest thing I heard was a yelp of surprise by the blonde guard in front of me as I fainted.

 Chapter 7

    Ch. 7: The Belly of the Beast

    I¡¯m lying on one of those clouds that float over the capital. It was soft, like goose feathers, and extremely cozy. But sleeping through my problems won¡¯t make them go away.

    There is a murmuring going on around this wonderful bed I¡¯m lying in. Nothing pokes at my back and my legs have room to swish around if I wanted to move them. But that would just alert those in this strange ce that I¡¯m awake. I¡¯ve long since mastered the ability of waking up without moving my body, acquired from literally being unable to move around in the small crib I outgrew long ago.

    ¡°Oh, this one is especially beautiful,¡± someone murmured adoringly.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen hair this white before! Just like snow!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let ahead of yourselvesdies. White hair is obviously a trait from the Old Continent. This could be a spy they sent to worm their way into the Empire.¡± a snide voicemented. I swallowed back a smile as I listened to the maids standing around my bed gossip. A 5-year-old kid as a spy? That was a bit harsh of an assumption.

    ¡°You are too quick to judge,¡± someone admonished the snide maid in my ce. ¡°Such a precious, little child, and she even has the Emperor¡¯s impable bone structure. I don¡¯t think this one is a fraud.¡±

    I smiled on the inside. My new appearance these days was rather cute, these maids would be no match for my unique charm. I would have to make them and everyone else like me if I wanted to survive. Because without a doubt, I knew that these soft pillows and the faint scent of gardenia roses, the empress¡¯ favorite scent, could only be found in one ce: the royal pce. I absentmindedly wonder if Wolfgang and the other royal guard are still in the room too.

    That pesky Peppermint. I never thought I could hold so much spite for a red and white, innocent-looking piece of candy. If I had possessed any misgivings before, now they were all but confirmed. Somehow, the author of the webnovel I¡¯ve fallen into can still manipte the world around me.

    .....

    He or she is trying to make me follow the original plot of the story and I shiver under the fluffy covers at the thought of my head rolling under the guillotine and then bouncing onto the floor like a basketball. Myst life had ended so disappointingly when I was just a few months away from graduating from college and beginning my new job. It would be my greatest shame if this one ended even more pitifully. If Peppermint thought I would mindlessly follow along with their plot to ultimately murder me, they¡¯ve got another thinging.

    ¡°Look her little fingers have twitched!¡±

    ¡°And her middle finger has just unfurled from her fist! The prospective princess must be waking up now! Rememberdies, do not address her as her Highness until the holy mage has arrived.¡± instructed the same maid who had defended me earlier. There was an excitement in the room even as all conversation fell to a low hum that I could no longer hear.

    It seemed that the middle finger did not hold the same meaning in the Empire as it did in my world. I¡¯m not sure whether I should be grateful or disappointed about one of my favorite insults being meaningless.

    Seeing as the maids expected me to truly wake up soon, it would be best for me to make my entrance worthwhile. Channeling my inner Audrey Hepburn, I opened my little doe eyes slowly, letting my longshes flutter on my cheeks. There were 3... 5... 10 maids crammed inside the room with me. There are no men amongst them. Actually, crammed was a poor word choice. This was easily thergest room I¡¯ve been in since I¡¯ve woken up in this world.

    The bed alone seems fit for royalty, with plush, indigo blue covers, but I that there was no way they had already moved me to my future chambers before confirming my identity. I yawned with my little, pink mouth and stretched my short arms over my head, a devastating one-twobo that managed to draw out an ¡°Aww¡± or two from my audience. When I was done with my staged awakening, I looked around to see a pleased group of maids with stars in their eyes. I mentally patted myself on the back. That was at the very least an 8/10 performance. It seemed the one drama ss I had taken for art credit back in university would pay itself off in spades now.

    ¡°Are you awake, miss?¡± a maid asked, hesitantly stepping forward towards me. No duh, I wanted to respond with an eye roll, but I just settled for a little, childlike nod. Normal children are usually nowhere near as sarcastic as I am.

    They had been annoying chatterboxes when they thought I was asleep, but now that I have ¡®woken up¡¯, the mood of the maids has shifted. I admired their professionalism as they kept their words curt, yet effectively ryed their requests to me. In the webnovel, Winter¡¯s identity, along with any suspected bastard children of the Emperor, is proven by a holy mage testing whether or not our gold eyes possessed any godly essence. Since the Erudian Empire was founded by the offspring of the god, Helio, every child from the bloodline possesses the mark of the gods in their eyes.

    The maids quick yet careful hands guided me to a porcin white bathtub in the corner of the room I am staying in. They set up a screen to protect my dignity before gently requesting me to remove my clothes and submerge myself in the water. I¡¯d hardly noticed that I was still wearing the same filthy nightgown from a few days ago and the embarrassment I felt only increased as I undid the simple strings fastening the front of the nightgown and the fabric slid to the ground around me.

    I¡¯ve long known that I look like the poster child for childhood neglect. I¡¯m too small for my age and am not that muchrger than I was as a baby. The smallest breeze frequently chills me to the bone and my weak immune system means I frequently endure low-grade fevers. But knowing it and seeing it reflected in other people¡¯s eyes is another story. There is a certain shame that follows those pitying looks because it is human nature to always try to hide what you¡¯re going through, even if someone else wants to help.

    Two maids from the original 10 had been assigned to bathe me: the one who had convicted me of being a spy, a green-haired girl with an equally poisonous gaze, and the one who had defended me, a cheerful-looking brte. Once my soiled nightgown fell to the floor, the brte¡¯s eyes filled with tears and the green-haired girl looked away angrily, letting out a loud tsk. I shrank under their gaze, feeling mortified with my underdeveloped self. Internally, I begged the maids not to inquire about my situation and to my utter relief, they didn¡¯t.

    Marie held my hand gently, as if it were a ss cup, and helped into the warm water where I took the nicest bath I have ever had in both of my lives. I¡¯d forgotten the simple joy of warm water and fragrant soap. The water was full of bubbles and as I gave myself a Santa us beard as the maids scrubbed at my filthy locks, I was once again painfully reminded of my real mother, Dolores. When I was little she had frequently indulged me in bubble baths, even when chiding me for the excessive use of water. Bubble baths are not as much fun when I¡¯m alone and I let the bubble beard slip from my face to join the remaining suds on the surface of the bathwater.

    Within an hour, I cannot recognize the girl staring back at me in the floor-length mirror the maids have propped up before me. The skin on my face, which usually has a stain or two from the soot in the firece is sparkling clean with slightly red cheeks. My hair is sparkling more than anything I¡¯ve seen before and my silvery strands shine like rare gems. The dress I¡¯m wearing is simple and warm, a hue of purple only a few shades off of my dark blue covers. I twirl in the mirror like a ballerina and all the maids p.

    I smile at my reflection and the pretty, little girl smiles back looking too cute. Ugh, this appearance of mine is too great of an advantage. I can¡¯t wait to put it to full use.

    I turn to the gathered maids appreciating their hard work on me and drop into a low bow since curtseying is too hard to figure out in this clumsy body of mine. The gesture has the desired effect. Cheeks redden and a few maids try to wave it away.

    ¡°M-Miss we were simply doing o-our jobs, seeing you smile is thanks enough for us,¡± the brte who had bathed me stuttered out. Kind and humble to boot. I already liked this maid very much.

    A knock sounded on the door followed by an order from a deep, male voice.

    ¡°His Majesty the Emperor and the official representative of the Holy Church request the presence of the prospective princess in the throne room. Please make you way there shortly.¡± the voice said in an even, practiced tone.

    ¡°Understood,¡± a maid chirped nervously. They were all looking at me with apprehensive expressions, I could only assume that they wanted me to pass the holy church¡¯s examination and be a true member of the imperial family. Out of everyone in my retinue, I was the only one who was calm in the procession towards the throne room. I wanted to reassure them that there was no doubt in my identity and that they didn¡¯t have to worry, but I had no way to prove myself yet.

    As the maids worried and sweated for my fate, I took my time to admire my new home. This truly was one of the greatest architectural and interior design feats I¡¯d ever seen, on par with the photos I¡¯ve looked at online of the magnificent Russian pces. Delicate white filigree lined the walls and doors, and the wallpaper was covered in embossed designs gold, red, and indigo blue, the royal colors. Before long, the feast for my eyes drew to a close as our footsteps slowed down in front of the tallest doors I¡¯ve ever seen in my life.

    They were white with huge, gold handles, and the crest of a phoenix sat prominently in the center. I¡¯ve read about this ce and it was now, even though I knew my identity was the real deal, my heart began to pound. In the brief mentions Winter got in the webnovel, this was a turning point in her life as she transformed from peasant to princess.

    I know how the story goes. But why am I all of a sudden so nervous?

 Chapter 8

    Ch. 8: ...and you are NOT the Father!

    I watched the heavy doors slowly creep open as if by magic. After all, as far as I can tell, no one is touching the handles.

    A long runway carpet extends from the entrance to the stairs leading to the throne. The room shines with a mysterious glow, as the opal-like wall reflects light in a fascinating way. But the splendor of the Empire¡¯s throne room dulls in ce of the man seated on the throne. My father, Emperor Helio. The most powerful man in the entirend. I gulp nervously even though he is just a small figure in the distance within this massive throne room.

    None of my maids enter with me except for two, shaking girls. I¡¯m pleased to see the kind brte among them. Three figures are waiting for me at the end of the gold-embroidered runway. Wolfgang, his red hair obvious even from the entrance, my father, and a man wearing arge, ck cloak with a sun adorned on the back. The logo of the Holy Church of the Empire. My shiny, ck shoes I was given, the first pair of shoes I¡¯ve ever worn in my life, don¡¯t make a sound and I clutch the hand of the brte maid so I don¡¯t trip.

    This feels like the longest walk I¡¯ve ever taken in my life, yet in a blink, I am in front of the emperor. I haven¡¯t dared to look up yet, so all I see are his shiny ck boots, much like my new shoes. The two maids beside me drop into low curtseys and stay there, making me the odd one out as I fret on how to greet the most powerful man in the Empire.

    I settle for the bow I gave the maids, folding myself as far over as my body will allow. Strands of silvery-white fall onto my face, the longest strands touching the floor in front of me.

    ¡°You may rise.¡±

    It felt like a breeze of artic wind had gone by when I first heard my father speak in such an unyielding voice. No wonder the Winter of the webnovel was deathly afraid of this predator of man. My instincts are screaming at me to run the other way and never look back, but instead, I stand up straight and look around the room curiously as if my childish inquisitiveness has gotten the best of me at the moment.

    Someone in the room snickers and I know it¡¯s Wolfgang. Although he has only ever shown me his imposing side, in the webnovel he was one of the many potential love interests/friends of ra and frequently reveals his goofball side to those closest to him.

    .....

    But despite his intimidating aura, the most intriguing man in the room was my father. He was appraising me at the same time I was appraising him. To say he was handsome was a severe understatement. His ck brows were folded in a constant scowl, a fierce gold gaze just underneath. Sharp contours on his cheekbones and jaw created a shapely face and the half-smirk on his face took my breath away. Everything about him screamed danger, but even though danger repels the weak, the peril his presence promises still attracts attention. If only I was still the adult Maria and not his youngest daughter.

    The man shrouded in the dark-colored cloak clears his throat loudly, clearly begging for my attention. I slowly extricated myself from my father¡¯s beguiling gaze, a little bit dazed, and finally deign to give it to the holy mage some face. Although I can¡¯t see his actual face, the man has very nervous energy perhaps from being in my father¡¯s presence. I don¡¯t like it at all and frown a little at him.

    ¡°So... now the prospective princess must step in front of me and I shall ce my hand on her eyes.¡± the priest said in a nasally voice, trying to sound as official as possible. He looked at me expectantly and I stared back with a deliberately nk expression. If he is so determined to test my identity, he can walk over here and perform the test himself.

    Thus began our game of chicken. The holy mage stood at the step, his nervous energy increasing with every passing second as I deliberately looked at him like I didn¡¯tprehend what he had asked of me. I had no intention of moving until the stuffy mage walked down from the steps beside the throne where he was pretending to be of equal standing with the emperor.

    ¡°Come stand before me, child,¡± the holy mage repeated after 30 seconds had passed. I didn¡¯t move.

    The kind brte maid squatted down beside me to ry the message, even though she was quivering like a mouse about to be eaten by a cat. She spoke in slow, simple terms, like she was talking to a child. Well, actually she was. I always forget that on the outside I just appear to be 5 years old.

    ¡°Miss, the mage is asking you to stand in front of him so he can look at your pretty eyes. Can you do that?¡± she asked sweetly. This maid was too nice, I can no longer keep up my pretense. I nod obediently and she shes a wan smile at me. But I don¡¯t move. I just keep looking at the mage expectantly. The rude green-haired maid has had enough of the situation though. She releases one of the hands sped behind her back and subtly nudges me on the back, making me stumble forward. But just as soon as I¡¯ve stepped away, I step back into the line.

    After another minute of pinning the holy mage with a stare where I imagined his eyes to be under the cloak, he finally turns to the emperor.

    ¡°Your majesty, the prospective princess is not moving,¡± he said sullenly. I would have burst out loudughing if I could. To think that a grown man could speak so petntly!

    ¡°Indeed,¡± my father mused, looking simrly amused with the situation. He said nothing more, prompting the mage to bow down once more and repeat what he said.

    This time, my father said nothing.

    The holy mage straightened and heaved a small sigh before walking down the steps. I watched him go down the short staircase one by one, irritation hastening his steps. It wasn¡¯t every day a holy mage was embarrassed by a child after all. I decided to cut him some ck and meet him halfway, finally walking towards him as he descended down the stairs. This way, he would be certain that I had understood what he had asked of me from the start but had simply decided not to act on it. I could practically hear the sound of his teeth grinding against each other as I finally walked toward him after he had to leave his previous position.

    Was I being a bit difficult? Yes. But something told me that acting like a frightened little street urchin would not serve me well inside these great halls. The holy mage had begun to recite different words in a lyricalnguage I¡¯ve never heard before as he stood before me with his hands raised. They began to faintly glow gold and symbols danced around his hands. Now, this was magic!

    A wonderful melody filled the air and it felt familiar, like a song that I had heard a thousand times but couldn¡¯t remember the name too. Soon enough his words ceased, but his hands still glowed with magic, he brought those hands down to either side of my head beside my ears. I could hear a faint buzzing of the pretty song but now that it was up close to my ears, one of the chords suddenly sounded... off? The harmony was still lovely, a tune akin to church songs I¡¯d heard at Sunday mass in myst life, but the song all of a sudden didn¡¯t feel right.

    I should¡¯ve studied a musicalposition ss in myst life, then I would know what the song was missing. Instead of calming me down, the song just made me feel more uneasy and nervous. After many long seconds of standing still and grating my teeth to the beat of the music, the holy mage finally withdrew his hands.

    I let out a soft breath, finally, I was free. He turned to bow to the emperor, but the words he said next shocked my socks off. Wolfgang, who had been watching the entire situation with an amused smirk, transformed into the scary Mad Dog who had taken me from my house. And my father, well he still looked the same. He seemed to be exceptionally good at rolling with the punches.

    ¡°This girl is not your daughter!¡± the mage proimed loudly, the sound of a smile evident in his voice.

    My jaw dropped before I could get ahold of my emotions and I mmed it shut with a ck. The kind brte maid burst into tears beside me as a thousand thoughts rushed through my head at once. The first of the being that this had most definitely NOT happened in the webnovel.

 Chapter 9

    Ch: 9: The Real Deal

    The holy mage straightened from his bow, sounding like a cat that had caught the canary.

    ¡°So your majesty, you must serve capital punishment on this royal imposter!¡± he whirled around and pointed a gnarled finger at me. This man was no spring chicken, my little game must have really pissed him off for him to that eager to give me a death sentence. After all, iming or pretending to be royalty was punishable by death.

    But how to prove my identity? This was a new advancement I did not foresee. In the story, this section had gone by smoothly in a few words, with the author simply writing in passing that Winter had passed the inspection and was moved to a distant corner of the pce. Yet in this version, I am being called a fraud. I can¡¯t help but wonder if this is Peppermint¡¯s revenge for enjoying two extra years outside the castle or an unexpected development that arose from showing up two yearste.

    Either way, I¡¯ve got to dig myself out of this hole the holy mage has tossed me into. I took a deep breath, then another. It appears that I will have to y the role of the stupid, erm naive kid once more. The throne room was dead silent, you could have heard a pin drop to the floor. The holy mage was all but engaging in a victory dance where he stood when an idea urred to me.

    That mage had been testing for godly essence and imed not to feel it despite me well and truly possessing it. There were no perks that apanied these strange gold eyes except for one, easily forgettable one. My dad¡¯s aura. You see, the reason, ording to the book, it felt so dangerous was because being so close to the physical representation of the god Helio on earth was too much for the average person to bear.

    In short, being too close to the emperor could actually kill you if he didn¡¯t dim the energy around him while you were there. Your heart would fill with blood and you would die a painful end choking on your own blood and bile. It made my father deadly on the battlefield during his conquests as he could carve a killing path through the opposing army without so much as raising a finger. Only the strongest of warriors, those who could wield spiritual power, and of course, his children could withstand it.

    So I began to walk. I walked past the holy mage, who was confused by my actions, and by Wolfgang, who looked like he was about to murder the mage. It took a while because the short legs of mine only drew out the arrival to my inevitable destination: right beside my father.

    I had reached the stairs by now, when the brte maid had developed enough courage to speak out.

    .....

    ¡°Miss,e back please!¡± she cried from where she stood. She did not dare take a step forward, but her voice was loud and clear in the room. I turned back to look at her and gave her the first smile I¡¯d ever issued out within the pce. Then I turned around and kept going, serenaded by the sound of her sobbing.

    There were 3 steps left between us, then one. I reached the top, huffing for air as I bent down over my knees, then I looked up at my father. Wow. The man looked even better up close.

    I put a cute, little finger to my mouth and opened my eyes wide so I¡¯d appear even more adorable. With my other hand, I fearlessly ced it on his knee as my heart hit a thousand beats per minute. His knee was just below my shoulder and as he tensed slightly at my touch, I feared he would kick me back down the stairs.

    ¡°Are you... are you my daddy?¡± I asked quietly. In my head, I just kept repeating please work, please work, please work. There was no way a little 5-year-old kid from the slums was supposed to know anything about the king¡¯s deadly aura so I needed one of the open-mouthed viewers to point this out. A couple of long seconds ticked by and I tugged at the end of my father¡¯s jacket.

    The emperor glowered at me like I was a bug he could smash under his shiny boots, the gold of his crown intensifying the effect of the re. It was too scary for a kid like me to endure, someone needed to start talking fast or I would be a goner!

    ¡°Well, well, well...¡± Wolfgang drawled, a wolfish expression on his face as he peered down at the holy mage.

    ¡°This kid is still breathing, yet both you and I can feel that the king has not dimmed his aura in the slightest. What do you have to say about that?¡± There was a crazy glint in his eye that the mage must have noticed for he fell to his knees immediately, the ck cloak of the church pooling on the floor around him.

    ¡°F-Forgive me, your majesty! It seems I was mistaken. On second thought, this little girl does appear to be of imperial lineage,¡± he cried as he prostrated himself on the ground. Oh, how the tables have turned. And to think I would have a first-ss view from right beside the throne. If only I had some popcorn to apany this moment.

    ¡°Little girl?¡± Wolfgang said mockingly. ¡°Is that how you address an esteemed member of the royal Erudian family? It seems the Church shall be short one less parishioner today.¡±

    He had a hand on his sword, the sh of silver growingrger as he began to draw his weapon. I did not look away once. Violence did not sway me the way it had in my past life. Living in the slums had taught me a lot about that from my little window into the real world, But my father¡¯s words stopped him in his tracks.

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother, Wolfgang. I¡¯m not in the mood to stain this carpet of mine today,¡± the emperor calmly said.

    I looked at him in surprise from where I stood but Helio just ignored me, his choppy ck hair obscuring his eyes from me. It was impossible to read the man but I think I was just a bit overwhelmed. After all, this is the first time I am looking at Winter¡¯s biological father, the first family of mine I have met in this cruel world.

    And he doesn¡¯t spare me another nce. Whatever brief fascination he had in me before the inspection has been blown out like a candle and the emperor quickly stands to his feet, his long, red coat tugging out of my hands. He strides so swiftly from his throne that the force of the tug pulls my weak self off my feet and onto the floor. I look down at my now empty hands and I feel slightly hurt, even though I remember that this is how Helio was in the webnovel.

    The idiotic holy mage who tried to frame me as a criminal is still quaking on the floor. He knows he is a dead man and it scares him so much he doesn¡¯t move from the carpet, forcing my father to step over his quivering body. It is finally now that I recall that the empress has long had the holy church under her thumb. She had probably ordered him to lie about my lineage, since I was a girl too close in age with her precious daughter. Even his cloak shivers where hey on the carpet. I don¡¯t have the smallest ounce of sympathy for him.

    Helio storms down the carpet runway, the maids who escorted me stumbling out of the warpath so they don¡¯t perish under his aura. I can do little more than watch the man who had fathered me all those years ago leave me behind in the dust. Just like Bianca. Just like Jonathan.

    Tch. A stinging sensation filled my eyes, but I refused to allow a single drop to fall. I didn¡¯t mean to get caught up in my feelings, but 5 years is a long time to live in someone else¡¯s shoes. I don¡¯t know where Maria ends and where Winter begins. A poor, pitiful side character, this kind of life is to be expected. When I arrived in ra¡¯s world, I had thought this was a dream. But with every new advancement, I see it for what it is, a nightmare.

    A world where my fate is a path that has been set before me just like the runway before the throne. I stand from where I had fallen, brushing at my reddening knees. They would be bruised by tomorrow morning, my pale skin got hurt too easily. Did Peppermint do this on purpose? Deliberately make Winter this weak and pitiful?

    ¡°Your highness, are you alright?¡± Wolfgang leaped up the stairs to my side where I was already standing, his hand held out in offering to me. I looked at the oversized hands uncertainly. The kind gesture held some weight behind it. If I took it, in my heart that meant epting Wolfgang as someone I can trust and rely on.

    But the webnovel offered me good insight about the man and I remember how the Mad Dog had silently judged with the rest of the crowd during Winter¡¯s trial scene in the novel, one of the opening, decisive moments in the story. A loyal dog who barks at his master¡¯s enemies and bites at his master¡¯smand. With his unparalleled devotion to my father and the Empire, I would never be his master. I will have to find better allies within the pce, allies who can ce me before anything else.

    I turn my head away from his hand and go down the stairs myself, a difficult affair. These steps are designed for adults, not children, and it is difficult for me to circumnavigate holding my poofy skirt and going down the tall steps. Nheless, I make it to ground level in one piece, but with my heart in two for the second time in this bitter week.

 Chapter 10

    Ch. 10: A Poisonous Affair

    Disappointment chases at my heels like an overexcited dog for the next few days at the pce. Would it be strange for me to say that my life is the same as before, although I am in a far more luxurious setting? My new home after meeting my father is the Rose Pce, a pce built and dedicated to the emperor¡¯s most beloved woman.

    The secluded pce has windows of pink ss and vases with red roses upon every table, coupled with a fragrant garden of several thousand roses. But as beautiful of a residence as it is, it is not a gift from the heart. After all, the whisperings of the maids assigned to me quickly informed me that the crown prince¡¯s mother, Queen Arabe, had passed away here several years ago and the pce has been abandoned since. It is no longer a ce of love, but instead somewhere to bury a mistake.

    So without as many words, Helio has basically told the whole world that he doesn¡¯t give a flying fuck about me. Well, that was to be expected. My initial hurt from his rejection has dulled out as I remember my original mission since arriving: not dying at age 16 on the guillotine. And in order to do that, I¡¯m going to have to somehow score a stronghold of my own against the empress¡¯ might. I let out a solemn sigh. It will be a fierce, uphill battle without a powerful mother in the pce or my father¡¯s love.

    The sweet middle-aged brte, whose name turned out to be simr to my original one, Marie, scurries over to my balcony seat where I am deep in thought. After everything that had happened in the throne room, I feel like in our short time together she already genuinely cares for me as an older sister or even a mother. She has an ever-present smile on her face as she walks over, tugging me out of my mncholy mood.

    ¡°Marie!¡± I exim, deciding to act my age by sliding down the high seat and jumping into her weing arms. She is not stuffy like the other maids in the Rose Pce, who deliberately snub me since I don¡¯t matter in the pce hierarchy. On the surface, I am treated like a princess. Today I¡¯m wearing a frothy children¡¯s dress in peacock blue along with matching essories. But the rough hands and cold eyes make it more than obvious that my presence is not wee.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± Marie chuckles as she settles me back onto the ground. ¡°Be careful not to ruin your hair.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right. Sorry, Marie!¡± She spends a good deal of time every morningbing out my pin-straight hair and adding curls to it. In my past life as Maria, my hair had been too short to worry about but here, my icy white hair falls past my waist in a dazzling curtain of white.

    ¡°It¡¯s quite alright. I brought you some tea since I thought you might be bored. Are you sure you wouldn¡¯t care for any toys?¡± she asked with a concerned expression. The maids who entered after her begin to unload my afternoon tea from the trolley to the table.

    .....

    I shake my head, the sweet aroma of honey biscuits distracting me. Toys were overrated. Other than Doll, who was sadly left behind in Bianca¡¯s home and probably already disposed of, I have no need for any children¡¯s toys. My small hands drum out a little beat on the table as I¡¯m brimming with happiness at my snacks. They were arranged on a silver carrier, with 3yered tes of treats. If I had known the food at the royal pce was this good, I would have considered sneaking out of my little room to get caught on my own volition.

    The tea is too hot when a maid sets the cup down in front of me. I¡¯m not well educated on so I blow hard on the cup until Marie chides me for it. An etiquette teacher is supposed toe in next week and start teaching me. But until then, I¡¯ve been eating as crudely as possible even though I do have some basic table manners from my previous life. After all, it would be quite strange for a kid from the slums to know how to properly hold a knife and fork.

    I stir my tea with a delicate, silver spoon so it can cool faster and motion for all the maids to disperse. They turn heel and quickly exit, leaving the balcony to me and Marie. I smile a little on the inside as they leave obediently. It is easy to see why people crave this kind of power.

    ¡°Has something made you happy, your highness?¡± Marie asks, her quick eyes catching my little expression.

    I wonder how I should answer, before going for a simple lie.

    ¡°Just these pretty flowers at my table,¡± I respond, my fingers trailing on the pink petals of the roses on my table.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen flowers like this at my old home.¡±

    Marie¡¯s face instantly detes and I mentally p myself across the face. The news of my original whereabouts seems to have been kept a secret by Wolfgang and the normal guards. Still, I¡¯m sure that Marie can guess as she has seen me without clothes whenever I bathe and still recoils from how skinny I am. This week at the pce has done me some good, but it will be a while before I fall into the healthy range of weight for prepubescent children.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be sad,¡± I say when I saw her face. I offer her one of the precious lemon cookies on my te in hopes that her warm smile will return to her face. It was difficult to vet on my own, but I know that Marie was just a simpleundry maid before I chose her to work for me at the Rose Pce. Since she has no connections to anyone, I want her to be one of my people.

    ¡°You are too kind, your highness,¡± a wide, toothy beam spreading across her middle-aged cheeks. Mission aplished! Now that her good mood has returned, I can finally ask all the questions that have been bottled up inside of me since I¡¯ve arrived.

    ¡°What are people saying about me outside?¡± I inquire with puppy eyes. I¡¯ve only ever tried to leave the Rose Pce once and was rejected by the guards posted at the entrance for fear of my ¡®safety¡¯. The maids assigned to me are careful with their words when I am near and only Marie speaks freely to me. She is my sole lifeline to the rest of the pce, but as a simple woman, not much for gossip.

    ¡°Well,¡± she replies, looking a little torn. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if they are meant for a young princess¡¯ ears.¡±

    So Marie had heard something. Like a fisher tugging at stubborn prey, I set down the spoon I¡¯d been stirring my tea with and walked up to her.

    ¡°Please tell me, Marie! Pretty please? Good or bad, I want to know.¡± I channel my best doe eyes and cling to her hand. It felt a little overboard in the beginning, but as usual, she was quick to give in to my whims.

    ¡°Ok, your highness. But please promise me you won¡¯t go around repeating the things I tell you because I don¡¯t want us to get in trouble.¡± The look of uncertainty is still there but I know she¡¯s going to spill.

    ¡°Ok! Ok!¡± I promise, jumping up and down. Why am I so good at being a little kid?

    Marie lets out a sigh first, absentmindedly brushing her hands on the front of her apron, a nervous tick.

    ¡°Well... people are a bit surprised because it is the first time a prospective prince or princess has passed the inspection by a holy mage,¡± she started slowly.

    I nodded. That made sense, since the holy church probably called every single one of them fake, whether it was true or not. It had truly been a stroke of genius for me to approach my father first.

    ¡°And hmm, what else? Oh yes, the people are also talking about what this means for Princess Julia. Since you are both the same age, now everyone is wondering whether Princess Julia is truly the prophesied child who will lead the Erudian Empire to its golden age or whether it¡¯s you,¡± she trailed off towards the end and nervously looked around to see if anyone was listening. But this was precisely why I chose the balcony to speak because the wide-open space makes it difficult for any spies to listen in.

    ¡°What¡¯s the prophesied child?¡± I inquire, even though I know perfectly well what it is.

    Right around when the empress was a few months pregnant, the Holy Church¡¯s ancient high priest had received a vision from the gods iming that the promised child who would lead the Empire to the greatest heights it could ever achieve was soon to be born. Everyone had naturally assumed that Princess Julia, who had been adored from the moment she was born, would fulfill the prophecy until little, old me suddenly got thrown into the equationst week.

    Marie chuckled at my cuteness as she led me back to the table.

    ¡°Your teachers will tell you about it when you¡¯re a little bit older,¡± she responded with a smile.

    ¡°When I¡¯m this tall?¡± I asked, waving my hand a couple of inches over my head.

    ¡°Maybe even sooner than that if you¡¯re lucky.¡±

    ¡°Hooray!¡± I already knew about the prophecy, but the news warranted celebrating anyways. My teacup had been sitting for a few minutes by now, so I decided to finally enjoy the hot beverage even though every day was warmer than thest.

    ¡°Oh?¡± I said curiously. In my haste to cutely interrogate Marie, I had set down my spoon on the saucer and now the entire tip that had swirled in my tea was ck as soot.

    ¡°Marie, my spoon broke!¡± I said, waving around the funny-looking utensil.

    All the color drained out of my maid¡¯s face leaving her pasty white.

    ¡°Put that down, your highness!¡± she cried, smacking the spoon from my hands. She furiously wiped at my hands where a drop or two had sshed and then looked at me with a frantic expression.

    ¡°Did you drink any of it? I need to know, your highness.¡± Marie said, her eyes running over my face searching for something. I shook my head, fear snatching away my words as I realized the implications of what had happened. There had been poison in my teacup. And if I hadn¡¯t insisted on waiting until the drink cooled, I would be dead right now.

    I begin hyperventting as I looked back at my innocent tea set on the table. Had anything else been poisoned? Am I going to die? Marie is still talking to me and has begun leading me back to my room in a haze. She leaves me for a moment to go inform a guard to bring me a physician and then she picks me up.

    ¡°It¡¯s ok, your highness. Shhhh. Shhhh.¡± she cooed, bouncing me up and down on her hip. I am still frozen with shock and it is now I feel fat tears rolling down my face. I am truly scared. Even more so than I was when the royal guards had burst into Bianca¡¯s house.

    It is only 2 hourster I begin to calm down after Maria has changed me into a nightgown and the royal physician has been in to inspect me. Marie promises me that the royal guards will find the culprit and that they have interrogated all the cooks and maids in charge of preparing my food. I am quite hungry as Iy in my chamber bed, but now I¡¯m too scared to ask for food in fear it too will be poisoned.

    This incident has left me pretty shaken up and in need of some seriousforting.

    ¡°Marie,¡± I whine to the motherly maid sitting beside my bed. ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡±

    She tenderly pats the side of my head. It feels nice, its been so long since anyone willingly showed me any affection.

    ¡°It¡¯s ok, your highness. I will arrange for a tester to be brought to the Rose Pce first thing in the morning!¡± she promises.

    ¡°Marie?¡± I asked a minuteter. I¡¯m being unnecessarily needy, but just for now, I don¡¯t care.

    ¡°Yes, your highness?¡±

    ¡°Please call me Winter. Just in private.¡± I say quietly.

    She looks indecisive, but I do my puppy eyes and she sumbed in seconds.

    ¡°As you wish, your highness,¡± she replied with a slight bow.

    ¡°Winter!¡± I insist.

    ¡°Oops. As you wish, Winter.¡± We both titter at her funny goof and I feel much better already.

    A sudden, frenzied knock on my gold and white door ends our bonding session halfway. Marie¡¯s face bes the emotionless mask the maids are trained to maintain and she lets a worried maid into my bedroom, which is almost 3 times the size of Bianca¡¯s house.

    The short maid, although she was still a giant where I was concerned, was wringing her hands nervously, her white bo slightly undone. I sat up in bed, all traces of joy or despair emptied from my face.

    ¡°You may speak,¡± Imanded from where I sat.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± she started, ducking into a curtsey first.

    ¡°Her majesty, the empress, is waiting for you downstairs in the sitting room.¡±

 Chapter 11

    Ch. 11: A Crazy, Wonderful Idea

    ¡°The empress?¡± I repeated, dumbfounded. The air on my arms stand to an end even though my bedroom is still toasty warm from the afternoon¡¯s heat. Had Winter met her this early in the webnovel? There is too much gray area operating as Winter. It is such a shame that I am but an unimportant side character and my backstory is described within a few short paragraphs in the beginning.

    Marie looks equally surprised, but her game face is on as she starts rushing out the room to my closet.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Marie,¡± I say, right before she exits my bedroom. My maid looks back at me confused, butplies. It was certainly bold of the empress to appear in my pce the same day I¡¯m nearly poisoned. To outsiders, she would look like she wasforting the scared, new princess, but considering how many dastardly acts shemits in the book as the main viin, I know better.

    ¡°Bring me my robe,¡± I order, uneasiness making me bite my lip. I¡¯m just a kid up past her bedtime, there is no need for me to dress to impress. Marie ties the silk string around my waist in a tight knot and I venture down the stairs holding her hand as the stairs are a tad bit too steep. With my slightly disheveled hair and deer in headlights expression, I looked the part of an easily frightened child.

    The downstairs sitting room of my pce had more people within it than I had ever seen. The sumptuous space had two white couches facing one another, within pink and white French inspired walls. Normally, I found myself sitting here in the early morning with nothing to do, but today I could hardly recognize my typical resting spot. There were 10 guards spread out near the entrance and around the room, an unnecessary addition meant to intimidate me considering my pce already had guards.

    A squire stood in the corner of the room, watching intently as I made my way down the stairs. The moment my foot touched the floor, he puffed his chest out and announced my presence.

    ¡°Her highness, the princess Winter greets her majesty, Empress Katya!¡± he bellowed, his full voice ringing in my ears.

    Marie gripped my hands tighter and instructed under her breath, ¡°This is official pce etiquette. Drop into a curtsey, your highness.¡±

    .....

    I smirked at the ground as I lowered into my best curtsey, which wasn¡¯t all that good to begin with. I hadn¡¯t evenid eyes on this woman before, yet she was so insistent on forcing me to follow a strict course of etiquette within my own pce! This is the equivalent of the president barging into your house at 1 in the morning and insisting that you serve him with your finest china and best behavior.

    I looked up quickly from my curtsey to see who my opponent was, and I was not disappointed by what I saw. Empress Katya was a beautiful woman. Adorned in a blood-red gown with gold apaniments, the blonde woman before me was the epitome of a ssic femme fatale. Heavy lidded eyes regarded me with a snakelike amusement as I sat down on the white couch opposite of her in my robe and nightgown.

    She studied at me with her bright, green eyes that had no doubt convinced many men to do anything for her, and I looked back undaunted. I considered sucking on my thumb in front of Katya in order to further sell my ¡®I¡¯m just a helpless little kid¡¯ act, but opted against it. That would be too obvious for such a discerning woman. It would be better for me to act starstruck as if she was my favorite celebrity.

    After staring at me for a minute, Empress Katya seemed to snap out of her trance with a gentle smile.

    ¡°Princess Winter,¡± she stated warmly, ¡°You are as beautiful as everyone told me you are.¡±

    She strode around the coffee table between us and sat down right beside me, the full fabrics of her skirt ufortably pressing up against my side. I covered my mouth as if someone had just told me the earth is t and then shook my head vigorously.

    ¡°No, you are! You are the prettiest person I¡¯ve ever seen in my whole life!¡± I exim cheerfully. In truth, I want to vomit as I sit beside my future murderer.

    ¡°You are too kind, my dear. If I must be honest, I came here for a reason,¡± she said, an impressive mask of concern settling on her face. If I didn¡¯t know better, I would think that the empress was genuinely concerned for me.

    My face droops onmand, my bottom lip slightly wobbling as I tearfully gaze up at her.

    ¡°Are you truly alright Winter? Do you mind if I call you Winter, I already feel so close to you, dear.¡±

    Sheys a hand on my shoulder and it takes all my strength not to throw it off, but rather lean into her touch.

    ¡°Yes, call me Winter miss... I mean your majesty! ¡°, I chirp. ¡°I was so scared today. My maid said that some bad people wanted me to eat something bad that would make me sick. If I¡¯m sick then I can¡¯t eat any more sweets.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you like sweets?¡± the empress inquired. ¡°Then the next time I visit, I¡¯ll be sure to bring some tasty ones with me, okay?¡±

    ¡°Yay, ok!¡± Nooooo! Please leave and nevere back, is what I¡¯m griping on the inside.

    ¡°I have a daughter, did you know that Winter?¡± she says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

    I nod excitedly. Julia Hapsburg de Erudian, the evil, spoiled princess who was in love with her half-brother the crown prince and tried to separate him and ra on many asions. How could I forget such a depraved character from the webnovel?

    ¡°Yes, I have a sister named Julia in the pce. I can¡¯t wait to meet her!¡±

    Katya¡¯s mouth twists at the word sisters, the only crack in her otherwise impressive performance. Of course she hated me referring to Julia as a blood rtive, destroying Julia¡¯s im of being the promised child. But what could she do about it without showing her hand?

    ¡°I will arrange for the two of you to meet. You will find that she is someone you can look up to?¡± Empress Katya said magnanimously. Trantion: You will never be on the same level as my daughter, you fiend. I could only bounce around in my seat excitedly as if I were actually delighted at the thought of meeting one of the worst characters in the story after the empress. If I¡¯m lucky, maybe she won¡¯t be as bad while she is young now.

    The empress has a thin-lipped smile as she stands from the couch. I try to imagine what she is thinking as Marie helps me off the couch and tells me to curtsey to the exiting empress. I stay bent in my curtsey as the guards and the squire filter out of my pce, the squire looking cocky as he strolled out of the Rose Pce.

    My tiny hands curl into tight fists as I dwell on how self-assured she looked as she lured me in with her charms. Her charisma was off the charts, even during our incredibly short conversation. If I hadn¡¯t vividly read about my own execution in the webnovel, I¡¯d have thought her to be a friend rather than a foe. She probably thought all her cards were falling into ce, even with the surprising addition of my presence.

    Marie could sense the change in my mood the moment the empress left, but to her credit, she didn¡¯t pry. Or maybe she wrote it off to me being tired from all the madness that had urred today. All the maids in the halls were dismissed and she blew out the candles, plunging my bedroom into darkness.

    By tomorrow the gossipmongers will be singing praises about Empress Katya.

    ¡°She is so kind to visit the bastard princess.¡±

    ¡°Empress Katya truly is the mother of the Erudian Empire!¡±

    ¡°Even the king, her own father, didn¡¯t bother to go see her after she was nearly poisoned. Tsk tsk. That princess is so unlucky. It would do her good to be close to the empress.¡±

    I don¡¯t know how much of it Marie will willingly tell me, considering how hesitant she was this afternoon, but I¡¯m certain my guesses are not far off from what will be said by the time the sunes up. Katya will be hailed as a saint when in reality, the cunning empress has just tied a noose around my neck for her own hands to tighten over theing years.

    It was so clever of her to create such a powerful, yet sweet reputation that one can find no fault with her. She is beautiful, extraordinarily so, enough to be a movie starlet in my world. I can see why ra had such a difficult time dealing with the potent threat the empress presents.

    She has transformed the royal pce into her turf. I think back to how the maid was harried as she rushed to inform me that the empress was sitting downstairs waiting for me. Ordinarily, one of the guards posted at the front of my pce would have informed the proper personnel ahead of time, so I would have had at least a five-minute warning before she arrived at my front door. But no one had been sent in advance to inform me of her presence.

    The Rose Pce is infested with her people. Even in my single week of living as a royal, I can deduce this much. Empress Katya is like a weed that has sunk its roots deep into the core power structure of the Empire. She usurped the title of Empress after the previous one died during childbirth from unseenplications, she has a son close in age with the crown prince, and her noble family has bought off half the Church.

    If she wants me dead, then my head will be rolling by tomorrow. Unless... a sly thought creeps up on me and in the silent darkness a sinister smile spreads across my face. Unless I do something to her first. ording to the story, it is only a few years after the empress has been executed that it¡¯s discovered Julia is not the promised child. Since this is already a fact, why not speed up the discovery a few years earlier? And while I¡¯m at it, why don¡¯t I finesse my way into being the promised child?

    I roll over onto my side and physically pat myself on the back because this is the best idea I¡¯ve had since I was reincarnated. I¡¯ve already slightly changed the timeline for Winter¡¯s story, but if I do nothing else, 11 years from now the future will y out as expected. I¡¯ll have topletely turn this story on its head by doing something so crazy, it¡¯ll be thrown off its tracks.

    No defense is better than bing the one thing that would give me armor against being used of as a witch. I¡¯mughing to myself now, loud guffaws, and have to bury my face in a pillow to muffle the sounds. It¡¯s a crazy idea, a crazy, wonderful idea.

    I have to do this. Even if it¡¯s only to wipe the Empress¡¯ mocking grin off her face.

    And it¡¯s going to be the craziest thing I¡¯ve ever done if I somehow make myself into the promised child. Thest thought I have before I drift off to sleep is how much Peppermint is going to hate me if they ever figure my n out.

 Chapter 12

    Ch. 12: Library Visit

    I woke up the next morning with a smile on my face and it isn¡¯t just because I didn¡¯t get stabbed by a single piece of hay that night. My cheery mood is evident and even Marie mentions it as she ties pretty pink ribbons into my hair.

    My n to con my way into being the promised child all feels so real now and the sheer joy of having a concrete n to avoid an early death has left me feeling giddy. Now I don¡¯t have to suck up to my emotionless father in hopes of earning an ounce of favor that will pay back in dividends when I¡¯m falsely used. I had a deadbeat father in myst life, this is nothing new. I¡¯ve packed all my hard feelings about Emperor Helio into a little box and kicked it to a deep, dark corner of my mind.

    Forget fatherly love, all I want is to continue to enjoy my new, luxurious lifestyle without care. My thoughts wander back to the buttery soft coffee cake I had with fruits this morning, and my mouth starts watering again even though my stomach is full. If I want to continue to enjoy stress-free meals like these, I¡¯m going to need to ess the royal library for proper research.

    I stroll past the well-tended rose gardens to the front entrance of my pce, denoted by a white arched walkway with two royal guards standing tall on each side. When they see my small self making my way over, they turn and bow obediently.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± they say in unison. I just wave, using my little kid pass to get out of being excessively formal.

    ¡°Good morning!¡± I respond. One of the guards, a blonde, handsome man looks familiar but I can¡¯t quite ce where I¡¯ve seen him before.

    They look nervous and rightfully so. Thest time I had approached the entrance, they denied me from exiting on grounds that it was not safe for me to wander the pce. This time, however, I n on walking through the arch no matter what.

    ¡°I¡¯m leaving today,¡± I announce first.

    .....

    ¡°Your highness, I¡¯m afraid you are not allowed to leave because of your-¡°, a guard starts.

    ¡°Because of my safety, right? Well, I thought about what you saidst time and I have a solution. From now on whenever I leave the Pce, one of you can apany me!¡± I give them my full, megawatt smile and sp my hands together, but now the guards only look even more unsure.

    ¡°Princess... we are just following orders that we¡¯ve received,¡± the blonde guard admits, the words looking like they pain him. I nod understandingly, but on the inside, I¡¯m getting ready to go for the throat.

    ¡°Oh?¡± I respond innocently. ¡°And whose order is that?¡±

    ¡°Lord Amarelius, your highness,¡± the other guard answers. The blonde guard gets a funny expression on his face as he hears Wolfgang¡¯s title and I suddenly recall where I saw him. shes of memories that night in Bianca¡¯s house make my cheerful expression fall from my face.

    ¡°And is he higher or lower ranked than me?¡± I inquire, my tone no longer retaining the same charm as before. Looking at the young man who had tried to coax me out of the dress cab reminds me of how traumatic it was when the guards fetched me from the slums and I do not wish to remember that night.

    ¡°Your rank is greater than his in terms of sovereignty, but his is greater than yours when ites to military powers, your highness,¡± the blonde quickly counters. He has a decent head on his shoulders, but I already knew that from the time he discovered the hidden door to my room.

    ¡°Sooo,¡± I say, cing one finger from both hands beside each other. ¡°I¡¯d say that makes us about even, wouldn¡¯t you...¡±

    I trail off, waiting for the guards to give their names. The unfamiliar guard appears stressed, a bead of sweat visible under his helmet, while the blondie looks amused.

    ¡°I¡¯m Sir Paul.¡± His voice trembles as he introduces himself. I tsk a little on the inside. That man will not get very far in the military if he is so easily scared by a child like myself.

    ¡°And I am Sir Finn, your highness. And yes, that would make you even,¡± the blonde announces grandly, dipping into a bow. Finn the Fox, I call him in my head.

    Now I smile once more.

    ¡°Then until Sir Ama... Amarel, oh you know who I¡¯m speaking of,¡± my youthful tongue tripping over the tongue twister of ast name, ¡°until he personallyes and tells me I am not allowed to leave the Rose Pce, then I will go as I please until then.¡± I almost say kapeesh at the end, but I narrowly realize that it¡¯s a word that doesn¡¯t exist in this world.

    ¡°Mydy,¡± Marie starts nervously. She had been against my n all morning and now she crept from where she stood behind me to speak.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Marie. Isn¡¯t Sir Finn?¡± I look him dead in the eye.

    Finn bursts into a loud, belly grabbingugh.

    ¡°Indeed, your highness,¡± he responds, wiping a tear from his eye. He is the first of the two guards to move out of my path and the other quickly follows suit, looking like he is about to throw up his breakfast.

    I begin to walk out the archway, feeling extremely triumphant and ready to take on the world. But Finn the Fox was not quite finished yet.

    ¡°However, your highness,¡± he begins from behind me and I slow to a stop. ¡°You still need a guard to apany you to your destination.¡±

    I grit my teeth, because he is right.

    ¡°Just for today,¡± I sigh. I don¡¯t want to let one, irritating knight ruin what should otherwise be a splendid day.

    This is my first day walking around the royal pce. I¡¯d seen glimpses of this architectural wonder when I was hastily escorted to the Rose Pce but this is the first time I am seeing it in full. My path is covered in dappled sunlight from the overhanging willow trees and maids and servants alike bow when they see me. I almost want to pinch myself for it feels like I¡¯m in a dream rather than reality.

    I am clutching Marie¡¯s hand since I don¡¯t know where the library is and it isn¡¯t long before wee to a stop before a grand, spiral building with guards in front. I stare at the tall structure in shock because it is the tallest building I have ever seen in this world.

    ¡°The royal library is quite impressive, isn¡¯t it your highness?¡± Finn asks, smiling at my small form bending over backward to see the entire library. The cool air inside the building is in stark contrast to the outdoor warmth and Finn quietly informs me that the temperature within is carefully regted by magic so that none of the rare books crumble or yellow.

    The floor to ceiling is covered in shelves of books that extend higher than my eye can see. There hangs in the air, the ever-familiar scent of dust and paper, a constant in any library no matter which world. I wonder how the librarians here can possibly manage to remember where any of the books are in here. I wonder briefly how one would even manage to get a book from the shelves the same height as an average house but I notice a library custodian standing on a floating tform with a balcony that slowly goes up and down the shelf.

    Although I know it exists, I have not seen much magic and I can¡¯t help the grin sprouting on my face. I was a real sucker for Harry Potter and other fantasy novels, this is practically a dreame true for Maria!

    ¡°Look! Look at that!¡± I saw in awe to Marie, pointing at the floating tform. I desperately want to ride it, but I¡¯m sure they would let a child go on the potential dangerous contraption. The man on it, a custodian in a dull gray waistcoat with matching trousers, notices me on the ground and the tform lowers to the floor. His footsteps echo as he walks over to me and I can tell this man recognizes me. After all, there aren¡¯t that many other white-haired kids running around the pce that has been the hot topic of pce gossip.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± he says nervously, dropping into a low bow. He stands back up straight in a snap and I notice he wears sses that make him cute in a nerdy way. For the thousandth time, Iment my luck for being reborn as kid instead of as an adult.

    ¡°I¡¯m looking for some fun books to read, with many pictures in them,¡± I say earnestly. ¡°Can you take me there?¡±

    I have no desire to read elementary level books, however, I must operate cautiously and don¡¯t want to raise suspicion as a 5-year-old reading books about the history of the Empire and the Holy Church. Marie waits near the grand entrance of the royal library and Finn follows the custodian and I as we meander deeper into the winding mazes of shelves. He stands a good enough distance away that I am certain he cannot hear me when I tug at the custodian¡¯s hand and smile.

    ¡°Sir,¡± I say, chuckling at how shocked he is to have royalty touch his hand. In truth, I am no better or worse than him, I would have gotten my hand cut off if I had touched him two weeks ago.

    ¡°I actually lied to you earlier.¡±

    His brows crinkle together.

    ¡°O-Oh, your highness.¡± He has no idea how to respond.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to wait here because I am tired of walking, so can you please get my books for me. I do like books with pictures, but I like history books even more.¡±

    I hold his hand a little tighter and pout at him a little bit.

    ¡°People will think I¡¯m weird if they see I¡¯m reading adult-level books and I don¡¯t want to get made fun of,¡± I say pleadingly.

    I can tell I struck a nerve in the custodian because his back straightens and his face goes serious.

    ¡°There is nothing strange about reading advanced level books, no matter what anyone says. It just means you are an intelligent child!¡± he says emphatically. Perhaps he faced this kind of teasing as well when he was younger.

    ¡°But I still don¡¯t want anyone to know, so when you get me a few books about the Empire and the Holy Church, can you please stack a few children¡¯s books on top so no one sees them? Pretty please?¡±

    He nods vigorously.

    ¡°As you wish, your highness,¡± he replies and his long legs quickly carry him out of view as he fetches my books.

    Finn approaches when he is gone and asks what we discussed. I cheerfully tell him to mind his own business.

    Before long the sound of footsteps echoes once more and the custodian emerges from the narrow space between two bookshelves with a healthy stack of books. But tall Finn stepped ahead of me and scooped them out of the custodian¡¯s arms with ease as if he were carrying a pile of feathers.

    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Librarian!¡± I say with a smile. The man smiles back and he looks friendly enough. I¡¯m sure we will be better acquaintances as I intend to visit often.

 Chapter 13

    Ch. 13: Bad Ideas

    I¡¯m worried that Finn will go flipping through the books he¡¯s carrying and realize that there is some inappropriate material for children, but he¡¯s whistling a tune I¡¯ve never heard before as we stroll out of the library. It¡¯s almost lunchtime, but I¡¯m already tired and I reach my arms out to Marie so she can carry me. She obliges instantly with a warm smile and I once again enjoy the perks of being tiny.

    My eyes drift shut at their own ord before we reach my pce, but I¡¯m still somewhat conscious when I hear the conversation between Finn and Marie. They spoke in hushed voices so as to not wake me.

    ¡°Sir Amarelius wants an update on how the princess is doing,¡± Finn says cautiously from my left. Huh, the Mad Dog is curious about me? Marie gives me a little shake to check if I¡¯m asleep and my head lolls to the side like a doll.

    Marie lets out a long sigh. ¡°She is adjusting as well as can be expected of a young child. It¡¯s just...¡±

    ¡°Just what?¡± Finn prompts when she pauses in the middle of her sentence. She has stopped walking as well.

    ¡°Her highness is so young, yet she has been through so much. She often sits for long periods of time and doesn¡¯t talk to anyone other than me. She never wants to y with any of the toys I bring her. The only time she acts like a normal child is when she¡¯s eating. She never cries, except for yesterday after the incident.¡±

    Finn is silent for a minute after her words.

    ¡°Is there anything else?¡± he asks.

    .....

    ¡°Well, I would like for the royal physician to take a look at her highness. She is a bit small for her age and too skinny. She tires quickly nor does she enjoy walking around much. If it isn¡¯t too presumptuous of me, please tell me, Sir Finn, where did you find her?¡± Marie asked, the pain evident in her voice. I¡¯m touched, even though I¡¯m too drowsy to show it.

    ¡°You are being presumptuous,¡± Finn said in a steely voice that sharply contrasted his easy-going personality I¡¯d previously seen.

    ¡°Just because the young princess has taken a shining to you doesn¡¯t mean you are entitled to information above your station.¡±

    Don¡¯t be mean, I want to yell. You¡¯re talking to my Marie, you ass!

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± she replies meekly. I¡¯m over the conversation so I burrow deeper in Marie¡¯s neck, startling them out of the conversation. I can feel Marie frantically check whether I¡¯m awake or not so I let out a slow, sleepy breath and didn¡¯t move again.

    ¡°Go on and put her to bed. I¡¯ll arrange for someone to send the physician. It is best you nurse her to health quickly and don¡¯t let her leave so often. The Spring Ball is approaching and she will be unofficially presented to society then.¡± Finn ordered seriously. Finn the Fox was not in the building at the moment.

    ¡°Wait, Sir Finn!¡± Marie cried, the sudden loudness making me wince. It seems Finn must have been walking back to his post.

    ¡°What about the library? I think her highness really enjoyed leaving the pce today. What should I do if she wishes to leave again?¡± Marie asked hesitantly. Only Marie ever worries about me like this. She really reminds me of Maria¡¯s mother and it makes my heart feel all gooey with love.

    ¡°Erm... if she really wants books that much, then I¡¯ll just bring the librarian over to get a list of the books she wants and deliver them here,¡± Finn says sheepishly. The hard feelings I felt towards Finn soften a little and I decide to give him a pass, just for today.

    Marie gives him a pass as well. ¡°You are a kind boy, Sir Finn.¡±

    ¡°B-Boy? I¡¯m not a boy, I¡¯m a man!¡± Finn whines almost childishly. I was slow to realize it since I¡¯m so small at the moment, but now that I think about it, Finn actually looks a bit younger than I was in my past life, easily still in thest of his teenage years. I chuckle inwardly, already nning to rib him on itter.

    When Ie to, I can see that the sun is still high through a sliver of my curtain that is open and I¡¯m relieved I haven¡¯t napped too long. I¡¯m still wearing the cute day dress Marie chose for me, but she took my shoes off before tucking me into bed.

    ¡°Marie!¡± I yell from my bed. The door of my bedroom instantly opens and I assume that the motherly maid has been hovering outside but in walks a man. I instinctively shrink back, but a quick look confirms that he is just the royal physician. He has a white coat with the emblem of the Empire on his sleeve and a pair of wire-rim sses sit on his nose. He reminds me of Dr. Strobum and I don¡¯t like it.

    Marie rushes in quickly behind him, but it does little to ease my apprehension.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± they say in unison, dropping into a bow and a curtsey.

    ¡°Your highness, the physician is here to inspect your health,¡± Marie informs me. I rub my head and my eyes widen as I recall the conversation between Marie and Finn. I have half the mind to ask my maid about it right away, but she might find it suspicious if I inquire about the Spring Ball right after she talked about it in my presence. I¡¯m going to have to put the question away for a day or two so I can just use the excuse of overhearing a few maids whisper about it.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± the physician says, all business. ¡°Please lie down so I may perform a physical examination.¡±

    I nodded andy back down, but my anxiety only increased as the physician held his hands out over me and closed his eyes. I squinted at him, confused by his outstretched arms then looked at Marie but she seemed perfectly calm. Perhaps it is normal for a doctor to pray over his patients before examining them.

    But then I heard the music. Soft, twinkling notes that bore great simrity to what I had heard when the holy mage was inspecting me. His hands glowed a reassuring blue color as his hands moved from the top of my head to my toes. I grinned, impressed once more. This world¡¯s magic is truly unlike anything I¡¯ve seen or experienced before. My inner kid is pping with joy at the unbelievable sight.

    Just as quickly as it started though, it is over. The doctor opened his unfriendly eyes once more and looks down at me as if I¡¯m a bothersome pest. I frown back at him. Would it hurt him so much to try to be nice to a young child?

    ¡°Am I sick?¡± I ask as he goes rooting through the bag he had brought with him.

    ¡°Malnourished and underdeveloped,¡± I heard him say under his breath as he starts scribbling onto a notepad. My frown deepens. I¡¯m fairly certain ignoring royalty is a crime but this man doesn¡¯t seem to care about that. It reminds me of the days in the shack with Bianca, who barely acknowledged my existence.

    ¡°Sir,¡± Marie says in a stiff voice, ¡°Her highness was speaking to you.¡± It is the harshest tone I¡¯ve ever heard her speak to someone with since I¡¯ve arrived at the pce. I adore how she just stuck up for me, even as the rude doctor just harrumphs where he sits and begins to acknowledge me.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± he says grudgingly as if someone is holding a gun to his head. ¡°You are suffering from long term malnourishment and your body is underdeveloped as a result. However, as long as you sufficiently eat 3 meals a day and get several hours of sleep at night, you will recover within a few months to a year.¡±

    I resist the urge to roll my eyes at the doctor just repeating information I already knew, but his next words took me by surprise.

    ¡°You also possess a natural barrier to magic. It¡¯s nothing to be concerned about, but it means that you will have a more difficult time performing magic and having magic performed on your person,¡± he finished in monotone. The doctor, who I realize now never even bothered to introduce himself, stood from his chair ready to leave. There is no way I¡¯m going to let him run away after dropping that bombshell on me.

    ¡°Can you please exin the barrier to me, doctor?¡± I whimper, trying to look frightened. It didn¡¯t sound like anything to be overly concerned about from his vague description, but this is a goldmine of information I can¡¯t resist excavating. My next library books are definitely going to be about magic.

    ¡°Your body just has a natural resistance to magic, which is why I had to stand over you and perform your physical with more power behind it,¡± he says dully.

    ¡°So, you don¡¯t normally use your hands?¡±

    ¡°... No.¡± Getting answers from this doctor is like pulling teeth. I eventually leave him alone altogether and he hands Marie some pills for me to take to reduce my internal magical barrier. It¡¯s a small jar full of little red pills and they forebodingly remind me of peppermints. I eye the bottle with distrust as Marie tucks it into a drawer of my vanity.

    The next few days pass by unremarkably, outside under the tall apple tree in the middle of my rose garden. Marie carries out my stack of books and the sun rises and falls through the rtively blue sky as I plow through the centuries of the advent of the New Continent, the establishment and growth of the Erudian Empire, and the rising influence of the Holy Church. At the end of each day, I tucked the books inside the toy chest I never use so no snooping individuals find it. Marie, who was upgraded to my nursemaid since I¡¯m still young enough to have on, was sworn to secrecy after a clumsy tumble down the stairs revealed the sensitive subject matter I¡¯m researching.

    My eyes feel a little sore from squinting at the itty bitty letters all day long, but I¡¯m just grateful they speak English in the Empire as well and I won¡¯t have to learn a whole othernguage. This is myst day of freedom since my etiquette teacher will begin coaching me for the uing ball.

    I snap thest book shut, my head swimming with information. While I already had a decent idea of the history of this world courtesy of the webnovel, everything was colored with ra¡¯s perspective. Her story doesn¡¯t require her to have a lot of knowledge about the Erudian Empire, so most of what I knew was perfunctory or the random tidbits the crown prince, my older brother whom I¡¯ve yet to meet, told her.

    Marie has briefly gone inside to fetch me a coat and I feel a bit mncholy and stir crazy. It was through the webnovel that I learned of the significance of the Rose Pce, but now that I live here, I can feel the past love my father had for the previous empress. It is said that the crown prince¡¯s mother was the only woman Emperor Helio ever loved, a fact that must irk that awful Empress Katya to the bone.

    The entire ce is well-maintained, but the spark of life within it is gone. If I were a pickier girl, I would hate it but it¡¯s a roof over my head and has a warm bed. Only a fool who hasn¡¯t lived in poverty before wouldin. It is always so quiet in my pce, with the only stirrings of lifeing from myself and the birds that asionally visit the flowers.

    There are tall hedges with roses surrounding the apple tree and my eyes wander to the small gap I¡¯ve been eyeing in the few days I¡¯ve been seated under the tree. Today, I specifically requested a dress that isn¡¯t as full since all the stuffing underneath makes it ufortable to sit on the floor. Brushing a few leaves off my skirt, the cogs in my head turn as a terrible idea starts to be more appealing.

    I can see the central pce where the emperor resides in the distance, a tall spire adorned with a phoenix on top, his representative animal. And I can only me my underdeveloped frontal cortex and extreme boredom due tock of inte for the shitstorm that happened after I followed my impulse.

 Chapter 14

    Ch. 14: Sunset Pce

    Before I knew what I was doing, the loose twigs from the hedge tugged at my dress as I crawled underneath it to freedom. The hole originally looked so small, but I¡¯ve fit inside it with no problem. My little head emerges, then my shoulders, and soon I¡¯vepletely emerged from my gilded prison.

    No one sees me leave, except for one girl. A young scullery maid who mostly worked in the kitchens had by chance glimpsed my daring escape. Only two years my senior, Emma had been shirking her duties of peeling the potatoes for a breath of fresh air and now she was filled with indecision as she wondered whether or not to run after me or inform someone.

    But she looked down at the potato peeler in her hand and realized she would get reprimanded for leaving during her shift, she could even miss out on dinner for her transgression. Smart, quick feet, even faster than my own, marched towards the gap in the hedge, and Emma shimmied her way out of the Rose Pce. After all, if she was the one who caught me and brought me back, I would be her get out of jail free card that kept her from trouble. Emma could even be rewarded if she was lucky.

    However, I, of course, do not know that Emma is loosely tailing me as I begin to wander the marble halls I have stumbled into. A couple of maids walk by and a few stewards, but no one surprisingly bows. I reach up to scratch my head in confusion and realize that I still have on the bo Marie piled most of my hair underneath. The only way you would notice I have white hair is if you look at me from the back. Perhaps they all just assume I¡¯m some noble¡¯s child who got lost in the pce. There is little sympathy in their busy gazes. I can feel someone else¡¯s gaze on me, neither friendly nor threatening, but when I turn around there is no one behind me.

    I enter a little outdoor alcove covered in intricate drawings, not unlike the mosaics I¡¯ve seen in my original world. Unlike the crests of suns and phoenixes that decorate the pce, this one is depicting a scene, one that I shockingly recognize from the texts I¡¯veboriously read.

    There is a man riding a golden chariot, a spear clenched tightly in his right hand as he spears at a dark mass. It is a pivotal moment in this world¡¯s lore when the god Helio defeated Akira the Devourer with the Spear of Light. The mosaic is slightly abstract, but there is no mistaking the scene. It is indeed an impressive work of art.

    I drag my finger down the rod of the gold spear. ording to ancient records, the spear fell from the god¡¯s hand into the mortal realm after he dealt a fatal wound to the Devourer. A wandering mage named Erudian discovered the weapon and upon picking it up, became the first of Helio¡¯s line on earth.

    To show his godly lineage, he adopted the gold eyes of Helio, forever to be passed on down his line. The spear was said to be lost shortly after the birth of his heir, the legendary King Bramas, who transformed the newly founded Erudian Kingdom into an Empire. I don¡¯t know how much fact to ce in this when I rte this myth to several simr ones of Norse and Indian mythology from my world. To think that my many times great grandfather is descended from a god, it¡¯s too crazy to believe. But then again, I also somehow got reincarnated into a world I read about on my phone. Those gold eyes of Helio wink at me now from a flicker of dim sunlight that shines on the alcove.

    .....

    My period of admiration is cut short when I hear the sound of many steps walking in unison towards where I am standing. A squadron of the royal guard is approaching me quickly from the front. I curse my luck. If I hadn¡¯t been so enamored by the artistic depiction of my grandfather, perhaps I would¡¯ve been able to gaze at my father¡¯s pce, even from afar.

    Even though ording to the story, Emperor Helio never develops a rtionship with me, I still yearn to learn more about the man who participated in my creation. It¡¯s a foolish, childish dream though, one that is getting crushed under the iing footsteps of the guards. I was like this in myst life too, doggedly chasing after my deadbeat dad as he jumped from girlfriend to girlfriend and avoided paying child support to my mom. You¡¯d think I¡¯d have learned by now.

    I spin around in my path and retrace my path back to the Rose Pce. I¡¯ve broken into a light run and I¡¯m back in the outdoor marble hallways I had emerged into. I turn right, then another right before hooking a quick left. That was the original path I took, right? Now that I think about it, all these paths look exactly the same. I could potentially be in trouble.

    Emma, who was tailing me silently, already knew I was in trouble. It is actually two lefts and a right, but it¡¯s an easy error to make. I haven¡¯t realized it yet because I reached another tall hedge and my heart rate slows down from its hummingbird pace. I¡¯m back at the Rose Pce. Marie must have returned to my empty nket and begun to freak out, I¡¯ll have to reassure her and put up with the inevitable scolding that will follow.

    Glimpsing the beautiful mosaic made my daring escape worth it, but I don¡¯t know if I foresee myself doing an unscheduled run again anytime soon. I don¡¯t like the energy of the rest of the royal pce, which isn¡¯t all too different from the rude maids/spies in my Rose Pce. But in the distrustful swamp that my new home is, there is a beacon of light within it: Marie.

    It¡¯s sad to say, but she is the only person in the entire royal pce who treats me nicely without any ulterior motive. A few teenage maids tried to take a page out of her book and attempt to curry favor with me, but they remind me of typical high school mean girls: nice to your face and horrible behind your back. I¡¯d rather stick with simple Marie.

    I¡¯m scanning the dense hedge for the gap that I originally crawled through, but I can¡¯t find it. I feel a bit tense standing outside the hedge and finally just resolve to crawl under, even though the space is extremely narrow. I¡¯m going to ruin this dress, which is a shame, but I feel terribly exposed just standing outside my pce.

    Like a snake slithering on its belly, I¡¯m forced to shimmy underneath the foot wide hedge and emerge on the other end breathing hard. This body¡¯s stamina, even for a child, has always been dismal. My hands rest on knees and I can only see green grass from where I¡¯m bent over heaving. My wind returns to me and I straighten only to be met with an rming situation. This is not my courtyard.

    There is no apple tree standing in the center of the grass. The hedges are covered in slender, golden flowers I have never seen before. I spin around in a slow circle, dread making my belly churn as I spy an outdoor gazebo, the wood structure painted bright white like my hair. And there is someone seated underneath looking right at me.

    I gulp nervously, but stand tall as the person, who appears to have been in the middle of ate afternoon tea gets down from their chair. She¡¯s a child. Her legs swung before she touched the ground and she is only a little taller than seat in question. But instead of being reassured that it¡¯s a child who is approaching me, my stomach bottoms out. Because other than me, in the webnovel the only other young girl living luxuriously in the pce is my half-sister, Julia. Psycho Julia, ra had nicknamed her.

    For the most part, she looks sane as she draws close to my solemn figure. It is obvious that she has been loved and coddled within the pce, held with high regard by those around her. Dirty blonde hair has been curled into Shirley Temple ringlets,plemented by the bejeweled hairpins ced in her hair. I¡¯d always thought that the solid color dresses I¡¯ve been wearing were cream of the crop, but I look like a peasant beside Julia.

    Her dress is sparkling during the golden hour before the sunset. It¡¯s scarlet, not unlike the dress the empress wore when she met me, and it¡¯s decorated with gold threads and real gems. Although it is terribly gaudy, the dress undoubtedly could buy you a small city. I feel jealous as I look at it. Not because I want to possess overly decorated dresses, but because it means that there is someone behind her who cares enough to make Julia look like this. And I have no one.

    The difference in our standing could not be more clear as the two of us regard each other for the first time. Gold eyes meet gold for the second time in my life. I can only hope that right now at 5 years old, Julia is not as bad as she willter be in the webnovel. But since was anything easy in this world?

    ¡°Now, who might you be?¡± Julia asked in twinkling tone, the smile on her face contrasting the somber-faced guards towering behind her.

    ¡°Greetings, Princess Julia. I¡¯m the new princess, Princess Winter. You are as pretty as everyone has mentioned,¡± I say as politely as possible, dropping into a low curtsey. When in doubt, always go with ttery.

    My small trick seems to have temporarily worked. Julia breaks out in an even broader smile and covers her mouth in delight.

    ¡°Me? Pretty?¡± Julia asks. I nod and she squeals. There is a gleam of hope within me. Maybe I¡¯ll be able to walk away unscathed. But Julia¡¯s smile falls from her face too quickly, leaving a vacant expression that even a grown man would stumble back from.

    ¡°But what kind of unworthy ve can dare talk about me?!¡± she snarls, going from 0 to 100 in a few seconds. It seems Psycho Julia has been off her rocker since childhood. Such a shame I¡¯m finding this out now, though.

    ¡°J-Julia,¡± I nervously mumble as sweat pours down my head in buckets, ¡°I¡¯m your little sister Winter.¡±

    I remember the bo covering my famous white hair and tug the strings under my chin, but Marie knotted it too securely for my stubby, child-sized fingers. But the vigorous tugging undoes the neat bun and white haires spilling down my shoulders anyways. I wait for recognition to hit, but Julia¡¯s face twists even further.

    ¡°Oh, I know you!¡± she starts. But before I can exhale in relief she continues in a dark voice. ¡°You¡¯re that ve mommy told me about who is trying to steal my birthright. Why do you want to be the promised child? It¡¯s mine! MINE!¡±

    She is enraged as she screams me, a nightmare of a child to deal with. I look at the guards standing around her pleadingly to save me from my half-sister¡¯s wrath but they all regard me with equally unfriendly expressions. A mountain of a guard is approaching from a distance and I can already feel he¡¯s the one in charge of all the underlings standing around Julia. His navy uniform has an extra sash going across his arm, a different color from Wolfgang¡¯s sash that denotes his captain rank. This man is important.

    His hair is cropped close to his skull and his eyes are so deep-set within his huge skull I can only see the shadows of them. This guard is the kind of man you cross the street to avoid if you encounter them at night.

    He bows deeply to the raging Julia. ¡°Your highness, is there a problem?¡± he asks in a gravelly voice.

    ¡°This ve snuck into my Sunset Pce and said mean things to me! Sir Berrick, please kill her!¡± Julia whined. My mouth dropped and I reeled back a few steps from my crazy sister. I want to furiously retort something at her, but I¡¯m not stupid enough to let my anger get ahead of me. This situation has escted way too fast and I decide to implore my case to this Berrick fellow.

    ¡°Sir Berrick,¡± I say, dropping into a curtsey even though I don¡¯t have to. My voice wavers as I speak to him.

    ¡°My name is Princess Winter. I ran away from my pce for fun and identally got lost. I thought that this was the Rose Pce and I crawled in here. But I¡¯m so excited to meet my new sister and didn¡¯t say anything mean. I promise!¡±

    I max out my cuteness with my big watering eyes and wobbling lips. There is no way anyone can resist a five-year-old¡¯s tears.

    ¡°As you wish, Princess Julia,¡± Sir Berrick says, the murderous intent in his hidden eyes only further amplified by the toothless smile he shes at me. Well, there¡¯s a first for everything. What a terrifying boulder of a man for him to give such an evil look at someone as adorable as me. It¡¯s time to blow this pop stand.

    I can tell that the time for democracy is over. Julia is screaming her head off and kicking at the ground for the royal guards at her disposal to ¡®grab the filthy ve¡¯. In the confusion of her high pitched wailing, I start bolting towards the hedge I had initially crawled under. If I can escape out of there, I¡¯ll just run to... ugh, I don¡¯t even know the way to my pce. But I don¡¯t want to stay cooped up in this courtyard with my insane sister and sit around waiting for my fate.

    The royal guards had recognized my white hair, but none had dared to act up against her. Sir Berrick was high enough ranking that there was no doubt he knew about me, yet he had instead opted to give into Julia¡¯s desires. I have no allies behind me.

    I¡¯ve reached the hedge I had crawled under and can hear the thundering footsteps of the guards as I dive onto my belly and begin to army crawl. This is the fastest I¡¯ve ever moved since I woke up in this world and my chest is already burning, but I persevere. My head emerges from the other end I lock eyes with a young maid I¡¯ve never seen before with a short ck bob and matching ck eyes. We are both startled as she backs away with impressive reflexes and I whack the back of my head on the hedge.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± she whisper-shouts.

    Just as quickly as she was surprised by the site of me though, she reaches out her hand towards me urgently, her eyes as wide as saucers. She must have seen how quickly I was crucified by the very force that is supposed to protect the royal family.

    My hand meets her, but no sooner do wee in contact do I feel a king kong sized hand wrap around my ankle and calf.

 Chapter 15

    Ch. 15: The Dungeon

    I scream like I¡¯m in a horror movie as I feel myself being dragged back. The maid tugs back, but it¡¯s futile, like throwing an egg at a rock. I¡¯m tugged back under the hedge roughly, and a few sharp twigs rip the delicate fabric of my sleeve and the skin below. Sunlight hits me once more and I¡¯m back in the Sunset Pce.

    ¡°Let me go!¡± I yell on instinct. I look over my shoulder and the grim mug of Sir Berrick is looking right into mine. I have never been so scared in my life, even during the poisoning incident. Tears have begun leaking out of my eyes and I have to resist the urge to full-on sob like a baby at the strange, scary man in front of me.

    ¡°Where are you going, ve?¡± he asked calmly as if he were speaking about the weather. ¡°Her highness Princess Julia isn¡¯t done with you.¡±

    The vice-like grip he has on my ankle hurts like hell and I¡¯m worried he¡¯s going to inflict permanent damage on my tiny leg. It looks more like a doll¡¯s leg than a human¡¯s in his massive grasp.

    ¡°I¡¯m a p-princess, too! You¡¯re hurting me, sir!¡± I bawl. Not my proudest moment, but I feel incredibly threatened.

    ¡°She is, sir! She is! I¡¯m ¡®er maid, yes I am!¡± a little voice says behind me in a rough ent I heard often in the slums.

    I turn around to a blessed sight. The young maid who had tried to help drag me out earlier has crawled underneath into the ho¡¯s nest with me and is now standing valiantly before Sir Berrick. He lets go of my ankle and I crab walk back while the maid stares fiercely into the eyes of the beast. The sight is almost biblical, like David versus Goliath. Except that the saint of a maid who came to defend me would not end up as lucky against Goliath as David did.

    ¡°And what proof do you have?¡± Sir Berrick asks nonchntly. The remaining royal guards look like they¡¯re caught between a rock and a hard ce. I know they recognize me, but they don¡¯t dare to inform Sir Berrick. What a load of cowards.

    .....

    ¡°Erm... well... she has them golden eyes, just like His Majesty!¡± she said after a moment of indecision.

    Sir Berrick looked down at her as if she was a bug.

    ¡°That can be easily faked with the right magic. What would a little thing like you know about how His Majesty, the emperor¡¯s eyes truly look?¡± It is an unfair verbal fight. As a young, probably uneducated kid, this maid doesn¡¯t stand a chance against this royal guard.

    She knows it too.

    ¡°That¡¯s not fair! You¡¯re bein¡¯ mean to her highness. She is a princess. I promise!¡± the maid said valiantly.

    ¡°What worth is the promise of a maid of a ve? She might have ordered you to lie for her.¡± Sir Berrick concluded. Julia has calmed down slightly and is now watching the unfolding scene with an evil smile on her face. I desperately wish to p the look right off her cheeks, but I¡¯m still crying on the grass with a throbbing ankle.

    ¡°Grab the ve and escort her to the dungeon,¡± Sir Berrick ordered, folding his hands behind his back as royal guards, no royalpdogs, stepped forward to obey. The ck-haired maid instantly began to protest, until Berrick turned his back and continued speaking.

    ¡°Actually, grab them both.¡± His awful smile is etched in my mind as he walks off behind my gleeful half-sister. The family reunions I have experienced thus far at the royal pce have exceeded my expectations by miles.

    The maid is surprised by the turn of events and dives under the hedge like a hare escaping a fox. She is quick on her feet, unlike me and my now injured ankle, and she is gone within seconds. Two royal guards wrap a hand around each arm securely, as if with one guard I could have somehow escaped. I¡¯m d at least one of us got away.

    I¡¯m still crying as I half hobble half get dragged to the official exit of Sunset Pce. But they aren¡¯t tears of sadness, they are tears of rage. I¡¯m furious, practically seeing red. I hear Julia¡¯s twinklyugh behind me as if our encounter never happened, and I start shaking with anger.

    There is blood on my tongue and I vaguely recall my chin violently bumping into the ground when Sir Berrick dragged me back into my sister¡¯s horrible pce. Saliva mixes with the blood and my bitten tongue stings.

    ¡°My mother told me that everyone has their own path in life. ves should remain ves. No point in straying from the path.¡± Julia breezily says. A sense of deja vu hits me along with absolute disgust. I whip my head over my shoulder, gobsmacked at the wordsing out of this kid¡¯s mouth and she is seated at the gazebo, Sir Berrick standing beside her and nodding. She is eating a bag of candy, peppermints.

    That is one of the lines Julia says to ra when they are both teenagers and ra confesses she wishes to date the crown prince. I¡¯m not certain if it is an exact word for word quote, but it was a pivotal moment in the book when Julia revealed how twisted she is inside. Why am I hearing it now, 12 years too early?

    If only I still had the papers I had written the plot onto back when I was living with Bianca. I had been thorough enough to write down any quotes and phrases I could remember, as well as any supporting characters no matter how minor. After all, It¡¯s been five years since I read the webnovel and without my written reference, recalling anything is much more difficult.

    My chest burns at the sight of peppermint. I never knew it was possible to hate a certain candy that much and I¡¯ve had a perpetual disgust of candy corn since as long as I can remember but the minty. I think over the words that Julia said and wonder if it¡¯s meant to a message to me. Peppermint could be telling me to let the plot progress as it is supposed to and stop trying to change my fate.

    My mind explores the possibilities I haven¡¯t considered yet. How much of an influence can Peppermint y on the plot? Is it possible for me to permanently change it so much that even Peppermint can¡¯t do anything about it? Since I¡¯m deep in thought, I walk obediently with the guards out of the exit of the pce and many onlookers stare in shock and a little horror. None of them are stupid. They know exactly who I am. But they also know who the empress is. For me to be dragged out of her daughter¡¯s pce, it is clear this isn¡¯t a case for them to interfere in.

    So Peppermint wants me to be humiliated and forced back into the meek Winter from the webnovel? Not a chance. If it¡¯s humiliation they want, it¡¯s humiliation they¡¯ll get and then some. I exaggerate my hobble, wincing with each step as if there are nails on the ground piercing my foot. Look, I want to tell people, take a good look at what your so-called promised child does to her own sister. Even if no one can interfere, people can and will talk.

    One would think I wasme with the way I¡¯m dragging my leg behind me. I can feel the blood pooling in my mouth again and an ideaes to mind. Ie to aplete stop once I¡¯m in the marble hallway with all eyes on me. I shake a little and shiver where I stand, trying my best to look dreadfully hurt. It isn¡¯t difficult at all. I feel exhausted and my eyes are already fluttering. Through my flickering vision, I look for the dark-haired maid who had tried to save me. She is nowhere to be seen.

    ¡°Please move, your highness,¡± the guard to my left murmurs nervously under his breath. I stifle a bitterugh. So now he wants to acknowledge my title.

    Rather than cursing the fool out, I just look at him with teary eyes and say, ¡°Sorry,¡± with a wavery voice. Then I grab my chest and in a move would make me a veteran of a daytime soap opera, I spew out all the blood on my mouth on the floor and hang weakly in their arms. I can hear a gasp from the assembled crowd as rivulets of blood trickle from my mouth all over my light-colored dress, the perfect canvas for my act. Now I look like I¡¯ve been beaten within an inch of my life, instead of just having a sprained ankle and a bitten tongue.

    The guards move faster now as a few brave souls begin to voice their dissent. I make a show of bobbing my head with each step the guards take as if I¡¯m actually unconscious and the displeased mutters only grow louder. As infuriating as Peppermint has proved themself to be, they aren¡¯t my immediate problem. No, the first andrgest target on my list is the empress.

    Julia¡¯s cruel words still ring in my ears, words that shouldn¡¯t be in the mouths of children her age. And she had explicitly pointed out that her mother had taught her that. Empress Katya is definitely packing a lot of hatred for little old me if she¡¯s ranting this much to Julia in her spare time. I¡¯m almost ttered.

    Passersby stumble to a shocked stop as I¡¯m dragged past them. However, the bystander effect is in motion. While the surprise of watching a young child looking worse for wear being dragged around horrifies them, no one will vocalize it. Because even in my fancy new pce surrounded by maids, I¡¯m nothing. Without any power, any backing, or love, I¡¯m worthless in this piranha filled pce. That¡¯s going to have to change.

    But changing my status feels daunting as I begin to smell piss and other unmentionables. The tips of my pure white shoes are dragging through muck and grime. I no longer hear people murmuring in shock, instead only bleak silence and the asional moan. I don¡¯t need to open my eyes to figure out where I am.

    The dungeon. Sir Berrick really did mean it. Even if I was a nobleman¡¯s daughter and not a princess, this is too harsh of a punishment. An actual child could be severely traumatized. Heck, my 26-year-old mind is pretty freaked out too. But mostly pissed that these goonish royal guards, members of the honorable knightage meant to protect the royal family, are willing to toss me in a dangerous dungeon just to stay on the right side of the empress. The stench of corruption is ripe in this ce, along with feces.

    The drying blood around my mouth has be itchy and I scratch at it, only to be surprised by the nk of metal. Something heavy hangs from my wrists and my heart skips a beat at the sight of gigantic manacles locked around my tiny arms. I must have been getting too deep into my act not to notice being dragged into a cell and getting chained up.

    My head feels heavy and I¡¯m no longer faking it as my head bounces on my chest. I¡¯m going to pass out soon. My delicate disposition and this rough pce experience do not go hand in hand at all. Through the fog that is beginning to cover my mind, I hear a furious voice bellow.

    ¡°What nonsense is this, Edward?¡±

    Ah, Finn. Long gone is his usual know-it-all tone I¡¯m ustomed to dealing with, instead there is an upromising steel in his voice as I blurrily spot his bright yellow hair through the bars. Is he upset about me? I weakly chuckle, which sounds more like a cough in my dry throat and hear Finn call my name as I fade into darkness. I didn¡¯t think he would care.

 Chapter 16

    Ch. 16: Late Night Musings

    Unlike the time at Bianca¡¯s house, when I pass out in my miserable dungeon cell, a sliver of consciousness remains with me. I can hear Finn raining verbal hellfire on the royal guards who had dragged me down here and the ng of keys in the padlock of my cell.

    ¡°Silence, Finn,¡± Lord Wolfgang says. The surprise at his presence rouses me a little and my eyes squint in the cell. Themander of the royal guard, who is rumored to rarely leave my father¡¯s side, is down here to fetch me? I feel so special, I think sarcastically.

    Big, yet gentle hands hold my wrists and a weight slides of them as metal tters to the ground. I¡¯m scooped up and ced on someone¡¯s shoulder and yellow hair tickles my nose.

    ¡°F-Finn...¡± I say weakly. Forget fainting like a damsel in distress, I¡¯m being carried by the cute, yet irritating Finn! Be still my young heart.

    ¡°Just rest, your highness,¡± he says softly. My eyelids are heavy again so I close them, but I feel a slight embarrassment as I do so.

    ¡°You can¡¯t let this case simply be forgotten like the poisoning incident. This is too much, Wolfgang!¡± Finn hisses in frustration. As Iy on his shoulder that smells of a manly musk, I raise my eyebrows at his informal reference of Wolfgang. A subordinate calling the captain by his name is cause for demerit, of that I¡¯m sure.

    Wolfgang lets out a loud, weary sigh. ¡°Yes, I know.¡±

    ¡°They are taking it too far!¡± Finn argued further.

    .....

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Yes? Is that all you have to say? Not even a month since you found her and there have been two incidents. Two! And our royal guard is involved in one!¡± Finn is very heated and I feelforted to hear someone bothering to fight my case. It has felt like an incredibly one-sided battle thus far on my part.

    I feel the waning sunlight hit my face and I know we¡¯ve emerged out of the dungeon. I never want to go back to that dank, lifeless ce and I know what I saw barely scratches the surface of that prison.

    The walk back to my pce is rtively silent, but I can feel the stewing anger underneath Finn¡¯s calm exterior. I can hear Marie cry as I am passed from Finn¡¯s muscr grasp into Marie much softer one. Everything blurs and I think I fell asleep because the next time I open my eyes I am lying in my bed in my nightgown. Finn was right. Too much has happened to me in this short period of time. I rotate my ankle and feel a twinge of pain, but other than my that and my bitten tongue I am not that badly hurt. But who knows how long before that changes and instead of small sprains I end up with broken bones or worse?

    It is easy to see why Winter in the webnovel eventually keeled over and took the hits without fighting back. But that is what ultimately killed her. Marie has nodded off in a chair near the side of my bed, the candle she has brought with her sputtering since there is hardly any wax left. She has forgotten to close one of the curtains and a bright shaft of window illuminates the tip of my bed. I crawl out of my covers, feeling wide awake and flop in the shaft of light to admire the moon.

    That is one thing I love about this world. The night sky. The modern world I¡¯m originally from had its perks, but at best you could only spot a handful of skies in the smoggy night sky. But here? It¡¯s as if an artist flicked a white paintbrush against a dark canvas. The sky is littered with more stars than I can ever dream of counting and I feel a measure of peace as I admire the moon, the ever-changing moon. The constetions are not the same, as I can¡¯t find the Big Dipper or Orion no matter how hard I search, yet the sun and moon still hang in the sky no matter where I am.

    I must be more like the moon. I reach out my small, pale hand towards the narrow crescent, shining like a beacon in the midnight sky. Always showing a different side of myself to those who look, rarely revealing my true face until the moment is right. And I know exactly where to start, my mouth curling into a grimace as I think about them. Those who haveid their hands on the person they shouldn¡¯t have. The royal guard. Berrick.

    Their bargaining power is not to be estimated since they areposed of the most elite fighters and notable families of the Empire. They y arger role in the Empire than they are given credit for and Empress Katya has a sizeable stake within them in the form of Berrick. His shadowed gaze lingers in my mind and I¡¯m at a loss whether or not he was mentioned in the webnovel. I must find a way to retrieve the papers under the floorboards at Bianca¡¯s house, and fast.

    But how? I pull my hand back to my chest, finding more questions than answers.

    In the early hours of the morning, I¡¯m not the only lost soul seeking sce in the moon tonight. Not that far away within the royal study, Emperor Helio stared expressionlessly at the moon from his window.

    ¡°...Is that all, Wolfgang?¡± he asks, not turning away from the view to regard his trusted second.

    ¡°Helio,¡± Wolfgang said, calling him by his true name as he always did when they were alone, ¡°This is the second incident within this month. Even if you don¡¯t care for her, don¡¯t you think it might be too much for a child to handle?¡±

    ¡°The pce is a brutal ce. If I coddle her, she will be weak. I do not need a weak child.¡±

    Helio¡¯s voice sounded carefree, but after years of fighting side by side, Wolfgang could detect a slight variation in the emperor¡¯s voice. He pressed on, his ADHD causing him to kick incessantly at the carpeted floor as he spoke.

    ¡°A weak child is much better off than a dead child.¡±

    ¡°Not really.¡± It is now Helio spun his chair around to face Wolfgang, his gold eyes causing goosebumps to dance on the man¡¯s skin even though he was long ustomed to his aura.

    ¡°Weakness is just a prolonged death.¡±

    Wolfgang tampered down the flicker of irritation and turned his face away from his friend¡¯s, no longer able to bear his gaze.

    Helio chuckled, making Wolfgang look at him curiously.

    ¡°To think my aura still has this much of an effect on the Mad Dog even after all these years,¡± he said with a smirk.

    ¡°Come to think of it, she didn¡¯t flinch, did she?¡± Helios continued, deep in thought. He thought about his tiny daughter who had struggled to crawl up the stairs to his throne and face him. There had been no fear in those eyes that so perfectly mimicked his own, golden eyes he had once hated more than anything. Thest pair of eyes that had looked at him in such a carefree manner were scarlet as roses but left just as quickly as the delicate flower¡¯s lifespan.

    ¡°That was a clever move for her to approach me when I hadn¡¯t dimmed my aura. I¡¯d think someone set her up for it if it wasn¡¯t for the fact that she is so young.¡± Heliomented, not allowing his inner thoughts to be known.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Wolfgang agreed, ¡°And it conveniently saved her from the lying parishioner. Why didn¡¯t you let me kill him again?¡± Wolfgang wasn¡¯t called the Mad Dog for no reason and frequently delighted in bloodily tearing apart the Empire¡¯s enemies.

    ¡°Killing one ant will just alert the colony. For now, it is better to do nothing,¡± Helio said wisely.

    ¡°Do nothing?¡± Wolfgang whined. ¡°That¡¯s... that¡¯s impossible, Helio! The state has been polluted, no infected with enemies. It isn¡¯t external warfare that is going to ruin the Empire, it¡¯s those power-hungry parasitic nobles and those who live inside the goddamn pce!¡±

    Wolfgang was huffing for air after his outburst.

    ¡°Are you finished?¡± Helio asked drily. Wolfgang was not and he continued speaking although the temperature in the room began to drop considerably.

    ¡°The only reason Princess Winter is getting targeted so much is because of that prophecy the Holy Church issued five years ago. You are the one who inconveniently fathered her with that spy right after it was issued, you should take responsibility for her safety.¡±

    Helio grunted.

    ¡± I mean it, Helio,¡± Wolfgang concluded seriously. ¡°Who knows, you might actually end up liking this child? She seems pretty clever.¡±

    ¡°And how would you know?¡± Helio asked, peering at Wolfgang suspiciously. The deadly aura increased and Wolfgang loosened the tight cor of his uniform nervously. That was thergest disy of emotion Helio had ever shown about his daughter, only second to when he was informed of her existence.

    ¡°Well when we found her in the slums, we found some poorly hidden papers with scribbles all over them. They use letters found in our alphabet but they are rearranged in an order I¡¯ve never seen, almost like anothernguage. I don¡¯t know about you, but that¡¯s pretty impressive for a child who has never been educated.¡± Wolfgang exined.

    ¡°And where are these papers?¡± Helio carefully asked. Wolfgang sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. He felt like a child being scolded by his parents rather than engaging in a conversation between friends.

    ¡°In my office, sir.¡±

    ¡°And you didn¡¯t think to show this to me?¡±

    ¡°Erm... you never showed much interest in...¡± Wolfgang trailed off as the aura reached dangerous levels.

    ¡°I¡¯ll retrieve them for you, Helio,¡± Wolfgang promised, backtracking out of the room to save his skin. Themander of the royal guard rolled his eyes the minute he exited. When was his friend going to get over himself and admit that he might care for his daughter more than he pretends to?

 Chapter 17

    Ch. 17: A Knight and a Lady

    My body is burning with fever when I wake up in the morning after thinking intensely about the next steps I¡¯m going to take. Marie fusses over me the entire morning, cing a cool towel on my forehead and bringing me a ss of hot chocte. It is warm outside, but I¡¯m shivering under the covers. This useless body with lousy immunity probably picked up something from the little amount of time I spent in the dungeon.

    ck eyes, empty yet yearning, taunt mine whenever I close my eyes to sleep. It¡¯s the guilt. I don¡¯t know who that young maid was who aided me in Sunset Pce, but I haven¡¯t seen her once since then. I described her carefully to Marie as well, but my nursemaid was simrly at a loss. The thought that something terrible might have happened to her at the hands of Sir Berrick wreaks at my conscience and I pick back up my old life habit of biting my nails.

    There is a silver lining. My sudden bout of illness will definitely get people¡¯s tongues wagging if it is known outside the Rose Pce. I¡¯m also able to postpone my first day of etiquette sses with my new governess. But the thrill of cutting ss fades quickly as Marie all but ties me down to my bed until my temperature has dropped and my nose isn¡¯t running as much.

    She insisted on calling for the royal physician, but my memory is still fresh of the way thest doctor had been so disrespectful to me and I don¡¯t want to relive that when I¡¯m actually not feeling well. My first tentative steps outside the pce are stifling, as I¡¯m covered in a warm cloak that is causing me to overheat as well as a few maids, including Marie, to ensure I don¡¯t fall into harm¡¯s way.

    It seems that the peaceful afternoons of sitting under the apple tree by myself will forever be in the past. I look to the future instead, intent on conquering the royal guard, the Holy Church, and other important aristocrats. But the prospect is daunting? How will I do it?

    ¡°Good morning, your highness,¡± says an even voice behind me. It is Finn, but he is calm and rxed, far from the Finn who had spoken up for me in the dungeon. But I have not forgotten. I smile at the guard brightly, the grin more aimed at myself rather than him. My golden ticket into conquering the royal guard has just appeared in front of me, after all.

    ¡°Finn!¡± I yell cheerfully. ¡°Finn, Finn, Finn!¡± I bounce around the man like an energizer bunny seeing him in new eyes. I¡¯d always found him to be an articte irritation and likened him to a cunning fox, but now I¡¯ve promised myself to be much nicer to Finn starting today.

    ¡°Your highness, I¡¯m d to see you are in a pleasant mood,¡± Finn said smiling.

    .....

    ¡°Walk with me, Sir Finn! Please?¡± I hop over right in front of him and grab his hand, looking deep into him with my superpower: overwhelming cuteness. It works. He lets out a chuckle and we start walking in the same direction through the exquisite rose garden. Marie is justughing from behind at my adorableness and I throw back another smile to my generous caretaker. Then I even go so far as to grab onto Finn¡¯s hand and begin to chat up the man about random topics I assume 5-year-olds would be curious about as well as a few others I actually want to know.

    ¡°Do you see something different about me?¡± I ask. Finn decides to humor me.

    ¡°No, your highness, you look as lovely as ever,¡± Finn says.

    ¡°I¡¯m taller, Finn. A little bit taller! Do you think I¡¯ll one day be as tall as you?¡±

    ¡°Maybe not quite as tall, but close if you¡¯re lucky.¡±

    ¡°No fair, I want to be as tall as you, Sir Finn!¡± I whine. Finn justughs.

    He is much friendlier than he was during our first encounter and I¡¯m betting it¡¯s because he¡¯s feeling sympathetic about the fiasco that urred. I feel like I¡¯m ying dirty, but this is the best time to start investing in crucial rtionships. I need to learn whether I can count on Finn the Fox as an ally.

    ¡°I heard,¡± I say slowly, beginning my transition from a silly conversation to a subtle interrogation, ¡°that people end up looking like their parents. Do you look like your mommy or your daddy?¡±

    ¡°I resemble my father, your highness,¡± Finn answered diligently.

    ¡°And who is he? Is he as handsome as you?¡± I ask in an attempt to learn his lineage. On my papers under the floorboard, I had carefully detailed to the best of my memory, which families supported the empress, which were neutral, and which ones were ripe for the picking.

    Finn puffs his chest up like a peacock. ¡°He¡¯s the Duke of Avernall. And nope, I¡¯m much better looking. He gave me this blonde hair and my height.¡±

    I nod approvingly although inside I¡¯m doing a happy dance. That is one of the families ra befriends after she¡¯s reincarnated! I can recall that much, since Finn¡¯s sister, Victoria, was the designated side-kick of many stories. Since ra¡¯s first ¡°mission¡± with Victoria in the book is to avenge my death and ultimately meet with crown prince while investigating, I¡¯m sure I can count on them as allies.

    ¡°Did he teach you how to be a swordsman?¡±

    Finn shook his head mirthfully. ¡°He taught me how to hold a sword but that¡¯s about it, your highness. The knights under my family taught me the basics and then I joined the royal guard for the honor of protecting the royal family.¡±

    I make a show of covering my mouth in awe, my eyes feeling like they are going to pop out of my socket.

    ¡°So cool! I want to be a knight too, Sir Finn. Then I can protect myself.¡± My bottom lip wobbles a bit as if I¡¯m traumatized by the events of a few days ago, which I slightly am if I¡¯m being honest, and I look at the floor. This is one of my best works, one I practiced secretly in front of the mirror the few minutes Marie left my side while I was sick. His willpower should be dissolving in 3...2...1...

    Finn¡¯s green eyes burn with a fire I wouldn¡¯t have noticed if I were actually a child. But I¡¯m familiar with gazes that conceal untold pain and anger. I¡¯ve seen them through the crack of my mother¡¯s bedroom door in my past life, her body wracking with sobs as she stared at a photo of my father, the only picture of him in the whole house.

    The desired effect is achieved. Finn pauses in the middle of the brick pathway and lowers himself to the ground. One knee is bent before and the image is all too reminiscent of the ancient tradition of a knight swearing his sword to ady.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± he pledges as he looks into my eyes. ¡°I promise to be your sword and shield as long as you will allow me to apany you.¡±

    I freeze in the spot and start checking my left and right for the secret cameras of a prank show. The moment just feels surreal. I¡¯d only been joking with myself about him pledging his sword to me and now here he is, looking dead serious as he kneels before me.

    I¡¯m not the only one who¡¯s panties were shocked off by the scene. Marie very audibly gasps along with the maids closest to us. There are a few standing further back but hurried whispers transfer the bug-eyed expression to them.

    Eventually, I realize that I¡¯m standing like a fool in front of the suddenly charming Finn.

    ¡°M-Me?¡±, I say, pointing to myself with wide eyes.

    Finn nods seriously.

    How would a kid react? Judging from the way the maids are not so subtly freaking out, this must be a huge gesture in this world. However, I¡¯m but a child, I wouldn¡¯t understand it¡¯s significance. I¡¯m immensely touched even though I don¡¯t understand the full meaning behind his words, yet I can¡¯t properly express this to him. Nevermind, I¡¯ll just have to thank him properly in a few years.

    ¡°That is... I... Thank you!¡± My smart-aleck mouth struggles for words before I blurt out the most important ones and pull Finn in for a hug. I must have misjudged this knight the first time we met if he is so willing to throw down the gauntlet with me when the odds are so stacked against this white-haired, bastard princess.

    His body jolts in surprise as I throw my whole weight onto him, but he hesitantly pats me on the back in acknowledgment. I can feel a tear or two pull in my eye. How long has it been since I¡¯ve felt like I¡¯m in this fight alone?

    ¡°Thank you so much,¡± I whisper again in a lower tone. For the time being, I will abandon my investigation and just enjoy the moment.

    A throat clears suddenly though, dragging me out of the few seconds of tion. As unruly as the maids under my employ are, none would dare do such an obvious act of insubordination. Was it a passing noble? Or worse, the empress?

    I turn my head to the side to see a stern woman a decade or so past her prime staring at the happy scene with a scrunched expression on her face as if she were sucking a lemon.

    ¡°How utterly inappropriate,¡± she says, spitting out thest word. Finn and I suddenly jump away as if the other party was on fire and I find myself already annoyed by this mystery woman who has barged into my pce. I¡¯m literally a child, why is she making a mountain out of a molehill?

    I hear the scurry of steps as I¡¯m busy ring at the interloper, who is simrly looking back at me with a haughty air as if she¡¯s too good to be here.

    ¡°Your highness, this is your etiquette teacher, Mrs. Laroche,¡± Marie whispers sheepishly in my ears. I barely suppress the urge to roll my eyes. What a great first impression I¡¯ve just made.

 Chapter 18

    Ch. 18: Etiquette Lessons

    I¡¯m surprised by Mrs. Laroche¡¯s sudden appearance, but that doesn¡¯t stop me from dropping into an abrupt curtsey in the hopes of softening the deep scowl on her face. She looks like she wants to hit me with the parasol hung from her wrist.

    I¡¯ve watched the maids of the Rose Pce curtsey to me since I¡¯ve arrived, so I¡¯d like to think my mimicry isn¡¯t too bad. But Mrs. Laroche is not impressed in the slightest.

    ¡°Poor posture, straighten your neck,¡± she instantlymands. As I adjust myself to do as she says, the imposing woman storms past me towards the Rose Pce with a few sharpst words.

    ¡°Your highness, you are of higher rank than me. It is not necessary to curtsey,¡± she throws over her shoulders. The maids who were trailing me scatter in her warpath and I gulp nervously. She reminds me of a certain, military-trained math teacher I had back in middle school who would force students to do 10 push-ups for every minute they werete to ss. I can only wave a quick goodbye to a simrly bewildered Finn before rushing after Mrs. Laroche and dreading the next hour or so she will be here.

    Inside the sitting room of the Rose Pce where I had previously met with Empress Katya, it doesn¡¯t go much better for me. Mrs. Laroche drops into a curtsey that is as austere and unforgiving as she is, her back ramrod straight, and her gray eyes burning into mine.

    ¡°When I was hired to teach you, I was told that you have absolutely no experience in regards to etiquette. I can see that this is true,¡± she begins sourly.

    My left eyelid twitches at the jab but I just demurely answer, ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Yes, madam,¡± she immediately corrects. ¡°You must always learn to address others by their name. I am nobility, as the baron¡¯s sister, but since I am acting in the role of your governess and etiquette teacher, simply call me, Mrs. Laroche or Madam, as I am married.¡±

    .....

    I nod obediently, afraid to say another word lest I find myself in even more trouble. It seems to be the right move as her frosty face warms a fraction and sheunches into a speech about how to address others as a princess of the Empire.

    ¡°A bastard you may be, but you are of royal blood nheless. It is absolutely imperative that you carry yourself in a manner that does not put the royal family in shame and will put you in a favorable position for marriage,¡± Mrs. Laroche instructs right away.

    Marriage? I choke on spit at the word and whack my chest for air. As far as I recall, Winter never had any marriage prospects as she was deemed as a useless, bastard princess. There was no political advantage in marrying her as neither the emperor or empress favored her and she was a good-for-nothing. My governess frowns at my coughing.

    ¡°Udylike,¡± she mutters, but not so quietly that I can¡¯t hear it clear as day. ¡°If you find yourself in need of coughing or sneezing, you must use a handkerchief to cover your mouth and immediately exit the room if it will be noisy.¡±

    ¡°Yes, madam,¡± I reply in a croaky voice. The next hour is utterly excruciating. I¡¯m always down for a snack, but Mrs. Laroche proceeded to order tea even though it was mid-morning and barked at me every time I used a certain utensil wrong. Apparently, I¡¯ve been buttering my scones incorrectly, I slurp too much when I sip from the cup, and I need to cross my legs a certain way. By the end of the hour, I¡¯ve figured out her favorite word.

    ¡°Udylike!¡±

    ¡°Very udylike!¡±

    ¡°Bite delicately. Otherwise, you will look udylike!¡±

    The ¡°Madam¡± had left as she came, storming out in the most elegant way possible. I¡¯m old enough mentally to see that under her harsh training methods she is actually helpful, but I still annoyed at the treatment. I was such a tomboy in my past life so I¡¯m certain these lessons will only get worse.

    ¡°Udylike this, udylike that!¡± I whine as I slither off the white sofa in a, you guessed it, udylike way. Marie walks in with a sympathetic expression on her face so I know she was able to hear most if not all of my lesson.

    ¡°Your highness, would you still like lunch after this tea session?¡± she asks.

    ¡°Yes!¡± I say a little too emphatically. With all the nitpicking Mrs. Laroche did, I was hardly able to enjoy the meager side dishes that apany the tea. I don¡¯t know how I¡¯ll ever be able to enjoy a cup of tea in the future if I follow all the rigid rules of afternoon tea.

    Before long, Marie and the maids wheel in a covered tray with steam wafting from underneath the lid. The smell is absolutely mouthwatering, I can detect some meat and the scent of decent seasoning. Within my first few days of arriving here, I had a word with the chef about the scant vors on the food. What can I say? I was from a Columbian mom and a Mexican dad, I¡¯m all about spicy, vorful dishes.

    Marie lifts the silver lid and I¡¯m greeted by a tasty meat pie with thick, ky crust. I indicate for Marie to sit with me as I chow down immediately.

    ¡°What do you know about Mrs. Laroche, Marie?¡± I ask right away.

    Marie seems a little taken aback by my sudden questioning, but goes with the stride.

    ¡°She is Baron Verdis¡¯ half-sister, your highness.¡± Marie answers.

    ¡°Half?¡± I ask in surprise. Marie nods.

    ¡°Then why does she act so...¡± I trail off, but the context is clear. Why does she act so high and mighty when at the end of the day, she is a bastard child like me?

    Marie seems to understand what I¡¯m implying. ¡°Well, she¡¯s known to be a very good governess and is exceptionally good at straightening out the most uncouth of youngdies. Not that you¡¯re one of them, your highness. Also, the Spring Ball shall arrive shortly and you will require intense training to conduct yourself properly.¡±

    I nod, distracted by the delicious vors in my mouth.

    ¡°Tell me about this Spring Ball, Marie,¡± I request as I take another oversized bite.

    Marie bites her lips, desperately rummaging up anything she knows about the topic.

    ¡°Erm... It is one of the biggest events for nobility in the Empire, second only to the Royal Banquet in the fall... and...¡±

    The sweet woman fumbled with her words, her forehead crumpled as she thought hard. Her cheeks brightened as another thought urred to her.

    ¡°Oh! And the popr magazines in Radovalsk write many articles about the dresses women wear.¡±

    Her voice fades out quickly and I think she can see my disappointment at herckluster answer and her face falls.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know much about the pce,¡± I say offhandedly.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry that I am not knowledgeable about affairs in the pce, your highness. I was only a simpleundry maid with little formal education, matters of the pce did not concern me as long as I performed my duties properly. However, my meager knowledge now fails to inform you on the current matters of the Empire. Please punish me as you wish!¡± Marie replies on the verge of tears.

    She bows her head as if waiting for punishment. I see that it was quite tactless of me to say something like that Marie and I genuinely feel bad for my blunder. In my past life, my mother never went to college and had to work her butt off to provide afortable life for me and her. When I eventually got into a good university, my mother had burst into tears of joy as she finally saw me escape from the confines that had held her back in the past.

    I feel a pang in my chest as I think for the thousandth time how much it would have hurt her to find my lifeless body the following morning. Marie looks nothing like Dorothy, Maria¡¯s mother, but she is a surrogate mother to Winter. I hate that I¡¯ve made her feel inferior due to herck of education.

    I slide off the sofa, which is already quite low to the ground but my short legs currently do not touch the floor. Crossing the distance between us in the space between a heartbeat, I pat the top of Marie¡¯s head as if she were a puppy. Logic catches up with me and I remember that a grown woman might not enjoy me patting her head so I just pull her in for a hug.

    ¡°I like you just the way you are, Marie!¡± I squeal with an innocent smile in hopes of rekindling the light in her eyes. Like thawing ice, I can feel Marie give in and eventually we have a wonderful, bonding moment as we hug each other. Thank goodness for this adorable, little face of mine.

    Marie is excellent in all other facets of her job other than feeding me information about the pce. I didn¡¯t want to attempt to woo any other mean-looking maids in the Rose Pce into being my apaniment, but now I have no other choice.

    ¡°Marie, I want to meet all the maids working in the Rose Pce,¡± I eventually say, interrupting our hug.

    ¡°Oh? Why, your highness, if you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡± Marie inquires with wide eyes. The poor woman must be thinking she is about to be reced as my nursemaid.

    ¡°I-I, uh,¡± I struggle to find a decent excuse for searching for a maid who can be my eyes and ears before recalling something from the webnovel. When ra had first arrived in this world and had gone with the tried and true amnesia excuse for why she couldn¡¯t remember anything, all the maids in the household had been lined up and introduced to her. I can simply use the same excuse now.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen everyone who works so hard in this pce for me. Also,¡± I lower my voice as if I¡¯m telling a secret. ¡°I want to find someone to y with.¡±

    Marie bursts into a wide grin as if she has just won the lottery. I recognize that this is a clever move on my part as Marie runs towards the maids¡¯ quarters as if the floor is on fire. I know it¡¯s been eating away at her to watch me tuck my nose into a book day in day out rather than y with dolls and toys. In her eyes, I¡¯m finally acting like a 5-year-old child.

    In no time, every maid in my quarter is lined up, from the steward boys who shine my shoes to the scullery maids who take out the garbage. I gave Marie specific instructions to make sure everyone was ounted for, no matter how menial or insignificant the job was.

    Now that every maid has been summoned, I realize I should¡¯ve done this sooner. Some girls slouch, others scowl. Very few appear as if they truly want to be there or at least allow themselves to appear that way. It is clear that none of them respect my authority. Perfect. This will serve as both an attitude adjustment as well as a hunt for a loyal maid.

    My eyes narrow as I slowly walk down the line, my hand sped behind my back. Such an imposing sight might seem silly on a youth such as myself, but internally, I am older than many of the maids here. If I were still in school, I would straighten out their behavior with a few choice words, none pretty. But here, I will have to be a little more careful. I don¡¯t know which of these disrespectful faces serve external parties such as the empress.

    As I walk down the line with a still face, I hear a snicker from behind me. I turn my head slightly and behold the maid who has dared to do it. The maid in question is even bold enough to cover her mouth as sheughs, making no effort to conceal what she¡¯s done. After all, I¡¯m just a child from the slums, what would I know about how a maid should treat her boss?

    I stop and turn to her, unimpressed with what I¡¯m seeing. She¡¯s a tall brte whose pretty enough to be cocky about her looks but not pretty enough to woo any man of substance. I¡¯ve seen her here and there tidying up corners of my pce, but this is the first time we are face to face.

    I mentally rub my hands together with glee as she smirks down at me. This is going to be too much fun after walking on eggshells ever since I was revealed to be a royal princess.

 Chapter 19

    Ch. 19: You¡¯re Fired!

    I crane my neck to look at her brazen grin and I deliberately keep a nk expression on my face.

    ¡°Did you justugh at me?¡± I ask slowly, my youthful voice quivering a little.

    The maid lowers her hand from her face and just smirks down at me. She is taunting me, her left brow raised. The maid is Janice and she is very clean. Too clean. There is no dirt under her nails, her hair is neatly done, and her shoes do not carry the same wear and tear as other maids. It¡¯s almost as if she doesn¡¯t do any work here. Perhaps she bullies other maids into doing her work for her. When you¡¯re popr or pretty enough, it is easy enough to get away with. I saw enough of that ur throughout my life, though thankfully never to me.

    Janice is simrly sizing me up at the same time. She had always been chased by men in her youth, making her feel like Aphrodite amongst the other women in her vige. Yet she had always felt that none of the men were worthy of her good looks. She deserved the highest caliber of men the Empire had to offer and they were most easily found in the capital, Radovalsk, the crown jewel of the Empire.

    Enrolling at the pce had been an arduous task, one that had required her to shed her virginity with the divorced courtier who was in charge of hiring maids. Yet despite her hard work, the slippery courtier had simply assigned her to the Rose Pce of the unfavored Princess Winter, rather than the Empress¡¯ Sunrise Pce or Princess Julia¡¯s Sunset Pce.

    The odds of meeting any eligible bachelors, or even better wooing the emperor, had slipped from her fingers like sand. The two royal guards who patrolled the Pce kept a wide berth from the building forcing her to resort to creative means to run into them. There was a mouthwateringly handsome blonde knight named Sir Finn who looked so gant, Julia had schemed and run herself ragged giving herself a job in the garden so he might nce upon her.

    How was she to know that the glib-tongued phnderer would not only ignore her, but also re at her so fiercely she was paralyzed to the spot? None of the boys at her vige had ever thrown a single cruel look at her, all of them begging to pick up her dropped handkerchief of fill her water bucket from the well. But here, Julia was forced to be at the beck and call of a child who looked like an errant breeze could knock her over. It was too infuriating for a vige girl who had given up everything to win everything.

    Now, this bratty, little princess that no one in the pce gave a damn about ordered to her to line up like prime cattle right after she hadid down for a nap. Julia wasn¡¯t going to tolerate this anymore. If she managed to bother the little girl enough, she would be reassigned to another pce or department. From there, with all her Helio-given charms, she was certain she could find a ce for herself in a position where she could meet all the noblemen she wanted.

    .....

    The thought filled Julia with glee. She was almost certain it would be just like her vige. Noblewomen were usually not very pretty, Julia would be a sight for sore eyes for many of the strapping young men in notable families. In fact, the vige girl would probably even have her pick of them once she left this dead pce.

    In her mind, Janice could already see Sir Finn from the garden gazing at her regretfully as she was, in the future, inevitably snatched up by an actual duke, or no even better the emperor himself. It made for a mental image so amusing she couldn¡¯t help butugh out loud.

    Now that Princess Winter was standing in front of her and about to cry, this was her opportunity to piss the child off and get reassigned. Janice haughtily flipped her hair over her shoulder. This was going to be too easy.

    ¡°Yes I did, your highness,¡± Janice replied confidently as if no consequence would touch her.

    How curious. I marvel at how fearless this maid is as I make my bottom lip wobble more. It was one thing tough behind my back and another to admit to it. I wonder what her end game is. For now, I will just follow the script for how this scene would y out I was actually just a simple kindergarten-aged kid.

    ¡°T-that¡¯s mean!¡± I whimper, allowing the first tear to slowly roll out of my eye. I let out a quiet, little sob, then another. I don¡¯t have to turn around to feel Marie ring daggers at Janice and wanted to pull me in for a hug. But I want to hold off on having Marie join this game of mine for a little while longer.

    ¡°I¡¯m being mean?¡± Janice starts. I quiet down a bit because I can tell she is about tounch into a speech of some sort. ¡°Your highness, I think it¡¯s mean how you called us out here at a whim. Are we just animals to be summoned when you feel like it? I think you must be the meanest mistress of all the pces!¡±

    ¡°No I¡¯m not!¡± I cry out, more tears falling. I cover my face to hide my smile underneath.

    They don¡¯t say anything, but the rest of the maids in line are in utter shock. Even I¡¯m a little surprised. While I haven¡¯t been treated like a venerated guest by most of them, they still would not dare to mouth off at me. This maid must really want to leave the Rose Pce with the way she is speaking to me. I suppose I¡¯ll have to grant her wish since she is working so hard to achieve it.

    Janice is smirking down at me like the devil, her face contorting with a grin as I cry so pitifully. In reality, Janice¡¯s insults are like water off a duck¡¯s back, but if I fired this girl on the spot just forughing, tomorrow¡¯s courtly gossip would call me an overbearing mistress who mistreats her maids at the slightest provocation. But with these tears of mine, no one would question a fired maid who made me cry so pitifully. Already, the fat drops of water are drawing gazes of sympathy from eyes that have only looked at me with loathing.

    Janice is so wrapped up in her triumph that she does not notice the effect her half-baked n is having on those around her.

    ¡°It¡¯s the truth,¡± she says, intent on dragging more tears out. ¡°You are such a mean, awful mistress. And I know that everyone else here lined up feels the exact same.¡±

    There was always so much gossip in the maids¡¯ quarters, disparaging everything about Princess Winter, from the way she talked to the way she drank her tea with too much sugar like amoner. How Princess Winter, with all her nice clothes and fancy pce, had been no better off than the rest of them before she was discovered by luck. Her gold eyes were probably a magic trick that would get uncovered any day.

    Janice swiveled her head side to side, expecting to see the girls who had cursed Princess Winter the most viciously nod their heads along with her, but they stood silent their eyes on the floor or shaking their heads. Janice sniffed indignantly and turned back to her tormentee. This was the difference between herself and the rest of the riffraff of the Rose Pce. She had a spine and knew how to use it to get what she wanted out of life. This was why she deserved a life of luxurypared to those quivering fools.

    I¡¯m no mind reader, but I¡¯m pretty sure this maid is cursing the maids beside her for not backing her. I swallow down augh. Of course they wouldn¡¯t support her. As much as they may dislike me, I¡¯m a steady paycheck thates with minimal drama. Only an idiot would give that up.

    ¡°So you don¡¯t want to work for me since I¡¯m so mean?¡± I whimper in a broken voice, my eyes peeking out over my hands.

    Janice nodded triumphantly. I let out another loud sob. I don¡¯t want to overdo the crying to the point it is bothersome to one¡¯s ears, but I¡¯m desperately trying to sell how ¡®terrible¡¯ this maid has me feel.

    ¡°Marie?¡± I ask quietly, tears still falling from my eyes. My nursemaid runs to my side right away, her soothing hands rubbing the wetness from my cheeks.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want this maid to be sad from working for me,¡± I start, letting small hups interrupt each word.

    ¡°Since it makes her sad to work here then I will let...¡± I trail off and look at the rude maid in question.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I ask, interrupting myself.

    ¡°Janice, your highness.¡±

    It sounds like she is mocking me with how diligently she has called me by my proper title throughout our conversation. She looks too smug, perhaps already contemting what it would be like to work at another pce. Too bad this silly maid doesn¡¯t have a clear understanding of the rules of the pce, otherwise she wouldn¡¯t have attempted such a foolhardy move. For an act of severe disrespect to any royal, any maid, courtier, or steward can be kicked out of the pce if they haven¡¯t been otherwise punished first.

    I pick up where I left off. ¡°...I will let Janice leave the pce permanently.¡±

    Janice¡¯s smile freezes on her face.

    I look at Marie, my little doe eyes on max effect. ¡°Is that good, Marie? Now she won¡¯t have to deal with me anymore since I¡¯m so mean.¡±

    ¡°Y-Your highness!¡± Janice shrieks, thumping onto her knees. Now I don¡¯t have to crane my neck at her anymore.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I ask oh so innocently. My tears are quickly drying on my face. ¡°You said that I¡¯m too mean for you to work with so I am setting you free.¡± My childish lisp makes free sound like fee.

    ¡°But.. But I-¡± she stutters out. Two of the stewards who usually stand near the entrance leave the line and move to remove her from the premises.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t want to work in the Rose Pce since I¡¯m such a meanie, then you aren¡¯t qualified to work in the pce, where even the servants in the royal kitchen will be more mean. I understand now that you cannot bear it, so you won¡¯t be able to handle anyone else. Isn¡¯t that right Marie?¡±

    Marie nods resolutely, as the de facto head maid in my pce.

    ¡°When I worked in theundry department, our supervisor would beat the back of our hands with dried reeds and yell in our faces if we worked too slowly. Compared to them, you are so kind. Thus, if anyone cannot tolerate your temperament, they are much better off seeking work outside the pce.¡±

    Marie¡¯s quick response only solidified my underlying message. Anyone who doesn¡¯t work for me gets sacked from the royal pce. No ifs, no buts. I can spy beads of sweat starting to form on the foreheads of the more disobedient maids. No matter how much they acted like performing their duties is a chore, it is their necessary lifeline to feed their family. I hope they can all understand from now on that disrespect towards me will result in a quick removal from the royal pce altogether.

    ¡°Wait! Please! Just reassign me, your highness. I¡¯m sorry! I didn¡¯t mean what I said!¡± Janice cried, iling in the arms of the stewards as they began to drag her towards the exit.

    It is amusing to watch this pathetic maid try to beg me after she so tantly disrespected me to my face. Even if I don¡¯t care about what she says, it¡¯s about my reputation. How can I survive in this pce if any old maid can talk down to me as if I¡¯m a beggar?

    ¡°Stop,¡± I order

    Hope rises on Janice¡¯s wild face and she throws herself to my feet. She even goes so far as to wrap her arms around my ankles. I¡¯m ashamed at how impressed I was by her false confidence earlier. If you¡¯re going to say something with that much gusto, you¡¯d better mean it. Otherwise, you¡¯ll just look like an insincere fraud.

    I want to kick Janice off my feet, but I still would like to give her a few parting words. In the right circumstances, words can give the desired effect that even the most painful wounds wouldn¡¯tpare to.

    I bend down a little, disgusted by the desperation of this maid. They truly assigned me the worst maids they could find in the pce. Marie and the lined up staff stand a good distance behind me and the stewards stepped back with a flick of my hand.

    No one will hear what I say next.

 Chapter 20

    Ch. 20: Janice

    ¡°You really didn¡¯t mean it?¡± I ask tearfully as if I truly wish to validated by the maid in front of me. I don¡¯t care to hear her voice anymore, it is annoying like a fly buzzing in my ears.

    Janice, not knowing my line of thought, nods her head vigorously, suspiciously resembling the Harry Potter bobblehead that sat on my bookshelf in my past life.

    ¡°No! Not at all. I-I swear, your highness, that the words that fell from my mouth are as untrue as the phrase ¡®the sky is green¡¯. This is not how I usually am! An unusual mdy or some seasonal flu must have overtaken me in the heat of this room. No! No, no, it was Akira whispering in my ear. He influenced me to say these cruel words!¡± Janice desperately cries, her eyes wide with unshed tears.

    Such a pity, it looks like she truly wants more than anything to work somewhere else in the pce. But with her current attitude, I¡¯m probably doing her a favor. In the future, she could¡¯ve pissed off the wrong person and gotten a haircut at the neck.

    But I don¡¯t feel the least bit bad. I wonder what this maid expected to happen when she went down this foolhardy route. There certainly must be easier ways to be transferred out of a pce. I let my face fall t and allow the real Winter toe out. The angry, bitter Winter who hates her circumstances. The Winter who would rather tear the script to pieces and allow everyone to suffer the consequences rather than read another damn line.

    ¡°So you lied to me, Janice?¡± I say darkly.

    The maid senses a shift in my tone and her tight grip on my leg loosens a tad.

    ¡°If you¡¯re going to lie to me, at least be good. Because there¡¯s nothing more I hate than a bad liar.¡±

    .....

    In actuality, I dislike peppermints and my half-sister far more than poor liars. But this sounds like a line from a movie and I¡¯m a pretty decent liar, so I can get away with saying this.

    Janice releases me like I have the gue, staring at me like I¡¯m the devil, no Akira, himself. Akira seems to be the equivalent of Satan in this world and I¡¯ve heard many people use his name as a curse. I smile down at her, but say nothing else.

    The clock is ticking and if I stay bent in silent conversation with this maid, people will assume that something is underfoot. Snatching a meaty bit of my thigh, which has healthily begun to fill out over the past month, I twist hard until tears prick my eyes.

    ¡°Marie!¡± I wail dramatically as I run into my nursemaid¡¯s arms.

    She covers my face so I don¡¯t watch Janice get dragged from my pce and I hear nothing because Janice isn¡¯t screaming like a banshee anymore, a refreshing change from before I spoke to her. There will be two bruises on my thighs tomorrow, but it will be worth it.

    There is a subtle deviation in the air and I know these staff who snubbed me in the past will think twice before disrespecting me. At the price of a small fry like Janice, I have sessfully warned everyone under this roof not to outright mistreat me as if I¡¯m a nobody and protected my cover of being an innocent peasant with little to no understanding of pce politics.

    A win-win situation if you ask me.

    With Janice out of the picture, I dry my tears quickly and carry on with my seeing everyone who works in my pce. No one dares to meet my eye and I make it down the row without incident. An all too familiar face waits for me at the end.

    ¡°You!¡± I exim in surprise.

    The dark-haired maid who tried to stick up for me at the Sunset Pce is thest person in line as well as the shortest. Her cute face looks down at the floor in embarrassment and I have to hold myself back from patting her head since I¡¯m a child too. Everyone in the line is shocked by my outburst and Marie rushes over, a question mark written all over her face.

    ¡°Did you have a problem with this maid, your highness?¡± she quickly asks me.

    I shake my head with a grin.

    ¡°This maid tried to save me when I was at Sunset Pce,¡± I say valiantly. ¡°Without her, I don¡¯t think anyone would¡¯ve known that I was there.¡±

    Marie¡¯s face brightens.

    ¡°So this is the young maid you were speaking of, your highness.¡±

    ¡°Yes! And I want her to be my ymate!¡± I announce. Everyone in the line looks at the child maid in surprise and she shrinks further into herself, her shoulders practically touching her ears. She must be shy. Seeing her nervousness makes me have even better feelings towards her, since it was incredibly brave of her to try to pull me out from under the hedge and then argue with the terrifying Sir Berrick.

    I ignore tradition, which would require the dark-haired maid to curtsey to me and stick out my right hand. She jumps at my sudden movement, but realizing it is just my little hand, she reaches out hers and we shake them. Her hands are ice cold and incredibly dry, but I grip them tightly so she doesn¡¯t see me recoil from her touch.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I ask softly as if I¡¯m speaking to a baby deer.

    ¡°Emma... your highness,¡± Emma replies quietly. I smile in the most friendly way possible and hesitantly, like the sun peeking out behind clouds, I see the glimmer of white as she tentatively smiles back. Emma seems like a smart enough girl, I¡¯m certain we will get along well in the future.

    As I gaze hopefully at our time toe, Janice¡¯s prospects have all gone to naught. She had stopped wriggling in the arms of the stewards long ago as it only hurt herself. The humiliation was almost more than she could bear. Her left shoe had caught on a loose tile and dislodged, leaving her stockinged foot to stick out from beneath her skirt. Janice¡¯s hair and makeup that she took care to do every morning in case she ran into a handsome gentleman were smudged and ruined, her hand stained ck when she had wiped away a tear.

    Janice had never thought she would be in such a situation. When she had woken that very morning, it had been the same day as always. Her disgraceful firing now felt like a nightmare rather than reality. But she could feel the stares and whispers from the maids who did know her and the awful blend of pity and contempt in their eyes. If there was even a chance to loosen her arm and free herself from the steward¡¯s grasp and spit on them.

    Everyone knew exactly where she hade from because the stewards were known to be the staff of the cursed Rose Pce. There would be no living this down. Even after she was dragged out cruelly from the pce, eventually those on the street would know that Janice had been forcibly expelled for the uwful conduct of a royal family member. In order to save themselves, no self-respecting business owner would hire her, other than the brothels.

    Janice¡¯s face curled into an ugly snarl. She had paid the ultimate cost to enter the beautiful, yet deadly game of the pce. And what about that stupid princess? She had paid nothing, but the good fortune of possessing golden eyes and being seen by the right people? In fact, Janice was certain that whoever had been the caretake of that royal brat had intentionally been caught by the royal guard so they could benefit from the payday thates from sheltering a royal family member.

    Princess Winter didn¡¯t deserve to be here in the royal pce. Janice did! This was all the wrong way round. She could only watch with her jaw clenched tight as the stewards began to drag her towards familiar ground. The walls were no longer the fine marble and gold of the main pce, further out where no one of noble blood ventured, the walls were gray and covered nicks.

    The smell as well... Janice had sworn when she entered the pce she would never breathe the foul air of the main servants¡¯ quarters again and within a fortnight she had returned. This section of the pce was crawling with more servants and maids than before and they allughed at her with their eyes at her pathetic fate.

    ¡°There¡¯s that maid I was telling you about. Yes, the one who swore up and down she would bag nobility.¡±

    ¡°All beauty and no brains. I didn¡¯t expect anything more from a simple vige girl.¡±

    ¡°Oh my, wasn¡¯t it only yesterday we saw her strutting through her with her head in the clouds. Tut, tut. Such a shame.¡±

    The malicious whispers reached Janice¡¯s ears and brought her fury to a feverish pitch. How dare those lowly beings speak to her in such a rude manner. She knew they were only jealous because she had a better chance than any one of them at advancing herself in life. Those fine dishes that Winter had eaten on, one day she too would dine on them. And the little organza dresses that Winter had special maids dress her in every morning? Janice would one day be dressed in even finer gowns!

    Sunlight pped Janice in the face, indicating that she was no longer within the servants¡¯ quarters. Now all that stood between her and the outside world was the servants¡¯ gate, manned by two guards. Tilting her head further backward so she could see the direction she was being pulled in, Janice broke out in cold sweat at how quickly the stewards were dragging her to the guards.

    ¡°Wait!¡± Janice yelled fearfully, her struggling renewed.

    ¡°Stop moving. You¡¯ve been released from your service. Even if you somehow escaped us and ran back in, you would just be taken to the dungeons for trespassing into the imperial pce,¡± one of the stewards snapped, annoyed by Janice. Janice curled her lip at him, vowing revenge someday.

    The other steward let out a chuckle at the expression on her face and then without warning, let Janice go abruptly. She tumbled to the ground roughly, her elbows painfully catching the brunt of her fall.

    ¡°Hey!¡± She barked out, furious at the treatment. All the other maids in the Rose Pce had walked around her in eggshells yet these twods were being so careless with her person. The stewards didn¡¯t pay her any mind, ignoring her as shey on the floor.

    ¡°Take care of this, will you?¡± a steward said to the guard. ¡°This maid was disrespectful to her highness, Princess Winter and caused her to cry. Her service has been terminated at the pce. Please escort her out.¡±

    There was an emphasis on escort and Janice¡¯s stomach lurched.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± the guard promised. Janice looked at him and felt her heart sink further. The guard wasn¡¯t a royal guard or even handsome, there was no use in seducing him. Unceremoniously, the guard grabbed her on the injured area the stewards had held her and quite literally tossed her out of the pce as if she were a bag of potatoes.

    ¡°No trespassers wee!¡± he barked, before turning to his partner and the both of them pping each other on the back as they chuckled at their bad joke. Janice¡¯s bottom going to be a patchwork of colors if she survived until the morning.

    The streets outside the imperial pce were busy and not many people paid mind to Janice quite literally being thrown from there. She was stranded, without even the opportunity to collect her pay from the past two weeks. Janice stood slowly to her feet, her body jittery from the abuse. It was all so sudden, she felt as if she had hardly blinked before winding up outside the pce with nothing but the clothes on her back.

    People were starting to look at the disgraced maid standing before the servants¡¯ entrance so Janice began to slowly shuffle away, her dreams crumbling into pieces. If she went back to her vige, she would be theughingstock who spurned all the eligible men just to be spurned herself. Janice bit her lip so hard she drew blood, the iron vor coating the tip of her tongue. She would rather die than go back to her hometown, the determination not to return helping her put one foot in front of the other.

    One block separated her from her dream, then two. Silent, furious tears poured down her face and clogged her throat. If only she could make Princess Winter feel this same hopeless, angry feeling of being kicked out of the pce, Janice would sacrifice all her dreams of marrying rich to make it so.

    ¡°Bad day?¡± someone asked, a grin on their voice just after Janice had walked into an alley to shed a few more tears.

 Chapter 21

    Ch. 21: Janice Pt. 2

    Janice whirled around, her pride not allowing her to ignore whoever had spoken. Her lip curled when she realized a handsome gentleman in an oversized ck jacket stood before her. She had the worst luck, running into a handsome man when she was looking her worst. Subconsciously, Janice started to brush a piece of hair behind her ear, before remembering that the man had been mocking her.

    ¡°Why are you bothering me? If it looks like I¡¯m having a bad day, let me enjoy it in peace!¡± she snappily answered, embarrassed at how her cheeks began to warm as his smile widened, unperturbed by her outburst.

    Janice had to remind herself not to get carried away, the kind of man who chased women into alleys were usually not affluent. But she could admit, this man had a certain air about him that was impossible to ignore, his glittering, hooded eyes holding her in ce when she would have usually pped someone by now.

    The enigmatic man cocked his head to the left as if he were studying a specimen and Janice felt like all her ws were under a telescope. She cursed Princess Winter once more for humiliating her to the point that her physical appeal was not as up to par as usual. His violet eyes, an unusual color she¡¯d never before seen, looked her over carefully before he apparently was pleased with what he saw and gazed down at her seriously.

    ¡°Like what you see?¡± Janice asked, feeling a bit flustered.

    Janice was ashamed to see how her breath and her heartbeat were much more elevated than before, and her poor heart began to beat faster as the violet-eyed stranger reached out a finger towards her face rather than answer her. As a recent arrival to the shimmering city of Radvalsk, Janice wasn¡¯t yet ustomed to the rigorous etiquette of the capital. But she was absolutely certain that this man¡¯s unabashed actions towards her would be considered very uncouth, even in her humble vige.

    Yet now, as his hand reached closer and closer for her face, Janice did not object or move away, spellbound by the man before her. A warmth pressed against the skin under her lip and Janice¡¯s heart flip-flopped. She had forgotten her unappealing appearance, her firing, her high standards for men. He wasn¡¯t wearing any gloves, for his fingers to be this warm.

    His finger wiped slowly, the sensation rippling across her skin and throughout her body. Although Janice had relinquished her precious maidenhood in order to gain entry into the pce, the ordeal had been short, sweaty, and unpleasant. Thus, she was unustomed to the proper feelings that fill one¡¯s heart when they are being seduced. And seduced she was, her breath going quicker as the handsome stranger¡¯s gaze pinned her to the spot.

    .....

    Eventually, his finger lifted and Janice was shocked out of her temporary hypnosis at the sight of blood on the appendage. When he had drawn close, out of sheer nervousness the exiled maid had bitten her lip hard enough to draw blood.

    ¡°Not that pretty,¡± he said, suddenly looking bored. The look pained Janice, who had long enjoyed being the center of any man¡¯s attention since she had started her monthly bleedings.

    ¡°Rude!¡± she snapped, not willing to show how much a few simple words had hurt.

    She barely knew this man, an insult or two should not derail her. The surrounding world flew back into focus and Janice realized she was trapped in an alley with a strange man who had just wiped the blood of her stinging bottom lip.

    The man appeared to be in deep thought, before nodding to himself.

    ¡°But you¡¯ll do.¡±

    Janice raised an incredulous brow, the enchantment from earlier well and truly gone. If she were a local to Radovalsk, the maid would have noticed that her previous fascination with this gentleman was a work of magic, but as she hailed from a humble vige with one, wizened magic practitioner, she was none the wiser.

    Janice scoffed dramatically. ¡°Excuse me?¡± The man was carrying on as if she wasn¡¯t in front of him.

    Those violet eyes finally nced back up at hers and in that second, Janice regretted calling for the man in such a tone because his eyes, which had been so alluring a minute before were now cold and t. If it were a look of malice or irritation, Janice supposed she could have dealt with it, but there was a terrifying emptiness as if the man standing before wasn¡¯t even a person at all. No matter how nicely this man was dressed, he suddenly did not feel human to the young maid.

    Unconsciously, Janice took a baby step back, then another, before her back running into the wall. Never before had she seen such a lifeless stare, almost as if it were sucking the very mana out of her bones.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± the man asked gently, his voice alluring and sweet like honey.

    Janice wished more than anything to leave, but her body did not seem to be her own in the moment. Although she had backed herself onto the wall, she did not have the strength to even scoot towards the light-filled entrance of the alley.

    ¡°I want...¡± Janice nearly gagged as her own mouth began to speak of her deepest desire, ¡°to be an important woman in the Empire. A noblewoman. One who everyone will admire and envy.¡±

    As thest word flew from her mouth, the unnatural stillness of her body broke and Janice threw her hands over her mouth in shock. Amoner lusting after a noble position could be a death sentence if the wrong person heard, she knew that much even with her limited knowledge. Who in her vige did not know the fate of Sera, a brash, blonde girl who longed to be the mistress of the aging vige chief?

    As soon as his wife heard, a no-nonsense woman who was the neighboring vige¡¯ste chieftain¡¯s daughter, the poor girl had been forcibly married to Pickworth, the lecherous cripple who leered at young girls when they bathed in theke. Thest Janice had seen of her, the poor girl¡¯s once lustrous blonde hair had faded to a dull color and her stomach jutted unnaturally from her emaciated body as she carried Pickworth¡¯s filthy spawn.

    Just the thought of crossing the wrong woman and winding up in such a fate or worse sent a shiver running down Janice¡¯s spine. For a humble chieftain, his wife was willing to go that far. Janice had desires and schemes to wind up in a powerful man¡¯s bed, but she did not want to ruffle the wrong skirt until she had amassed enough power.

    She stared at the stranger before her with wide, frightened eyes, afraid after confessing her deepest desire to him. The words had flown out of her mouth, but once out they could never go back in. If she was reported, she could be sent to the local warden¡¯s office or worse.

    ¡°I-I didn¡¯t mean that, sir!¡± Janice pleaded.

    Now that she had dropped the ball so spectacrly in front of this gentleman, it was time for her legendary fawning to pull herself out of trouble. Previously, she had spoken crassly with this man without addressing him as mister or sir, but now she straightened out hernguage, attempting to mimic the highborn speak she had heard when she eavesdropped on a tea party that had been held in the royal pce recently.

    The man chuckled quietly, clearly taking enjoyment at Janice¡¯s sudden pandering.

    ¡°Is that truly what you want?¡± he asked, his bottomless eyes staring at Janice¡¯s as tears nearly welled up in the maid¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°No, sir! I promise you, that nonsense simply slipped out of my mouth unprovoked. Akira must have polluted me with that mindless babble. Pay it no mind, good sir!¡± she blurted out, falling back to her tried and true ¡®the devil made me do it¡¯ excuse. It was a popr one in the vige, a ce that firmly practiced the Holy Church¡¯s doctrine. Janice was an atheist herself, but that wasn¡¯t relevant.

    His face had a feminine quality to it as this time, heughed even harder. It only made him more attractive, perhaps in an even higher tier than the previously uncontested Sir Finn. Such a face that could attract and break a woman¡¯s heart with one look, surely he must¡¯ve been well known in the capital. Janice would have to listen to street gossip to ascertain who the best looking and wealthiest men were.

    ¡°I certainly have not polluted you, Janice,¡± the man said, a weak snicker interrupting his sentence.

    Janice was confused but didn¡¯t say anything as he seemed to be a better mood now. If this stranger suffered delusions that he was somehow the Darkness itself, that was currently not her problem.

    ¡°It is as you say, sir,¡± she said modestly, trying to further assuage him. Then it urred to her that he had just called her by her name. She looked up in rm as she hadn¡¯t mentioned her name to him at all since he¡¯d gged her down.

    ¡°Wait, how do you know my name?¡± Janice furiously asked.

    Was a stalker of hers by chance? Back in the vige, an idiot named Sven had always followed her around, but she never paid him any mind since he never had the heart to directly approach her. Still, the thought of having an admirer as handsome as the stranger before her was quite telling of how beautiful she was, and Janice stopped ncing at the entrance so much as she resumed her haughty stance.

    ¡°Does it matter?¡± the man said, casting an unreadable nce over the disgraced maid. ¡°You have told me what you want. Now I ask of you, how badly do you want it? What would you do for it?¡±

    Janice clenched her fists in anger as the violet-eyed stranger flipped the tables on her once more by reminding her of the travesty she had admitted to him. First, he stalked her into the alley and now he was holding her confession over her head. Janice did not know what to make of him and decided to hesitantly answer him.

    ¡°Ummm...¡± she stared nervously. ¡°Well, I would...¡± Janice kept staring at the ground, afraid to admit how much she was willing to do. After all, she had thrown away her virginity, which more than proved her willingness for a good life.

    The stranger pulled in close a second time.

    ¡°You would what, Janice?¡± he whispered in her ear, his breath on her ear sending her heartbeat back to its previously rapid pace. She could not believe how affected she was by such a man.

    Her mouth opened on its own ord once more.

    ¡°I would do anything,¡± she bit out in a cold tone. Her head was desperately screaming at her to shut up, her body was overheating at the handsome man¡¯s proximity, and her voice kept speaking of horrible things against her will. Horrid things that she knew deep down were absolutely true.

    ¡°I would kill anyone, lie to a priest, or spit in Helio¡¯s face. Anything.¡±

    She couldn¡¯t see it, but there was a way the stranger¡¯s mouth curled into a sinister smile at the mention of Helio. It seemed he really believed his delusion of being Akira.

    ¡°Good girl,¡± he said approvingly as if she were a puppy. Janice grit her teeth, ufortable with you one look from the man forced her secrets into the light. Perhaps he truly was... Akira...?

    ¡°I will give you what you want, Janice.¡±

    Janice would have fallen to the ground if the strange force wasn¡¯t holding her to the wall.

    ¡°What?¡±

    He stepped back suddenly, a bored look crossing his face.

    ¡°Nevermind then. I had thought that perhaps you would wish to fulfill your goal and be powerful enough to punish your past mistress. It seems I thought too much of you, Janice.¡±

    The stranger moved as if to walk out of the alley as if they had never met. Punish Winter? The thought of crushing that infuriating brat under her feet sounded like heaven to her ears. But Janice quickly put two and two together, reaching a shocking conclusion. For her to be powerful enough to do something to a royal princess, there was only one woman in the world who was in a position to do such.

    The empress.

    ¡°Wait!¡± Janice called out desperately. The man froze, but his back was still turned. He would listen.

    ¡°Good sir,¡± she inquired carefully, quickly returning to her simpering words, ¡°what did you mean by that statement?¡±

 Chapter 22

    Ch. 22: Janice Pt. 3

    The man started walking once more, evidently displeased with what he heard. Janice was half skeptical about the stranger¡¯s odd questions, but had she not experienced strange phenomenons within the alley? If he were able to make her divulge her secret, lifelong wish, who was she to im who wouldn¡¯t be able to fulfill them? A small, dangerous me of hope began to burn in Janice¡¯s wicked heart and she continued to speak her case to the man.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t go, sir. I am willing to do anything, did I not say that before? Tell me your conditions and I shall fulfill them to the best of my abilities,¡± she beseeched. The stranger turned around, a slight smirk on his face.

    ¡°And what if it cost you... everything?¡± he asked, carefully observing her actions.

    Janice swallowed nervously and stood straighter on the wall, now free to move once more.

    ¡°I would still do it, sir,¡± she said in an even tone because it was true. Janice would do anything to be a wealthy member of the elite. It was the life she just knew she had always been destined to lead.

    The stranger had ceased walking away and now had a pleased expression on his face. It seemed he liked what Janice had said and she gulped but did not show any sign of objection.

    ¡°Good. It will not be sudden, but I promise that while you are still in the golden haze of your youth, you will achieve the highest power you could only dream of. You will sit in the seat every woman dreams to win and have the eyes of the most powerful man in the Empire.¡±

    The man slowly approached Janice again as he told her the sweet, sweet words she had always wanted to hear. To think it would be so easy? Be it within a year or ten, Janice was willing to wait if she got what she wanted.

    .....

    ¡°Yes, that is what I want!¡±, Janice crowed, looking at the stranger as if he were a lost satchel of coins she had luckily happened upon.

    The young maid, soon to emerge from her teenage years, covered her mouth giddily. To think she was supposed to stay in her tiny, rural vige and remain engaged to the chieftain¡¯s son! It had been a worthy gamble for her to run away from home and seek a better life for herself. Bing empress, Janice had briefly wondered about the possibility, but the empress was rumored to be the most beautiful woman in thend. But the emperor had been unfaithful once, her previous mistress was evidence of such. Who was to say Janice wouldn¡¯t be able to tempt the emperor to sin once more?

    ¡°What do I do to get my wish, sir? Do you need me to kill someone?¡± Janice asked, intent on pleasing her wish granter.

    She had never killed anyone before, but Janice was certain she would be able to follow through with it if it gave her what she wanted.

    The stranger shook his head with a bemused expression.

    ¡°For now, you need only ingest my blood for the magic to begin its work,¡± the gentleman said softly.

    Janice startled backward, surprised by his request. To consume blood was a grotesque method but as her mind wandered back to the shimmery china tes in the Rose Pce and the beautiful garden she would never see in her dreams, Janice stared at the man¡¯s hand ravenously.

    She snatched it from his side and with a savageness not many young women possessed, bit down hard into the meaty flesh of his palm. Janice did not want to give him any opportunity to cheat her and in an amusing parallel, had quite literally chosen to grab her fate with her own hands. Trickles of blood ran down the corner of her lips and over her tongue. Janice had expected the bitter saltiness that blood usually held, but this was different and her eyes widened with surprise and she bit deeper.

    The stranger did not resist, instead patting her on the head as if she were a child. It was odd, but she was too invested to chide him about it. A sweet taste, like an exotic fruit she had never consumed before, filled her mouth and left her wanting more. Janice could not even worry about how udylike she appeared making a meal out of a man¡¯s hand, for the taste was so good she could think of nothing else but drinking more and more, the taste trickling down her throat and setting her throat on fire in the most pleasing way.

    ¡®There, there. That¡¯s enough now,¡± the stranger said softly. Janice had a death grip on his ck sleeve and was drinking vigorously, but it only took a wriggle or two for the man to free himself.

    A yawning void of hunger had opened within Janice once the first drop of blood fell onto her tongue. Her stomach cramped with hunger and she red at the powerful man before her viciously until the haze faded and she realized what she had done. But Janice was not keen on apologizing anymore and instead scowled at the man again, her unfriendly side emerging.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sorry,¡± she said obstinately, licking her lips generously.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting you to be,¡± he casually responded, rebuttoning the sleeve of his white shirt under the jacket. Through the magic that Janice now believed he had, his hand was already healed and spotless.

    She looked up at him, feeling nervous at the entity before her.

    ¡°Are you- Are you really Akira, sir?¡± she said, staring at his healed hand in dismay.

    Janice should have given more time before she reverted to her usual ways. Even if she didn¡¯t believe it, Janice remembered the tall tales spun around the bonfires at her vige regarding Akira and his constant battle with Helio. If this man was the Darkness itself, ording to the stories she did bother to listen to, he could eat her soul or something scary like that. Janice wanted to bang her head on the wall behind her. She should¡¯ve listened more closely when the vige elders spoke.

    ¡°Why ask, when you already know?¡± Akira rebutted. Janice froze in ce, not from his magic, but from her own horror. She had just made a deal with Akira, the Darkness.

    ¡°W-What will your magic cost me, my lord?¡± she asked timidly, afraid he would ask for her soul or steal many years from her life. Her lips trembled as she spoke, along with the rest of her body.

    Akira pretended to consider for a moment.

    ¡°For now, I have not determined it. But the next time you see me, I shall inform you. Until then, return to the pce,¡± Akira ordered calmly. How could Janice afford not to obey him?

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Janice said in her most reverent tone, even dropping into a low curtsey. Her mind was going in circles. She had been expelled from the pce less than an hour before, surely if Akira was all-powerful, he would know this?

    ¡°Maid Janice!¡± someone yelled to her left, so loud it startled her out of her curtsey. A maid was standing at the mouth of the alley and was calling her name with her hands cupped around her mouth.

    Janice stared back at the sudden intruder with wide eyes, like a rabbit that had gotten caught in a bear trap. For a young woman to be in an alley with a strange man, it was a scene that would be considered disgraceful if the wrong people heard about it. She looked forward to where Akira had stood with a guilty expression, but there was nothing before her but the brick exposed wall of the alley.

    Janice furiously spun in a circle, but there was no one in the alley but herself and bags of garbage that suddenly all stunk at once. When she had been speaking with Akira, she had not noticed a single, unpleasant scent and Janice offhandedly wondered if the god had made it so the trash would not stink as they spoke.

    ¡°I¡¯m right here!¡± the maid yelled again, irritation evident in her voice.

    As far as she knew, there was only one entrance to the alley. Surely this maid the empress had ordered her to find was not so foolish so didn¡¯t know the way out?

    ¡°I know,¡± Janice said sullenly, quickly storming over the maid.

    She could not fathom why anyone from the pce would deliberately seek her out. But as she drew nearer to the maid in question, an unpleasant smile spread across her face. All maids in the castle wore a simr uniform, but those who worked in special locations, such a royal¡¯s pce or courtyard, received special pins on the front of their garment that denoted their rank.

    Janice had previously worn a pink pin, but when she had been dragged through the servants¡¯ quarters, the greedy hands of those whoughed at her had snatched it off her breast and torn the fabric of her ck dress. The maid before her wore a red one, the color of the Empress¡¯ Sunrise Pce.

    Janice smiled at curtsied at the maid after she had exited the alley, but after so many years serving the empress, the maid had a keen sense of who was sincere and who wasn¡¯t. Her senses told her that this Janice was mocking her, but the maid recognized the double-edged sword of bringing this beautiful woman into the pce and said nothing.

    ¡°I am no longer maid Janice, please simply call me Janice,¡± Janice said quietly. She looked down so to hide the bloodthirstiness in her eyes.

    The maid sniffed disapprovingly but ryed her message nheless.

    ¡°That may not be so, Maid Janice. How would you like to serve her majesty and earn more riches than you could ever dream of?¡± the maid said in a monotone voice, just reciting what the empress had told her to say.

    Janice smiled an awful grin at the ground, one that would make anyone¡¯s skin crawl if they saw it. So this was what Akira had meant when he told her to remain at the pce.

    ¡°I would be too happy toply with her majesty¡¯s wishes.¡±

 Chapter 23

    Ch. 23: Bamboozled

    She is a quiet girl.

    After deciding for her to be my ymate, I went up to my room and ordered all the maids out of it. Now that I¡¯m seated on my bed and looking at this child, she seems even more pitiful and forlorn than I was when I was living with Bianca.

    Her little ck eyes and sunken into her head and the small portion of dark hair I can spy under her white cap is desperately in need of a thorough brush through.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name again?¡± I finally ask, unable to bear the silence.

    ¡°Emma, your highness,¡± she said with a curtsey.

    Then the two of us just stared at each other until Emma looked away first. I¡¯m at a bit of a loss. It is hard enough being a child, but now I must somehow find out how to befriend another kid. I can feel a headacheing and I rub at my temples.

    ¡°Your highness, would you like me to give you a head massage?¡± Emma asked. I ponder for a moment, then nod. Physical contact usually helps people feel closer, right? I pat the bed and Emma tentatively climbs on before her nimble fingers begin to draw circles on the side of my head. It surprisingly feels nice and we fall into afortable silence while I close my eyes.

    So much has happened today, yet it is still early in the afternoon. I think about Sir Finn, who pledged his sword to me, my first etiquette lesson, and kicking that insignificant Janice out of the house and feel a warmth bloom in my heart. That is 2 out of 3 things that have gone well for me today. If I can sessfully win Emma over, then it shall be 3 out of 4.

    .....

    ¡°Where are you from, Emma?¡± I ask after a few minutes.

    ¡°West Bend,¡± she replies. Curt replies seem to be her strong suit.

    The West Bend is a messy neighborhood that is only a few blocks down from the start of the slums. I¡¯m not surprised at all by her admission. I throw a few more questions at the girl, but it¡¯s as if I¡¯m speaking with a brick wall.

    ¡°What do you like to y?¡±

    ¡°Nothin¡¯, your highness. I never y, always workin¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Any favorite food?¡±

    ¡°Grits.¡± It was an easy, cheap source of nutrition and a constant in myst childhood. I think of the oatmeal wannabe and grimace on the inside.

    ¡°Do you have any other young friends in the pce?¡±

    ¡°No, your highness.¡±

    ¡°Do you enjoy working at the Rose Pce?¡±

    There is a break before she speaks and I open my eyes to look at her curiously.

    ¡°Erm... no, your highness,¡± she admits almost in a whisper.

    I feel a faint blush of embarrassment. Since I¡¯ve been brought here as a princess, even though my presence is not appreciated in the pce, I have been treated the way princesses in the stories I¡¯ve read are. Marie gently wakes me up in my generous bed. My breakfast contains sweet pastries that would cost a lot in my own world. My shoes and dresses are clean and fill the armoir they are stored.

    I know that this is the era before worker¡¯s rights and insurance, working in such an environment where there is no liability for your superior or clear guidelines from a union must be difficult.

    I look at Emma with a renewed vigor in my eyes. It would be pointless asking her if she wants to work elsewhere because I have learned enough in my weeks at the pce to know that working at a royal¡¯s pce is one of the most desirable positions one can hold.

    I have been silent for too long and Emma¡¯s fingers slow on my face as she believes she has said something wrong.

    ¡°I¡¯m quite sorry, your highness,¡± she says in her West Bend ent, ¡°I did nay mean that.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m sorry that I haven¡¯t made this an environment for you to feelfortable in,¡± I say, hoping to reassure her with a few pats to her hands, which are only marginallyrger than my own.

    ¡°If you tell me what you don¡¯t like about working at the Rose Pce, I will work hard to fix it.¡± I¡¯m as resolute as I sound. Since I¡¯m the ¡®boss¡¯ of this pce, I should at least make it a decent environment for everyone regardless of how unweing all the staff have proven to be.

    Emma doesn¡¯t say anything, but a sound of affirmationes from her throat. I frown, afraid she just thinks that what I said is an empty promise and that I don¡¯t mean what I said. Time will show her that I am willing. Perhaps if I make Rose Pce the ideal ce for any maid to work, I will draw more people to my side.

    ¡°Well, what do you like, Emma?¡± I ask, a little exasperated by her 2-word answers.

    ¡°Money.¡±

    ¡°Money?¡±

    ¡°Yea, your highness.¡±

    I rub my chin, an ideaing to my head. Money is an excellent source of motivation, how could I not have thought of it until now? If I can¡¯t make any friends in the pce, I should just buy them.

    ¡°Marie!¡± I barked out, startling Emma from her reassuring pace of massaging my head. I don¡¯t think my nursemaid expected to be called in so soon because she has a bewildered expression as she walks in on Emma massaging me rather than us ying with the expensive dolls in my untouched toychest.

    ¡°Yes, your highness.¡±

    ¡°Do I have money?¡± I ask her shyly as I don¡¯t want to appear money-hungry. Then I remember that young children don¡¯t have to worry about appearing this way. Being stuck inside the body of a child is very frustrating.

    Marie perks up. ¡°As a matter of fact, you do, your highness. Every month you receive a monthly stipend of 150 silver coins.¡±

    Emma must be surprised by the number because I hear her gasp a bit above me.

    ¡°Please bring it here, Marie,¡± I request, and Marie marches off happily to fulfill what I¡¯ve asked. She arrives promptly with two bags of money within small, silk drawstring bags. One of them is handed to me and I marvel at the weight in my hands.

    ¡°Thank you, Marie!¡± I say sweetly and my nursemaid¡¯s eyes disappear into her face as she smiles cheerfully at me. She is such a kinddy.

    The moment Marie shuts the door behind her, I spin around to Emma in excitement. Telling Marie to bring my cash over was not in vain. Already I can see a shred of joy in her originally sunken eyes and I want to make the shred bloom so I magnanimously gift her some with flowery words so it feels extra special. The child who shares the most snacks in elementary makes the most friends. I¡¯m only substituting Oreos for money, but it should have the same effect.

    ¡°Emma.¡± We are facing each other on our knees and I take her hands in my own. ¡°Your bravery that day at Sunset Pce truly touched my heart. I appreciate how you tried to pull me free under the hedge and argued for me. Since you were kind enough to do that, please keep these 50 coins.¡±

    I count out 25 coins from one silk bag and then hand it to her, feeling oh so pleased with myself. But if I were a bird flying high in the sky, what Emma says and does pierces my chest like an arrow and sends me tumbling back to the earth.

    Emma takes the bag from me without expression and counts out each and every coin. All 50. They are lined up in two neat rows of 25 and she looks over them without expression.

    For so long does she inspect her money that I finally ask, ¡°Is there something wrong?¡±

    There is a slight bite in my tone, but I try to cool the growing mes of annoyance by reminding myself that she is a child who never received proper education and thus does not know how to act when she acquires something good.

    Emma looks like, the daze clearing over her eyes. ¡°No, your highness. Thank you, your highness.¡±

    I nod, feeling slightly mollified as I tuck the 25 coins I took out from the bag and tuck them into the second pouch that is still with me. Emma tucks them back into the bag and shoves it into the string of her apron with an unreadable expression. Overall, it was far more disappointing than I envisioned it in my head. Should I have given her more?

    I tentatively ask Emma, ¡°Is that a lot?¡±

    Her reaction was sockluster, I¡¯m starting to get a bad taste in my mouth. 1/3 of my monthly sry sits in her hands and this is the expression I see on a maid. It is my good fortune that Emma is young and not good at feigning fake excitement the way fawning maids do.

    ¡°Shall I be honest with ya, your highness?¡± she starts carefully.

    Emma looks up at me for the first time and I feel as if I¡¯m seeing a difference in the young maid. She suddenly seems more alert and present than she did when I first dragged her into my room and it sets me on edge in a good way.

    ¡°Please.¡±

    ¡°This,¡± she waves her not only over the pouch tucked in her apron, but my stash as well. ¡°is not a lot of money at all.¡±

    I narrow my eyes. Don¡¯t tell me these silver coins have the same worth as a nickel in my world?

    ¡°My monthly sry is 100 silver coins a month. Because I was on duty when I was chasin¡¯ after you to Sunset Pce, half of my sry was deducted and I only got 50 silver coins this month. The amount you have now given me, 1/3 of your sry, now fulfills my full amount.¡±

    My mouth drops. I was wondering when the other shoe would drop. The treatment here at Rose Pce, while not the best, was too good for there not to be any drawbacks. But here they are, these two bags of silver coins that is little more than the amount maids get. The insult only bes greater as I further inquire about what I can do with these coins in front of me.

    ¡°Ummm,¡± Emma taps a finger on her chin, which looks surprisingly adorable. ¡°You can buy a bushel of potatoes for 30 silver coins. Rent in the West Bend will cost you 100 coins. But for a youngdy such as yourself, if you are shoppin¡¯ in East Bend-¡±

    ¡°East Bend?¡± I interrupt.

    ¡°The nicer part of town where noble little girls like prancin¡¯ around in fluffy dresses and buy whatever catches their fancy. If you¡¯re shoppin¡¯ there, you¡¯re nay gonna find nothin¡¯ but a pastry with that amount.¡±

    I¡¯ve been yed, absolutely bamboozled like a fool. A grimace mars my cute face as I think about what Emma has told me and all my excitement from earlier in the day fizzles out. In the webnovel, Winter was disrespected because she appeared more like a pauper rather than a princess. Now that I know it is because they barely allotted her any spending money. I will have to put my n of buying more ¡®friends¡¯ in the pce on hold until I find a way to snatch more money for myself.

    ¡°And who decides how much money each pce is allotted?¡± I ask through gritted teeth, already dreading the answer.

    Emma gets a funny look in her eyes and I grip my hands in my skirt. She smirks at me, the most vivid expression I¡¯ve seen on her face.

    ¡°That will cost you, your highness,¡± she says sheepishly.

    ¡°Huh?¡± I¡¯m not sure if I just heard her right.

    She sticks out her hand rubs a few fingers together, the multiversal signal for money. A frugal lifestyle has been beaten into my brain since I was little in my past life. Now that I know how small my stipend actually is, giving away my money feels like cutting off a limb. I let out an incredulous cough, but just count out the original 25 coins I ced in my other bag and give them to her. Emma gives me a petnt look, but I hug my other bag to my chest, feeling as broke as I was in college.

    She sighs, but carries on speaking. ¡°Her Majesty, Empress Katya.¡±

    How bold of that woman to so quickly cut off my funds when I¡¯ve just arrived. She must desperately want me to make a fool of myself with no money to my name.

    ¡°How much does my sister get? Half-sister, I mean.¡± Calling that insane brat my sister does not sit right in my chest.

    ¡°3,000 gold coins.¡±

    I almost tumble off the bed at that number. The difference between my measly allowance and hers is as great as the distance between the sky and dirt.

    ¡°Holy fuck,¡± I mutter when I right myself to a sitting position, falling back to my bad habit of swearing like a sailor. Emma doesn¡¯t react and I¡¯m not surprised, as the men in West End are hardly gentlemen and probably say many foul words just like many of Bianca¡¯s clientele.

    When I get over my shock, I look at the young maid before me with newfound respect.

    ¡°You know an awful lot for a child,¡± I muse.

    Emma shrugs. ¡°People talk. I listen. No one notices me.¡±

    That is true. As we grow older, people tend to forget how good listeners children can be. I look at Emma and she looks at me, perhaps already guessing at what I¡¯m thinking. Such a clever girl. To think my long-desired pce insider would fall into myp in the form of my savior.

    In desperate need to be further assuaged at my sudden gain and loss of mary funds, I pull Emma in close as if we are the best of friends and request for her to tell me whatever juicy pieces of gossip she thinks will interest me. Over the haggling of 25 more precious silver coins, the fascinating pce gossip tinged by her lively West Bend ent be my own.

    By the time Mariees in an hourter with tea, Emma and I appear to be good friends in cahoots with one another, murmuring and giggling. The sight warmed Marie¡¯s heart, her gentle heart unknowing of despicable matters the children were actually discussing.

 Chapter 24

    Ch. 24: Not Snow White

    A few dayster, Emma and I are still thick as thieves as we talk animatedly in my room. We spend much of the day together when I am not busy self-studying or walking in a straight line with a saucer ced atop my head. Ever since the entire Sunset Pce debacle, I¡¯ve been trapped indoors or within the Rose Garden and Finn has been downgraded from fox topdog as he goes to the library on my behalf.

    He always gives me a meaningful look at the titles I request from him, but he is smart enough not to ask why a five-year-old kid is reading a philosophical theory book that almost reaches my hip if I prop it up on the floor. For the most part, Marie leaves me alone too, but I can tell she is happy I have someone around my age to talk to and don¡¯t bury my nose in books as often as I used to.

    Emma is surprisingly easy to get along with but an expensivepanion to maintain, loving nothing more than the shiny coins in my possession. For anyone else, the habit would disgust me, but I can sniff out the rough childhood she¡¯s had behind her sunken eyes and neverin too much.

    I swirl my cup of tea with a teaspoon, reminiscing on how I was nearly poisoned like this in the past.

    ¡°The case,¡± I suddenly ask, ¡°it was never concluded was it?¡±

    Emma sees me intently looking at the fine china cup and can immediately surmise what it is I speak of.

    ¡°No, your highness. After a few days, no one spoke of the poisoned tea again,¡± Emma tells me tly. I let out a mncholy sigh and start ying with the small mountain of sugar that has sunken to the bottom of the cup.

    The Spring Ball looms over my otherwise carefree life like an unwantedpanion, growing more insistent as the day closes in. Emma mentioned offhandedly how several designers were invited to the pce to specially design the gowns of Empress Katya and Princess Julia. ording to her, several maids gushed about the impossibly long swathes of shimmering fabric were carried in by numerous footmen and how the staff were taking bets on who would be the best dressed this year at the ball.

    .....

    Such a massive event that requires rigorous preparation, even my otherwise undisturbed Rose Pce has witnessed theings and goings of stewards summoned from my pce to aid with the construction of a tent in therge, outdoor courtyard that is part of the Spring Ball. The ball is only 2 days away, with the excitement in the pce at an all-time high, yet I do not have anything to wear.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be sad, your highness. You are like Snow E,¡± Emma says in a rare effort tofort me. She walks around our little tray table and pats me on the head, an action that strikes me as strange until I remember that she is two years older than me and perhaps sees herselfforting a little kid.

    ¡°Thanks, Emma,¡± I say as my heart feels a bit gooey at this subtle sign of affection. ¡°Also, it¡¯s Snow White. E is for Cindere.¡±

    ¡°Huh? Oh. Well, I still think you are just like her,¡± Emma says, breezing over her slight error without a hint of embarrassment. If it weren¡¯t for the mischievous gleam that fills her otherwise still eyes when she asks for money, one would think she was an emotionless child.

    I chuckle to myself at her cute error and my mood starts to straighten itself out a bit more.

    ¡°I want to be better than Snow White,¡± I tell her in a frivolous tone that beseeches her to ask why.

    Over the past few days, I¡¯ve discovered within me atent gift of storytelling, thus capturing Emma¡¯s youthful fascination with the popr fairy tales from my world. I did not think my skill was so impressive, as I only took cues from what I¡¯ve seen in films, but I suppose in this world without any television or inte, a good story makes for prime entertainment.

    ¡°You already are. You¡¯re true to the name, with your snow-white hair. I know that Snow White¡¯s skin was nay as pale as your hair,¡± Emma agrees reasonably, missing my point entirely.

    I shake my head to myself with a wry smile and touch my hair at the mention.

    ¡°No, you silly. Not in that sense,¡± I gently reprimand.

    Emma cocks her head to the side in confusion like a puppy.

    ¡°Then how, your highness? You¡¯re both princesses stuck in the mud, you both have been poisoned, and you both have mean step-mamas.¡±

    It¡¯s a little disturbing how many simrities my new life has with a fictional princess.

    ¡°True, but when she was stuck in the mud, did she do anything to pull herself out?¡± I ask, regarding this as a teachable moment about fixing one¡¯s problems yourself without relying on others.

    Emma is at a loss, but soon responds, ¡°... doesn¡¯t everythin¡¯ work out for Snow-White by the end of the story?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but did she save herself or did she look for someone else to save her?¡± I rephrase my initial question slightly and a look of understanding shes in Emma¡¯s dark eyes.

    ¡°The first time, she was saved by that huntsman, the second was the dwarves, and then the prince.¡± Emma counted slowly on her hands. ¡°So she was saved 3 times by other people.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. Why do I have to wait for a man toe save me? I would rather be a princess who saves herself,¡± I exin with a bit of fervor. Finn swearing to guard my life was very touching and I appreciate the knight for his gesture, but I know that to survive in the world I will need to stand on my own, not hide behind Finn or whoever else has some pity for the bastard princess.

    Emma looks unconvinced though. ¡°I would just rather be the prince. Then I can save your highness and you can give me more money.¡±

    There is a shameless smile on her face as she leaps from her chair and stabs at the air with an invisible sword. As mature as she acts, I remember that she is still a kid. Albeit a kid with a one-track mind in regards to money. I suddenly worry that Emma will divulge the topics of our conversations to the wrong individuals if they sh some shiny coins at her, but before I can warn her against speaking of our conversations to others, therees a knock at the door.

    Emma stops hopping around the room practicing her sword fighting and I call for the individual to speak. A harried-looking Marie opens one of the double french doors a smidge so I can see her face.

    ¡°Is something the matter?¡± I ask Marie, who seems partially preupied with something beyond my line of sight outside the door. I can hear a slightmotion carrying on behind my nursemaid.

    ¡°Your highness, the empress has sent some dresses for you to choose from for the uing Spring Ball,¡± Marie informs me, still waiting to be granted her permission to enter.

    She isn¡¯t normally this formal, frequently breaking up our bonding time when it is supper time. However, in front of strangers, it is important to keep up appearances and Marie is resourceful enough to recall that.

    My lip curls slightly involuntarily, before I straighten it out, the expression ultimately just appearing to be the random, weird faces children are prone to making time from time. This is a good asion to practice what I¡¯ve learned in my harsh, daily etiquette lessons with Mrs. Laroche. I straighten my back and cross my legs at the ankles with my hands beautifully on myp.

    I gently tilt my head to Marie, not fully enough to be a nod, but a delicate move that a nobledy should practice. Marie, who dutifully stands in the corner of every one of my insufferable sses, can instantly tell that I¡¯m performing one of the moves drilled into me by my etiquette teacher and breaks out into one of her famous smiles as she pushes the doors in.

    Two strong courtiers carrying a much narrower version of therge wood armoires in my closet room huff and puff into the room. The set it down with a thud in front of the sitting area before the firece and the two maids who followed them in quickly open the door so I can see what is within.

    At that moment, I am grateful that there are strangers in the room with me. Emma is obliviously crouching beside the chair, disappearing from the scene like a trained professional, and Marie is too busy checking for my reaction to properly look at the dresses.

    These dresses are ugly. Hideous. A vulgar costume most definitely designed to get meughed out of the ball. There are no gentler words I can use to describe them. A few garish colors burn my eyes as if I¡¯ve just directly stared into the sun and the amount of unnecessary ruffles and ribbons a few of the options have make want to physically throw up. The only saving grace is the fabric used to create these monstrosities, no doubt made up of the scraps Katya and her spawn used to make their own masterpieces.

    I realize I¡¯ve been staring wordlessly at the dresses for too long and now everyone is staring at me, prompting me to clear my throat and dig deep for a rousing performance like no other. My hands shake as I bring them to my mouth and I jumping foot to foot, transforming my horror into uncontainable excitement.

    ¡°Wooooooww!!!¡± I squeal out in a loud voice that instantly makes me hate myself.

    I sound like a basic girl who just ran into her ¡°best friend¡± at a party. From where she¡¯s crouched Emma is staring at me as if I¡¯ve grown another head, Marie is pleased because I¡¯m pleased, and I can see the Empress¡¯ maids give not-so-sneaky looks at one another. I¡¯m leaping around the room like a Mexican jumping bean, an action that is surprisingly exhausting, and I know I¡¯m going to need to end this show fast.

    ¡°Marie,¡± I beg, grabbing onto the fabric of her ck dress that looks better than everything the empress so kindly sent me. ¡°Please, please, please let me try the dresses on right now!¡±

    If I¡¯m getting changed, all the unwanted guests in this room can leave and I can finally stop acting like I just overdosed on LSDs. Marie gives the empress¡¯ servants a look telling them to quickly exit the room and scarcely after the door ms shut behind them, I drop my sham performance.

    Emma and Marie swap expressions, with Emma disying a rare, pleased smirk while Marie just seems disoriented.

    ¡°...Your highness? Are these dresses not to your liking?¡± Marie asks, her confusion prompting her to question my extreme reaction that suddenly fizzled out.

    I shake my head vigorously. My nursemaid looks lost for a moment, then moves towards my doors.

    ¡°I-I¡¯ll call for the maids to inform her majesty that you don¡¯t like-¡±

    ¡°No, don¡¯t!¡± I blurt out before she touches the door handle.

 Chapter 25

    Ch. 25: Project Runway

    Now both Emma and Marie were looking at me like I¡¯ve sprouted another head.

    I backtrack a little bit. ¡°I mean... I don¡¯t want you to tell the Empress I don¡¯t like the dresses. Because then she will be sad and I don¡¯t like making people sad.¡±

    I pout for good measure and Marie¡¯s face softens at my cuteness.

    ¡°Oh your highness, you are too kind! A saint of a child!¡± she crows happily. I¡¯m the furthest thing from a saint, but Marie is patting my chubby cheeks lovingly so I soak up all the affection. Emma just stares incredulously at the scene, also doubting my status as a holy figure. But Marie calling me a saint reminds me how important the Spring Ball will be for me to im my status as the promised child the Holy Church prophesized would bring great fortune to the Empire.

    First impressions matter and I ponder over qualities that a supposed saint among men would have. Patient. Humble. Generous. I look over at the trashy gowns and slightly shake my head. Jesus take the wheel! There is no way I¡¯m going to give off such an impression with that kind of dress.

    ¡°Marie,¡± I say, interrupting the love fest. ¡°Bring me some scissors.¡± She is startled but quickly retrieves a pair from a drawer in my vanity.

    I crack my knuckles and stretch my fingers before rummaging through the dresses like sheets of paper. The wastes of fabric fly over my shoulder when I encourage one I disapprove of, creating a sizeable pile on the floor. Emma approaches slowly, like a lion stalking its prey, before jumping onto the fluffy pile.

    ¡°Off, off, quickly!¡± Marie scolds, appalled to see Emma treat the trashy dresses like a pile of leaves. In my heart, a pile of leaves is more worthwhile than these gowns.

    .....

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Marie,¡± I say distractedly, still carefully analyzing the dresses. A bright orange color, like the skin of an orange, fills my eyes and I have to swallow down the bile in my throat.

    Initially, I had thought that idling my early years in the tiny room of Bianca¡¯s shack did not add anything to my short list of unusual talents. However, as I now that I appraise these dresses, I see that the stay with my aunt did leave with one strong suit. Fashion.

    In my past life, I was a typical tomboy, neither obnoxiously scorning feminine nor embracing it with open arms. I didn¡¯te from money so a good portion of my clothes were second hand, dug up from bins in Goodwill over the years. I was a jeans and t-shirt girl through and through, forgetting makeup entirely unless there was a special asion.

    But at least I was always clean. People could call me in, but they couldn¡¯t call me dirty or poor, not to my face. Halle, the cliche opposite to my unextravagant self, eventually forced me to buy some ¡°cute¡± clothes to show off my assets, yet even then I never paid attention to what she chose as long as the price was low.

    Opening my eyes in ra¡¯s world, I was crammed in a room with all of Bianca¡¯s clothes and barely any forms of entertainments. What else could I do but entertain myself with mindless hours of dress-up when Bianca was too busy toe see me? If I was lucky, I¡¯d stumble on the asional fashion magazine she had stuffed in her purse and read 10, then 100 times, about what trends were picking up steam in the capital and what was ¡°terriblyst season¡±. Bianca was careful with her wardrobe choices, opting to spend her money on new dresses every season so she would remain popr with her clients. And after observing my aunt for these years, I¡¯m proud to say I¡¯ve umted atent interest in all things style-rted.

    ¡°Yes!¡± I say to myself, finally unearthing a velvet dress that was a decent indigo blue color. It was so dark it almost looked ck, only shimmering its proper color when I pulled it out of the shadowed armoire into the light. This would stand out nicely on the pasty, pale skin I¡¯ve unfortunately acquired in this world.

    ¡°This is it!¡± I say, proudly turning around to face Marie and Emma, who have raptly been watching reject dress after dress.

    Their faces are still confused as they see my choice. There is a horrible swatch of shimmery green fabric arching over the front that horrifically shes the color. Lighter blue ribbons cover the skirt and the long sleeves are wide enough to hide a dead body, dragging on the floor as I suspend the dress in my hands.

    Emma finally speaks, her words short. ¡°¡®Tis ugly.¡±

    I nod.

    ¡°But you want to wear that, your highness?¡±

    I nod again. She raises her eyebrows but doesn¡¯t say anything else, looking more like a disapproving parent than my friend. Ah yes, I suppose we are real friends now, as I feel asfortable in her presence as I have in Marie¡¯s. My chest stirs with good feelings and I assure Emma some more so she can remove the look of concern from her young face.

    ¡°Marie, the scissors?¡± Marie wordlessly hands them to me and Iy the dress t on the bed.

    I feel like a surgeon about to perform a critical surgery and I hold my breath as I make the first cut. Snip. Part of the green fabric tumbles free from the dress. I hear a sharp intake of breath behind me.

    ¡°Your highness, you can¡¯t do this! To defile a gift from the empress...¡± Marie trails off after she exims loudly, her hands nervously wringing. I pause the operation ofpletely freeing the unwanted fabric from the dress andfort my nursemaid.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Marie. I will take all responsibility if anything should happen,¡± I say.

    Freeing every piece of fabric and ribbon from the dress takes time, but before an hour has gone by, my dress isplete. Without its embellishments, it appears far more in than anyone else¡¯s will probably be. But I think back to the good, first impression I want to give and feel satisfied with my creation. Such a simple dress, wouldn¡¯t one be prone to believe that Empress Katya isn¡¯t inclined to spend any money on me?

    I shake the dress free of its scraps and marvel at my work.

    ¡°Why did you cut the dress into pieces, your highness?¡± Marie asked.

    I think of the best way to simplify my intentions.

    ¡°In a sea of roses, a simple daisy will stand out,¡± I assure her.

    Both Emma and Marie nod in agreement.

    ¡°Clever, very clever, your highness!¡± Marie sings out praises as she ps.

    Emma begins to fiddle with the scraps lying on my bed and turns to look at the pile of discarded dresses in front of the armoire.

    ¡°But what of those dresses?¡± Emma pointed at the pile of clothes she had been ying in minutes before.

    I think back to my Goodwill days with a dangerous smirk that looks out of ce on my baby face.

    ¡°Why we¡¯ll sell it, of course.¡± I¡¯m sure the Empress is responsible for my tiny stipend, thus I will take responsibility for her by selling these dresses she so kindly delivered to me.

    Mary gasps, Emma maintains her nk expression. I have yet to see something truly ruffle the small child.

    ¡°Your highness, you can¡¯t! To sell a gift from the empress, that is... that is...¡± Marie gasps out, looking like she is about to keel over. She leans a hand on one of the tall posts of my bed, staring at the pile of dresses in horror.

    ¡°How much will these sell for, Emma?¡± I ask, ignoring my poor nursemaid¡¯s plight. Although terribly ugly, the fabric and make of the 12 or so dresses are not bad, deliberately highlighting that the empress intentionally asked the designers to create something hideous.

    All this while, I¡¯ve been furiously thinking of how to make money when I¡¯m trapped in a pce and stuck in a world where it¡¯s a bit unusual for noblewomen to work. I¡¯m not one to throw such a good opportunity away.

    Emma licked her lips hungrily at the thought of money.

    ¡°Enough, your highness.¡±

    I want to ask what Emma qualifies as enough, but with the insatiable way she has been eating up my small stipend in exchange for information, it should be a healthy amount to hold me for a while.

    I begin folding the dresses on the floor, causing Marie to make a fuss about how my identity was too noble to do such a thing. I let out a small huff of amusement. I truly don¡¯t mind folding on my own, but I appreciate Marie truly respected me as a princess. Soon enough, everyone will. I owe that much to Winter after waking up in her life like this.

    In quick haste, the two of us fold down the pile of dresses in a neat stack and tie them into a nondescript fabric. This unassuming package now looks like the knapsacks old peddlers carry their wares in, something one¡¯s eyes would naturally skip over it they noticed it.

    ¡°Emma,¡± I instruct. ¡°do you know where to sell these dresses for the highest price?¡±

    She nods, busy tying the package around her body so it would be easy to carry.

    ¡°I¡¯m trusting you right now. Remember, the more coins this sells for, the more I can give you.¡± I say enticingly, ying on her money-hungry side.

    A certain glee fills her eyes at the word ¡®coins¡¯ and she wastes no time rushing for the door. A thought urs to me right before Emma ms the door shut behind her, prompting me to call for her loudly.

    ¡°Emma!¡±

    She turns around to face me, the package looking oversized when wrapped around her 7-year-old body.

    I flick myst couple of coins at her with a grin.

    ¡°Buy me some pretty flowers and then something for yourself with the rest of the money.¡±

    ¡°I will nay let you down, your highness.¡± she promises, shutting the door softly behind her with a click.

 Chapter 26

    Ch. 26: Jackpot

    The room was silent once Emma had left and all of a sudden, very heavy. I could feel the weight of Marie¡¯s stare on my shoulders. It is to be expected, even from the sweet, yet not particrly bright woman. A small child boldly defacing a gift from the empress with a smile on her face, for someone who had worked in the pce all her life, it was probably a shocking scene.

    ¡°You may leave too, Marie,¡± I say, feeling a little down now from the suspicious air emanating from her. She exits without another word and I am left alone, a feeling I¡¯m all toofortable with now.

    I flop onto my bed, my face buried in the nkets. It hurts a bit as I think of Marie¡¯s weighty stare. I rub my chest a bit, a gesture that is ufortable since my chest is lying on the bed, hoping the twinge in my chest will go away.

    It doesn¡¯t and only grows heavier as the hours tick down to the Spring Ball. I rub my chest again as I sit on the sofa for myst lesson before the ball and my eyes are brushed by sandpaper every time I blink. Sleep was very hard toe by and this stupid world doesn¡¯t have any equivalent to coffee as far as I know.

    ¡°Pay attention!¡± Mrs. Laroche snaps, unsympathetic to my suffering as usual.

    Today was a lesson entirely focused on greeting fellow nobles. We had spent the first part of the morning memorizing various names and houses, a part I naturally excelled at regardless of how sleep deprived I am. But remembering names and remembering how to properly greet different ranked nobles is a different ball game.

    For certain elites, I must curtsey fully and for others, a simple nod will suffice. Coordination is not my strong suit in the youthful body and I have received an earful of all morning.

    ¡°Straighten your back!¡±

    .....

    ¡°The toe must touch the back of your heel properly.¡±

    ¡°A nod! Not a bow! You are of much higher rank than a Count!¡±

    I follow through the motions obediently, mentally counting down my minutes to freedom. But I¡¯m interrupted by Mrs. Laroche bending down to her knees in front of me, surprise causing me to raise an eyebrow. The permanent frown lines around her mouth and brows that keep her perpetually looking irked soften a tad. This is... unprecedented.

    ¡°Yes, Mrs. Laroche?¡± I ask right away, warry that she mightunch into another bout of scolding, only right into my face.

    ¡°You must... take care not to infuriate the wrong person,¡± she warns, a light breeze of spring onions and other unmentionables making me fight to urge to curl my nose.

    I force Marie to dedicatedly bring me mint leaves and charcoal to scrub the inside of my mouth in an attempt to retain some of my modern hygiene habits. But in this day and age, it is not popr to clean out your mouth as often as I do, an unfortunate aspect that gives me much grief every time someone speaks too closely to my nose.

    ¡°Yes, Mrs. Laroche.¡±

    ¡°And I know I¡¯ve taught you the etiquette of mingling with other noble girls, should you encounter them, but for this Ball, I think it would be best for you to stay close to your nursemaid and observe how the ball proceeds,¡± she instructs in a stern tone that is somehow gentler than anything she has ever said to me. Her eyes are clear and honest as if I can see all her intentions behind her slightly rheumy eyes.

    ¡°Yes, Mrs. Laroche,¡± I answer again, touched but slightly mistrustful at her switch in her persona. Perhaps she has been possessed by kind aliens? Mrs. Laroche misses the suspicious look in my eyes entirely, only packing up rapidly and exiting with the same haste as always. Her full skirt hardly swoops out the door of the Rose Pce before a hand settles on my shoulder, making me jump out of my skin.

    I whirl around, the jump scare making my voice even higher than usual.

    ¡°Emma!¡± I gasp out, grabbing my chest in a weak attempt to keep my heart from escaping. My ymate was too good at this, always appearing out of thin air to frighten the living bejeesus out of me. At this rate, I will perish of heart problems before Empress Katya schemes a way to get rid of me permanently.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± she says in her typical monotone, her short hair obscuring her eyes today so I can¡¯t look at them and see whether or not she is mocking me.

    ¡°I ¡®ave sold them dresses for the highest price I could get.¡± Her hands are tucked behind her back and it reminds me of a soldier standing at alert.

    ¡°Have,¡± I say absentmindedly correcting her the way I would a younger sibling.

    ¡°...¡¯Ave.¡±

    I mentally shrug, I¡¯m sure she will grow out of her ent someday. She is still young after all. But more importantly, her hands are empty of any purse or bag.

    ¡°Where is the money?¡± I ask. It sounds more like I¡¯m smuggling drugs rather than reselling my ugly dresses.

    ¡°I shall take you to it, your highness.¡± She turns and starts walking abruptly, causing me to nearly stumble as I follow through winding halls I¡¯ve never navigated before.

    **********

    Emma had always possessed a natural sense of direction.

    It had been a necessity in order for her to survive in West End, the unforgiving, poverty-stricken neighborhood ill-suited for raising a child. Her mother had been a courtesan who¡¯d met an early demise at the hands of an incurable disease she had acquired with an unclean customer. Since courtesans were free people who engaged in a slightly dolled up version of prostitution, Emma hadn¡¯t been forced to work in the same Red House after her mother had sumbed to the illness.

    But that Red House, an unassuming name for the courtesan filled brothels that catered the various clientele throughout the Empire, had ruthlessly kicked Emma out without any of her mother¡¯s hard-earned money.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t too difficult for you, was it?¡±, the princess asked anxiously behind Emma,pletely unaware of her thoughts.

    Emma shook her head, a smile on her face that Princess Winter would not be able to see. In her short past, she¡¯d already participated in much more despicable means to acquire money, selling rejected dresses was very above boardpared to her past exploits.

    The shadowed corridors began to reveal they were exiting the main part of my pce and venturing towards where the maids resided. The light wash pink walls faded to a dull gray and the floorboards, which did not receive much maintenance, creaked generously.

    Emma was certain the young princess who she wasing to view as a younger sister must be curious about where they were going, but her curiosity was well hidden as she only obediently followed Emma. The few maids who meandered the back halls jumped at the sight of the pce¡¯s mistress running around with a young maid, dropping into abrupt curtseys.

    Neither girl paid it much mind, Emma finally leading the princess past the official kitchen that prepared her meals to the smaller, less upkept servant¡¯s kitchen. Princess Winter¡¯s bright hair and sky blue dress stood out like a ssh of white on a dark canvas. Emma turned around, giving the princess a significant look and Princess Winter read in between the lines, instantly sping her hands in front of her and strictly ordering all maids out of the kitchen.

    ¡°You may all leave,¡± she announced, her voice sounding more and more proper with each passing day. Emma found it amusing how Princess Winter always acted as if she were much older than she truly was. Even though Emma wasn¡¯t fond of expressing her feelings, she often chuckled internally at the sight.

    ¡°What do you want to show me?¡± Princess Winter asked, the curiosity in her eyes undeniable.

    The run-down servant¡¯s kitchen, with its dingy floor and grease-stained walls was an unusual location to hide money. Emma eyed the piled bags of potatoes unfavorably, as she had done more than her fair share of this before she was promoted to serving the princess personally. But her past enmity with potatoes made for a wonderful hiding ce.

    The young maid did not beat around the bush, pushing back her ck sleeves before dispersing the tall pile of bagged potatoes, the rough bup scratching at her calloused hands. Before long, the entire pile was now spread out around the kitchen, leaving onest bag that jingled when Emma picked it up.

    The sound was pure heaven to Emma¡¯s ears and a sneaky emotion snuck past her guard, filling her face with a smile like a sun peeking out behind clouds.

    ¡°There it is! The money smile!¡± Princess Winter sang yfully. ¡°It was clever of you to hide it within this bag, then no one would know that you were carrying something else.¡±

    The younger girl was such a doll, Emma could not help but bop her head to Winter¡¯s surprisingly angelic voice. If the illustrious princess had instead been a child sent to train in a Red House, the courtesans would feel jealous that such a young child would no doubt eclipse them in talents and looks in the future.

    ¡°Aye your highness, that was my intention,¡± Emma said slowly. Without preamble, she loosened the knot around the mouth of the bup sack and allowed a few of the coins to spill into her hand. Gold, bright gold coins. Her most favorite. She had not made a mistake in wholeheartedly serving Princess Winter as her mistress.

    Emma had sensed earlier that Princess Winter seemed down about something, the corners of her little, bow-shaped mouth turned downwards the entire time she had looked at her. But at the sight of the gold coins, the princess had perked up immeasurably. Emma felt a twinge of dness in her heart from seeing Princess Winter, who she viewed as a friend, disy a happy expression.

    ¡°How much did you get?¡±

    ¡°2000 gold coins, your highness.¡±

    The princess nodded appreciatively, her eyes growing clouded as she immediately began to wonder what she would do with the money.

    ¡°Investments... definitely investments,¡± the princess mused as Emma poured in the coins she held in her hands back into the bag.

    Emma turned to the princess with an expectant expression. It had been hard work sneaking the generous pile of clothes out of the pce and bringing back the money without being robbed. She wished to bepensated.

    The princess, who had been lost in her thoughts and already wandering back to her room turned around when she felt Emma wasn¡¯t standing at her back and quirked up an eyebrow. Emma looked down at he bup potato sack then up at the princess, her shameless smile widening as Princess Winter¡¯s brows rose incredulously.

    ¡°Once we take it to the room! I promise!¡± she said with a sigh. Emma nodded cheerfully and began to follow the princess, carrying the sack like a dog carrying a treat.

    In the end, Emma was rewarded 20 gold coins for her troubles and apanied the princess silently by refilling her teacup as Princess Winter read a book nearly the same size as herself. The princess was truly unusual, to be so gifted at reading and speaking when she was younger than Emma. The young maid found her mistress to be a bit unusual, but her years on the streets had given her an extremely discerning eye for others¡¯ intentions.

    Princess Winter was an odd one, but quite sincere.

    Marie was sweet and a little stupid, but she fed Emma the same yummy snacks as Princess Winter so she couldn¡¯tin.

    But that strangely beautiful, violet-eyed man who had taken the dresses without any haggling and offered her too much money for them, he was someone Emma¡¯s street-hardened self had never encountered before and never wished to meet again.

    Her mind reyed the moment he had given her some flowers, white camellias.

    ¡°For your mistress,¡± he had said with a wink.

    Emma had suppressed a shudder as she had looked at the snow-white flowers in disgust, wanting to throw it further than her eyes could see. But her rough hands had clutched the stems of the camellias tightly, not loosening their vise-like grip until she had unwillingly ced them in a vase in Princess Winter¡¯s room.

 Chapter 27

    Ch. 27: Camelias

    The annoyed smirk looked silly on the baby face looking back at me. I wrinkled my nose and the little white-haired girl did the same. I pulled the corners of my mouth into a wide grimace and my reflection mocked me by doing the same.

    Marie softlyughed behind me as shebed my hair withvender oil, further entuating the silver tones out in my hair. I¡¯m seated in front of my vanity as I enter the final phases of preparing for the Spring Ball after being run ragged in preparations since the moment I opened my eyes to the morning light.

    How was I to know there would be so much required preparation for the Spring Ball. I am just a child and I had thought it would scarcely take more than half an hour but I have been pathed, oiled, and preened like a turkey getting ready to be cooked. They tried to douse my face in white powder and rosy lipstick, but I stood my ground, not allowing for the slightest hint of makeup to touch my face. I never liked it much in myst life and it was just too strange for me to fathom a young child doused in makeup.

    ¡°Please, your highness, stay still,¡± Marie gently reminded as I continued to make strange faces. In truth, it didn¡¯t bother the nursemaid much because it was one of the rare asions her mistress acted her age.

    I pouted a little, but obeyed diligently. Marie was preparing to loop my hair into intricate designs befitting a noblewoman, her hands already beginning tiny braids near the front of my hair.

    ¡°Wait, Marie,¡± I order with a light frown.

    ¡°Mistress?¡± Her nimble hands quit tugging at my head.

    I curl a long strand of my hair around my finger beforeing to a conclusion.

    .....

    ¡°Just give me a single braid,¡± I insist, not wanting to look excessively done up for the Ball. No matter what is considered trendy in this era, I know I¡¯d look rather silly if Iplied with these beauty standards.

    A pang of nervousness hits meter as maids begin to tie me into my dress. It looks good as I expected, but too in. Coupled with the braid, I can understand why my maids are throwing strange nces at me as they get me ready. All the excitement I felt yesterday at hitting the lottery jackpot has faded as they maids step away and leave me alone in front of the full-length mirror.

    I was right, as expected. The dark color of the dress stands out prominently against my skin and gives me a youthful, ethereal glow. The high neck and newly shortened sleeves suit my tiny figure and looks perfectly appropriate for a young girl. My eyshes, which are thankfully ck and luscious, stand out prominently around the solid gold disks that have been a curse rather than a blessing. The overall effect of my outfit is simple but unforgettable. A perfect first impression.

    The fear of the unknown keeps me from smiling at my reflection. I¡¯ve been reincarnated from Winter¡¯s youth, meaning that the major events of the webnovel haven¡¯t urred yet. I¡¯m operating in the unknown past of this world, one that is obviously subject to change since I¡¯ve entered the pce 2 yearster than Winter did in the book. The main protagonist won¡¯t show up for another 11 years. I have no idea how much influence Peppermint wields over this world. The stress of my circumstances is hitting me all at once, making my eyes cloud over with unease.

    ¡°There, there, your highness,¡± Marie assures me, no longer looking as apprehensive as she did the other day after I had delightfully re-edited the dress I¡¯m wearing.

    She has mistaken my anxiety about my uncertain future with being nervous about the ball. I¡¯m not particrly worried about this Spring Ball. I can just treat it like the few formal parties I¡¯ve attended in my past life, where I disappeared into the background and ate my weight in hors d¡¯oeuvres. Aside from feeling awkward about being ignored by my new ¡®family¡¯, tonight should be a breeze.

    ¡°Your highness...¡± a maid starts uncertainly.

    An unknown maid standing by my side takes the chance to speak up now at my unadorned outfit, which resembles something a poor noble daughter would wear rather than a princess. I turn to her with a friendly smile, encouraging her to continue.

    ¡°The royal treasury has brought the jewels that have been selected for you to wear tonight.¡±

    I nod, and she takes it as a cue to invite the courtier holding a sumptuous velvet red pillow into my bedroom. A dull sparkle increases as he draws closer, dragging my eyes to the gems sitting on the pillow. It¡¯s a generous assortment if one was uneducated about royal jewels. There is a small pin of sapphire, surrounded by small diamonds, a tiny silver circlet with an emerald at the center, and various other knick-knacks. They all sparkle a lot, and if I were in my past life, anyone wearing these would be pegged as a wealthy individual. Heck, I almost want to grab a few to pawn offter.

    But in my history sses, I¡¯ve also seen enough photos of royalty to know that these pretty decorations are chump changepared to what princes and princesses actually wore torge gatherings. I would probably just further embarrass myself if I wore these small pieces to the ball. I¡¯m better off not wearing anything. Princess Kate would have a good chuckle if she some of these specially selected ¡®royal jewels¡¯.

    A devious little smile dances across my face, bringing a bit of turmoil to Marie¡¯s simple heart. It was an unusual expression for such a tiny, precious child to wear. But the strange grin left just as quickly as it came, leaving Marie wondering if she had simply imagined that face.

    I¡¯m oblivious to Marie¡¯s thoughts as I¡¯ve just had a fine idea of my own. Since I¡¯ve been adopted into the royal family, rumors have been abuzz about how the empress has doted on me and cared for me even though I¡¯m not her own. Personallying to visit me and even sending me fine clothes to wear for the Spring Ball. I¡¯m so lucky to have a stepmother like her.

    It¡¯s ratherughable. What woman would love the child who threatens her child¡¯s supposed birthright and is living, breathing evidence of her husband¡¯s infidelity?

    ¡°I won¡¯t wear any,¡± I say tly, forgetting to add my childish charm to my words. Everyone in the room looks at me in rm and I pout dramatically.

    ¡°They¡¯re too pretty. I don¡¯t deserve to wear these gems.¡±

    I let my bottom lip wobble as if I¡¯m about to cry and all the maids¡¯ faces morph into a look of pity.

    ¡°But they¡¯re quite pretty, your highness! Look, this blue pin would look lovely with your dress!¡± the maid further insisted, serenaded by the nods of those who stood nearby.

    I just answered by letting a lone tear fall down my newly chubby cheeks. The maid silenced herself immediately with a look of fear, most definitely remembering how Janice had been dragged out of the pce for making me cry. I mentally pat myself on the back again for that ingenious move, as of now still unaware how badly it¡¯s going to blow up in my face in the future.

    The maids quickly say formal farewells with hasty curtseys before practically running out the door of my room. The courtier, who is not from my pce, just watches with a confused expression until Marie shoos him out as well. As my nursemaid she follows all my decisions, but once the courtier has left, she too gives me a confused look while Emma crawls out from under my bed where she was hiding.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± she starts, wringing her hands nervously, ¡°They are correct. It would be inappropriate for you not to wear any jewelry to the Spring Ball.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t there something else I can wear though?¡± I ask, fishing for any other essories than the jewels of the family that will one day murder me. Unconsciously, my eyes wander my bedroom andnd on a porcin vase full of white flowers.

    My interest is piqued. The wide and almost circr petals are the same shade as my hair and before I know it, I¡¯m tugging a few stems out of the vase, the water tickling my hands as it drips onto the floor.

    ¡°This!¡± I say with childlike enthusiasm, waving the flowers in Marie¡¯s face. ¡°Put some in my braid!¡±

    There is a look of contemtion before Marie readily agrees, nudging back into my seat as she plucks a few flowers from the stem and tucks it into the long braid that almost grazes my butt.

    ¡°Do you know what kind of flowers these are, your highness?¡± Marie asks as she tucks the first few flowers in.

    ¡°Nope!¡± Modern people don¡¯t tend to remember many flowers, my knowledge barely extending beyond easily identifiable flowers like roses, sunflowers, and daises.

    ¡°It¡¯s a camelia. It represents love and admiration.¡±

    I let out an udylike snort at the flower¡¯s meaning. There is no love waiting for me where I¡¯m going. But the thought doesn¡¯t put me out in the slightest as Marie sweeps the braid over my shoulder so I can get a better look. The waterfall design of the flowers looks exceptionally pretty with the camelias almost blending into my hair but not quite. I twirl in the mirror, happy with my look and even Marie no longer looks ill at ease with my final outfit.

    ¡°You look very pretty, your highness,¡± Marie says in an approving tone.

    Only Emma sits on the floor, a strange expression I¡¯ve never seen marring her face and sparking concern in me as I¡¯ve only seen her look bored or mischievous. But when I asked her what the matter was, her face cleared up like clouds over the sun and she told me she forgot, even scratching the side her head furiously as if it were a matter of great importance.

    But my nervousness of the uing social gathering eclipses Emma¡¯s matters as a maid knocks to inform us that the Ball has begun and my presence is requested. I grip Marie¡¯s hand tightly as I follow her out the door. For children up until they reach 7 or so years of age, they are allowed to have a maid apany them to social events. But even with Marie¡¯s warm grasp, I can¡¯t help but shiver, and not from the cold.

    It¡¯s time for me to meet my family. My whole family.

 Chapter 28

    Ch. 28: The Spring Ball

    In spite of my past weeks stuck in the Rose Pce, I have not entirely forgotten the other members of my family.

    Aside from the dreadful Julia, my oldest brother, Augustus, is the current crown prince and son of the former empress. He should be around 12 to 13 years old right now. When I think about the age gap between him and ra, with ra being close to my age right now, I grimace a little bit.

    After him, is the first child of Empress Katya is Julian, whom Julia was named after so that her brother could simrly be tied to her ¡®promised child¡¯ status, ording to the webnovel. It¡¯s him I¡¯m worried about as I dwell on how arrogant and underhanded he was. Undoubtedly, he is someone I should watch out for.

    Even though my mind is wandering as I attempt to recall every random fact about my siblings, I can¡¯t help but admire the royal pce at night. The torches intermittently ced in the open-air corridor we are walking through shimmer against the gold-flecked marble columns. I see distant buildings with dusky blue roofs and there isn¡¯t a soul around, making this ce seem far less threatening than I¡¯ve seen it be.

    ¡°The royal pce is so pretty!¡± I whisper to Marie, excited by the lovely architecture. My ex-best friend Halle, who was an architecture major, surely would¡¯ve loved this ce.

    ¡°Royal pce?¡± Marie says. ¡°This is the imperial pce. Royal is for kingdoms, your highness. This is an empire.¡±

    I feel a blush on my face and awkwardly chirp a reply. Despite all the books I¡¯ve read, I don¡¯t know this simple fact. Marie doesn¡¯t take notice of my embarrassment as she kneels before me and tugged on a pair of short white gloves, an oversight on my part that she had thankfully been ready for.

    ¡°Be brave, your highness,¡± she whispers.

    .....

    I didn¡¯t have a chance to respond before my presence was announced at the ball.

    ¡°Her Imperial Highness, Winter Hapsburg de Erudian, has arrived!¡± An announcer proims powerfully to all the gathered guests, unknowingly mocking me for not knowing the proper title for my new living situation. It wasn¡¯t my home, not yet.

    The annual Spring Ball, a massive event meant for all prominent nobility residing within the Empire, is taking ce in a massive ballroom adjacent to the main building my father resides and works in. I¡¯ve never seen it without its many decorations, but it looks magnificent with pure white embroidery and opulent gold finishings on the walls and chairs. I feel like Cindere arriving at the prince¡¯s ball after spending her entire life working as a maid.

    But I¡¯m sure Cindere, as lovely as she was in her blue gown, wasn¡¯t stared at nearly as much as I am right now. The entrance to the ballroom is upstairs, allowing guests to descend the stairs and get seen by everyone in the room. There are ballgowns upon ballgowns and men wearing suits I¡¯ve only seen in portraits from my textbooks. The moment is utterly surreal. I squeeze Marie¡¯s hands tighter as every eye in the room turns my way and the conversation dims. This is what they were waiting for. Their eyes look hungry as they take in my small self and I almost cower from them.

    So I stare right back. The woman closest to the base of the stares has a sneer on her face, the plumes of her feathers making me assume she thinks highly of herself. Another group of young women in overly ruffled dresses stand in a group and speak behind their gloved hands, probably gossiping about me.

    This is the nobility of the Erudian Empire I¡¯ve been dreading to meet, the ones who shamelessly bullied and ostracized Winter in the webnovel. And they¡¯re all so ordinary. It¡¯s almost like high school all over again and I held my ground just fine against the mean girls from my past life. I almost puff out my chest, letting go of Marie¡¯s hand as I grab my skirts and walk down the stairs myself. Being feeble and easily frightened didn¡¯t win Winter any friends and ultimately led to her death.

    The desire to live burns in my chest and my shaking hands holding my skirts slowly but surely stop moving. Once we reach the bottom of the descending staircase, I give a wide, dazzling smile, provoking a shocked reaction from the guests closest to me.

    I¡¯ve got my priorities straight so I head straight to the dessert table despite Mrs. Laroche clearly telling me not to eat at all and Marie begins to fill a te for me. There were fruit-filled tarts and fluffy pastries that crunched once Marie picked them up with tongs. The sound is heaven to my ears. Since arriving at the pce, food is the only thing that hasn¡¯t let me down.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± Marie hissed, disapproving of how I went for the food immediately instead of greeting the emperor as other guests had. The surprised faces at my sudden appearance gave way to scorn. I was just another peasant girl with terrible manners.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Marie,¡± I hastily say before she can finish her sentence. If my father truly wanted to acknowledge my presence, he would have arranged for me to arrive with him, the way my two brothers standing on either side of him did. I grimace a bit, chewing at my lip as I notice the empress and my half-sister seated near them. A picture of the perfect imperial family. Without me, of course. No wonder Winter died so pitifully in the webnovel.

    I detach my emotions from the insulting scene and analyze the faces I haven¡¯t seen yet. Although Julian is just 10 years old, he has a cocky air about him that draws many young girl¡¯s gazes in the room but scares them from approaching him honestly. His blonde hair is reminiscent of the empress and he sweeps the room with azy gaze, lingering on me for a heartbeat or two before he moves on, disinterested. I¡¯m not particrly curious about him as well, as long as he refrains from ruining my path to survival.

    Augustus doesn¡¯t possess the same aura of asshole-ness as Julian, his dark hair making him a carbon copy of my father. Now that I think of it, we both look quite alike,pared to Julian and Julia who strongly resemble their mother. Compared to the calm, cold mask on Julian¡¯s face, Augustus is an open book. He takes a sip from an alcoholic beverage in his hand and his face wrinkles at the taste. Julian mutters something to him and his eyes glitter with mirth.

    As I stare at my ¡®family¡¯, a thousand eyes watch my every move. I sigh to myself. This is a gamble I¡¯m taking, making myself look sweet, yet somewhat stupid. It was one of the first things Mrs. Laroche grilled into me, for me not to in her words, ¡°stuff myself like a peasant seeing food for the first time¡±.

    Move in silence.

    It is one of the best advice my mother from my past life gave me, my heart feeling a pang as I reflect on her. When you want good things to happen to you, seek them out in silence without telling others, lest others try to harm you out of jealousy or malevolence. Even though my intelligence is quite brilliant for a five-year-old girl, this is not the time for me to begin standing out in a positive light. For now, a kindhearted, naive little girl will have to be the only thing these people can see. At the very least, it will be a good cover for me to build up my own forces without anyone suspecting.

    ********

    In the guests¡¯ hearts, they had been prepared to throw the newly discovered bastard princess into the mes. That is the nature of those who have been raised from infancy to believe they are better than everyone else. The sight of this little princess, who had undoubtedly been raised on the streets like a beggar and whose mother was of unknown origin, grated painfully their hearts for her to be part of the illustrious imperial family they all longed to join. This child was a vibrant ray of light in the already bright hall. Her hair was as white as the rumors suggested and the flowers falling throughout the braid gave the youth an ethereal air.

    The princess¡¯s skin was quite pale too, which somehow did not appear washed out with her snowy locks. And she just looked like a doll, her small lips looking absolutely darling when stretched into an angelic smile. There was not a person in the room who did not appreciate beauty and with just one look, they had all for a minute thought in their hearts that this young girl could easily surpass her sister one day.

    The nobles had desperately hoped for a timid, unspectacr girl who would bumble and fumble enough for them to viciously gossip about in their elite social circles. Watching her venture for the food table, a minor faux pas for noblewomen who preferred to seem as if they had no appetite, their malevolent smiles followed the princess diligently.

    Tittering quietly behind gem-encrusted fans, the not so small number of the nobility who firmly stood behind the empress¡¯ maternal family eagerly anticipated the nder that would run through the capital about the disgraceful new princess by the time the sun rose anew. None spared a thought that she was only 5 years old as they had long acquired the callousness that was necessary for them to retain their foothold of power. Besides as the evening drew on, there was no movement from the terrifying emperor, who sat still without sparing a nce at his bastard daughter.

    ¡°Mother, is that the bastard princess?¡± murmured the young Emelia Mullgard, the sole, precious daughter of Marquis Mullgard and his wife.

    A family originally from the south of the Empire, they had made their fortune in the ve trade and then earned their noble rank when they aided Emperor Helio¡¯s grandfather to the throne. As such, the family were a haughty bunch, thoroughly enjoying their influential position within the government and rarely governing their words or actions.

    ¡°Yes dear, but it isn¡¯t good to stare for too long. What if that stray wishes to be friends with you?¡± Marquess Mullgard simpered gently, eyeing the bastard princess in disgust. Such a simple dress, no matter how pretty the little girl was, even a blind man would be able to tell that Princess Winter was not favored within the pce. The marquess looked down at her little daughter, pleased at her shimmery, yellow crepe gown, only topped by Princess Julia¡¯s golden dress that highlighted the gold strands in her dirty blonde tresses.

    ¡°Be sure to speak with Princess Julia and Prince Julian before the night ends,¡± Marquess Mullgard mulled to her daughter, enviously looking at the bubble that surrounded the royal family. If she approached too close, she could die from the emperor¡¯s killing aura, the thought sending a chill over her skin. Her only hope to firmly entrench herself with the royal family would be for her precious daughter to be engaged with Prince Julian and remain good friends with Princess Julia.

    ¡°Yes, mama,¡± Emelia diligently said, looking down her nose at the white-haired girl who had the gall to appear at such a noble function.

    It hadn¡¯t been confirmed or denied whether Princess Julia was the promised child, especially with Princess Winter potentially reprising the powerful role, but Marquis¡¯ family had longid her chips down with the Empress¡¯ camp and didn¡¯t even consider whether Princess Winter could be the one the Holy Church sought out.

    The night was beginning to grow dull as the nobility within the gilded hall peered at Princess Winter curiously, waiting for her to make a gaff in manners or speech. However aside from eating once she arrived, the girl had sat obediently in a corner and greeted guests properly when a few, lower-ranking nobles in a weak attempt to curry favor introduced themselves.

    Other than possessing the typical naivete of a child, a few ground their teeth at being unable to find a substantial matter to tease the bastard princess about. The chair was too high for her to sit in and the princess kicked her legs in the air asionally, her eyes trailing around the room in wonder. A mean-spirited noble or two considered spreading a rumor that the newly discovered princess was a simpleton and possessed weak, mental function.

    ¡°Look, mama, look!¡± Emelia Mullgard eximed, tugging at her mother¡¯s arm.

    Princess Julia had left the bubble the royal family had loftily been lounging in, the fine metals on her gold dress clinking as she stomped her way across the floor, guests quickly scattering from her path. At the end of the snobbish princess¡¯s path, a doe-eyed Princess Winter was speaking excitedly with her nursemaidy unsuspecting of the onught approaching.

    Bloodthirstiness glittered in the eyes of the nobles, the event they had been anticipating all night finally upon them. And behind them all, seated just outside of the emperor¡¯s killing aura, Empress Katya watched her only daughter approach the thorn that had unceremoniously embedded itself in her life, a hint of unease pricking her chest.

 Chapter 29

    Ch. 29: The Spring Ball Pt. 2

    A little girl in yellow has not stopped staring at me with an unpleasant look ever since she¡¯s set her eyes on me. A woman stands beside her, the simr snooty features implicating her at the girl¡¯s mother, was more subtle than her daughter. But the curl in her lip is still visible to my eyes from where I¡¯m seated.

    Boredom drives me to make conversation with Marie after an hour or two of watching other guests mingle and dance. While I¡¯m still spellbound by the dazzling silhouettes of swirling fabric and the glistening decorations, they don¡¯t hide the core of rot and malice within.

    ¡°Marie, isn¡¯t it pretty in here?¡± I ask, making a show of admiring the room as the low-key orchestra in the corner jump into another pleasing melody. I know that someone ustomed to wealth would not be so startled by the hall the Spring Ball is taking ce in, but if I truly wanted to fit in with the people here, I have a feeling it would look silly, like a child ying dress-up.

    ¡°Very lovely, your highness,¡± she replies, her eyes shining. Marie is very impressed by the grandeur of the hall but she still takes care of me diligently, handing me a handkerchief to wipe my mouth of crumbs. The sound of echoing footsteps and a sudden lull in conversation is not missed by my sharp ears as I engage Marie in light, childlike banter but I pay it no mind as if I haven¡¯t noticed.

    ¡°Hello, Winter. I¡¯m surprised you came,¡± says an irritating, young voice that almost coaxes a frown out of me. I turn to my half-sister with a smile as if I never noticed her.

    ¡°Jules!¡± I exim with a grin, marveling at how her face went through a hundred different expressions at the nickname I just appointed her.

    Such a grand stage to cement my position as the dunce of the imperial family, it would be foolish of me to assume that this night would pass without mishap. This situation is akin to one of the cheerleaders making her dislike of her intended victim clear by ¡®identally¡¯ dumping her milk carton over them as she walked past, giving a carte nche to the rest of the school to treat the victim as the new punching bag. Nothing I haven¡¯t seen before.

    Julia recovered from the blow of the unfortunate nickname I had just dealt her, magnificently ignoring the few titters from the bystanders watching the gentle showdown between sisters.

    .....

    ¡°Just call me Julia,¡± my sister replies dryly, touching the blinding, ostentatious disy of wealth upon her head, her tiara, as if to remind herself who she was. Princess Julia, daughter of the current Empress, granddaughter of Chancellor Duvernay, and rumored promised child if it wasn¡¯t for me.

    A smile at her even more sweetly as she fires a scathing re at me before reaching for my hands with bad intentions.

    ¡°Sister,¡± she starts in a weak attempt at sounding kind, ¡°I think you look very modest today. It is fitting attire for you.¡±

    We look like the perfect picture of two sisters getting along. I squeeze her hands from her pliment¡¯ as she all but tells me that I am not fit to wear something grand because of my identity.

    ¡°You are always so nice to me, Jules. If it wasn¡¯t for Mother selecting this pretty dress for me, I wouldn¡¯t have had anything else to wear. I¡¯m so grateful Mother was able to find me a dress that you would approve of.¡± I rebut in the same, gentle tone.

    A few eyebrows raise at my statement and although no one cuts in. I smile pleasantly to myself while Julia¡¯s face further sours. I¡¯m not particrly skilled at the type of veiled discourse I¡¯m currently engaging in, but Julia makes it too easy. With a sentence or two, I¡¯ve insinuated that my elegant, yet excessively simple for a formal dress was not the result of myck of knowledge but the doing of the empress. To insult my appearance in future gossip is to insult the empress¡¯ decision.

    Julia is slow on the uptake on ount of her actually being a 5 year old, but when she understands the implication of what I¡¯ve said, her mouth puckers as if she sucked on a lemon.

    ¡°You-!¡± she starts, ditching her friendly sister act and yanking her hands out of mine.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I ask innocently as if I haven¡¯t said anything wrong. My words are a catalyst, breaking the dam holding back Julia¡¯s ferocious feelings.

    ¡°Why are you acting like this? Do you think you are my superior? Let me tell you, you are nothing! You are lower than dirt, you ve!¡± Julia¡¯s cheeks are rouged with rage, her curls bouncing as she goes off on me. As adorable as Julia is, her temper has no rival out of all the nobledies.

    I let my lower lip slightly wobble as if I¡¯m hurt and Julia¡¯s golden eyes shine with victory, not expecting the next blow I throw at her.

    ¡°Why are you calling me a ve?¡± I whimper out like I¡¯m about to cry. I can feel the crowd watching us subtly shift closer, a pack of hyenas drawn in by the weakness I¡¯m disying.

    Julia scoffed, already the winner in her mind. ¡°Of course, because you were born from a ve. That makes you one, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t even know who my mother is. The only parent I know is our father, the emperor.¡± I tap my hand on my chin, allowing a shocked expression to fill my face. ¡°Julia, are you- are you calling our father a ve?¡±

    Gasps fill the hall and one of the musicians who had heard what I said misses a note on his cello, filling the air with discord. Finally, those faux friendly masks of the nobles are stripped away, revealing raw fear.

    Who didn¡¯t know about the unfortunate Count and his family who were all executed on the grounds of insulting the Emperor¡¯s parentage? After all, my father and I aren¡¯t so different, both children born outside of their father¡¯s marriage. Only anyone who knows the whole, bitter truth of the matter is long dead.

    I revel in the dismay that has taken hold the moods of those around me and watch as Julia¡¯s face contorts at the implication of what I¡¯ve said. I mentally pat myself on the back for remembering obscure details from the webnovel.

    ¡°What? What, no! My father- our father is not... he is of the noblest birth! I would never suggest that!¡± Julia says desperately, looking at the looming crowd for support.

    But this was an affair even they couldn¡¯t step in to mend. Insulting the ruler was a death sentence and no one wanted to touch this case with a ten-foot pole. As a princess, Julia would most definitely be spared, but if they said the wrong statement in defense of Julia, it would be their heads on the chopping block.

    ¡°Mooommmmyyyyyy!¡±

    My half-sister¡¯s eyes fill with tears as she finds no friends from the nobles who are suddenly disinterested in our conversation. Julia runs back to where Empress Katya is sitting with an unpleasant expression on her face. I wave to my ¡®mother¡¯ as if the previous situation didn¡¯t just ur in front of me. She manages a thin-lipped smile on her face as if someone is holding a knife to her neck and demanding it of her.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± someone calls from behind me. I whirl around, my long braid nearly whipping me in the face and exim in surprise.

    ¡°Sir Finn!¡± I say cheerfully, almostpletely forgetting about Julia. The young knight looks dapper tonight in an old-fashioned suit with coattails, gloves, and a shiny pin that denotes his identity as a member of the royal guard. His blonde hair has been oiled back, giving him a ssy vibe that makes him seem a few years beyond his age.

    The younger noblewomen in the crowd blush behind handkerchiefs and preen themselves like peacocks hoping to be noticed. I suppress a snort at their desperate actions, especially as one young woman who couldn¡¯t have long since celebrated her debut in society drops her embroidered hanky right by Finn¡¯s foot. As if I would leave Finn for these wolves.

    I grab his hand enthusiastically, Marie forced to keep up as we make our way through the crowd. I take special care to step on the flower-covered handkerchief as we make our way through the crowd, digging my heel in a bit before continuing. I throw onest look over my shoulder, the warpath we¡¯ve made efficiently scattering everyone so that the informal throne my father and my brothers had sat around are visible.

    Emperor Helio¡¯s cushioned red seat ispletely empty and my triumph over Julia fades into a hollow victory. I think about my father¡¯s t, cold gaze that did not even deign to look my way once through the night. My heart hurts a bit and I me my emotions on being trapped in a young body. Just to stop the threat of tears brimming behind my eyes, Iugh a little, startling Finn to look down at me.

    ¡°You alright?¡± Finn asks as we reach the outdoor terrace, abandoned due to the pervasive winter chill that hung around even though it was springtime.

    ¡°Yes.¡± No. My mom is long dead. My dad is a supreme asshole. My step-mom and half-sister want to kill me.

    I offhandedly wonder if I¡¯m somehow feeling the previous Winter¡¯s sadness, but quickly dismiss the idea as I would have felt her emotions beforehand if this was the case.

 Chapter 30

    Ch. 30: The Spring Ball Pt. 3

    The icy air found little resistance in the thin fabric of my dress, seizing me in its frigid grip. I pay it little mind, my eyes dazzled by the view ahead. Despite the mor of the ball behind me, the open yard is a serene sight. Even in the darkness, I can tell that each bush is sheared to perfection, the widewns clipped down neatly. But just ahead of the neat walking area, I can see what seems like a dense forest within the pce, a confusing but refreshing sight. The breezeing from in front carries a calming scent of pine and other saplings.

    ¡°Sir Finn, why are there suchrge trees in the middle of the pce?¡± I inquire, pointing at the strange, little forest with my tiny finger.

    The tall knight shoves his hands in his pocket, assured in himself.

    ¡°It¡¯s not well known, but for a period of time in his youth, Emperor Helio spent a part of his youth in the dense woonds of the Eastern provinces. Right after he was coronated, he uprooted the monument that had stood here and nted a memento of his past.¡± Finn looked awfully proud of himself for being able to answer my question, although his exnation sounds more fact than fiction. I think of the emotionless, handsome face of my father and it is difficult for me to picture him as a man who was sentimental.

    ¡°Wow, you¡¯re so smart, Sir Finn! I bet you must be a trusted member of the royal guard to know all these secrets.¡± I say anyways, sticking to my n to butter Finn up with praise. He nods as if it were a natural fact and I shake my head on the inside. He is indeed a fox, soaking up all this praise shamelessly.

    Slowly we begin to wander around the terrace, the outdoor patio which loops almost entirely around the building the ball is taking ce in. Marie follows slowly from behind, not interrupting us as we catch up with each other. As I¡¯ve kind of been under house arrest, it has been difficult to meet with Finn, whose job keeps him at the periphery of Rose Pce.

    ¡°Finn, how did you be a member of the royal guard anyways?¡± I ask, my small hand grabbing his muchrger one. Talking to Finn is calming as he tells me about the rigorous training he underwent at the castle and the final examination that was required for all trainees.

    ¡°Here? At the pce?¡±

    .....

    ¡°Yes, there arerge grounds where the horses groom near the stables, that¡¯s where we practice,¡± Finn answers, oblivious to how I¡¯m rubbing my hands together in glee. This is a perfect arrangement for me to curry goodwill among the royal guard.

    ¡°That¡¯s so cool! Since you are so close, I want to go visit the grounds and see you!¡± I say in an exuberant voice.

    Finn looks a little indecisive. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if the training grounds is a ce suitable for young women.¡±

    I suppress the urge to roll my eyes.

    ¡°I just want to watch, I want to see how cool you look when you are using your sword!¡± I grab hold of his hand with both of mine and look up at him with pleading eyes.

    ¡°Please, please, please?¡± I beg my sworn knight.

    His eyes soften to my adorable begging.

    ¡°Oh, alright,¡± he finally agrees. ¡°But make sure you bring your maids.¡±

    For such an easy condition, I agree within seconds, and Finn and I continue walking around the terrace at an easygoing pace. My disappointment with my family has faded into a dull background throb as I eagerly n my next move.

    The royal guard upy a subtle, but influential role within the empire from what I¡¯ve gathered in my informal studies. Formed a few centuries ago, when the Erudian Empire was still the Erudian Kingdom, they are a forcedposed of noble sons who answer directly to the king and frequently apany him on his conquests. An unloved, unwanted bastard princess like me could desperately use the powerful backing of the guard in order to preserve my life.

    ¡°Finn...¡± I start in a voice that insinuates trouble.

    ¡°Sir Finn,¡± he grumbles, enunciating the sir. It is a childish correction that makes me want tough. Although he is a good decade older than my current body, mentally I feel like he is still youthful in temperament.

    ¡°Sir Finn, I didn¡¯t think I would see you here at the ball. I thought that this would be too fancy for you,¡± I say coquettishly, messing around with the knight.

    ¡°Of course it is! However, as the heir to a dukedom, attending these are, unfortunately, mandatory.¡±

    He tugs ufortably at the starched white cor of his suit, seeming ufortable now that I¡¯ve pointed it out. I decide to let up on my poor knight.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m d that you are here. Otherwise, I wouldn¡¯t know anyone at the ball,¡± I add sweetly.

    Buttering up Finn is too easy, as he rubs his hand on the back of his neck awkwardly at mypliment. Since I was ted to work as a PR manager for the local mayor¡¯s campaign, telling people what they like to hear has always been a specialty of mine. Coupled with my many exhausting years of retail service in the tepid summers of high school, I¡¯m skilled at making myself and others look and feel good.

    A rather loud yelp interrupts my quiet walk with Finn, startling him into reaching for a sword at his waist before realizing he didn¡¯t wear it with his formal suit.

    ¡°Stay behind me,¡± he orders, his tone switching rapidly. I hear Marie rush over from behind me, her worry making her move faster than usual. The yelpes again, revealing itself to be distinctly female, and I hear other women speaking as well.

    ¡°Rx,¡± I say to pacify the adults around me, certain that this isn¡¯t an ambush on my person. Besides, nning an assassination at the Spring Ball would be near impossible with the sheer amount of security at this event.

    The voices areing from a lower level of the terrace, if we were to rush down the stairs I¡¯m sure we would be able to see who is making a disturbance. But I tug on Finn¡¯s righteous hand that is about to venture down the outdoor staircase and inquire about the matter. The balcony is too high for me to peer over, but I can perfectly hear the argument going on below.

    ¡°Ugh Arabe, I can¡¯t believe you actually had the gall to show up at the ball tonight,¡± starts the first female voice in an unkind manner.

    ¡°Exactly,¡± simpers another, her nasally voice grating to the ear. ¡°What? Did you actually think you would find a husband? An ugly, destitute orphan like you?¡±

    I frown as I listen to the exchange, realizing that this is amon scene among the female species: good, old-fashioned bullying. I¡¯ve seen a fair share of this when I was in school and want to walk away, but for some reason, the name Arabe sounds familiar to me.

    ¡°How does she even count as one of us? No matter what she wears, she is still a lowly peasant. She should just marry amoner and get out of our sight!¡±

    They allugh, taking great delight in their victim¡¯s misfortune. I hear Finn let out an irritated breath above me as a loud p sound fills the air.

    ¡°Such disgusting manners...¡± he starts, moving towards the stairs so he can descend upon them with his fiery sense of justice and give them a piece of his mind. The more time I spend with him, the more I realize that it isn¡¯t just my slights that Finn can¡¯t tolerate, he can¡¯t stand to see any innocent be maltreated. Such an iron sense of truth and justice, I wonder where a nobleman such as himself would cultivate that mindset. Out of everyone at the pce, his otherwise tricky personality carries the most honesty behind it.

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I say quietly to my sworn knight, the words almost a whisper. His sharp senses pick up my words and he freezes but looks down at me with a conflicted expression.

    I continue softly, so he can understand my point.

    ¡°If you barge in tonight, you will save Lady Arabe for now. But do you think it will end there? Later, when you aren¡¯t there to protect this girl, the treatment she receives will be twice as bad as it is now.¡±

    ¡°So I should just watch?¡± His voicees out in a half-yell that I know the bullies on the lower terrace heard because their jeering all of a sudden quiets down.

    Standing on the tips of my toes, I can finally get my eyes over the ledge and see the dark silhouettes of ballgowns rushing away from the crime scene, afraid to get caught harassing someone publicly. I sneer to myself. If they were so fearful of getting caught, they shouldn¡¯t have bothered to even speak to Lady Arabe in the first ce.

    ¡°There are some battles we have to learn to fight on our own,¡± I finally say as thest shadowy noblewoman escapes, leaving a crumpled figure on the ground clutching her face. And I¡¯m not just speaking on Arabe¡¯s case.

    Finn gives me an unreadable look, one that is almost indiscernible in the evening¡¯s darkness. Harried steps from the nearby staircase tear his gaze away from me, and we all turn to see the aforementioned Lady Arabe rush up the stairs towards us.

    The small amount of light from within the ball illuminates the young woman and I see her wearing a tasteful ivory gown decorated with satin ribbons andplete with matching ivory gloves. The color looks serene on her lightly tanned skin, a fond simrity to my skin tone as Maria. Her hair is in an updo, as is customary for any young woman who has debuted in society, to signify her transition from child to woman. Our eyes meet for a moment, a strand of her chocte brown hair obscuring her reddened cheek. I¡¯m struck by recognition and can do little more than stare back with the same wide eyes before she disappears around the corner.

    Uponying eyes on her dress that easily outssed any of the other overpriced, frothy creations within the Spring Ball, I recalled where I had seen her name before. A short while after ra had transmigrated into the story, she goes on an extravagant shopping trip with her new friend and Finn¡¯s younger sister, Victoria. Due to ra¡¯s friendly and bubbly disposition, she was able to snag a coveted appointment at the most exclusive and fashionable fashion house, Arabe¡¯s, created by an illusive noblewoman who hated to go out in public. And I¡¯ll bet all the money I own that this is that young Arabe.

    Here I was wondering what to invest my money into and then in runs a golden opportunity, covered in tears and a stylish gown. I don¡¯t let any of my excitement show on my face, turning away from Arabe¡¯s running form to continue on our walk. Finn is silent and so is Marie, so I take this as an opportunity to admire the sights within the pce that I¡¯ve never seen before. If I¡¯m fortunate, one day I¡¯ll be able to explore this area in daylight.

    But it seems I am not meant to enjoy this peaceful night outside of this disappointing Spring Ball. There are slender shrubs ced intermittently around the building, starting with thick bases wide enough for a grown man to hide under before tapering off into a sword-like point. I hear generous moaninging from one, along with both a man and a woman¡¯s shoes poking out from underneath. The thrusting sounds are incessant, ruining the calm atmosphere of the terrace.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I ask innocently, full well knowing what was going on under. Some people just had no control over their lust, to dare to go at it in a ce like the royal, no imperial pce.

    The undisguised shock on both Finn and Marie¡¯s face almost makes me burst out guffawing. They are extremely proactive, with Marie picking me up and covering my eyes while Finn proceeds to start yelling at the people under the shrub.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I ask further as Marie rushes me away from the forever polluted shrub.

    ¡°It is no matter, your highness. I just feel like it is time for you to retire from the ball,¡± she gasps out, doing a terrible job at keeping my curiosity to a minimum.

    ¡°Marie, what were those people doing under that bush?¡± It is just too fun to watch my nursemaid flounder for answers.

    ¡°Ummm... I¡¯m sure that man was just helping the woman find her earring under the shrub, your highness.¡± Marie¡¯s face must be so red now, it¡¯s a pity she is diligently covering my little eyes so I can¡¯t see.

    ¡°But why were they making so much noise? Isn¡¯t it just an earring?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t ask anymore, your highness! Just put this asion out of your mind!¡± Marie¡¯s run finally slows down and she releases my eyes within the marble walkways we passed to go to the Ball.

    I smile to myself. What a way to end the night.

    ¡°...Marie?¡± I ask as I spy my Rose Pce in the distance, the pink-tinted windows more apparent in the nighttime.

    ¡°Y-Yes, your highness?¡± Marie sounds wary as if she is about to head out to battle and I hide my shit-eating grin by burrowing into her warmth as she carries me.

    ¡°When we return please bring me a pen and paper.¡±

    ¡°Yes, your highness,¡± she replies, the relief evident in her voice that I have forgotten the matter of the two people having sex under the bush.

    When the sun rises, I will tell Emma to find a way to secretly deliver this letter to Lady Arabe, my future cash cow. If it goes through, this will be the most worthwhile investment I will have made. If the Empress were to know that soon in the near future, more money than she showers upon her brat will fall into my hands, she will surely have a heart attack out of anger.

 Chapter 31

    Ch. 31: Empress Katya

    ¡°Please stay calm, your majesty,¡± maids standing behind the fuming empress begged.

    They had long made their way back to Sunrise Pce with Katya¡¯s daughter in tow, too furious to remain at the Spring Ball a moment longer. A smattering of priceless shattered crystal vases and whatever else Katya couldy her hands ony strewn across the floor. Princess Julia, who had rarely seen her mother¡¯s temper, sat quietly in the corner, fat tears dripping down her face.

    It was a terrifying sight on the rare asions her Serene Majesty, Empress Katya Duvernay let her temper free. Under her calm visage, her eyes would reflect a deadly rage and she would slowly move through the room, knocking over vases and sses indiscriminately. The only sound to apany her anger was twinkling ss, and it was the eery silence that had shivers running up and down her maids¡¯ spines.

    ¡°Everyone out,¡± seethed Katya quietly, like a deadly beast about to pounce on its prey. If one wasn¡¯t experienced in serving the empress, they would not realize just how furious she was.

    Many of the young maids heeded the empress¡¯ words and fled from the room with looks of terror, but a brave few still tried to linger.

    ¡°Your majesty-¡± started Lte, Katya¡¯s closest personal attendant who had apanied her from Duvernay Manor to the castle.

    ¡°OUT!¡± bellowed Katya unexpectedly, her face twisted with rage that waspletely at odds with her usually amiable personality.

    ¡°And tell that wench, Janice, toe in,¡± the empress added before Lte withdrew from thevish sitting room.

    .....

    ¡°Yes, your highness,¡± Lte said respectfully as if the mother of the Empire wasn¡¯t having a full-on tantrum. It was her ability to quickly adapt to any situation that had kept her close to the empress¡¯ side over the years.

    ¡°Mother...¡± sobbed Julia as she decided to brave the choppy waters of her mother¡¯s rage and rushed in to hold Katya¡¯s skirts. ¡°That ve made fun of me. You said that I am better than her in every way, but everyone wasughing at me, not her!¡±

    Katya felt a sh of irritation that her daughter was weak in intellect, for her to be torn to shreds with a few words by that illegitimate bastard. Initially, when she had met Princess Winter, she had found the young girl to be as simple as any other little girl her age. Winter had smiled naively and her words had that childlike lisp that made her seem even more pathetic. But when Katya had heard from a server the exact words that supposedly naive child had used to humiliate her daughter, it filled her with so much fury she had to exit the ball gracefully before she identally created a scene and ruined her painstakingly cultivated reputation.

    A knock sounded on the door.

    ¡°Your highness, Janice has arrived,¡± said a muffled voice.

    ¡°Let her in!¡± the empress insisted impatiently.

    Before the maid she had painstakingly invited back to the pce entered, Katya took a moment topose herself, returning back to the calm mask she always wore. As much as she hated her husband¡¯s bastard, she wasn¡¯t foolish enough to reveal her true heart to an outsider.

    A beautiful woman walked into the room with a falsely timid air, barely concealing the arrogance within her. Janice Combswith, the empress drawled in her mind before settling downfortably in an open seat as the former maid dropped into a low curtsey before her.

    ¡°Your majesty, I am Janice,¡± the maid said. Katya raised her hand, indicating for the ex-maid to stand.

    As a rule, Katya did not surround herself with beautiful women. Her delicate, oval-shaped face and sharp, amber eyes had made her the object of men¡¯s fascination since she was old enough to understand the meaning behind their hungry eyes. She knew how easy it was for a woman of beauty to obtain things others could not with the crook of her finger or the flutter of her handkerchief to the floor.

    Thus, in order to elevate herself and prevent giving others an opportunity topare her beauty, Katya always ensured that her closest attendants and maidservants were women with average features. Those who were still pleasing to the eye, but overall served as good foils for her own looks. Looking at the haughty maid straightening from the floor, Katya knew there was no chance she would ever employ this girl to walk around with her at the pce. Emperor Helio usually had a steel heart, rarely swayed by women unless he wanted to enjoy a quick romp in the sheets, but it was better to err on the side of caution.

    Janice was the kind of beauty that would make a rich man poor within a day just to satisfy her whims, for whom traveling bards wouldpose songs about. Katya narrowed her cat-like eyes as a woman whose looks easily rivaled her own unabashedly looked at her. The girl was around 18 to 20 years old, her face having recently shed its baby fat to reveal a seductress-like face. Her brows arched wickedly and she did not have the appeal of a blushing virgin, more like a woman who a man would imagine himself having a tryst with.

    How strange, the empress thought to herself. She usually had her own people within the servant¡¯s quarters fetter out any woman who was too lovely, with looks such as these, Janice would have been rooted out before she even set foot in the main pce.

    Suspicion rose within Katya¡¯s heart, but she was well-practiced in restraining her inner emotions.

    ¡°You are a pretty girl, Janice,¡± Katya said in a tone that didn¡¯t betray her thoughts.

    An astute maid would have nched in fear, but Janice had no such qualms as she soaked in the praise liberally.

    ¡°Thank you, your majesty,¡± her smug smile so wide it looked like it would break. Katya instantly knew she didn¡¯t particrly care for this young girl, but Janice seemed tock the dexterity needed to be a true threat so she ventured forth with her actual reason.

    ¡°I heard,¡± Katya started softly, picking up a ss of tea a quivering maid had brought in before escorting out Princess Julia, ¡°That you used to serve Princess Winter.¡±

    It took the empress great effort to call that illegitimate brat by her proper name and satisfied her immensely to watch how Janice¡¯s alluring face puckered into barely-veiled disgust.

    ¡°I did, your majesty,¡± replied Janice.

    ¡°Good. Tell me what you thought of her.¡± Katya went straight to the point. Janice eagerly dove into the topic, anxious to prove her worth to the empress and stay at the pce.

    ¡°I thought she was a strange girl, your majesty. I saw many young children in my poor hometown and she did not act like any of them. She never ran around outside and was cooped up in her room constantly. Princess Winter was not nearly as difficult as a child her age would be. It was almost like she had received vigorous training on how to carry herself.¡±

    Katya absorbed the information quickly, as it sharply contrasted with her initial impression of a ditzy, lowborn girl, but maintained her slightly bored expression. She only remarked, ¡°Is that so?¡±

    Her words had the intended effect, making Janice think that the information she had divulged was not at all useful and she strived to say even more. Janice began to show the first signs of humility as she spoke, finally recognizing that her fate at the pce depended on how good the information she gave was.

    ¡°She is quite good at changing her face as well. I don¡¯t know if you know the circumstances of my firing?¡±

    Katya shook her head.

    ¡°That girl,¡± Janice snarled, forgetting to address Princess Winter properly, ¡°Cried at the drop of a hat, making me look like a viin. Then just as I was about to be dragged out the door like a sheep led to ughter, she called me back in and said horrible things to me. It was like she was possessed, and not an ordinary, little girl at all!¡±

    Katya took another sip, deep in contemtion at Janice¡¯s words. It wasn¡¯t unusual to run into clever children among the aristocracy. But despite the shrowded secrecy surrounding how and where Winter was discovered, her informants had been good enough to determine that the princess was found within Radovalsk. For an ordinary child to be so suited for the viciousness of pce life, Katya felt her skin crawl at the implications.

    It was herplete and utter fortune that the girl did not have any powerful families backing her or her husband¡¯s love, otherwise, the empress didn¡¯t even dare think of the implications.

    Katya had been silent for a while after Janice¡¯s disclosed information, and the former maid was beginning to get antsy as she danced from foot to foot. Finally, Janice seemed to no longer be able to stand the silence and spoke.

    ¡°Is the information sufficient, your majesty?¡± Janice spoke, disregarding the well-heeded pce rule not to speak to your masters without their permission. Katya didn¡¯t say anything of it, further understanding why this difficult maid would have been fired so quickly from the Rose Pce.

    Katya was not one to answer the questions of servants and she simply told Janice, ¡°You may leave.¡±

    Janice looked annoyed, her thin lips curving into a displeased pout before she curtseyed deeply and knocked on the door of the sitting room to be let out. Katya did not miss how the girl¡¯s hands were curled into fists, the sight vaguely amusing her. Before the gold embossed doors mmed shut, Lte let herself in and dropped into a curtsey before Empress Katya.

    ¡°Your majesty, I have directed a maid to give Janice a few coins and put her up somewhere for the night,¡± Lte said, her eyes downcast since she, unlike the previous guest, understood her ce on the pecking order. It left a sense of satisfaction within Katya, who had worked quite hard to earn her position as the empress and enjoyed the reverence that followed it.

    ¡°Good. What do you think of this girl, Lte?¡± Katya asked, knowing that as a maid, Lte would probably witness a different side to Janice than she did.

    Lte¡¯s lip curled distastefully.

    ¡°Your majesty, if you don¡¯t mind me saying, I don¡¯t like this girl at all. I spoke with our man in the servant¡¯s quarter, he said that although she had decent features when she entered, the maid wasn¡¯t pretty enough to warrant turning away. That girl must have hidden her face somehow and then revealed once she was admitted so she could seduce her higher-ups. This kind of greedy person, I think she will harm us more than she will help us,¡± Lte said dutifully, her dislike evident in her tone.

    Katya looked away thoughtfully at the mounted clock on her wall carved out of imported teakwood.

    ¡°You may be right,¡± she acquiesced and Lte¡¯s face lit up. But Katya wasn¡¯t done speaking.

    ¡°But even if she can¡¯t fully be one of my people, I¡¯m sure a rude, little thing like Janice will have her uses,¡± Katya finished. Before Lte could politely dissuade Empress Katya further, there was a knock on the door and the voice a male courtier sounded.

    ¡°Your majesty, I have a missive from his majesty, Emperor Helio,¡± Helio¡¯s courtier said.

    Lte¡¯s mouth opened and even a brief sh of surprise went over Katya¡¯s face. How often did she long for Helio to summon her just like this in her spring days at the pce, when she had thought she was lovely enough to seduce any man in the Empire? The many days of solitude had carved their scars into her, as Katya long realized that even if she had earned the most coveted position a woman could have in the Erudian Empire, at the end of the day her husband¡¯s lovey in the grave of her ursed predecessor.

    ¡°Let him in,¡± Katya said, not letting her curiosity leak into her voice. Missive were messages from the Emperor, either to summon someone or pass on important information.

    The doormen opened the doors and in walked a courtier wearing the Emperor¡¯s special livery and carrying a scroll. He dropped onto his knee with a fist on his chest and bowed, the formal greeting for men, and unfurled the scroll with the Emperor¡¯s message. Katya was old enough to dismiss the fantasy of the Emperor summoning her to his bed for the night. The moment she had married him at the beautiful Sacred Temple of the Holy Church, her luxurious, but lonely separate pce had been prepared for her.

    ¡°Your majesty, the missive is as follows: Empress Katya Duvernay, I will be departing immediately to the Western provinces to quell a rebellion. Take care of the pce in my stead. Signed, the Emperor.¡±

    Katya waited a heartbeat, but nothing else followed.

    ¡°Is this missiveplete?¡± asked Lte in Katya¡¯s stead. The courtier stood and bowed.

    ¡°That is the end of the missive, your majesty,¡± he said, his face not divulging any emotion. The men that worked closely with the emperor were just like that, reflecting the same coldness as their master.

    Katya could feel Lte getting displeased on her behalf, but she managed to scrounge up a magnanimous smile and dismissed the young man from her presence. Lte tried to push a small, satin pouch of coins into the man¡¯s hands as she escorted him out, but the man was airtight, quietly but politely refusing the bribe before stepping out.

    ¡°Your majesty,¡± Lte lightlyined as she began to massage Katya¡¯s shoulders. ¡°The Emperor is too unfair with you. You gave him two children and he never bothers to so much as visit!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Empress Katya said, pretending to be the bigger person leaning her head into her hands as Lte began to pull out the tight pins in her hair from the Spring Ball. In truth, she was furious, perpetually simmering in a quiet rage at being ignored by her husband, but what could she expect? Helio, himself, had told her not to expect anything over a decade ago when they had woken up side by side after she had used prohibited magic to dampen his aura and seduce him on a fateful night.

    Besides, now that Helio was going to be out of the pce for an extended amount of time... A sinister grin spread across her face that would have chilled her personal maidservant to the bone if she wasn¡¯t standing behind Katya.

    ¡°Lte,¡± Katya said, monstrous happiness rising within her. ¡°Summon Princess Winter to my pce tomorrow morning. I should like to speak with my new daughter.¡±

    ¡°Shall I summon her before or after the Ladies¡¯ Court, your majesty?¡±

    ¡°Before of course. I¡¯m sure my dear sisters would like to meet my newest daughter,¡± Katya said in a faux-sweet voice.

    Lte was quick on her feet and read between the lines of what Katya had said.

    ¡°You are so smart, your majesty. This is the perfect time to put that ve brat in her wretched ce. When you are through with her, that stain upon our family will cower obediently in your blessed presence.¡±

    ¡°Blessed be,¡± Katya fervently murmured the words used to conclude every Holy Church¡¯s prayer.

    The words the maid had spoken were cruel, but Katya did not correct her as she enjoyed using her maids as a mouthpiece for the things that were too vile for a beloved empress like herself to say. Katya fantasized about how she nned to kill the young princess¡¯s spirit using the numerous special and subtle ways she had taken out herpetitors in her debutante days.

    As maids streamed into the room to undress her from the fine golden gown she no longer delighted in wearing, Katya almost felt better about how Helio had slighted her by not deigning to see her before departing.

    Almost.

 Chapter 32

    Ch. 32: When it Rains...

    The sun has just risen over the sky as I find myself cocooned in the warmth of the kitchen, Emma faithfully standing by my side. I haven¡¯t received the bad news, nor will I receive it for a while, so my smile is easy and unrestrained as I watch the pastries rise in the oven.

    ¡°Careful, your highness, you¡¯ll burn ya hands if you press ¡¯em up against the ss like that,¡± Emma cautions behind me. The ss is indeed scalding hot and I separate from it, only to pull my finished delicacy from the old-fashioned oven that took me a good half-hour to figure out how to operate.

    Emma peers in wonder over my creation, a dish I know for certain she has never seen before. There is little time to waste as Emma wraps a thin cloak around my shoulders to block the morning chill as we exit Rose Pce. The sun is just peeking over the silvery roof of my pce, gradually illuminating our path as we not so subtlely sneak out of my residence. It¡¯s the perfect time for a jailbreak since Finn¡¯s shift doesn¡¯t start until 9 am, around the time I usually awaken in myfy bed.

    ¡°Good morning, Sirs!¡± I say enthusiastically to the two guards stoically guarding the exit.

    ¡°Good morning, your highness,¡± they reply, their low voices in sync. I giggle as I walk past them, not meeting the slightest bit of resistance. I¡¯m fortunate some guards are too nervous to actually enforce my grounding within Rose Pce.

    ¡°You know the way, don¡¯t you?¡± I ask Emma almost in a whisper as the white gate of my pce disappears behind us.

    She gives me a sneaky look, then sticks her hand out. I¡¯ve longe to terms with what it means.

    ¡°Greedy!¡± I grumble under my breath as I fish out a gold coin and toss it at her yfully. With a trick of her hand, it disappears, alluding to Emma¡¯s no doubt fascinating background.

    .....

    Like one of the one-quarter rides outside of grocery stores, the payment reaps immediate results. Emma¡¯s steps hasten, turning down one corridor and the next until I¡¯m utterly lost. The basket of treats on my arm tickles my nose with its enticing aroma, reminding me I¡¯ve only had one treat that I taste-tested to make sure it came out just right. The smell reaches Emma as well, for she turns to me with a pleading look in my eye.

    ¡°Can I ¡®ave one, your highness?¡± she asks with a hopeful expression. I let out an undignified chortle.

    ¡°Sure,¡± I start, leaning in conspiratorially, ¡°If you promise to give back the payment from earlier.¡±

    The joy that had been blooming on her face drops and Emma starts walking even faster despite knowing how hard it was for me to keep up with her. I was already nning on sharing one with her once we reach our destination, but the speed we are traveling makes me swallow my words in exchange for an extra gasp of air. By the time the outdoor stone floor transforms into dewy des of grass, my lungs are burning and begging me to slow down. Just howrge is the imperial pce?

    We stop suddenly and I nearly spill the contents of the wicker basket I borrowed from the kitchen after relieving it of its previous burden. I open my mouth to chide Emma, but she beats me to the punch.

    ¡°Can you hear it?¡± she asks, her eyes gaining a dreamlike quality as if she were speaking of her true love.

    Closing my mouth, I too listen over the bird¡¯s chirping and the soft whistle of the wind to hear a familiar ng of metal. I smile joyfully and grab Emma¡¯s hand.

    ¡°You are true to your word, Emma! We¡¯ve made it!¡±

    Emma blushes at my sudden praise, as she always does whenever I say something kind to her. She must not have many people to properly cherish her in her childhood so as her older, but physically younger friend, it¡¯s my responsibility to fulfill that role.

    There is a hill blocking the view, but there is no mistaking our location. We have arrived at the royal guard¡¯s training ground.

    Traipsing up the hill hand in hand, we reach the top to look over the shallow valley hundreds of men in various states of undress are sparring. The sea of grass isn¡¯t endless. In the distance, my eye can easily make out the barrier of the gate that surrounds the entire pce and a faint aroma of horse manure covers the area, making me wrinkle my nose.

    Emma spots my small action. ¡°Your highness, this is where them pce horses graze.¡±

    I nod in acknowledgment. Our sudden arrival has drawn a few eyes, but I am not familiar with any. I wrinkle my brow, trying to spot the familiar shock of blonde hair, but Finn is not anywhere to be seen. In one of our short conversations that urred when I took walks around my residence, the young knight mentioned that he was fond of sparring before taking up his guard duty.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± an eagle-eyed royal guard said, sweat dripping from his forehead to the grass below as he folds into a bow. His words were a signal to the entire battalion on the field and the ng of metal dulled into silence as a hundred eyesnded on poor, little me.

    I feel a bead of sweat tumble down the side of my head despite the morning chill. No pressure, just a hundred or so unfriendly eyes trained on me. These sons of noble aristocrats must have a good idea of where I stand as a bastard and in rtion to the emperor. If they were to snub me today, no one would find fault in their actions.

    Heaving out a long breath, I trot down the hill with my basket in hand and holding Emma¡¯s hand in the other. I took special care with my outfit to look even more helpless and cute than usual. My white hair is in two pigtails, the yellow ribbons perfectly matching the yellow dress under. A stuffed bunny toy peeks out of my basket, even though I have no interest in ying, to further add to my look. Coupled with the bright red of my cloak, I feel like a miniature version of Little Red Riding Hood as Ie to a stop before the original guard who had first greeted me.

    ¡°Good morning, I¡¯m Winter!¡± I squeak in a chipper childlike tone.

    ¡°I am Sir Gregory, your highness. Do you have a request to make of me?¡± Sir Gregory asks, pushing back his long, dark locks with a well-muscled arm. The newly arrived sun glitters off his sweaty torso, crisscrossed with old scars, and I try not to let my thoughts run away from me.

    Why are so many of these knights shirtless? Why are so many of them so... hot?

    I curse my luck at being reborn as a few months old baby rather than teenage Winter. I¡¯m surrounded by GQ models and single since Jonathan cheated on me, but I can¡¯t do anything since I¡¯m stuck as a child. Letting out all my frustration in a long exhale, I console my heart by reminding myself that I can still admire these fine specimens from afar.

    In my shock, I haven¡¯t responded to Sir Gregory, causing him to go down on one knee before me to better interact.

    ¡°Princess?¡± he asks, his handsome face inches from mine the high arch of brows framing kind eyes.

    Redness stains my cheeks and I look down shuffling my feet.

    ¡°Actually, I brought a gift for you all... since you¡¯re working so hard...¡±

    I¡¯m awkward and stuttering, even though I practiced my lines in front of the mirror beforeing. But in the face of all these knights, a shyness I didn¡¯t know I possessed seizes my form, turning me into a bumbling version of myself.

    I shove the basket in front of me, my cheeks getting even redder at the stuffed animal. Now the prop just feels silly and contrived, making me feel even more of a fool in front of these adults. Conveniently, a gentle breeze sweeps by, dragging off the checkered fabric that covered my treats and carrying the aroma through the group of curious knights.

    ¡°What is that?¡± someone asks, not rudely, from the crowd.

    There are long fried sticks of dough, covered in sugar, a tantalizing cinnamon fragrance wafted from them. Inwardly I smirk to myself. This is a treat none of them have ever seen before, but I can already guarantee they¡¯ll love it. After all, who doesn¡¯t like churros?

    ¡°They called churros. I-I made them myself!¡± The scent has a few men creeping closer, but none of them take the extra leap and snag a piece for themselves. My grip on the basket¡¯s handle tightens, whitening my knuckles to the color of a sheet of paper. If none of them bother to try one, I¡¯ll never be able to show my face around the pce again. Perhaps it was too presumptuous of me to create a snack that does not exist in this world.

    I start pleading in my heart for someone, anyone, to just try a churro. Even for my final exams in college, I have never felt so stressed about something.

    Within the crowd of knights that have surrounded me in a semi-circle, I see some jostling at my 3:00 and light swearing as someone cuts through like grass. It¡¯s a youngerd, right around Finn¡¯s age or even younger with a bright smattering of freckles that makes him look even younger.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about you lot,¡± he announces loudly as he liberally grabs two churros, ¡°But I am sick and tired of the slop they feed us every morning in the army kitchen.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, littledy,¡± he says with a wink that is more yful than seductive, marching off with his booty.

    Watching the little upstart march away with his share, it is the catalyst that sends men rushing towards my basket. I¡¯m jostled almost to the point of tumbling over as 120 churros I painstakingly made are pilfered in seconds.

    ¡°Gentle!¡± Sir Gregory says as he warns hispanions. They pay him little heed and the jostling barely softens.

    As quickly as they moved in, the step back, squinting at the brown stick treat in their hands before taking huge, manly bites off the top. Their expressions go from shock to contemtion, before settling on a surprised grin.

    ¡°This- This is actually good!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right, men! I¡¯ve never seen anything like this, but it¡¯s the best damn thing I¡¯ve eaten in a while,¡± another agrees.

    ¡°Blimey! We shouldn¡¯t have let that little bugger walk away with two. Then I could have gotten one!¡±ins a chubby knight in the back with a sour expression. He watches hispanions wolf down their churros in seconds before wistfully staring at their hand that once had such a good dessert.

    My basket is entirely empty, but I can see people eyeing it hungrily for seconds. There are no more, save for the one in my free hand I hand to Emma. She chows down like a dog on a bone, turning to me with a satisfied expression with sugary crumbs around her mouth.

    A knight steps out from the crowd, a cheerful smile on his face.

    ¡°Thank you, your highness, for your special dessert,¡± he says. I smile back, pleased that my gamble has paid off.

    ¡°It was nothing. If you would like, next time I am free, I will visit again with food.¡±

    Gregory butts in with an apologetic tone. ¡°Your highness, we don¡¯t dare ask you to humble yourself to bake for us. Just for this treat today, we are grateful.¡±

    His glib tongue is pleasing to the ear and I smile wider.

    ¡°No worries Sir Gregory, I like cooking for you! Besides, as a princess, I don¡¯t have much else to do. It is much more fun to do this.¡±

    ¡°You are too kind, your highness. We are undeserving of this.¡± The knights all drop into a bow with their fist over their heart, the salute of the royal guard. I quickly request for them to stand, the pleased feeling in my heart better than any high. Whoever said that the way to a man¡¯s heart is through his stomach is not wrong in the slightest.

    ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind if I visit more. Watching you fight is so impressive!¡± I say, hamming on a bit of praise to the distinguished fighters before me.

    The mild hostility from before has dispelledpletely, leaving a warm atmosphere as a few knights salute me before returning to their sparring. Gregory turns to leave as well, but as the most vocal of the knights I¡¯ve spoken to, I have a few questions for him.

    ¡°Sir Gregory?¡± I call to his retreating back.

    The knight turns around to look at me and I sheepishly twirl my fingers.

    ¡°Do you know where Sir Finn is? He told me that he usually spars in the morning but I haven¡¯t seen him anywhere,¡± I ask in a singsongy voice, truly ying the part of a 5-year-old kid to perfection.

    ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t know?¡± Sir Gregory says, a little sympathy in his eyes.

    I can tell he¡¯s about to divulge something substantial so I hold my breath to brace for it, but the impact still leaves me quaking.

    ¡°Sir Finn left this morning with His Majesty. They have gone to quell a rebellion in Avernall, Sir Finn¡¯s home province, so he was brought along.¡±

    ¡°R-Really?¡± I ask, inplete shock.

    ¡°Yes. Along with Sir Finn, several of our brothers have also left with his majesty, so there is only a handful of us left today.¡±

    My eyes nearly bug out of my head. My father, gone, along with my sworn knight, Sir Finn? A thousand possibilities rush through my head, none of them good. When the cat¡¯s away, the mice will y. That embarrassment I rendered upon Julia, I know with a grim certainty that it will be paid back, a hundredfold.

    ¡°Princess Winter? Your highness?¡± I escape the daze of my impending doom to realize that Sir Gregory has been calling my name.

    ¡°My apologies, sir,¡± I say dropping into a respectful curtsey. ¡°I was... distracted by my thoughts. I¡¯ll leave you to your practice now. Good day, all of you!¡±

    Thest sentence I say slightly louder so that everyone on the field can hear me and I get an enthusiastic response, people pausing their matches to wave back in a friendly manner. I¡¯ve achieved what I came to do: begin to cultivate a friendship with the subtly influential royal guard. But trudging back up the hill, I know this is the equivalent of taking one step forward before being forced back two steps.

    ¡°The snack was delicious!¡± Emma says with almost as much energy as when she speaks of money.

    ¡°I¡¯m d you liked it. I will make some more for you another day,¡± I promise in a lukewarm tone.

    Sensing my sudden drop of mood, Emma speaks no more, guiding me back to the Rose Pce where even worse news awaits me.

 Chapter 33

    Ch. 33: ...it Pours

    The mood in my bedroom is as somber as a funeral. Attending Ladies¡¯ Court is a slightly more formal affair, requiring maids to put me in a slightly nicer dress than usual. As a maid ties ribbons around my knees to keep my stockings from falling, Marie wrings her hands nervously as she runs me through the game n.

    ¡°Your highness, Ladies¡¯ Court is when the Empress, herdies-in-waiting, and select noblewomen are weed to the pce to n events, discuss potential weddings, and asionally y games. To be invited, if you aren¡¯t already ady-in-waiting, is a great honor,¡± she starts nervously. The scroll that is summoning my presence sits on a velvety pillow, mocking me where it sits on a side table.

    So basically an exclusive hangout session with the mother of the empire, I rify in my mind. But I¡¯m certain this event isn¡¯t that simple.

    Previously, I was riding on a high. I¡¯dnded a shallow, but nheless sweet blow on Princess Julia at the Spring Ball after she got me dragged to the dungeon. I discovered Lady Arabe before she had created her massively sessful dress brand and made a good first impression with the knights of the royal guard. How could I have known that it would the equivalent of reaching the peak on an amusement ride, before tumbling down the inevitable drop?

    To this day, I own no jewelry, so my court dress looks quite nd when the maids who dressed me step back and allow me to admire myself. Court dresses differ from the usual dresses I wear every day because there is a certain uniform that must be followed for a formal event at the pce. There is a definite way the sleeves must be cut and a select few colors are avable depending on your husband or father¡¯s rank in court. A matching crown of fabric that resembles a thick headband must simrly be worn along with any special medallions gifted to you by the Empress.

    Theckluster green shade of the dress provided to me oddly resembles barf and it¡¯s entirely devoid of any design save for a modest silver embroidery around the edges. I haven¡¯t even seen what the otherdies will wear, but I know it will be leagues better than mine.

    I roll my eyes at my appearance before strolling out of my room. Even though she is my ymate and has been relieved of most of her work, Emma still has a few duties to attend to and disappeared shortly after we returned from our visit to the royal guard. Stars were dancing in her eyes from watching the men fight and I¡¯m worried she¡¯ll forget the task I designated to her.

    ¡°Marie,¡± I say with a calmness that doesn¡¯t match my internal anxiety, ¡°Please inform Emma to carry out the task I asked of her as soon as possible. Oh and, in an hour,e to the front of Sunset Pce and insist that I must go to my lessons.¡±

    .....

    My nursemaid seems confused by the first request but promises to return in an hour and separates from my small entourage to return to Rose Pce. The matter Emma must do is not rted to the letter I wrote for Lady Arabe underst night¡¯s weak candlelight. It¡¯s for another transaction that will pay dividends towards keeping my head on my shoulders in the future.

    It is around 9 am when we arrive in front of Sunrise Pce, the luxurious pce standing imposingly in front of me. Imported flowering trees from the South create a colorful image in front along with the two stone-faced guards stationed in front. A beaming empress stands between both, her expression juxtaposing theirs. Her resplendent court dress is a glimmering off-white shade made of white diamonds. Rather than the formal headband, she is wearing a crown embellished with rare yellow diamonds that stand out even more with her blonde updo.

    ¡°Winter!¡± Empress Katya says in an excited tone as if she¡¯s that one aunt everyone has who always sneaks some money into your pocket during Christmas.

    It makes for a terrifying sight since I know for a fact that in her eyes, I am worth less than a dog. After all, Julia wouldn¡¯t have taken to addressing me as a ve without any provocation from someone behind the scenes.

    ¡°Mother!¡± I squeal, ditching my orderly procession to run towards the empress. My enthusiasm surprises her and I can feel her stiffen as I get my arms around her full skirt halfway for a hug. But someone who wasn¡¯t adept at adapting to new situations wouldn¡¯t have been able to be empress and she quickly pats me on the back as a semnce of affection.

    Katya takes my hand into her surprisingly chilling one, her false cheer suffocating as she leads my tiny self in the belly of the beast.

    ¡°Little Winter, did you enjoy the Spring Ballst night?¡± she starts gently as we enter the indoors.

    I swallow nervously and eye the paintings on the wall suspiciously.

    ¡°Yes, it was fun! So many pretty dresses and lots of yummy food!¡± in a slightly less cheerful voice.

    ¡°Indeed!¡± she looks down at me, her amber eyes shing with a hidden emotion while she shes a concerned frown. ¡°I saw you wore the dress I gave you. But it looked a little different from how I remember it was custom made. Did you not like it?¡±

    ¡°It was very pretty! But the sleeves were dragging on the floor, it was so hard to walk! And then for the green bit, I was eating a snack and I identally spilled food on it. Nursey said that the stain was too hard to clean so I told her to cut it. Isn¡¯t that smart?¡± I finish with a shit-eating grin.

    Katya looks like she swallowed something unpleasant and my previous hypothesis that she wanted me to y the role of an uncultured buffoon at my first public appearance is confirmed.

    ¡°Yes, very clever,¡± she says halfheartedly. There is nothing more either of us can add to the conversation for we have arrived at the empress¡¯ boudoir where some of the most important women in the Empire are gathered.

    I spy a few familiar faces, but none I can name since only low ranking nobles who wanted to curry favor attempted to speak with mest night. The noblewomen and Katya¡¯sdies-in-waiting are all wearing court dresses, none as glorious as the empress¡¯ but still quite respectable in their disy of wealth and rank. The chatter that had been merrily filling the room ceases, as if someone turned off the sound, and every eye turns to me.

    Most are cold, as expected.

    In the discerning gazes of those who have been clothed in silk and been fed with silver spoons since they were born, I¡¯m an interloper within their exclusive, overly privileged lives.

    The mouthy mother of the mother and daughter pair who were liberally speaking ill of me in my face at the ball sniffs disdainfully.

    ¡°Half-breed,¡± she mutters loud enough for me to clearly hear.

    Seriously? It takes all my strength to just stand there like a piece of wood and not react to the degrading term, my nails painfully digging into my palm as I struggle to maintain a clueless expression. I know I have to rise above the insults, but my blood is already boiling. This world makes me miss the modern sentiment that all men and women are born equal.

    A fewdies titter at herment and Empress Katya lets the insult simmer before she chides the woman.

    ¡°Now, now Lady Mullgard. This isn¡¯t the time or ce for that kind ofnguage.¡± Katya ys the role of the mediator perfectly on the outside. Lady Mullgard turns red and upset from the empress¡¯ short statement, unable to read the double meaning in her words. But I can.

    I feel disgusted and want to yank my hand out of hers. On the surface, Katya¡¯s statement rebukes the Southern noblewoman, but in actuality, she is just advising the nobledy to insult me as much as she wants as long as it isn¡¯t to my face. An arrow from the shadows hurts far more than the one you can seeing.

    I don¡¯t have limitless patience and I¡¯m thoroughly incensed within my first minute of arriving at this so-called Ladies¡¯ Court. It would be more apt to call it the court of snakes. In the midst of my fuming, Katya releases my hand, and I remember one of the first basics I covered in my etiquette ss.

    My knees fold into a deep curtsey as I say, ¡°Greetings your majesty, yourdyships.¡±

    When I stand back up, no one is smiling. I sigh inwardly. This is going to be a long hour.

 Chapter 34

    Ch. 34: Spilling the Tea

    I find my presencergely ignored after I¡¯ve greeted everyone. Empress Katya leads me to a short seat beside her impromptu throne as thediesmence discussing the uing debutante ball. Apparently, the ¡®season¡¯ has started officially with themencement of the Spring Ball and there are many events for unmarrieddies that need nning. The subject matter feels vapid and I quickly zone out, instead stewing on my unfortunate introduction the highest pinnacle of high society.

    This gathering is what every girl with a drop of noble blood longs to join? It all feels very surface level and pointless, altogether leaving a bad taste in my mouth. Free of the constraints of making conversation since I¡¯m the only child in the room, my eyes wander around the spacious boudoir.

    There arerge arched windows disying a green yard artfully decorated by the pce stylists. The wallpaper is wine colored with fleur-de-lis adornments. Paintings of outdoor scenery are tastefully arranged throughout the room, the attention to detail disying the empress¡¯ wealth. Aside from the chairs and cushioned benches we are all seated on, there is a piano and a harpsichord along with a small writing table. I also observe the women as they speak.

    One of thedies, a meekdy-in-waiting addressed as Viscountess Emerson who just echoes whatever Empress Katya decides on, suggests going outside at some point, but anotherdy-in-waiting insists that it is ¡®far too hot¡¯ for her to even think about it. There is a clear pattern of lower-ranked women yielding to higher-ranked ones, so I ce the viscountess on a lower rung on my mental map.

    ¡°That poor Lady Westmont¡¯s mother passed away a few weeks ago. Just thinking about how that poor girl has debuted a year or two ago, yet is sitting all alone at the Westmont estate makes my heart ache,¡± someone murmurs yanking me back into the conversation. The name rings a bell, but the answer is just out of reach like an itch I can¡¯t scratch. It leaves me feeling uneasy.

    ¡°Indeed!¡± Thedies jump on the topic like dogs to a bone.

    ¡°Why when I was her age, I do believe I was well on in my engagement to Lord Bryce,¡± titters ady-in-waiting who is married to Marquis Bryce. She doesn¡¯t look much older than 20, but she speaks as if she is an elderly matron.

    ¡°Well how old is that Lady Westmont?¡± asks a middle-ageddy with a curious gleam to her eyes.

    .....

    ¡°17.¡±

    ¡°17? Why that¡¯s not toote then. As her seniors, I suppose it falls onto our shoulders to take care of her marriage,¡± thedy says, stroking her chin with a poorly obscured look of greed.

    ¡°Lady Vernice! Aren¡¯t you just trying to snap up this girl for yourself?¡± an imposing woman bitterly res at Lady Vernice and snaps her fan shut, not in the mood to y games.

    I peer curiously at this new speaker, who thus far has not engaged in any conversation. Her stern features and gray locks give her a severe aura, making her frowning face even more imposing. Her flinty voice is at odds with the amiable, insincere conversation but no one dares to contradict her, causing her ranking to rise in my mind.

    Lady Vernice awkwardly clears her throat. ¡°Duchess Taylor, my husband is often away at war for long periods of time and takes my only son with him. Is it wrong for me to want a daughter-inw to keep mepany at the manor?¡± she says sullenly, unwilling to back off.

    ¡°Hmph! You just want to pave your son¡¯s road to an early promotion. Don¡¯t think I can¡¯t see the things going on in your little mind,¡± the Duchess bites back quickly. The two women fiercely re at each other, momentarily forgetting typical court formalities.

    A twinklingugh that isn¡¯t harsh on the ears but still draws one¡¯s attention rings through the room, dragging the attention back to my stepmother, Empress Katya.

    ¡°How impolite of me not to offer tea to you all when you came in. Lte, bring tea for thedies,¡± Katya says,ughing behind her hand at her silly error. It made her seem kind and rtable, drawing many women to insist that this was not a big deal. It also effectively cuts off where the conversation of this poor Westmont girl was undeniably heading. To not have a mother in your corner in this era, I¡¯m witnessing firsthand how my life could fall to the whims and machinations of these shallow women.

    ¡°Your majesty, it is but a trifle! If I¡¯m to be honest with you, I drank too much tea with my breakfast this morning and entirely forgot the matter!¡± Lady Mullgard assuages in a long-winded, desperate attempt to rekindle her favor with the empress after the earlier rebuke.

    I¡¯m seated beside Katya, her beautiful face inches from mine, giving me an up-close view of her reactions to the women seated around the room. She waves off Lady Mullgard¡¯sment yfully, but the corner of her mouth curves slightly downwards, the sole evidence of her disgust. Suddenly, her chilly amber eyes arc down at mine before I can look away and I give a big, ditzy smile as my heartbeat picks up its pace. I don¡¯t think anything good wille out of drawing Empress Katya¡¯s attention to myself. And I¡¯m right because the next words from Katya are about me.

    ¡°Sisters,¡± she says with a familiar air as she grabs my hand with her soft ones, ¡°Today we have a new addition with us, Princess Winter. She hase to us from afar, in need of a loving home. I hope to pass on the same grace and etiquette that we have learned in our youths to Winter as the ward, Helio, has brought to be my second daughter.¡±

    Flowery words that cleverly remind everyone of my dubious heritage and my status as a bastard. At the same time as I feel the first stirrings of hatred in my chest, I can¡¯t help but admire her. No wonder Winter was so cleanly taken care of in the novel. With an opponent like Empress Katya, you¡¯d need to be an exceptionally clever individual with many cards in hand. And currently, I have none, neither money nor influential backers. Even if I don¡¯t want to, the subtle hostility reminds me that acquiring the title of the promised child is my sole path of survival.

    ¡°You are truly a saint,¡± simpers ady-in-waiting whose name I don¡¯t know. Katya has 4dies-in-waitingposed of noblewomen who reside permanently in the capital, denoted by a special star-shaped pin, from which the empress¡¯ initial, K, hangs from.

    Katya waves away thepliment in a show of humility. ¡°It is simply my duty as the mother of the empire.¡±

    I suppress the urge to roll my eyes as Katya relinquishes my hand for a teacup from a tray the maids have swiftly set up. I¡¯m seated on a shorter, more ufortable seat beside Katya, clearly disying our difference in status. I am thest to be served despite my rank technically being higher than quite a few of thedies within the boudoir.

    The young maid approaching me has a daring look that instantly sets me on edge. Katya¡¯s informal throne is at the head of the circle of chairs and furthest from the door. As the maid¡¯s back is to most of thedies, only Katya and I can properly see this maid who is to serve me tea.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± she says, bobbing into a quick curtsey that doesn¡¯t match the deeper curtsey I¡¯m entitled to, ¡°Your tea.¡±

    For some reason, she is extending the tea tray towards me rather than the short tray table beside me. A true royal would never take the tray by hand but out of natural instinct and the suddenness of the situation, I reach out for the tea she is handing.

    Something shes in the maid¡¯s eyes and just as we are about to make the handoff, her right hand fumbles. Just a few seconds is all it took. The tray tumbles from her hands, banging my knee painfully on its journey to the floor. But it is quickly overshadowed by the upended china teapot that shatters into a million pieces and generously douses me in boiling hot tea.

    My pain tolerance is not above or below average, the moment the burning sensation bleeds through my skirt to my bare skin, I let out an undignified, ¡°Ow!¡±

    Brown liquid drips from myp to the floor and I stand immediately so the soggy fabric stops burning my flesh.

    ¡°Heavens!¡± cries Lady Emerson dramatically. If eyes weren¡¯t already on me, with her loud shout, now they are.

    I¡¯m not one to scold someone unnecessarily after having been on the receiving end of a client¡¯s anger. However, the unapologetic smirk on the maid¡¯s face as she kneels on the floor leisurely picking up the shards of ss ignites my fury.

    ¡°Oh dear,¡± the empress says before I can get a word in edgewise, ¡°Winter you are too clumsy. The maid is meant to ce the tray on the tea table, not directly in your hands.¡±

    Huh? The switch-up of the narrative blindsides me, and I¡¯m left with a foolish expression on my face as thedies smugly nod in agreement.

    ¡°But I didn¡¯t-¡± I start impatiently, ready to clear my name.

    ¡°I can see that your assigned etiquette teacher did not educate you properly in this matter.¡± Katya makes a show of shaking her head and looking at me in concern as if I¡¯m nothing more than a fumbling fool incapable of the basic function of drinking tea. The maid deliberately dumped piping hot liquid all over my legs and now Katya has spun the tale against my favor.

    There is little point in arguing with my stepmother now as people shake their heads disapprovingly at my clumsiness. Between the word of an empress and a small child, not even a half-wit would believe me.

    I quickly turn to the empress and a sh of surprise runs through her eyes as I humbly say, ¡°It is my fault for not paying attention during my lessons, not Mrs. Laroche¡¯s fault. My apologies for sshing tea on you, mother.¡±

    It¡¯s a respectful apology and my head is bowed in deference, probably the opposite of the freakout Katya expected. There is a mild approval floating in the eyes of the noblewomen, along with murmured words of appreciation. Katya sees all this and recovers quickly, not even allowing me to leave to change out of my ruined court dress.

    ¡°It is of little consequence that you spilled the pot of tea. However, to sully the eyes of all the women in Ladies¡¯ Court, don¡¯t you think you might owe them an apology as well?¡± she replies gently. I grit my teeth and turn towards thedies in the circle with my tea-stained self.

    ¡°My apologies, nobledies,¡± I say, my jaw aching as the women preen under the apology. Forcing an imperial princess to show deference to lower-ranked women, it will be far more difficult for me to cultivate any respect in their hearts after this day.

    ¡°Your majesty,¡± Lady Bryce says with a cunning look, ¡°I have a method that tames the unsteady hands of children. It greatly aided my younger sister, Elizabeth, when she kept her head in the clouds rather than listen to her governess. I don¡¯t know if you are willing to let me try?¡±

    ¡°If you please, Lady Bryce,¡± says Empress Katya, giving thedy-in-waiting a green light.

    ¡°Maids! Bring another pot, but rece it with water instead of tea!¡± Lady Bryce orders. The rapid feet of the help immediately arrange her request, almost running out with a single pot and cup sitting on a tray.

    Lady Bryce shows off her graceful movements as she expertly picks up the pot of tea with a few fingers before daintily pouring a full cup of water. I see steam rise from the gold embossed cup and a wave of dread washes over me.

    ¡°Quick, go deliver this cup over to her majesty,¡± she orders the personal attendant standing by her side. The attendant, full of the same bravado as her mistress, strolls over to where I am standing and parks herself in my face.

    ¡°Simply have her highness bnce the cup in her hands for the remainder of the meeting. As long as a drop of water doesn¡¯t spill from the cup, then it will show us she has truly been learning in her sses. If not...¡± Lady Bryce trails off at the end, but the implications are not in my favor.

    Up close, I can see that this cup is boiling hot. Faint bubbles still dance on the surface of the pot, telling me that the water must have been immediately poured and brought out without leaving it to cool as one is supposed to. The cup itself isposed of delicate china, with a thin handle that barely seems able to support the weight of the cup.

    ¡°Go on and pick it up, Winter,¡± Katya coaxes gently as the women look on with excitement as if watching a show. ¡°Be sure to use both hands in holding the body of the cup rather than the handle, that way both of your hands can learn how to steady themselves,¡± she adds thoughtfully.

    I want to w her face off.

    ¡°Yes, mother,¡± I say obediently with a little curtsey. I gulp nervously and grab the cup, nearly letting go at the scalding heat on my fingertips. Tears prickle my eyes as I firmly pick up the cup from the tray, the icy white-hot pain nearly driving me mad. My hands shake and tremble and Katya beams at me with her saintly smile.

    ¡°I knew you wouldn¡¯t drop it,¡± she says as if she¡¯s proud of me.

    I remember from the webnovel that this is amon punishment for children and one that ra was subjected to when she was relearning all her etiquette after appearing in this world. But those teacups for practice are always full of cool or room temperature water!

    My body shakes like I have a fever, but I don¡¯t want to hand Katya another matter for her to trouble me over so I steel my willpower into clutching the scorching teacup. I can¡¯t hold in the pain any longer and a single, cool tear slides down my face, dripping onto my burnt hand. After the first two minutes, my fingers have begun to go numb, which makes clutching the body of the cup even more difficult.

    Conversation flows around me unfettered, with the asional sly look thrown my way. The impression I gained of Erudian nobilityst night tumbles to new lows as I see these women find glee in making a little kid suffer. There are ck hearts under their pretty dresses.

    About 10 minutes into my subtle torture, an unexpected person speaks up for me.

    ¡°Your majesty... perhaps the princess has learned her error?¡± Duchess Taylor asks in a far kinder manner than she spoke to Lady Vernice in.

    Some people are bewildered by her speaking out for me and although I don¡¯t look away from the cup of water, lest I identally spill some, Imit her gesture to heart.

 Chapter 35

    Ch. 35: Lady Arabe Westmont

    ¡°But Duchess Taylor, the standards that we are held to are quite rigorous. Wouldn¡¯t you agree that it is important for Princess Winter to learn proper etiquette while she is still young? A good husband will not simply fall out of the sky for her to marry.¡± Katya speaks with her eyebrows slightly raised, a picture of innocence and good-naturedness.

    It is the pr opposite of Duchess Taylor, whose face visibly darkens. I have a feeling that it has something to do with Katya¡¯sst sentence and vow to look into her background when I have the chance.

    A maid posted at the door shuffles to where Katya is seated and whispers in her ears. I already know what it is and scream, ¡°Hallelujah!¡± at the top of my lungs. Just kidding, I say it in my head.

    Katya turns to me and in the same, even voice she has spoken in all morning, like a cidke without a ripple, she says, ¡°Winter, it seems it is time for your etiquette lesson. I hope you will take greater care in paying attention during the ss. Can you do that for Mother?¡±

    A maid approaches with a chair and I gracelessly plonk the cup onto the tray.

    ¡°Of course, Mother!¡± I say, channeling all my fury into false cheer.

    My body shivers like I¡¯ve weathered a terrible illness. From suppressing the urge to drop the delicate teacup and wail, my body shakes uncontrobly from the pressure. The sensations of hot and cold surge through my body like a thermometer gone wack. One second I can feel sweat forming on my forehead and in the next, I¡¯m standing in an icy tundra.

    Nevertheless, I grab my skirt with shaking hands, rmed at how the tips of my fingers do not feel the sensation of the court dress.

    .....

    ¡°Thank you for having me!¡± I manage to sh my megawatt smile, even crinkling my eyes a bit to make the overall effect cuter.

    Numerousdies are bewildered by my sudden cheerfulness. Any other child would¡¯ve probably been struggling to hold back tears or just have thrown a tantrum. I¡¯ll leave the tantrums to Julia.

    The image I struggle to hold falls apart when I reach the front gate where Marie waits with a strained expression.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± my nursemaid cries when she sees my bedraggled self, a far cry from how I looked an hour ago.

    I¡¯m too exhausted to assuage her.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go, Marie.¡±

    A light breeze goes by and there is still no sensation at the end of my fingers as if there are weights hanging from the tip of my finger. I¡¯m more than slightly concerned about the state of my hands. I don¡¯t greet the guards as I normally do, only stumbling in and slumping onto the sofa in front of a surprised Mrs. Laroche. The shock on her face is so poignant she has forgotten to nag me about how udylike I was when sitting down just now.

    ¡°Your highness-¡± Mrs. Laroche starts, uncharacteristically breaking from her drill sergeant routine to look at me with concern. She¡¯s not a highly ranked noble, but as a well-educated noblewoman, she surely knows I went to the exclusive Ladies¡¯ Court just based off my dress.

    ¡°Can we,¡± I pause, my voice containing a faint warble like I¡¯m about to embarrassingly burst into tears, ¡°Can we study the higher-ranked nobles today?¡±

    After all, books can only tell me so much about this Empire and its people. Marie brings a bowl of ice water and I dunk my hands in them as Mrs. Larocheunches into the most esteemed Houses of the Empire.

    The great Houses of the Empire are the ancestors of the humble warriors who had helped the Empire¡¯s founding mage, Erudian in the founding of the original kingdom. There are five main houses, who now simply go by their noble titles, and they areposed of his closestrades.

    House Amarelius, House Taylor, House Avernall, House Duvernay, and the most elusive of them all, House Wolfe.

    As Mrs. Laroche carefully exins the powers that have long controlled the Empire, I further rearrange my hasty rankings from the Ladies¡¯ Court. I knew Duchess Taylor held high footing, but I didn¡¯t expect that second to the empress, she was the woman who held the most sway in the Empire. And as for the remaining noble lineages, a few were branches that had broken off from the main Houses over the years while the remainder were aristocracy that had established themselves after the Erudian Empire was founded.

    It¡¯s a wild history lesson that makes me almost forget about my horrible initiation to Ladies¡¯ Court. But when Mrs. Laroche makes a subdued exit and my stomach rumbles, I¡¯m reminded painfully as my fork tters from the numb hands. I fruitlessly try to pick a pea off my te, but my hand is clumsy and ungainly.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± I mutter under my breath as I diligently chew after Marie feeds me.

    This is absolutely humiliating. I temporarily forget that it isn¡¯t that weird for someone to hand feed a child, my mature mind wounded by the grievance. Marie raises her eyebrows at mynguage but says nothing as she helps me undress from the cursed court dress and tucks me into bed.

    A tear slowly slides down her slightly wrinkled face, dripping onto her maid¡¯s uniform.

    ¡°Marie?¡± I ask with concern, forgetting my own injuries.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, your highness,¡± she says, her voice thick with sadness.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    She holds up a small bottle in a ceramic container. ¡°When I saw that you were burned, I sought out the royal physicians in order for one of them to attend to your injuries. But-¡±

    Marie breaks into a fresh round of tears and I can already guess what happened.

    ¡°-But when I walked in and began to ask for a doctor to attend to you, a maid from Sunrise Pce rushed over and said that Princess Julia had fallen and been severely injured. Without another care for my words, every physician rushed out to take care of the princess. Only an apprentice gave me a salve for your wounds and a candy to suck on!¡±

    She opens up the container to reveal a smooth brown paste with an unpleasant scent. When it wafts into my nose, I wrinkle it unconsciously.

    ¡°I know it stinks, your highness! Just eat this candy while I apply your medication,¡± Marie says reassuringly. There is a flurry of unwrapped paper and then Marie shoves the small morsel into my mouth for me to eat.

    My little eyes widen. Peppermint!

    I¡¯ve always been a pacifist at heart, but if the author for this stupid webnovel was standing in front of me, I would gleefully strangle them to death. Marie notes my sharp intake of breath, but she associates it with the pain from my burnt fingers as she starts cooing at me like a baby while applying the stinky salve.

    The candy I spit out when she¡¯s not looking, the dreaded red and white pinwheel spinning across my cover and tumbling to the floor. But the minty vor has branded my tongue, unpleasantly lingering as Marie bandages each finger in thin swaths of fabric and shuts the heavy curtains of my room.

    Small bolts of pain run through my fingers, a wee contrast from the numbness that has gued me for the past few hours. I have little faith in the medical technology of this archaic world, but the paste is quite effective. But the tingling in my hands also reminds me of an unpleasant truth that I have too quickly forgotten ¨C my every move is closely watched by Peppermint. I vow to myself to start digging for answers on how to cut Peppermint¡¯s influence out of my life and fall into a fitful sleep gued by strange dreams.

    At the same time on a small mansion 30 miles outside of Radovalsk, Lady Arabe Westmont discovered something unusual on the window sill of her bedroom. She had been doodling the dresses she longed to create with her own hands, channeling her longing to escape the confines of her family mansion onto paper.

    Her family mansion was no longer her home, just a shell containing painful memories.

    First, her father had fallen in battle years prior, failing to leave behind an heir besides Arabe and her ailing mother. That was when the families that smelled blood in the water came to bite. Rtives she had never met, old family friends her mother didn¡¯t know, they all came knocking at their doors with a hungry look in their eyes.

    It all made Arabe feel sick. Her family had never been noble by trade, only by virtue of her father aplishing huge merits and gaining massive respect within the Erudian army. Apparently, in taverns, they even sang songs of the victories of one of the most famous knights. But on an asion she had happened to hear one, it fell t in her ears.

    ¡°To all those young and old, the knight Westmont deeds must be told!¡±

    For the sake of being a valiant war hero, the Sir Westmont that was so beloved had forgotten his family in search of honor on the battlefield. Arabeughed bitterly to herself, after all her father had eventually earned it. But now, the weight of his newly acquired title fell upon her shoulders, subjecting her to the most hellish teenage years at the hands of ¡°true¡± noble girls.

    ¡°What is this?¡± she inquired aloud, gently cracking open her window to fetch the letter. Her simple bedroom was on the first floor and easily essible, so she looked around the bushes just beneath the window but saw no one. Arabe had a keen eye for materials and goods, easily discerning that the envelope was of top quality, the kind purchased by those with money. But there was no seal on it, making her wonder if it was a new sick joke her tormentors hade up with.

    Her cheek was still bright red from the p at the Spring Ball by the younger Lady Till, making her more suspicious than usual of the letter. Her quick hands deftly sliced the letter opener, revealing one thick piece of paper with slightly messy handwriting. Arabe¡¯s eyebrows climbed higher and higher as she began reading, first from shock then pleasure.

    The fact that she had never shared her dream to create a sessful dress boutique never crossed her teenage mind as Arabe¡¯s hands began to tremble while holding the letter. To be honest, Arabe was keen on avoiding excessive social interaction and holed herself up in the Westmont mansion with its increasingly hostile servants. Since she was 11, she had drawn dresses as a hobby and even taught herself how to sew by observing the stitches on her own clothes.

    For the Spring Ball this year, Arabe had taken the first plunge and sewn her own dress, pawning off the few valuables the servants hadn¡¯t already made off with for fabric. With this 1500 gold coins the mystery person promised, she could certainly buy a shop space on a busy street in East Bend as well as skilled seamstresses!

    ¡°Mydy, your tea!¡± came a snide voice outside the door, nearly startling her into dropping the ink pen she was writing her reply with.

    Without invitation, in butted one of Arabe¡¯s most unruly personal maids. The young maid, Penny, had always been discourteous, but since her mother had passed away a few weeks prior, that discourteousness had morphed into outright disrespect. But what could Arabe do about it? In the entire mansion, Penny was feared for her belligerence and everyone followed suit.

    Penny strolled casually into the room with a tray of afternoon tea, her gray maid dress bringing a frown to Arabe¡¯s usually calm face.

    ¡°What are you wearing?¡± her soft voice snapped at the maid. ording to typical mourning rituals, the maid along with all the personnel in the house should be wearing all ck. ck dress, ck apron, and a ck cap. Was this not a p in her face? Even if she was only a noble by merit, wasn¡¯t this a bit much?

    But Arabe had never had a way with words, the anger failing to spill out of her mouth in words as her cheeks puffed to a red color. She resembled a helpless porcupine rather than an imposing noblewoman.

    ¡°In the wash, the ck color washed out of my dress. Please forgive me, mydy,¡± Penny replied flippantly. She set the tray down on Arabe¡¯s writing desk with a thud.

    ¡°You-!¡±Arabe started furiously. Her sickly mother had just been buried, but no one in the entire mansion seemed to care other than her.

    ¡°If there is nothing else, mydy, I will leave.¡± Penny quickly exited before Arabe told her she could, leaving a fuming girl in her wake.

    ¡°Hmph!¡± Arabe sniffed angrily, but the waves of anger subsided as she looked at the golden ticket sitting on the table before her.

    Dear Lady Arabe,

    You have big dreams.

    Let me help you fulfill them.

    Arabe traced the first words of the letter, a pleased smile on her face. The mystery benefactor did not ask for much, just a 20% stake in profits after the first six months of opening and exclusive designs made to size when requested. Arabe had been ready to mortgage the Westmont mansion, a matter which would have caused much shame if discovered, so this was a wee solution. She ignored the lukewarm ss of tea as she wrote back eagerly, her elegant handwriting flowing across the page.

 Chapter 36

    Ch. 36: Lemon Bars

    The weak cries of a child follow me into awareness, almost ringing in my ears when I cracked my eyes open. Thin shreds of light no longer filtered in from under the curtains, indicating to me that it is night time. Who was crying? Why were they crying? I cough weakly, my chest feeling ufortable as thest vestiges of my dream slip through my fingers like water.

    ¡°W-Water...¡± I call out, my voice sounding croaky like I¡¯ve got a cold.

    Out of concern, I ce a hand on my forehead, ignoring the dull sting of my fingertips as an excessive heat meets my palm. I roll my eyes in irritation. In addition to making Princess Winter a weak-willed, irrelevant character in the webnovel, it seems she also had a weak physical constitution.

    I hear someone shift in the room and look anxiously to my left, only to see Emma walk over.

    ¡°Your highness, you¡¯re sick,¡± she says matter-of-factly as she tips a cool ss of water down my throat since my hands are still out ofmission.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± I respond dryly, in between sips of water. The matter of my illness falls to the back of my mind as I look at Emma expectantly.

    ¡°Did you do it?¡± I whisper in a hushed, excited tone.

    She nods, bringing the first smile to my face in 24 hours.

    .....

    ¡°Good, good. You¡¯re the best! I have 2 coins sitting in the drawer over there for you,¡± I say. Emma quickly forgets to feed me water as she expertly rolls the coins around in her hands before they disappear into her apron.

    ¡°One is for my friend who delivered the letter,¡± she says. I nod understandingly.

    ¡°There is a second bag in the drawer, you can distribute one each to your friends granted they are willing to do what I asked.¡±

    I get down to business right away. One of the most important lessons I learned in my college sses is the importance of word of mouth. Considering how I was nning to work in PR, I understand extremely well the influence of nder or praise can have on a person¡¯s image.

    I have yet to understand theyout of Radovalsk and its social circles, so both the matters of acquiring and spreading information are difficult for me. I¡¯m stuck within the Rose Pce for most of my days without a reliable informant and I have no friends in high ces. As such, I can only rely on Emma¡¯s ¡®friends¡¯, the young children in living the underbelly of Radovalsk, to serves as my eyes and mouth.

    A clever smirk finds its way onto my face. ¡°By next week, I hope the capital will be buzzing about how the empress summoned the young princess to Ladies¡¯ Court and burnt her the moment the emperor left to tame a rebellion.¡±

    Emma gives me a confused look. ¡°But why do you want everyone to know?¡± she asks quietly, her 7-year-old mind notprehending the reasoning behind my actions.

    ¡°Haven¡¯t you heard all the wonderful things people say about Empress Katya?¡± I start patiently, happy to walk her through my line of thought.

    ¡°Aye, your highness.¡± Emma nods before reciting, ¡°She¡¯s kind, sweet, and beautiful. She loves the people like they is her own children.¡±

    ¡°Are her own children,¡± I correct. I¡¯ve been helping Emma shed her ent for the past few days and she has proved to be a quick learner, almost sounding like an entirely different person.

    ¡°I have a secret to tell you, don¡¯t know if you can keep it?¡± I whisper conspiratorially.

    Emma leans in, excitement evident in her eyes. All kids love secrets.

    ¡°The empress... wants to kill me!¡± I tell my young friend the truth, but she reacts less than I thought, only her eyebrows raising.

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± she says dully and this time, I¡¯m the one with the surprised expression.

    ¡°Well.. I mean I think that¡¯s a pretty big deal... but-¡± I mumble, slightly offended that the fact my stepmom wants to murder me doesn¡¯t seem to matter much to Emma.

    ¡°I can kill her for you, your highness,¡± she then says inly, causing me to look up in rm.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that how it works? If someone is trying to kill you, kill them first.¡± You¡¯d think Emma is talking about the weather.

    ¡°That technically isn¡¯t wrong but... isn¡¯t killing someone a bit much? Besides, killing the mother of the empire isn¡¯t as easy as snapping your fingers,¡± I hazard out. The teacher has be the student in this conversation.

    ¡°True,¡± Emma acquiesces, and I let out a breath of relief too soon.

    ¡°Just poison her!¡±

    ¡°Emma!¡± I yelp, covering my friend¡¯s mouth before the wrong person hears and razes Rose Pce to the ground.

    ¡°Let¡¯s stop talking about murder, okay? I know you¡¯re a gifted child, but even getting away with this would be too much for you,¡± I say as I try to reason with Emma. I don¡¯t know how exining the power of public opinion turned into a discussion about murder.

    ¡°So you want me to work on my sword skills? No worries, your highness. I promised you, I will be the prince who saves you,¡± Emma says sweetly. She¡¯s so cute, I want to pinch her cheeks and I give into my urge a minuteter as I tug at the newly formed chubby redness now that I share my food with her.

    ¡°That¡¯s not a bad idea actually. The part about learning to fight with a sword I mean,¡± I quickly rify. A daydreames to life in my head, of Emma swishing her sword valiantly at anyone who tries to attack me. Since Emma is a girl, in the current era I¡¯m stuck in, no one would suspect her.

    Emma looks at me like she just won the lottery. ¡°Really? You¡¯ll let me?¡± she says with the most animated grin I¡¯ve seen on her face.

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± I respond, feeling bashful in the face of her joy. ¡°You don¡¯t even need to ask permission from me. As long as it doesn¡¯t interfere with your duties and spending time with me, your best friend, then feel free to do it.¡±

    But all the joy suddenly melts off her face like it was never there in the first ce.

    ¡°W-We¡¯re best friends?¡± she says with a nk expression.

    I suddenly feel very nervous and rub the back of my neck with stinging hands. ¡°I mean, if we¡¯re being technical you are the best friend I have made here. But if that term offends you, I¡¯ll be honest with you, Emma. I¡¯m starting to regard you as the sister I never had,¡± I ramble, looking everywhere but at her face.

    ¡°S-sisters?¡± Her eyes are shining and to my horror, I can see the start of tears in Emma¡¯s eyes. Gosh, now I¡¯ve made the emotionless little kid burst into tears. Nothing has gone right for me since I showed up in this stupid world.

    My view of Emma¡¯s face switches to the ceiling as something warm smooshes me into a hug. Emma¡¯s short hair tickles at my nose, making me want to sneeze, but I hold it down since sick sneezes tend to be pretty gross. I tentatively pat Emma on the back as her shoulders tremble with tears.

    ¡°Yes, Emma,¡± I say warmly, ¡°We¡¯re sisters. Which means we are each other¡¯s ride or die!¡±

    ¡°Ride or die?¡± Her voice is muffled since her face is buried in my bedsheets.

    ¡°Erm... sworn partners who will stand by each other¡¯s side no matter what! Whether it¡¯s sickness or a powerful enemy, the partners will brave it all together.¡± I say in a rush exnation for my modern slip up.

    The door to my room opens and the soft, moderate steps indicate to me that it¡¯s Marie.

    ¡°How sweet!¡± she coos at the scene. I wonder what it must look like, two very adorable little girls hugging each other. ¡°But do take care, Emma. Her highness has fallen ill and if you catch it, you won¡¯t be able to y with her for a few days.¡±

    I snort softly. Emma and I have never yed together and thankfully, she has never shown any interest in the dolls gathering dust in the corner of my room. But the words spark something in Emma as she backs off like I¡¯m on fire. Her face still carries the pleased, little smile of our newly founded sisterhood.

    The subsequent days pass quickly. Empress Katya summons me once during that time, but I have the handy excuse of actually being ill so I spend many of these days in bed and nning my next moves.

    This nning finds me once more in the kitchen of the Rose Pce, sneezing uncontrobly as I identally inhale some flour.

    ¡°I thought you said you were good at baking, your highness,¡± Emma says dryly, watching my plight without bothering to fan the flour out of the air.

    ¡°I am!¡± I insist indignantly. My baking skills are actually mediocre at best, but to this old-fashioned world I¡¯vended in, my treats are quite impressive.

    I kept Emma¡¯s words in mind since our heart to heart chat, about her eagerness to learn how to wield the sword. So today, I¡¯ve long decided to pay another visit to the royal guard, to both strengthen my rtionship with them and if I¡¯m lucky, find a willing teacher for Emma.

    The lemony aroma sneaking out from my wicker basket draws the knights in like flies. I¡¯ve scarcely made it over the hill before I see not one, not two, but 30 knights rush towards me! I¡¯m wearing the same red cloak asst time and almost stumble over the long length as I inadvertently take a step back from the approaching horde of half-dressed, sweaty men.

    Emma steps protectively in front of me, her small stature not too muchrger than my own, and I feel my heart warm at the gesture. Her move also doesn¡¯t escape the eyes of the approaching crowd, who quickly gain some self-awareness and step back with slightly ashamed expressions.

    In sync as if they¡¯ve practiced, the men closest all drop to their knees with a fist on their chest.

    ¡°Greetings, your highness!¡± they all say with far more respect than they didst time.

    I raise my brows in surprise before shyly telling them to stand up. Whoever said that food is the way to a man¡¯s heart was not wrong.

    ¡°I see you are all doing well today. I thought about how hard you are all workingst night and decided to bake for you all again. Since there weren¡¯t enough treats for everyone, I have brought two baskets! I hope you don¡¯t feel I am imposing on your practice time when Ie to visit.¡±

    I blink myshes slowly as I speak, the paragon of a sweet, little girl.

    ¡°No, not at all! We¡¯d love it if you visited more!¡± an overeager person in the crowd crowed. I distinctly hear someone whacking him for speaking out of turn and have to cover my mouth to giggle as the person whines.

    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s not my fault the chefs at our barracks are trying to kill us with their cooking before our enemies do!¡± he says with a pout, his voice possessing the telltale crack of those just entering puberty.

    The crowd shifts as everyone bursts intoughter and I spy that the speaker is none other than the freckly kid who snatched up the first two churros I made. He¡¯s the runt of the litter, the smallest in the crowd but the gazes of his fellow knights are warm.

    I spy the friendly Sir Gregory fromst time, and after letting the knights free on the two baskets Emma and I lugged over, I stroll over to the man.

    ¡°Good morning, Sir Gregory,¡± I chirp in an angelic voice.

    ¡°Your highness.¡± He doesn¡¯t go to his knees, but still buts his fist on his chest.

    We engage in light conversation that isn¡¯t difficult to follow. I find Sir Gregory to be an agreeable man, his temperament simr to a mountain, or an unmovable rock. Just looking at him, it is easy to tell that he is not someone to be easily shaken or manipted.

    ¡°What do you think of women fighting? Like with swords?¡± I swish my hands around a few times with an invisible sword for show, even though he probably understood what I am asking from the start.

    There is a glint of mirth in Sir Gregory¡¯s brown eyes as he replies thoughtfully, ¡°I am not against the idea. As amander in the army, I can think of many circumstances it could be useful.¡±

    I fight the urge to pump my fist in victory. Not only is Sir Gregory a decent man, he also isn¡¯t tied down by the misogynistic thinking of this world. But that doesn¡¯t guarantee he will agree to my next request.

    ¡°Then,¡± I start, tapping my fingers together nervously, ¡°Do you think my friend, Emma, can learn?¡±

 Chapter 37

    Ch. 37: It¡¯s a Deal

    Sir Gregory rubs his chin in thought.

    ¡°You want your maid to learn the art of battle?¡± he asks, no longer looking at me with that aodating expression people have for children. The sudden fierceness behind his eyes frightens me, but it feels familiar as if I¡¯ve seen it recently. My mind shes to the disastrous Ladies¡¯ Court and I wonder if I might have seen his mother or sister there without knowing it.

    Emma, who was dilly-dallying behind us and kicking at the grass hears his statement and looks up at me with big eyes, just as eager to hear my answer.

    ¡°Well, yes,¡± I reply with a false braveness I don¡¯t feel, ¡°I do want her to be skilled at the sword. And not just to protect me. But because this is something Emma wants to do. She is quick on her feet and rather smart. Emma also has a good heart, just like the heroes in the stories I like reading. Although she isn¡¯t noble, I think she more than qualifies to be a knight-in-training.¡±

    I hold my breath as the stern expression lingers for a beat. I feel even more sure than I¡¯ve seen his face before, and like a jigsaw puzzle fitting in ce, the answer hits me. Duchess Taylor! The set of his brows when he was looking at me serves as the final clue and I realize he is the heir to the Taylor family¡¯s Dukedom in nearby Mulworth.

    ¡°I can agree with what your request,¡± Sir Gregory starts, his face smoothing out quickly as if the previous sternness never urred. I can feel a ¡®but¡¯ing, so I don¡¯t get too excited.

    ¡°But there is the question of who will be willing to teach this girl,¡± he finishes. ¡°I can ask around, but I can¡¯t guarantee that anyone will want to teach Emma.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s okay!¡± I say, feeling like a weight has lifted off my shoulder. I already figured that getting permission would be the most difficult step in this process. ¡°Thank you sir for allowing Emma to train.¡±

    .....

    I drop into a quick curtsey, causing him to chuckle and the previous tension bes an afterthought. Knights are leaving the wicker baskets in droves, alerting me that all the treats have been consumed, probably down to thest crumb. As an extra thank you to the man before me, I reach into the hidden pocket of my dress, where I pull out one of the few extra lemon bars I carried on my person.

    ¡°Sir Gregory, I saved you a piece! Do you want one?¡± I ask sweetly. I saved several pieces as contingency ns, but what you don¡¯t know can¡¯t hurt you.

    Laying within the light pink handkerchief is a square dessert, the yellow, gtinous portion shimmering under the morning sun. Sir Gregory looks at it curiously, probably unustomed to such treats and I walk him through my handmade treat, from the carefully squeezed lemons to the scrumptious shortbread that isn¡¯t too dry. As I speak, I pretend I¡¯m exining my dish to the judges on cookingpetition show and Sir Gregory is tickled pink by my faux seriousness as I talk.

    ¡°Alright, alright. I¡¯ll take it,¡± he says in between belly-grabbingughs. The tall knight takes a bite and I¡¯m pleased to see his eyes light up in approval as he wolfs it down in one go.

    His eyes scan the dispersing field quickly before he looks down at me. ¡°I think I have a good candidate for you.¡±

    Without another word, he hastens through the field, his men clearing his path like the Red Sea and muttering a barely discernible, ¡°Commander!¡±, as he stalks past.

    The intended victim has be clear in my eyes, the same loud-mouthed, freckly fellow who spoke up a few minutes prior. Everyone standing around him runs away when they see Sir Gregory quickly approaching, their faces telling me this isn¡¯t a one-time urrence. However, the victim is too busy finishing his lemon bar to see hismander approaching him so suddenly.

    ¡°Dick,¡± Sir Gregory calls out in a no-nonsense tone, causing me to nearly choke on my spit.

    This kid¡¯s name is Dick? Poor thing. I bite my lips to keep my immatureugh inside, my chest nearly shaking from the Herculian struggle of keeping my mouth shut.

    Dick scrambles at themander¡¯s appearance, the lemon bar precariously bouncing between his hands before he secures it in his grip once more. He¡¯s a gangly teenager, the rebellious spirit shining in his eyes as he slouches while greeting Sir Gregory.

    ¡°Sir,¡± he says in a petnt voice, ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything wrong this time. It was Sir Paul who mixedxatives in the horses¡¯ cornmeal. I promise! Whoever said anything else is probably lying!¡±

    Sir Gregory raises a slender eyebrow with his hands sped behind his back, a handsome figure that makes me catch my breath for a second. He has Duchess Taylor¡¯s prating gaze that makes the other party¡¯s mouth go dry from fear. I have just felt the power of this stare so I feel a slight bit of pity for this kid.

    ¡°When did I ever say you did anything wrong?¡± Sir Gregory asks and Dick nches, his freckles standing out even more.

    ¡°Erm... then take it as if I never said anything at all,¡± Dick says in a weak attempt to absolve himself of trouble. I shake my head slightly. Clearly this kid has never learned the art of lying. No wonder Sir Gregory is so strict with him.

    ¡°Nevermind that. I have a task for you. You must train this child in the basics you were taught when you arrived at the royal guard,¡± Sir Gregory orders.

    Dick looks down at me and a scowl blooms on his face.

    ¡°Her?¡± he says in a tone that shows his unwillingness.

    ¡°No, her.¡± Emma steps out from behind me and the scowl diminishes a tad, but not much. Seeing his reaction, I can¡¯t help but frown as well. What would be so bad about teaching me anyways?

    ¡°However,¡± Sir Gregory continues, ¡°It is your choice. Her highness requested a teacher for her maid so further deliberations will be between you two.¡±

    The older knight steps back and I cheerfully tell him goodbye, leading to onest chuckle before he walks back to the sparring men. I feel assured knowing that Duchess Taylor imparted her good conscious into Sir Gregory. Unfortunately, as an important figure in the royal guard, rather than him teaching Emma, this frowning clown in front of me will.

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you,¡± Dick starts arrogantly, ¡°I don¡¯t teach children. I¡¯m a member of the royal guard, where would I have the time for that?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I say, throwing him off-topic.

    Dick¡¯s face ckens with anger. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear Sir Gregory? I¡¯m Dick!¡±

    ¡°I mean your full name, Dick,¡± I say serenely, keeping my giggles at bay by biting my tongue. I pay no mind to how he doesn¡¯t address me respectfully since there aren¡¯t bad intentions behind his omission.

    Dick sniffs indignantly. ¡°Hmph! I¡¯m Sir Robert Chensworth.¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll call you Robbie.¡± I vaguely recall that Dick wasn¡¯t an unusual name in the past, but in the modern era, no self-respecting man would go by that name.

    ¡°What? What¡¯s wrong with Dick?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. I just prefer Robbie.¡± I reply nonchntly as he bristles with anger. It¡¯s fun talking with this kid, who wears all his emotions on his sleeves rather than hiding them like most of the people I¡¯ve had the misfortune of meeting.

    ¡°But let¡¯s get down to business. Emma here wants to learn how to wield a sword. I also would like her to learn. What will it take for you to agree to be her teacher?¡± I say in a serious voice. My high pitched, baby voice ruins the effect, but Robbie sobers up and settles on ring at me.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything you can offer me that I¡¯d want,¡± Robbie sourly replies as he adds an emphasis on you.

    My eyes fall on the crumbs still clinging to the edge of his mouth and I know I already have him in the bag. Now, it¡¯s just a matter of making him think he¡¯s pulling a fast one on me.

    ¡°Really?¡± I let a childish pout onto my face and Sir Robbie puffs his thin chest, feeling like he is about to have the upper hand.

    ¡°Of course! You look like a ghost with that flour on your face and I don¡¯t think you have enough money to interest me. In fact, you look just like that pale, old nutcase who haunts the shrine?¡±

    Look like a certain nutcase? Flour on my face? I turn to Emma in shock and she toes the ground with a faint blush on her cheeks. A burst of mortification floods my chest as I think of how I just walked around in front of all the knights looking like Casper the ghost.

    Out of annoyance, I quickly counter, ¡°Look whose talking! The fool whose sparring on a field that smells like horse shit. Emma has never lifted a weapon in her life and themander seeks you out to teach her. Shouldn¡¯t that tell you how youpare to all the other knights here? You should consider it your good fortune to tutor Emma and perhaps advance your low position in the royal guard.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Robbie cries, looking offended. I snort ungracefully. He started it technically, I just ended it.

    Some of my words carve their way through his thick skull because I see a pensive look fill his eyes before a devious light fills them.

    ¡°Since you want me to teach your maid-¡°.

    ¡°-Emma-¡± I interrupt.

    ¡°-Emma so badly, I will do it. However, it won¡¯t be free.¡± Robbie finishes unsteadily.

    I nod since that is what I expected. In between his dramatic pauses, I reach into those pockets and pull out a lemon bar for Emma and I, the citrusy aroma briefly recing the horse manure as I break the treat in two.

    ¡°For you, Emma,¡± I say, putting half in her grateful hands.

    I look back up at Robbie innocently, chewing generously at the dessert as Robbie stutters through hisst words.

    ¡°What is the price?¡± I ask after an extended period of Robbie unabashedly staring at the food I¡¯m eating. The teenage knight sparks back to life.

    ¡°If you want me to teach Emma, then you have to make stuff for me too. Not just when youe to visit the royal guard, but exclusive snacks for me! And more often than you give it to the others.¡± Robbie insists with a tricky grin, just as I hoped.

    I make a show of rubbing my chin thoughtfully as if Robbie has just given me a difficult proposition rather than the one I¡¯d actually hoped for. Sir George has actually granted me a great favor. If it was a different knight, they would turn their nose at my being a bastard and refuse to help Emma. Or they would demand something obscene from me like an exorbitant amount of money or a government position, things far beyond my realm of capability. Baking is a piece of cake, no pun intended,pared to those scenarios.

    ¡°Fine. You have a deal,¡± I say glumly as Robbie smirks down at me. ¡°Let¡¯s shake on it?¡±

    I grab Robbie¡¯s hand a give it two vigorous shakes. ¡°This means that you can¡¯t break this deal ever, Sir Robbie. Got it?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dream of it!¡± he replies triumphantly.

    ¡°Little girl,¡± he calls to Emma as he prepares to leave, ¡°Meet me on this field before dawn tomorrow!¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± Emma replies adorably, tossing her hand into a salute as she has observed other knights doing. I have to wring my hands together so I don¡¯t pinch her cheeks again.

    ¡°Thank you, your highness!¡± Emma tells me as we walk away from cheerfully waving knights. Her eyes shine like stars as she smiles at me, the gloom temporarily lifting from her face and reminding me how young she is. Emma has proven herself to be more capable than any kid I¡¯ve ever met.

    I¡¯m certain of this because I babysat my neighbor¡¯s kids on Thursday nights back when I was Maria and those booger infested, hyperactive brats could barely tie their own shoes, let aloneplete secret tasks like Emma.

    I smile conspiratorially, ¡°Don¡¯t thank me yet. We haven¡¯t discussed the subject of payment for this boon.¡±

    Emma swallows audibly, making me feel bad for a second as the stars fade from view.

    ¡°Payment?¡± she almost whispers, her foot catching on the damp grass from surprise.

    I toss my arm around her slender shoulders, causing my friend to nearly drop the empty wicker baskets she¡¯s carrying.

    ¡°I just need to know...,¡± I say leaning in close, ¡°What¡¯s this I¡¯ve heard about an ¡®old nutjob who haunts a shrine¡¯? Why didn¡¯t you ever tell me there are good ghost stories about this pce?¡±

 Chapter 38

    Ch. 38: Gandalf¡¯s Twin

    Emma¡¯s shoulders sink back to a resting position under my arm as our feet carry us back towards the path.

    ¡°He¡¯s the old man that lives at the shrine?¡± she says, back to her deadpan voice.

    ¡°Shrine? What shrine?¡± I ask.

    Emma points her finger in a general direction. ¡°There¡¯s an old shrine near the older part of the pce that didn¡¯t get burnt down during a fire a few years ago.¡±

    ¡°Huh? The pce got burnt down? When?¡± My mouth spits out more and more questions, surprised at how much has happened in this ce. First, there¡¯s a shrine of some sort and now, the pce has apparently suffered a fire in the recent past.

    ¡°There was a fire around 10 years ago, I think. But your pce has mostly newer maids so I haven¡¯t heard much about it.¡± Emma says apologetically.

    I shake my head. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. Just take me to this shrine!¡± I say with newfound excitement.

    ¡°Now, your highness?¡± Emma asks reluctantly. Although she doesn¡¯t sound willing, there is a warm glint in her eye as hse views me as a younger child excited to see something new.

    .....

    ¡°Of course! I have nothing better to do anyway,¡± I mutter the second sentence much more quietly under my breath and mean every word.

    The hardest thing about existing in this world is theck of technology. I can¡¯t go on Instagram when I¡¯m bored or hop in my car for a drive. The most fun I have is reading old books and taking naps on the tree in my courtyard. Aside from the asions when someone tries to harm me, old-fashioned life is too slow and dull for my liking.

    Emma bows to my childlike whims, handing off the wicker baskets to a startled maid before tugging me along by the hand. If I didn¡¯t realize that certain parts of the imperial pce were newer than others, this short journey has made the fact all too clear.

    The marble flooring I am well and truly familiar with disappear beneath us, recing itself with sturdy stones that proves to have stood the test of time. I marvel at how well Emma can navigate the pce despite being so young but say nothing as we head out to an area of the pce that doesn¡¯t look as well-tended as the rest of the ce.

    The grass here is long, the tallest pieces easily reaching my waist. The dirt patches are plentiful and hard as tack, even the morning dew can¡¯t soften it. Before us is a small structure, with a nted roof typically found in modern houses. The shrine is carved out of stone and iid with precious materials, but like the rest of its surroundings, it is dpidated and forgotten. A scratched up logo of the Holy Church sits atop the dark entrance. Not a soul is in sight.

    ¡°Why is it so... abandoned?¡± I whisper to Emma, looking warily around the small field.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, your highness. This is also my first time here,¡± she replies. An aura hangs around the ce, making us both feel uneasy. The hand I¡¯m still holding tenses up around mine and I feel a strong desire to leave.

    But before either of us make a move, a faint whistling reaches our ears. It is of a song I¡¯ve never heard before and possesses a lyrical flow that disys the whistler¡¯s skills. The two of us look sharply at each other, confirming that the other heard the sound.

    ¡°Visitors! It is not often I encounter visitors. So often they just run away when they see me. Run, run, like a colt that just found its legs,¡± someone says cheerfully from an unknown location. The voice is reedy from old age but carries the same sprightly energy as that of a young child.

    Emma and I grip each other¡¯s arm and spin towards the direction of the speaker, towards the rear end of the shrine. An old man who looks like he just walked off the set of Lord of the Rings has rounded the corner, his wrinkled face sporting a vivid grin. It is a terrifyingbination and makes me want to run away like the other visitors he spoke of.

    ¡°Who are y-you?¡± I stutter out although I already know who this Gandalf look-alike is.

    His robes are more rags than clothing, but they are reminiscent of the ck robes the Holy Church priest wore when he inspected my lineage. A ring of white hair surrounds his shiny scalp and a long white beard falls down to his navel. A thwack apanies each of his slow steps as his thick wooden staff aids his slow approach.

    ¡°I am Meliorn, the old keeper of this shrine,¡± he says nonchntly. ¡°Would you like a cup of tea?¡±

    ¡°Nah, I¡¯m good,¡± I reply quickly, identally using more modern lingo. ¡°I mean, no thank you.¡±

    I run through my mind for any mention of a Meliorn in ra¡¯s story, but nothinges to mind. This frolicking Holy Church priest, perhaps he is as insignificant as his appearance suggests.

    ¡°Emma,¡± I order with bravery I don¡¯t feel, ¡°You can step back.¡±

    ¡°But your highness-,¡± Emma starts anxiously as the priest starts digging around his floppy ears.

    ¡°Go.¡±

    Emma scurries just out of sight, but I know she is close by which warms my heart.

    ¡°Old man! I heard you are cuckoo!¡± I say, easily falling into my guise of a 5-year-old and whirling my finger around in circles beside my head.

    Meliorn chuckled, giving me a look to follow him as he slowly reentered the abandoned shrine.

    ¡°I am not a cuckoo, I am a human,¡± he replied calmly, turning around to look at me.

    I wrinkle my brow as I follow the old priest. The man seemed veritably crazy when Emma and I first entered, but why does there now seem to be a sh of lucidity in his eyes?

    ¡°If you say so,¡± I say nonchntly. ¡°But everyone says you¡¯re crazy.¡±

    The old man looks up thoughtfully as he pours two cups of tea. I decline the one he extends to me out of habit. It¡¯s ingrained in my modern mentality not to ept drinks from strangers.

    ¡°I¡¯m not crazy, I just see things people don¡¯t see,¡± he replies.

    I squint at the man, unsure of what to respond. After all, what he described is practically the definition of crazy.

    He looks at me, his rheumy eyes a shock of light blue that seems to pierce my soul.

    ¡°For you, I see someone who isn¡¯t tied to this world,¡± Meliorn sayszily, suddenly drifting back to his ¡®senile¡¯ self.

    My heart freezes in my chest at his worlds. Five years. Five long years I¡¯ve been a citizen of this strange world out of a webnovel and this is the first time someone has told me that I¡¯m not from these parts.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I answer with a weakugh, attempting to look like he didn¡¯tpletely ruffle my feathers.

    ¡°The threads... there are no threads tying you here. Yet so many want you dead. How... curious?¡±

    Meliorn¡¯s voice is rather soft and whimsical as he speaks, counteracting what he¡¯s saying. But beyond the fear of him realizing I¡¯m an interloper in this world, I spy a treasure chest of answers.

    My eyes shine like stars as I lean across the table excitedly.

    ¡°Please, Sir Meliorn, exin what you mean!¡± I say louder than I intend.

    ¡°No threads... no threads...¡± he murmurs, his gaze unclear. The lucidity I spotted earlier has long left the building, like a dream slipping out of your memory after you awaken.

    ¡°What are these threads? Who are my enemies? Do you happen to know of an individual named Peppermint?¡± I ask, determined to fish for more answers.

    In my head, I¡¯m running through what he means by threads, sifting through all my memories of various mythologies. I settle on threads of fate, unconsciously nodding my head when ites to me.

    ¡°By threads, are you referring to my fate? Like, my destiny or something?¡±

    ¡°With no strings, you¡¯ll fly away like a kite. I love kites, they¡¯re so pretty when they drift in the wind,¡± Meliorn replies somewhat unhelpfully.

    However, I¡¯ve read enough books to know that even insignificant sentences like these can end up ying arge roleter in the plot. My hands itch for a pen to write down these potential gems Meliorn is spitting. But at the same time, my suspicion is at an all-time high. The man seemed perfectly sane the moment Emma walked away, but as soon as he started giving me the first lead I¡¯ve gotten in five years, he dissolves into madness.

    ¡°I¡¯m not done with you,¡± I mutter under my breath so he can¡¯t hear. The weak, hazy lighting in through the single window of the shrine illuminates the dust particles in the air and now Meliorn ispletely fascinated by them.

    ¡°Goodbye, Sir Meliorn,¡± I say with a curtsey, not forgetting to be respectful. Crazy or not, this Gandalf look-alike has given me something to work with now. I feel motivation bubbling in my chest as I know now that these threads the key to something big. I want to find Henry, that friendly librarian, and tell him to get me any book about strings and threads that aren¡¯t rted to embroidery.

    Emma is startled at my small form hurtling away from the shrine with a determined look.

    ¡°Did he scare you, your highness?¡± she asks as the shrine disappears from view behind us.

    ¡°Nope! On the other hand, he may have been the most helpful person I¡¯ve met since I came here,¡± I reply with red-cheeked fervor, barely catching the brief sh of hurt on Emma¡¯s face.

    Remembering how easily children¡¯s feelings are hurt, I quickly add, ¡°Well... the second most helpful person.¡±

    In the haze my long-awaited lead, I miss the Duvernay family logo etched in stone on the stairs.

    Meliorn watches the little girl scuttle away like a pup that had been offered a juicy bone, his expression thoughtful as a person garbed in ck steps out from the overgrown bushes beside the shrine.

    ¡°Go tell Prince Julian I¡¯ve found another one. Tell him that it¡¯s a ¡®big one¡¯,¡± Meliorn says to the stealthy manservant, distastefully using the code name Julian had ordered for him use for the unique individuals whose threads of fate didn¡¯t connect them to the world. Travelers, Meliorn chuckled merrily as he shook his head, they all are a strange lot, especially this little princess.

    But deep down, the old priest¡¯s heart was troubled. Something wrong had entered the pce, like a rot that would soon spread its curse everywhere. It seemed that the falsely peaceful times would not remain for long.

 Chapter 39

    Ch. 39: Austin, Texas

    ¡°Nothing! There¡¯s absolutely nothing!¡± I yell furiously.

    Emma doesn¡¯t jump as I m another heavy book onto the table, the weight of it making my arms tremble.

    My mood, which was high as a kite two days ago, has crashnded to the ground.

    I look at Emma frantically. ¡°You gave Henry the paper with my request right? He read it correctly?¡±

    ¡°Yes, your highness,¡± Emma replies.

    I throw my hands up in irritation. I had felt so close to a breakthrough after five years of scrambling around in the dark, subject to Peppermint¡¯s whims, but s, I¡¯m back at the start. It¡¯s like a game of Monopoly where I¡¯ve been sent back to go without the two dorspensation.

    ¡°No, I can¡¯t just...¡±, I start dejectedly before rapidly rushing out of the room. Emma finally shows signs of life, following after the quiet pitter-patter of my tiny feet with her slower, longer steps.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± Marie says in rm as I nearly run into her carrying trays of food.

    .....

    Out of habit, I turn and apologize to Marie before running out the door.

    ¡°Your highness, please take a cloak! It will get dark soon!¡± Marie exims as she rushes after me with a huffing chest. I feel a pang of guilt as I slow down and ept the cloak, my nursemaid¡¯s deft fingers tying it into a cute bow around my neck.

    Marie and Emma do not ask where I¡¯m going as I rush I miss a few twists and turns, but Irgely remember the route. Marie draws in an audible breath of air as the small clearing with the abandoned shrinees into view.

    ¡°Your highness, this ce is no good for a young princess such as yourself. I think we should return,¡± Marie stammers out nervously.

    ¡°No, I have to speak with someone,¡± I say resolutely. The shrine doesn¡¯t have the smallest spark of life and when I look around for the crazy Meliorn I see no one. Swallowing down the blooming fear in my chest, I take hesitant steps towards the shrine, feeling like an unwee visitor.

    Emma and Marie follow, but I can hear from her heavy breaths that Marie is equally as fearful. This is the imperial pce after all. Secrets lurk in every corner, a thread that once tugged can reveal unsightly conspiracies. The entire pce glimmers and shines, reflecting the pride of the Erudian empire, but this dismal shrine and its courtyard and overlooked. Only an idiot would look at the abandoned shrine and assume that it was just forgotten over time.

    ¡°Your highness-¡± Marie says again, the panic in her tone more evident.

    ¡°There¡¯s a rose,¡± Emma breathes out softly.

    I whirl around and find Emma¡¯s eyes trained to the ground, near the steps of the entrance. I feel slight dampness soaking through my thin, cloth shoes as I bend down to peer at what she¡¯s discovered, my heart going cold at the sight.

    A rose. The Duvernay rose.

    ¡°Shit!¡±, I mutter under my breath.

    I back away from the noble sigil like it¡¯s the gue, ready to heed Marie¡¯s words when the crunch of gravel underfoot alerts me to the fact that we aren¡¯t alone. Just ahead of me, up the stairs and within the shrine, the footsteps approach me, unhurried and leisurely.

    ¡°Nice to meet you, Winter,¡± says a youthful male voice and I look up a ck military suit,plete with gold epaulets at the shoulders, to see my golden-haired half-brother.

    ¡°Prince Julian,¡± I greet with gritted teeth, dropping into a curtsey.

    I shake my head at my stupidity, my excitement for answers dragging me into this mess. If I hadn¡¯t been so emboldened by the words of that loony old man, I never would havee back. I can¡¯t help but scold myself for this stupid mistake and wish for nothing more but to flee and never look back.

    Prince Julian in the webnovel was an arrogant arse who battled Prince Augustus, the male lead and my older half-brother, for the position of heir to the throne. Along with Empress Katya and his younger sister Julia, they hounded the poor main couple with various schemes until ra¡¯s quick wit cornered them in checkmate.

    He was a clever viin, making use of his strong military power and his mother¡¯s genius to create misunderstandings between the couple rather than confront them upfront. Such tactics can¡¯t help but make me nervous even though he is just a 10-year-old boy right now since he was said to be remarkably intelligent from a young age. I bite my lip in frustration at the sight of his sunny smile towards me from the top of the stairs, his gaze telling me that he was privy to the thoughts running through my head.

    Julian waves his arms as if he is conducting an orchestra. ¡°This is not quite where I imagined meeting my newly discovered younger sister, but it¡¯ll do won¡¯t it?¡± Julian says with a carefree smile.

    ¡°It will,¡± I reply respectfully.

    ¡°Now... what shall I call you? I am fond of nicknames, you see. Augustus is Auggie, Julia is Julies and you shall be... Winnie!¡±

    I sputter at the horrible nicknames but swallow down my disdain.

    ¡°If that is what you¡¯d like, Julian,¡± I say emotionlessly, channeling my inner Emma.

    After my run-in with Julia not that long ago, I¡¯vee to the conclusion that meeting with Katya¡¯s children will never bode well for me. But Julian isn¡¯t satisfied with the short, mindless answers I¡¯m giving.

    A breeze rushes by, causing me to shiver slightly and giving Julian the opening he needs.

    ¡°Winnie, you¡¯ll catch a cold if you stay out too long. Come in here with me, I¡¯ve got tea and snacks and by luck, there is enough for the two of us.¡± Julian cleverly says. He looks over at my maids dismissively. ¡°They can wait out here.¡±

    As I follow my older brother in, I am all but certain that he and that Meliorn fellow are in cahoots, and he has been waiting patiently for me to bite the bait. To be yed like a fool, it is not a good feeling, and I rub my chest to console myself as I settle down in the same seat I sat in with Meliorn.

    Julian notices my subtle action. ¡°Too stuffy? Felix, go open the window. I will personally pour tea for my dear sister.¡±

    With a dexterity beyond his years, Julian expertly pours two cups of tea, setting down the pot without a sound.

    ¡°Cheers!¡± he says enthusiastically, raising his ss towards me. I clink cups with him reluctantly, shocked by the modern behavior.

    Could it be that he too...? No way. I shake my head, just dismissing his gesture as something the author added as a tradition into this world.

    ¡°Do you find my greeting to be unusual?¡± Julian says cryptically. One can not tell if his handsome little face is angered or happy. His gold eyes carried a deceptive calmness that kept me on edge.

    ¡°Felix, leave,¡± my brother says in a curt manner, his smile gone. I gulp nervously as the servant bows and quickly departs. I am apprehensive and the deep breath I take does not help abate my fear. I don¡¯t know what Julian¡¯s next move will be. Will he tell the Empress what Meliorn spoke of with me? Is he here to threaten me? The feeling of being out of my depth gues me again as I remember I was an ordinary college student before all of this, not a master at scheming.

    ¡°So... where are you from?¡± Julian starts when the footsteps of the servant are no longer audible.

    ¡°Um, here?¡± I say, my voice going up at the end as if I¡¯ve asked a question.

    ¡°No, really,¡± he says with a humorless chuckle. His aura is every bit as imposing as one would expect of royalty and my hands quiver in myp. ¡°Where are you from, Winter? And don¡¯t just tell me the capital or the Erudian Empire, I mean what world are you from?¡±

    My brother leans back in his chair his earlier friendly veneer long gone as his eyes pry fiercely into mine. They woefully remind me of my father¡¯s burning gaze what feels like a million years ago in the throne room during my inspection. Julian has ripped off the mask of Winter and now he is speaking with Maria.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m from Earth,¡± I start vaguely. Now that I think about it, the webnovel never borated on what this world was, just naming a few continents and kingdoms like most fantasy stories. Perhaps this would assuage Julian.

    ¡°Where on Earth.¡±

    ¡°T-The US?¡±

    ¡°Oh, and what state?¡± He asked with a friendly smirk. I can¡¯t help but gasp.

    ¡°What? You-Your from my world too?¡± I almost shriek. I almost stumble as I get up from the rickety wooden chair, grabbing the table to stabilize myself.

    ¡®Born and bred in Austin, Texas,¡± Julian says with a grin, crossing his arms over his small chest.

 Chapter 40

    Ch. 40: Threads

    I¡¯m a sucker for horror movies even though they always scare the crap out of me. I¡¯d stuck my head out of a mound of nkets in my dark bedroom, ducking under with a squeal whenever there was a jump scare. But if it¡¯s truly fear-inducing, then I brave the short run to the light switch and breath out a sigh of relief that I¡¯m just witnessing the horror rather than actually being a part of it.

    That same relief is coursing through my veins as I look at my chuckling half-brother with an expression as if I¡¯ve swallowed something distasteful. It is hard to stop myself from eximing with joy at meeting someone who isn¡¯t from this strange webnovel world, but I keenly remember something important before bursting out a million questions. Whether Julian is from Austin, Texas or not, he is still Empress Katya¡¯s son in this world. He could still be acting in her interests even though he isn¡¯t originally from here. After all, aren¡¯t I trying to do the same?

    ¡°Hmmm... where is that?¡± I ask naively as if I¡¯m confused.

    Julian cocks his head to the side, his expression yful. It is the first time he has truly appeared his age since we just met.

    ¡°Don¡¯t try to y this game with me. You already said you¡¯re from Earth, and from the US at that. ying dumb now won¡¯t achieve anything.¡±

    I pout at his light-hearted mockery. ¡°Well, how am I supposed to trust you? You realize you¡¯re the son of the person who wants to kill me the most, right?¡± I say empathically, drawing my hand across my throat in a knife-like manner.

    ¡°Kill you?¡± Julian scoffed, ¡°Isn¡¯t that a little extreme?¡±

    I raise an eyebrow in suspicion. ¡°Worrying about my death is extreme? I¡¯m kind of doubting whether or not you are actually from my world or if this is some borate trick,¡± I tell my brother.

    .....

    Julian chuckles disbelievingly. ¡°How can this be a trick? How many people here know about the US in this world?¡±

    I rub my chin, further taken with my idea. This could be Peppermint trying to get me to lower my guard. ¡°Fine. If it seems stupid to you then you won¡¯t mind answering a few questions. Let¡¯s start easy. Sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.¡±

    From outside the shrine, the young manservant Felix furrows his brow at the sound of his young master warbly singing. The prince had chased him outside of listening range but Empress Katya had ordered Felix to report any encounters Prince Julian had with suspicious individuals. As an arrogant, stubborn youngd, Julian was not keen on singing or indulging other people. Felix felt a vein of concern at his master¡¯s unusual behavior and vowed to send a secret letter to Empress Katya as soon as Prince Julian freed himself from his unfated encounter with Princess Winter.

    The young boy thinks of the stunning new maid that he must report to, Janice, and heat tingles under his stiff cor. In his years of working for the Empress, he had never thought there would be another woman to rival her beauty but Janice is a worthy contender in his mind. Felix can hardly wait for his master to exit the dingy shrine so he can run off to report to his real master.

    Within the shrine and unknowing of Felix¡¯s true alliance, I nod with satisfaction after Julian¡¯s performance, the slight redness on his cheeks bringing me some satisfaction.

    ¡°Ok, not bad,¡± I say, swallowing down my smile and opting for a more serious expression. ¡°Who was the 44th president of the United States?¡±

    ¡°Obama.¡±

    ¡°Who made the song, Thriller?¡±

    ¡°The king of pop, MJ.¡±

    ¡°What is your usual Starbucks order?¡±

    ¡°ck coffee, no sugar or milk.¡±

    I wrinkle my nose. ¡°Ew, seriously? I can already tell you were old before you came here.¡±

    ¡°Middle-aged isn¡¯t old,¡± Julian replies indignantly.

    ¡°Hmph! Yes, it is!¡± I cross my arms over my chest and re back.

    ¡°So can I assume that you are still schooling?¡± Julian asked suddenly, inferring my age from my response.

    ¡°No! I mean, what¡¯s it to you?¡± I say quickly. I want to whack my head on the table, for my answer all but confirms what he just asked.

    ¡°You¡¯re still a student. But you are more astute than your average teenager. Can I assume you¡¯re in college then?¡± Julian says smoothly, making rapid inferences from our short conversation.

    A healthy dose of fear chills me to the bone within the muggy shrine. What an opponent I¡¯ve met! I vow not to speak to him any longer, sealing my lips tightly and looking at him with unfriendly eyes.

    ¡°Ah, no more? I thought we were getting along so well,¡± Julian says with augh. It gets under my skin and I stand from the table, the wooden chair scraping across the stone floor as I do. The height from the ground is high and I nearly stumble, but I still manage to pin Julian with a re.

    ¡°I¡¯m leaving,¡± I say sullenly, ready to beat a retreat. I believe that Julian is also a transmigrated soul, but his astuteness makes him dangerous, especially since I no longer have the advantage of my modern knowledge. It is better to live to fight another day.

    I march towards the open door but Julian¡¯s next words freeze me in my path.

    ¡°But we haven¡¯t even gotten to the interesting part of the conversation. Or am I wrong and you don¡¯t care to learn what the threads are,¡± he drawls slowly, his childish voice at odds with his tone.

    I throw a venomous look over my shoulder, one that is rewarded with yet another carefree smile. Julian knows he has me and I¡¯m in an even worse mood when I trudge back to the chair I just vacated. I feel like a fish attached to the bait of a fisherman, subject to the whims of the one who has caught me.

    Julian¡¯s face appears as if he wants to tease me some more, but thankfully heunches into the meat of the subject.

    ¡°So how long have you been here?¡± he starts out.

    ¡°Obviously not as long as you,¡± I grumble under my breath. I could¡¯ve been tossed into Victoria¡¯s body, the duke¡¯s daughter who happily ys sidekick to ra. Or an insignificant noble with afortable life and loving parents. But no, I¡¯m tossed into the body of an unwanted royal bastard who ted for an early death and is currently being tortured by the author.

    ¡°You have no control over your story, right?¡± Julian says knowingly at my dark expression.

    My silence all but confirms it, but I don¡¯t want to contribute to his youthful smugness any further.

    ¡°Tell me, have you started learning embroidery yet? Has my mother given you a decent teacher?¡± Julian says, suddenly branching off into another topic.

    ¡°Stay on topic!¡± I say in an exasperated voice.

    Julian continues as if I haven¡¯t said anything. ¡°It¡¯s funny. No one does that in our time anymore, embroidery that is. But here, it¡¯s an actual pastime. I tried it once, damn near took out my eye. I¡¯d wager it¡¯s even more dangerous than when I learned how to wield a sword. You see, I was watching my mother embroider a handkerchief. And she¡¯s quite good at it. Within minutes you can already see the pictureing together.¡±

    I scowl at the mention of the Empress, but I don¡¯t interrupt again as I can feel the seeds of something important lying within his seemingly innocuous story. It¡¯s fascinating hearing about the bane of my existence from another, more favorable perspective. Julian is getting into his story, his hands starting to move as he pantomimes moving a needle through cloth.

    ¡°The needle kept going in and out, and in and out. It¡¯s almost hypnotizing, especially with the speed she uses. Beside her, she¡¯s got this whole basket full of different colored threads. And when I was younger and wet behind the ears when I came into this world, much like you right now, I ask her why she needed so much thread for one little handkerchief.¡±

    He takes a break with augh, his eyes starry from the memory. It leaves a sick, but heartwarming feeling as I watch him reminisce. So that woman is capable of showing another creature kindness.

    ¡°And she told me, ¡®Julian, every thread serves a purpose. If I were missing a single one, this picture would be iplete.¡¯ And then a few minutester she had sewn arge rose right onto the handkerchief. And she hates roses, too! But that¡¯s beside the point. And I think that best describes your current situation.¡±

    ¡°You see, Winter. Can I call you Winter? I don¡¯t know what you were called in your past life but you must be used to your new name by now.¡± Julian has a bad habit of interrupting himself. I wonder to myself if my half-brother has ADHD, seeing how he already forgot the dumb nickname he gave me.

    ¡°I am,¡± I answer simply. My previous hostility is in slumber as I am wrapped up in his story.

    ¡°In this world, Winter, everything is connected. The air we breathe, the ground we walk upon, these ufortable chairs, everything is one. We are all made and created from mana, a pure form of energy from which Helios crafted the world. ording to legend, of course. I was kind of an atheist in my past life and still am,¡± Julian adds with a grin.

    ¡°This mana is what powers the Holy Church. Anytime you see anyone doing ¡®magic''¡± he says, putting magic in air quotes, ¡°They are manipting the mana around them. And mana is the fabric of this world that holds everything together.¡±

    ¡°The threads...¡± I murmur softly, understanding the purpose of his story.

    ¡°Yes. Everything is connected with threads. But you see, people like us, people who aren¡¯t originally from this world, we are the threads sitting in the basket. Unused. Not part of the picture. And since we aren¡¯t part of the tapestry of this world, we can be manipted by outside forces,¡± Julian says seriously.

    ¡°Do-Do people like us have a name? How did we even end up here? Please tell me there¡¯s a way to leave.¡± I ask heatedly, my little brows furrowed.

    ¡°We¡¯re called Travelers. And as for the rest, that¡¯s a mystery even to me. I don¡¯t know how we ended up in this world but I¡¯m certain of two things: you read about the world before you fall into it and at whatever age you die in the story is when you die in this world, no matter how much you change the original plot.¡±

 Chapter 41

    Ch. 41: Double Agents

    A distinct gong goes off in my head and I lean back in my seat, suddenly boneless. I focus on my breath, my heart thundering within my chest as if it wants to leap out. No matter what I do, Peppermint will still get my death handed to them, wrapped up in a pretty, headless package. I feel my bottom lip wobble and I bite it hard. A familiar burn fills my eyes and I look at the ground, not wanting this person I just met to witness my moment of weakness.

    I am so screwed. It¡¯s not even funny at this point.

    My past life wasn¡¯t perfect, but it wasn¡¯t worth throwing away. I had my mom and my future job lined up. I curse myself for the thousandth time for indulging in alcohol when I was in a poor state of mind. That cheater, Jonathan, is not worth dying over. Even if it¡¯s just to eat another te of my mom¡¯s tacos and give a satisfying p onto Jonathan¡¯s cheek, I have to find a way to survive and make it out of the Erudian Empire.

    Julian sees the gradual journey of despair to gritty determination without a word. It might be my imagination, but his manner of speaking to me feels less frivolous as we talk again.

    ¡°Are you... sure about that?¡± I finally manage to say. Julian nods. He doesn¡¯t ask when I die within the novel or make more randomments, for which I am d.

    I heave out a small breath.

    ¡°So how do I at least keep outside forces from interfering?¡±

    Julian smiles with anticipation. ¡°My dearest Winnie, I thought you¡¯d never ask!¡±

    .....

    ¡°Just cut to the chase,¡± I say with an eye roll. Something about Julian is bringing out my inner hormonal teenager.

    ¡°If you¡¯re not part of the tapestry, you must weave yourself into it,¡± Julian says, speaking in an analogy.

    I understand instantly. ¡°So... I have to make myself part of this world?¡±

    ¡°Yes. But more specifically, part of the story. If you are able to make your character an indispensable part of the story, beyond your original purpose, the threads of this world will connect to you too.¡±

    I take a sip of now cold tea, thinking on what Julian just said.

    ¡°If I be a part of the story, even if it¡¯s in some small aspect, then Pepper- I mean, the author, can¡¯t manipte my life anymore?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be like their hands are tied behind their back,¡± Julian says. He doesn¡¯tment on my slip.

    ¡°Did it work for you?¡± I ask, curiosity getting the better of me as I look at the confident kid sitting before me.

    ¡°Oh dear, would you look at the time!¡± Julian exims loudly, fishing a pocket watch out of his uniform pocket to check the time. It¡¯s a handy excuse to ignore me and my frown makes its way back to my tiny face.

    ¡°Perhaps if you would care to join me for another outing. Then I¡¯ll be able to disclose a little more about myself.¡± Julian shamelessly ns out our next meeting.

    I nearly choke on spit at his words, annoyed at the thought of having to put up with my irritating older brother. If I were still Maria I would pick up that little snot by the neck and wrap him up in a headlock. Unfortunately, it¡¯s clear that he was older than me in his past life, so that would feel weird too.

    I scoff loudly but feel a bit of warmth at the thought of meeting a fellow Traveler. ¡°Were you this annoying in your past life?¡± I ask indignantly in a joking manner.

    Unexpectedly, Julian sobers up, his mood once more swinging to an adult¡¯s somber aura.

    ¡°Yes. I suppose I was. I had to be.¡± Julian says, his eyes leaving me for the first time to trail around the stuffy shrine. Theynd on a rusty statue of Helios and stay there.

    ¡°How about you, Winnie? Have you changed? Are you willing to change?¡± Julian asks, going for the hard-hitting questions.

    I look at the unsmiling boy in front of me who suddenly looks far beyond his years and my throat swells up so I cannot speak. Am I willing?

    When I was Maria, I was not the kindest soul, but I¡¯d help the asional olddy across the street and share my pencils with whoever asked. I was also, by the not so gentle urging of my mother, heavily involved in campus ministry and my local church, making people think I was some saint. But in this life, I¡¯ve selfishly taken advantage of Emma¡¯s innocence to turn her into myckey and am using homeless kids to spread rumors rather than giving them proper aid.

    And finally Janice; she was a rude maid, but I could¡¯ve just reassigned her instead of making her an example to the rest of my pce¡¯s staff. In my past life, my mother struggled with getting dropped from her job without a warning, especially when the economy was in tatters. Those were dark days, days that brought me embarrassment when Iter won a schrship to a prestigious catholic high school. I wonder if Janice managed tond on her feet after the way I so crudely fired her.

    Shame hangs in front of me like the blinding sun and I can¡¯t bear to look at properly. What other unkind acts will I have to do, how much more of my conscience will I sacrifice in order to survive.

    In the end, I can¡¯t answer Julian. I just turn heel and leave the shrine and this time, my half-brother does not stop me. Perhaps he too understands the tug of war taking ce within me.

    To survive without my morals or to die with them intact? Neither option satisfies me.

    I step on the Duvernay rose as I exit, my emotions in turmoil. Julian is from my world. But he is also the son of the person who hates me most. I can¡¯t begin to assume where his allegiance lies and I hate that I have to trust Julian for now. Marie trails behind Emma and I as we walk slowly back to Rose Pce, my thoughts in turmoil.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± Emma murmurs quietly, ¡°There¡¯s been a response from Lady Westmont.¡±

    I look up from the ground, where my eyes had wandered.

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°Um... Lady Arabe Westmont,¡± she says. Westmont? I think back to my disastrous time at Lady¡¯s Court and my eyes widen at the connection. What a small world, I think with chagrin, hastening my steps as if they will somehow prevent Lady Arabe¡¯s future marriage.

    ¡ª¡ª¡ª-

    Janice frowned as she gazed at her appearance. The slightly murky bucket of water did not fully express her newly enhanced beauty, but it was good enough for now. One day, she would be able to admire her face in its full glory within a mirror made of gold and decorated with precious gems, just like Empress Katya¡¯s.

    At the thought of Empress Katya, Janice felt a spike of annoyance run through her and she viciously kicked the bucket, its contents spilling out over the stone ground. A small portion of the water flowed backward towards her, sshing poorly tanned maid boots.

    ¡°Damn that woman,¡± Janice cursed under her breath as outdoor pavilion she had just scrubbed was ruined once more. The head maid of Sunrise Pce, Lte, had promised her at the mouth of the alley that working for the Empress would bring endless riches her way.

    What riches? What wealth? The Empress had only ever asked her a few questions about Princess Winter, which Janice answered in as much detail as she could muster, before she was handed a few measly coins and shucked off to join the lower-ranked maids of Sunrise Pce who did all the menialbor. The lower kitchens for maids such as herself fed her slop, a far cry from the sulent meats and fragrant dishes that floated from Empress Katya¡¯s personal kitchen. The disgusting slop also never satisfied Janice¡¯s stomach and every minute of every hour, her stomach hungered and craved something more filling.

    On the side, she did minor intelligence gathering for Empress Katya, but it was below Janice to constantly interact with lowly servants from other parts of the pce for news about her former mistress. The hours were long and since she was more beautiful than all the maids, perhaps even on par with the Empress, all the maids treated her to venomous looks and unsubtle nudges into puddles.

    Janice almost missed the authority she held over other maids in Rose Pce, where they had all been newly assigned and started on the same footing. But then she remembered that all her problems had begun with Princess Winter and a fresh wave of hate swept over her heart.

    ¡°M-Miss Janice?¡± a quiet voice stammered out. Janice recognized it instantly as the voice of Prince Julian¡¯s young manservant, Felix. The short and gawkyd always stared at her with dazzled eyes, which bothered her to no end. Her looks deserved the awestruck gaze of someone with blue blood, not a mere peasant.

    ¡°Felix!¡± Janice eximed, wiping away her sour countenance and giving the young boy a gentle smile.

    The manservant was putty in her hands, his hands nervously wiping away sweat onto his pants as his face bes as red as a tomato. It was an annoying sight, yet gratifying. Janice¡¯s previously ordinary face had be that of a goddess, but it was only through the rare male she encountered that she felt its true effectiveness. Such a good gift Akira gave her! In the first few days, Janice had been slightly frightened by therge boon she had been granted by the Darkness himself, wary of what it could cost her in the future.

    But the moment she had stepped into the Empress¡¯ sitting room, all the fear had promptly melted away. The Empress had refined taste, but her ss didn¡¯t diminish the disy of wealth. Her cheap shoes had sunk into the plush imported carpet and Janice had nearly been blinded by dazzling vases and statues that even her unrefined eye could tell were worth more gold coins than she could dream of.

    When Janice was a gap-toothed youngling and had visited the chieftain¡¯s house with her mother for a holiday meal, the house, which wasrger than all the other homes in her vige, was also decorated with various memorabilia. Her mother had told her that this was a sure indicator of wealth, when someone could afford to decorate their home with useless things. That was when Janice had set her eyes on one of the chieftain¡¯s many sons. But now, marrying that boy would not even scratch the surface of the life she knew she deserved.

    ¡°Do you have news for me?¡± Janice asked, righting her fallen bucket.

    Felix nodded bashfully and said, ¡°Important news! Today, my master met with Princess Winter and they spoke for a while.¡±

    Janice¡¯s docile gaze sharpened at the name of her former mistress, the sole reason she was in her current predicament. Forgetting that she had gotten the gift from Akira because she was fired, Janice arrogantly wagered that if she were still working at the Rose Pce, her current beauty would sweep Sir Finn right into her bed. Perhaps he would even bend on one knee, his handsome green gaze trained lovingly on her while begging Janice to be hiswfully wedded wife. Her! The wife of a duke heir apparent!

    Witnessing her sudden change in temperament, Felix could not help but flinch back by the bloodthirsty expression on Janice¡¯s face. It was still beautiful, but it was the beauty of cobra, its scales mesmerizing you as it prepared a deadly strike.

    Janice noticed his reaction and quickly sought to exin herself. She had so few allies and this boy was easily swayed by her natural charms. It would be a shame for her to lose Felix so soon.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I was just remembering how difficult it was working under Princess Winter.¡± Janice pretended to get choked up for a moment as if she were recalling painful memories. ¡°She was so harsh and cruel to me. Even if she hadn¡¯t kicked me out, I would have left soon for fear of my life.¡±

    Felix¡¯s face cleared up quickly, his pockmarked cheeks bulging hideously as he fumed with indignation on Janice¡¯s behalf. There was a new fervor in his voice when he spoke to Janice again.

    ¡°I did not manage to hear what they spoke of because my master ordered me to stand far from them. However, I noticed a few other things that seemed odd. First, my master somehow knew that Princess Winter woulde to the abandoned shrine that day. I find it odd how he would know unless Princess Winter had visited before. I do not know why she would go there though. When the princess left, my master was very gleeful as he left. I fear that he may be seduced into a dangerous friendship by this no good princess.¡±

    Janice gave a doting expression as if she were giving candy to a child. She knew that if she were anyone else, his report wouldn¡¯t have been as detailed. And Janice had her own reasons for keeping tabs on that royal brat.

    ¡°Well done, Felix. I feel so reassured knowing a man like you is willing to help the cause of preventing that bra- I mean, Princess Winter, from harming our interests,¡± she said, speaking for the Empress and herself.

    ¡°I will always stand by your side, Miss Janice. To tell you the truth, I am dedicated to this job to help you get revenge on your former mistress, not to help her majesty,¡± Felix said with a devoted look in his droopy eyes. It was all Janice could do not to vomit at his lovesickness.

    You are not worthy to even lick my shoes, Janice truly wanted to say. But it pleased her endlessly to procure a loyalckey who clearly recognized her worth.

 Chapter 42

    Ch. 42: What Janice Heard

    At that moment, the lighthearted chatter of approaching maids made its way to Janice¡¯s ears. Lately, her senses had been more keen than usual, noticing the subtle fluctuations of temperature in the air and hearing the faintest mocking whispers from those around her.

    Noticing Janice suddenly tensing up, Felix asked, ¡°Is something the matter, Miss Janice?¡±

    ¡°This way!¡± Janice said hastily.

    She grabbed Felix¡¯s arm and tugged both himself and herself into a narrow nook that wasn¡¯t visible from the walkway. Felix¡¯s breath came out in a rush at the proximity between their two bodies. Janice, who at 18 was two years his senior, was taller than his short self and his line of sightnded directly on her generous bosom. The young manservant gulped as heat rushed through him.

    Janice was vigntly watching the approaching party and didn¡¯t yet notice the situation. Two maids walked into view, tittering over nonsense as usual.

    ¡°Huh? What¡¯s this bucket doing here?¡± one asked, nudging the soaking wet bucket in a pool of dirty water.

    ¡°Who knows? Just somezy bum who can¡¯t do her job properly,¡± said the other, rolling her eyes. She was annoyed at having to leap and jump over the spilled water.

    ¡°I¡¯d wager,¡± she continued, ¡°It¡¯s that brat Janice who ran off in the middle of her task.¡±

    .....

    The other maidughed as Janice¡¯s blood boiled. The maids in the sted Sunrise Pce spoke too liberally of her. If she were in charge of the ce, she¡¯d fire them all from the pce, no the capital!

    ¡°You¡¯re probably right. I thought we were lucky to work at the Empress¡¯ pce with such a kind mistress, but Janice is starting to ruin my experience here.¡±

    One of them stuck out her chest like a peacock and in an obnoxious voice poorly imitating Janice said, ¡°Do you call this food? And so little of it? How will I serve her majesty when I won¡¯t have the strength to rise from bed?¡±

    She was reciting one of Janice¡¯s infamous breakdowns, where she had furiously berated the chefs in the lower kitchen for the subpar meal. Janice¡¯s fists clenched tightly and she saw red. She hated being mocked or made a fool of and wanted to scratch their ugly faces with her long nails. If it weren¡¯t for the fact that the Empress had told her to keep the arrangement between herself and Prince Julian¡¯s manservant a secret, she wouldn¡¯t be hiding within the nook so pathetically.

    ¡°Their names,¡± Janice said, the venom dripping off her voice.

    Felix was briefly startled but quickly replied. ¡°Erm... Milly and Brenda.¡±

    The hidden pair watched the giggling maids stroll off with different expressions, Janice in fury and Felix in indignation. In his heart, Janice was a saint who could do no wrong but was discriminated against for her beauty. Meanwhile, Janice finally noticed the short distance between their bodies. Her eyes trained down and involuntarilynded on his neck, which was turning red under her probing stare.

    Felix swallowed nervously and a thick vein on the side of his throat bobbed, bringing rise to a feeling Janice couldn¡¯t ce. Her slender tummy rumbled and she felt hungry, but for what?

    Swallowing down the drool that had just filled her mouth, Janice instructed Felix in her sweet voice to return to his post before he was missed. The boy was a short, blushing mess, stumbling over his words as he stumbled off. Janice was left alone to face her feelings. She knew there was no way she had a crush on Felix, especially considering hisck of power, short stature, younger age, and ugly appearance.

    Slightly rmed by what just happened and the mocking maids, Janice was unusually quiet as she walked past the fellow maids she¡¯d usually bicker with on the way to the Empress¡¯ chambers in Sunrise Pce. She just wanted to deliver the information Felix had told her and leave as soon as possible.

    The ornate doors quickly came into view and a maid with Empress Katya¡¯s pin on her chest approached Janice. She was one of the personal maids of Katya and frequently stood guard before the door. This maid, Kora, was also well aware of the deal between the empress and Janice, but unlike Lte, she was much better at masking her disgust.

    Kora looked down her long nose at Janice, her face serene while her murky blue eyes shimmered with her distaste. Janice simrly sneered at the girl before her. This lowly girl only got her position as one of the Empress¡¯ personal maids out of sheer luck. And at the end of the day, no matter how important she was, Kora was still just a servant. Someday, it would be Janice looking down her nose at her.

    ¡°Do you have information?¡± Kora asked in a low tone.

    ¡°If I didn¡¯t, why would I be here?¡± Janice replied haughtily. She already worked at Sunrise Pce, but she had to undergo all this fanfare just to gain entry. It was infuriating.

    Kora didn¡¯t reply, only dismissing the two guards on either side of the door with a wave. Inside, the door was opened by two servants and Janice walked into the dim hallway. There was a faint smell of incense in the air, the minty scent both refreshing and calming.

    ¡°Right this way,¡± Kora said, turning around this corner and that. She knew her way around the spacious pce, evenrger than the Rose Pce, exceptionally well. They arrived at the doors of the same sitting room that Janice had first met the Empress in and the beautiful maid felt a pang of disappointment. She had wanted to see more of the pce so she could have an idea of how to design her future manor or castle.

    There were no guards in front of the door this time, perhaps to further ensure that no one would eavesdrop. Kora stepped in, the door open just a sliver so her slender body could fit through. But through that slit, Janice could clearly see the Empress seated, with Lte at her shoulder, and a young, quivering girl before them.

    They seemed engrossed in their conversation and Kora took note of this as well, for she stood in the corner of the room with her head bowed. A force within Janicepeller her to wedge her boot into the door before it properly shut, leaving a gap for her to listen to the conversation.

    ¡°S-S-She said she is from around the D-D¡¯anjou Mountains,¡± the kneeling girl whimpered. Janice could not help but smile in satisfaction as she recognized the voice of the insolent servant overseer who had torn off her Rose Pce pin when she was abruptly fired.

    ¡°Why doesn¡¯t she have any files within the pce? How was there such an oversight?¡± thundered out Lte.

    ¡°D-During the fire 10 years ago, the portion of the Servants¡¯ Quarters containing the files of every servant in the pce suffered some damage. There were e-efforts made to rece them but a few people in the pce may still be unounted for,¡± the girl replied.

    Janice scratched her head, confused by the conversation. She had no clue who they were speaking of, but she opted on listening in anyways. With her amazing hearing, it was as if Katya was directly speaking into her ear.

    ¡°Hmmm...¡± Katya started slowly, her voice low and melodic, ¡°so you mean to tell me that those in charge of the Servants¡¯ Quarters, of which you are one of, failed to fulfill one of their most important tasks? Wouldn¡¯t that mean there could be several unounted for parties strolling around the pce? What if one of them develops bad intentions towards the royal family?¡±

    It was easy to follow the empress¡¯ train of thought and the kneeling maid quivered like a leaf in the wind as sweat matted strands of hair to her forehead.

    ¡°If one of those unounted for people were to, let¡¯s say, attempt to assassinate me or even the emperor, who would be responsible? Would you be able to bear the brunt of such a crime? With so many consequences behind it, the punishment could even extend beyond you to your family. Would they be able to bear it?¡± Empress Katya finished slowly.

    ¡°Please, your majesty!¡± the girl cried, throwing her forehead to the ground in a trembling kneel. ¡°P-please have mercy for my oversight. The fire burned so quickly and viciously, I truly could not save anything!¡±

    Janice could see disappointment make itself known on the Empress¡¯posed face, the corners of her red lips turning downwards ever so slightly. It was a captivating sight and one that reignited her jealousy.

    ¡°More excuses?¡± Empress Katya murmured quietly, her voice crystal clear in the otherwise silent room. ¡°Lte.¡±

    ¡°Present, your majesty,¡± replied Katya¡¯s most trusted personal maid. She rushed to a nearby desk to pick up an oakwood box, thecquered container painted with intricate designs. Lte had a look of grim satisfaction as she popped thetch and turned its contents towards the empress. Lte¡¯s back was to Janice, so she could not see what Katya grabbed from it.

    ¡°Your hands,¡± Katya said, ¡°they¡¯re rather pretty. Do you use them much?¡±

    Not only was Janice confused by the sudden change in topic, a big fat question mark was also audible in the overseer¡¯s response.

    ¡°N-no, your majesty.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good. But it¡¯s a lie, isn¡¯t it? We use our hands so much every day. To hold our utensils, peel our fruit, there are endless purposes for them. Wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±

    ¡°Yes, y-your majesty.¡± the girl on the floor replied. The warbly tone was starting to diminish as she started to let her guard down. Wrong move.

    ¡°Let me see them!¡± Empress Katya said boldly with a disarming smile.

    A shaky, tentative hand rose from the floor as the girl immediatelyplied. Janice started to zone out from the boring change of topic, but the sudden whimpers from the room were too rming to miss.

    ¡°Please, your majesty,¡± the girl whined from the floor, her voice thick in tears.

    ¡°Please, what?¡± asked Katya impassively. Janice couldn¡¯t tell what was happening, but she could only vaguely guess that some sort of physical punishment was being inflicted on the overseer. Lte was standing off to the side with a gleeful expression so it couldn¡¯t be her inflicting the damage. Janice¡¯s eye involuntarily slipped to the woman wearing a glimmering tiara, her face not revealing any of her actions.

    Violence wrapped up in a pretty, blonde package.

    For the first time since she was brought to the Sunrise Pce, Janice felt the unmistakable fluttering of fear in her belly. It would be in her best interest to finish off Princess Winter and exit the pce sooner rather thanter.

    The mystery was killing Janice making her sweat as the tears went up another crescendo.

    ¡°What is the matter? Didn¡¯t you say you don¡¯t need your hands?¡± Katya asked as if she were truly confused.

    ¡°No! No! I was wrong! I need them! Please stop!¡± the girl wailed.

    Her body iled on the floor in reaction to the pain, but she did not dare remove her hand that Katya was somehow harming. Janice couldn¡¯t help but be impressed by her tenacity. There was no doubt that if she did drag her hand away and mistakenly struck Empress Katya¡¯s person, the overseer would be dragged away to the dungeon.

    ¡°Hmmm. Lte.¡± The empress seemed fond of making a low hum before she spoke, only adding to her frightful demeanor. A bead of sweat trickled down Janice¡¯s forehead and she made the gap in the door a tad smaller to lessen her chances of being caught and subjected to the same torment. Janice was a brave girl, but only with opponents weaker than herself.

    Someone like Winter, a princess whose worth was lower than the cheapest scullery maid was worthy of her ire, but she tended to steer clear of fiercerpetition. That was part of the reason she had decided to make her way into the city. While the son of the chieftain was easy enough to beguile, even with her then slightly above average looks, his mother guarded him like a lion guarding her cubs and she was most definitely NOT fond of Janice.

    Janice did not see what the empress did next, but the screams rose to another level along with another round of tearful crying. Even in her fear, Janice did not forget to scorn the overseer, who in her mind was receiving well-deserved karma.

    ¡°Your majesty! I-I promise to gather information about any servants we missed. I¡¯ll do a census of the entire pce! Find those who were missed! Gather information!¡± the overseer finally spewed out.

    Her body, which was writhing on the floor in unimaginable torment, slowed down its frantic movement and Janice gathered that what she had just said to the empress was what Katya had wanted to hear.

    ¡°And that nursemaid?¡± Katya asked quietly. She ced something back in the box and Lte returned thecquered container back to the ornate writing desk.

    ¡°I shall be extremely diligent in retrieving information for your majesty. Where she was born, her family, what she likes to eat for breakfast, I shall learn it all!¡± The overseer punctuated her words with another bow. Her voice sounded raw as if she had just run ap around Winifred za rather than speak to the empress.

    Empress Katya just nodded and gestured for Kora to escort the drained overseer from her room. Noting that the door she was eavesdropping from was the only exit from the sitting room, Janice let the door shut quietly and walked away a few steps for good measure. She did not dare imagine the consequences that would follow if they knew she had heard them.

    Janice had moved in quick haste and it was a good decision for scarcely had she started examining her fingernails as if the cracked, dirty things were worth her attention, Kora opened the door with a sinister creak. Janice could feel the maid¡¯s eyes run over her suspiciously, perhaps trying to ascertain whether Janice was eavesdropping. Thankfully, the overseer began mewling like a child from the pain, and Kora, who appeared to be quite strong, quickly lugged her away.

    The hand the overseer was cradling to her chest was horrifyingly ck as soot, the hand curled in on itself as if it were burnt. Janice grimaced at the sight of the overseer, whose snot dripped freely from her nose, a far cry from her usually dignified appearance. This image hung in Janice¡¯s mind as Lte guided her into the room. Without her usual attitude, Janice reported everything Felix had told her, word for word, and she wordlessly epted the pouch of silver coins withoutint.

    As Janice slowly walked back to her humble bed in a trance, she promised to herself to keep the emperor off her list of targets, for now at least. And so it was from this that the lower maids of Sunrise Pce enjoyed a few peaceful days without any bickering orining.

 Chapter 43

    Ch. 43: Buckweed

    What on earth did people do for fun before the invention of technology? Watch paint dry? Count clouds floating by in the unpolluted sky? I would give an arm and a leg just to scroll through Instagram or binge-watch a crime show.

    When I¡¯m not researching or eating, I find myself trapped in the void of boredom with only Emma and Marie aspany. Transmigrated novels are always so much fun to read, from exploring a new culture to the heart-throbbing interactions with the hot and no doubt wealthy male lead. I saw Augustus, the crown prince, from a distance at the Spring Ball, and let¡¯s just say if he were a few years older and not my brother, I would definitely see the appeal.

    But who¡¯d have known that such a luxury is only avable to the main characters?! As a pitiful side character, there is little I can do but stress over my uncertain future and count the clouds floating by my bedroom window. Today, I¡¯ve even swallowed down my 26-year-old pride and have decided ¡®act my age¡¯ by kicking a ball with Marie. Emma is busy with sword lessons after sending a painfullyrge amount of my gold coins to Lady Westmont, so I only have my slightly graying nursemaid to apany me.

    The pretty garden of Rose Pce makes for a scenic setting for this dull game. We are surrounded by aromatic roses, a far cry from the slightly smelly shack I lived in before. However, the balls of this erack proper bounce to them, so our game is restricted to kicking the ball back and forth between each other. I specially requested for Marie to help me change into a lighter skirt and blousebo for better movement, but the skirt is still aplomb withyers.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± Marie asks gently, ¡°How are you adjusting to the imperial pce?¡±

    I ponder on how I should answer. In terms of treatment, I¡¯m like a duck in water. The good food,fy bed, and pretty gardens make for an appealing stay. However, the Grim Reaper¡¯s sickle hangs over my neck every second of every day and I¡¯m also practically broke.

    ¡°Quite well,¡± I lie awkwardly as I catch the ball in the curve of my foot. ¡°It feels nice to have a family.¡±

    Granted, none of my so-called family members other than Julian have acknowledged me and at least two want me dead, but maybe if I survive long enough I can befriend one or two of my siblings. Marie nods, happy at my answers, but I can see a hint of worry lingering in her eyes. Eager to offset my nursemaid¡¯s worry, I quickly change the subject.

    .....

    ¡°Tell me about you, Marie! How did youe to work at the pce?¡± I ask in a chipper voice.

    Marie looks surprised and a little delighted. ¡°Oh! Well, it¡¯s been a while since I¡¯vee to work here. Must have been right around when Crown Prince Wilhelm was born. I was quite a bit younger back then and much better at ying ball games.¡±

    ¡°I think you are quite good at ying with me, Marie,¡± I say to soothe Marie. She is a bit slow at returning the ball to me, but it really isn¡¯t a big deal. Besides, with my skirt, if she were any faster, I would be huffing and puffing around the grassy courtyard at the center of the garden.

    ¡°Who is Crown Prince Wilhelm?¡±

    Marie nches slightly, her eyes veering away. ¡°Oh... someone from the previous dynasty. You don¡¯t need to worry about him, your highness.¡±

    I nod and don¡¯t question her further. I already know my dad technically usurped the throne from the rightful heir, but this is the first time I am hearing his name. There were no books mentioning him in the library though, telling me this is no simple matter.

    ¡°Ok. Where are you from?¡±

    ¡°Guess!¡± Marie exims with her past cheer.

    Her moods shift quickly and clearly. When my nursemaid is sad, you will know. When she is excited, your heart can¡¯t help but quicken as well. It is refreshing to spend time with a two-dimensional person you can easily read like a book.

    I pretend to be Sherlock Holmes and inspect her for clues. I lower my voice slightly and rub my chin thoughtfully. ¡°Well, you don¡¯t carry a deep tan so I¡¯m going to rule out the South. I¡¯ve heard that people from the Western Provinces of Belhelm and Avernall tend to have fairer colored hair, so I¡¯m going to count that out as well.¡±

    I have just made broad guesses, but the act pleases Marie greatly and she ps for my charade.

    ¡°Good! Good!¡±

    I slump my shoulders and stick out my bottom lip. I tell her, ¡°I can¡¯t guess anymore, Marie! Give me a hint.¡±

    ¡°Alright, just one!¡± Marie promises and I brighten my face right away. She smiles wide and says nothing else. I catch the ball under my foot and look at Marie, waiting for her to give me the hint. But she just stands there grinning which confuses me greatly.

    ¡°Uh...¡± I start, wondering if the woman is having a stroke or something, ¡°The hint?¡±

    ¡°This is the hint! Come, look at my bottom teeth, your highness.¡± Marie beckons me closer, her smile bright as ever and I approach curiously.

    I should note that since this world takes ce in what would be deemed ¡®the past¡¯, the hygiene isn¡¯t always the best. Deodorant is nonexistent, and if it wasn¡¯t for my makeshift toothbrush and crush mint paste, I would not be able to engage in the usual dental care I¡¯m used to. I¡¯ve previously noticed that Marie¡¯s teeth are not the sparkling white Colgate smile that ismonce in the modern world, but I never pay much mind because this is quitemon for many maids.

    Marie¡¯s top teeth are slightly yellow and have never seen braces, but they aren¡¯t much worse than the usual modern smile. However, her bottom teeth, which are rarely visible when she smiles, are slightly stained ck. After ensuring I¡¯ve gotten a good look, Marie returns to her usual motherly grin and they disappear from view.

    ¡°I¡¯ve served you buckweed tea before, haven¡¯t I?¡± Marie asks.

    I wrinkle my nose at the memory. The bitter, dark tea was not to my taste at all, causing me to nearly spit it out at the first sip.

    ¡°Yes, you have,¡± I mutter in displeasure. Marie lets out a short peal ofughter at my scrunched up face.

    ¡°Buckweed is found around the D¡¯anjou Mountains. It¡¯s surprisingly expensive too. My father, he wanted to farm it when I was young to earn more for the family, but the tools cost too much.¡± Marie is clearly passionate as she speaks about her family and I listen intently. It is one thing to read about the Empire from a book and another to hear from someone who¡¯s lived in it.

    ¡°Anyways, even if you can¡¯t farm it, it grows in patches around the foot of the mountain. So a lot of us growing up in my poor vige would chew generously on stalks of buckweed to stave off hunger. Each piece is as long as a strand of wheat, but ck as soot. After chewing for a while, your teeth would get stained as if you made a meal out of a firece!¡±

    The mental image of a person on their hands and knees eating the ashes out of a firece is too funny for us both and we break out in loud giggles. As we slowly calm down, Marie continues.

    ¡°I¡¯ve left my vige for many years, so my top teeth aren¡¯t stained anymore. But I¡¯d wager my sister and her nephew have ck smiles!¡± Marie looks wistfully down at me. ¡°When I left the vige, my nephew was just about as small as you. But I had a friend in theundry department who wasn¡¯t far from my vige and she gets letters from time to time. He¡¯s married now with a little girl. I hope she is just as cute as you are, your highness.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure your family is doing well, Marie,¡± I reply warmly as Marie¡¯s despondent face rises to the surface.

    I know Marie isn¡¯t much good at reading and feel terrible that she can¡¯t send letters home. Maybe in my spare time, I can find a way to arrange correspondence between herself and her sister. After more than five years away from my mother, I understand all too well how hard separation between family members can be.

    From the sudden pang of missing my mom, I reach out and squeeze Marie¡¯s hand. It¡¯s a touching moment, one that is quickly interrupted by multiple slowly approaching footsteps.

    Before I look up, I eliminate possible suspects.

    It can¡¯t be any maids, since I specifically told them not to bother me while I was out ying. Ever since the incident with Janice, they have been much more diligent and probably wouldn¡¯t disobey this small order.

    It also can¡¯t be Emma. In addition to the fact that she should still be suffering sword lessons with Sir Dick, erm Sir Robbie, she has the ability to pop up out of nowhere. If it were her, I would just have to turn around and have a heart attack at her sudden, stealthy appearance.

    I reluctantly relinquish Marie¡¯s hand and steel my nerves. The empress has left me alone long enough, perhaps she hase around to fake more affection or make me hold more cups of tea. But the approaching figure shocks me in a pleasant way.

    Followed by a few maids, it¡¯s easy to see that this is not a woman of ordinary status. Her aging body is wrapped up in a modestly colored court dress, the subtle jewelry tasteful yet still showcasing her nobility. And I¡¯ve met this woman before, a rush of suppressed excitement running through me as I meet her friendly eyes. The words, ¡®potential ally¡¯, might as well be tattooed on her forehead.

    I drop into a curtsey, my knees automatically bending to the 45 degrees Mrs. Laroche had me practice a thousand times.

    ¡°Greetings, Duchess Taylor.¡±

 Chapter 44

    Ch. 44: Duchess Taylor

    ¡°Your highness,¡± Duchess Taylor replies, ducking into a respectful curtsey as well. She amusedly at the ball saddled under my foot.

    ¡°A game of kickball. Are your hands still hurt?¡± she asks with a look of concern. She and her attendants have made it onto the grass and approach slowly, but with purpose. Like any other well-trained noblewoman, Duchess Taylor has long mastered the art of walking withrge skirts and tight corsets, appearing to glide on the grass.

    Falling back to my childlike facade, I shake my head tenderly, my big, doe eyes gazing up at her as if she were a goddess.

    ¡°Marie said that because I¡¯m young, I can heal fast!¡± I chirp, taking care to show my hands and emphasize my point, the way children are prone to. Duchess Taylor takes note of my normal fingers and nods approvingly.

    ¡°Are you any good?¡± Duchess Taylor changes the subject quickly and nods towards the ball.

    ¡°Mmhmm!¡± I reply, eagerly kicking the ball to Marie. I have little experience in ser other than sweaty summers at my uncle¡¯s house as my extended family roared at a tiny TV screen showing a game. But my kick, which flies in the air for a bit, must look impressive since Duchess Taylor and her maids nod approvingly.

    The duchess makes small chatter with me and I manage to keep up, her topics ranging from the weather to how I¡¯m liking the food. I can¡¯t guess if there any intentions behind her appearance, but I¡¯ve learned something new. For starters, it seems that higher-ranking noblewomen are given leeway to prowl the pce. Duchess Taylor was definitely not a part of the Empress¡¯ posse, but she looked right at home when she appeared within the white gates of the Rose Pce. I¡¯ve also learned that beneath her fierce exterior, is a tomboy.

    ¡°To be honest, I¡¯ve always thought it is good for girls to run around in their youth,¡± Duchess Taylor says with a wistful look as fiddle around with the ball at my foot. Another fact I¡¯ve remembered about young children: they can hardly stay still. I remember how solemn I was in my first few days at the pce and how much it worried Marie with a cringe.

    .....

    The maids have backed off at some point in the conversation along with my nursemaid, so it is just the duchess and I. I can feel she has some memories she wishes to divulge, so I continue running around my ball in circles with my ears wide open.

    ¡°When I was in my youth, I only had brothers, many older brothers. My mother died early, so they took a hand in raising me. I could hold my own with a sword and was could silence lechers with one look. In fact,-¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a lecher?¡± I interrupt. I hate myself from dragging her starry gaze back to the present, but children are fond of interrupting others with annoying questions. But thankfully, Duchess Taylor isn¡¯t bothered andunches into a quick exnation before carrying on.

    ¡°In fact, my husband said that I seemed more like a boy wearing a girl¡¯s dress back then. I wore my scandalously short back then and did not get along with other debutantes,¡± sheughs.

    ¡°Short hair is pretty,¡± Iment, recalling my short and cute bob from my past life, ¡°It is easy to take care of.¡±

    Duchess Taylor agrees quickly. ¡°Indeed. Have you ever kept it short?¡±

    Involuntarily, I pat my head of long, icy white hair and shake my head. ¡°I knew someone who did,¡± I lie. It takes forever to grow, but I¡¯m starting to grow fond of my strange locks. It reminds me of the princess in fairy tales, who¡¯d let their hair grow to their feet and wistfully stare of windows dreaming of their one true love. I¡¯m basically Rapunzel, I think with a smirk. I do not yet know how much I¡¯m going to hate myself thatparison in a few days.

    By now, Duchess Taylor¡¯s hair has long grown out to a suitable length, twisted and knotted into a typical updo and entuated with a lowkey tiara. The bejeweled hairpiece is a far cry from the Empress¡¯ tiara and a crown of grey surrounds her hairline just before the crown. She has grown and matured into a proper noblewoman, along with shedding her past tomboy persona, only a spark of her past youthful rebelliousness still visible in her eyes. It feels a little sad for some reason.

    ¡°I have a gift for you, your highness,¡± Duchess Taylor says, looking at me fondly. She nces at someone over her shoulder and a well-trained maid runs up holding a small case. The maid¡¯s deft fingers pry open the thin lid and something immediately sparkles under the sun, prompting me to look away for a second.

    When my eyes adjust, I can¡¯t help but gasp.

    ¡°These are...?¡± I ask in awe. I¡¯ve seen my fair share of lovely jewelry sinceing to the imperial pce, but almost all of was on the empress, my demon sister, or the noblewomen at Ladies¡¯ Court. The Empress was very mindful not to leave me anything of worth and my own jewelry isparablyckluster.

    In the box the maid has opened though, a glimmering pair of earrings carved from glittering emerald steals the show. They are an appropriate size for young children, resembling studs rather than dangling earrings. But the pretty, star-shaped cut makes it unique and child friendly.

    ¡°I noticed you didn¡¯t wear any jewelry that matched your dress during Ladies¡¯ Court so I thought to buy you a pair. Look, we even match!¡± the duchess adds. She points to her ears, which have star-shaped earrings in the same mauve color as her gown. It¡¯s a kind gesture and one that I truly appreciate.

    ¡°I love it! Love it, love it, love it!¡± I squeal, conveying my glee. I even pull Duchess Taylor into a hug as she is still crouched beside me, which startles her for a heartbeat before she leans into it.

    She sounds slightly emotional as she keeps talking to me.

    ¡°In this life, I have never been blessed with many children. I have only had one son, Gregory, who I love very much. I always wanted a daughter, but...¡± the duchess lets out a long sigh, ¡°such a blessing will not be my fortune in this life. I can¡¯t help but see you as my own.¡±

    Duchess Taylor had already retired to the Old Taylor home in their official province by the time ra transmigrated into the novel, so she was only briefly mentioned at best. I know little about this woman, but her warm, grounding energy feels trustworthy.

    Do I take the plunge? Should I ept the token of goodwill?

    Logic dictates I shamelessly clutch onto Duchess Taylor¡¯s skirts and reap the benefits thate with associating with one of the highest-ranked noblewomen in the kingdom. In the future, it could prevent me from getting attacked by Julia¡¯s future goons from the webnovel and attain some respectability in this world.

    But I can¡¯t help but think of the desperate hangers-on at my private university, of which Halle was one of when she was hanging out with me. The school was a breeding ground for wealth, so not only were the popr kids good looking, but they also drove brand new convertibles and BMW¡¯s to school every day. The wannabe boys and girls who made it their life mission to get into the it crowd did eventually benefit.

    Maybe one or two would date a popr football yer or get an exclusive invite to a spring break party, but overall, they had to pay a heavy price. They¡¯d personally buy long-winded Starbucks order for everyone, serve as cannon fodder in arguments, and overall dehumanize themselves. People would spit on them and shame them for trying to be cool and a lot of times, the privileged brats they were bowing and scraping to would kick them to the side when they got tired of their personalckey.

    All for what? To be epted into an exclusive circle that thrives on irrational social constructs? I¡¯ve always looked down on these kinds of people and now here I am, considering being one of them. It makes me wonder if I scolded Halle too harshly in my past life about her associating with that crowd. But then I remember how she cheated with Jonathan and all my guilt washes away and strengthens my resolve.

    ¡°Thank you, Duchess Taylor! C-Can I call you something else though?¡± I ask bashfully as I ept the box of precious jewelry.

    Unfortunately, I will have to be one of those shameless hangers-on, but if I¡¯m going to be one, I might as well put my back in it!

    ¡°Oh?¡± Duchess Taylor looks a bit confused.

    ¡°Duchess Taylor takes me so long to say. Can I call you Auntie?¡± my little voice sounds sweet as I give her a more intimate title and sparks a genuine smile from the aged duchess.

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± she replies.

    I can see where Sir Gregory gets his temperament from and feel a secret thrill, the one thates when you identify the puzzle pieces that make up a person.

    ¡°You are so nice, just like Sir Gregory,¡± I tell the duchess.

    The duchess lets out augh, her somewhat deep voice falling pleasantly on my ears. ¡°He has told me about you too. It is very kind of you to bake for the royal guard. They look upon your visits very favorably.¡±

    I feel a slight blush on my cheeks as I reply, ¡°I just want to do something nice for them since they are working so hard. The fighting looks amazing!¡±

    I¡¯m not lying as their sword fighting looks even more impressive than what I¡¯ve watched in movies. It has been interesting to see that those stunt doubles I admired in the modern era can¡¯t hold a candle to the sheer prowess of the royal guard. And all I¡¯ve seen are the dregs that were left behind when my father departed to quell the rebellion, not the real professionals.

    The duchess imparts a few more words before she departs, leaving me in a mood sunnier than the weather.

    ¡°She is nice!¡± I tell Marie enthusiastically as she leads me inside for some tea.

    Marie hums in agreement and I rub my hands together, already nning the next modern pastry I¡¯m going to create for the royal guard.

 Chapter 45

    Ch. 45: White Hair and Moonshine

    If one stood at the door of Sunrise Pce, it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

    Most souls were asleep at thete hour save for a few. One of them was Kora, the Empress¡¯ personal maid who stood guard outside her chambers if she was in need of water or wanted to relieve herself. The other was Janice, her hands shaking as she peered at her reflection in a tepid pool of water the bright moon was illuminating.

    ¡°What is this?¡± Janice whimpered to herself, her voice choked in panic and horror. She had awoken in the middle of the night after spending hours tossing and turning restlessly. Sleep had eluded her often for the past few days, her thoughts chaotic and frenzied at every hour of the day. Janice had just thought she was feeling peckish.

    Although she had been raised in a poor vige, she had always eaten enough to fill her stomach and fill out her curves. But even brazenly sneaking into the kitchen did little to quell whatever her body, no her soul craved. It was all too strange.

    The unusual desire dragged her from her lumpy mattress in the middle of the night for a breath of cool air. Janice¡¯s vanity, like a siren¡¯s call, had beseeched her to gaze upon her dazzling face and she had obliged... to her utmost horror.

    Her face still looked like it was sculpted by the gods themselves. But her eyes couldn¡¯t miss it, the brilliant shock of white hair that clung to several strands of her oak brown hair. Janice was 18 for Helio¡¯s sake, even her mother only had a strand or two, let alone this many!

    If one stood at the door of Sunrise Pce, it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

    Most souls were asleep at thete hour save for a few. One of them was Kora, the Empress¡¯ personal maid who stood guard outside her chambers if she was in need of water or wanted to relieve herself. The other was Janice, her hands shaking as she peered at her reflection in a tepid pool of water the bright moon was illuminating.

    .....

    ¡°What is this?¡± Janice whimpered to herself, her voice choked in panic and horror. She had awoken in the middle of the night after spending hours tossing and turning restlessly. Sleep had eluded her often for the past few days, her thoughts chaotic and frenzied at every hour of the day. Janice had just thought she was feeling peckish.

    Although she had been raised in a poor vige, she had always eaten enough to fill her stomach and fill out her curves. But even brazenly sneaking into the kitchen did little to quell whatever her body, no her soul craved. It was all too strange.

    The unusual desire dragged her from her lumpy mattress in the middle of the night for a breath of cool air. Janice¡¯s vanity, like a siren¡¯s call, had beseeched her to gaze upon her dazzling face and she had obliged... to her utmost horror.

    Her face still looked like it was sculpted by the gods themselves. But her eyes couldn¡¯t miss it, the brilliant shock of white hair that clung to several strands of her oak brown hair. Janice was 18 for god¡¯s sake, even her mother only had a strand or two, let alone this many!

    For a brief moment, the sight had brought her back to the cause of all her problems, the damned bastard princess, and a fit of anger unlike any other seized Janice¡¯s heart. Her shaky hands had gone to tug the disrespectful white hair from the root when the bright moon relinquished another frightful discovery: the back of her hands were covered in spots, the likes of which gnarled old women had! The slight was too much and after uttering her words, Janice stumbled onto her behind, the cool stone cruelly reminding her that this was her reality.

    ¡°H-How is this possible?¡± Janice cried, not carrying if others heard. Other than the guards posted at the front of Sunrise Pce, she knew no one else would be awake at this hour.

    Desperation yipped at her ankles like an irritating pup, one that wouldn¡¯t leave no matter how much she insisted. When Janice had made a deal with Akira, she had thought her new looks would be permanent. But now it was draining out of her as if she were a sieve and she was powerless to stop it.

    ¡°Akira!¡± she yelled at the skies as if the Darkness himself would drop out of the sky at her whims.

    If her newfound beauty continued to fade, then Janice could forget any home of climbing into a wealthy noble¡¯s bed and doom herself to a life in Empress Katya¡¯s backyard. No. That was not an option.

    Janice let out a resolute huff, unwilling to let her future slip through her fingers as easily as her looks. She took a deep breath, her hands methodically fixing her appearance so appeared as lovely as she always did save for the addition of white hair and spotty hands. Janice would have to finish everything tonight.

    As if she were going to steal food, as usual, Janice stole into the kitchen, the wooden floorboards slightly creaking under her weight. Tonight, she did not pick up the leftover stale bread or mushy fruit. Her hands reached higher, towards a cupboard that was off-limits to ordinary staff such as herself. Janice tugged her hard, but the damned cupboard rattled, revealing the thin chain that kept it sealed.

    ¡°Oh, for Helio¡¯s sake,¡± Janice snapped, a burst of strength she didn¡¯t know she possessed aiding her in ripping the cupboard open. The broken chain tumbled onto the table below, but she didn¡¯t pay it any mind as she admired her bounty.

    There were bottles of wine, stacked neatly in many rows. Janice climbed onto the shaky tabletop to get a better view. The liquor was clearly good quality, some as them brown as dirt while others were clearer than water. The containers were made of crystal and perfectly disyed their contents. She carefully picked through her plentiful options, taking a healthy whiff of each to gauge their strength.

    Many of them were too weak and floral, the kind of liquor fancied by women. But eventually, Janice sniffed a discrete, smaller bottle and found her eyes watering from the strength of the wine. The young maid smiled to herself. This would work perfectly.

    The crime scene was left as is, Janice was confident that her n would work, even if there were a few hindrances to her beauty. It was dark anyway, so her target wouldn¡¯t notice. And she had long heard of what a gentleman he was too. Even if he noticed, he would have the moral integrity to take responsibility of her, the poor maid he ¡®identally¡¯ bedded.

    A key hung on a peg near the door and Janice divested it of its position, tucking it into her apron. When she reached the door servants used to exit, she borrowed her stolen key and silently left the premises of Sunrise Pce. Her bow-shaped lips whistled out a simple folk tune that her mother used to sing to her as Janice headed down the path towards the royal guards¡¯ barracks.

    s, not ever soul was actually tucked away in dreand. Having taken a rare break to step away from the Empress¡¯ side for a ss of water, Kora was a witness to Janice¡¯s rampage of the Empress¡¯ personal wine cab. Her steady gaze didn¡¯t waiver once from the scene, opting to stand to the side and watch. The empress had long been suspicious of this overstepping maid she had recruited and would definitely reward Kora for catching this theft.

    Kora entered the kitchen silently as Janice whistled away, quickly noticing that the moonshine the empress enjoyed mixing with fruit juice for a kick was missing. The personal maid couldn¡¯t help but chuckle to herself. A young woman skipping over the tributary wine crafted from the juice of rare eastern chrysanthemums in exchange for extra-strength moonshine? How odd. Kora noted the missing key and returned to her post, vowing to inform the Empress as soon as her Majesty awoke.

    As for Janice? Even if she knew someone had seen her, J wouldn¡¯t have cared.

    The barrack was built to be easy to navigate. The hallways that nightguards were too busy napping to guard were long, with bedrooms that could fit several grown men. Slender windows did not allow much of a view and a musky, unmistakenly manly order filled the entire three-floor building.

    It was now, as she crept through the dead halls surrounded by soldiers that Janice¡¯s nervousness began to rise. What if her target didn¡¯t find her appealing? That couldn¡¯t be possible, since she was certain she was the most beautiful woman in the pce, but there were always anomalies.

    The creak of an opening door startled Janice out of her thoughts and she froze in the dark hall. A body shuffled out, sleep-addled eyesnding on Janice. She swallowed nervously, even though she knew it was too dark to see her face. It would be bad if she attracted the wrong prey.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± the guard grumbled out, rubbing the sleep of his eyes.

    Janice knew how well trained the royal guard were and fear gripped her heart as her mouth began to spew out nonsense.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m here to change out chamber pots,¡± Janice replied a little too quickly.

    ¡°In the middle of the night?¡± the guard asked a bit suspiciously.

    Janice nearly wet herself in terror just at the thought of her plot failing. She could be tossed in the dungeon or executed for trespassing, every maid was taught the consequences of intruding in ces they shouldn¡¯t the minute they arrived at the imperial pce.

    ¡°Erm-yes. Well, you see, I¡¯m new. All I was told was that sometimes the guards would need to relieve themselves at night. I have to start from the person-in-charge¡¯s room and work my way down every hall,¡± Janice spewed out.

    ¡°Person-in-charge?¡± the guard asked again.

    Janice wanted to p her thigh in irritation at his inquisitiveness. How was she supposed to know the terminology for the royal guard when she¡¯d never even gone to school? He sounded like a young boy, not unlike a boy beginning the journey from child to man. A cockiness at being older than this guard filled her and she allowed a little haughtiness into her voice.

    ¡°You have a lot of questions, don¡¯t youd? Well since you don¡¯t want to go to bed, lead me to themander¡¯s bed, I mean room, so I can begin there.¡±

    The young man harrumphed, clearly annoyed at her shift in tone, but it worked for heplied without another word of dissent. The two walked all the way to the end of the hall, their footsteps the only audible sound. Every little creak and sound made Janice jump, afraid that a smarter guard would happen upon her. But the reached the end without incident and the guard, whose face was still obscured in darkness grumbled out, ¡°This is Sir Gregory¡¯s room, ourmander in charge while the main force in out in Avernall. Try not to faint from the smell, we are all men here.¡±

    And with that, the annoyed guard stomped off, leaving Janice alone in front of the heir to thergest dukedom in the Erudian Empire.

 Chapter 46

    Ch. 46: Morning Beauty Routine

    Empress Katya maintains a strict morning routine. It creates a sense of order in her busy days and provides her the stability that is her backbone. Her father had long drilled into her the importance of discipline. With such a rigid schedule in ce of her daily life, Katya can easily devote her energy towards whatever situation arises from the pit of domesticated snakes she interacts with every day.

    Around 7 am in the morning, Kora knocks on the door, inquiring whether the empress is awake. She always is awake by then, the light filtering in from her open window waking her up naturally. As befitting of her status, Katya¡¯s bedroom is one of a kind, the spacious room dominated by arge chamber bed with deep red curtains, like blood. The decor is minimal but clearly states her status with gold filigree and fancy carvings.

    Following her permission, a row of maids led by Kora enter the room with their heads bowed. One provides her with a bowl of spring water to rinse her face and mouth with, another with a sprig of fresh mint for her to chew on. As she towels her face and a team of maids bring out various dresses and jewelry for her to choose, Katya listens to whatever news Kora brings. Be it small orrge, all pce matters flow into the empress¡¯ ears at this time.

    ¡°Any news?¡± Katya asked out of habit as she pointed a slender, red-tipped finger at a sapphire ne.

    ¡°Your majesty, by chance when I left for a drink of water, I saw that maid leave in the night with your personal drink. Since you requested for us to surveil her, I made the personal decision to not call any guards for her insubordination and let her go.¡± Kora replied with her head bowed.

    Katya frowned slightly, the expression not marring her face in the slightest. The beauty products she used daily came from far and wide, costing thousands of coins every month. Her youthful appearance that had been her pride and joy since she was a child still maintained its peak beauty. But whenever she thought of that damn maid, Janice, a hateful current ran through her heart. If that maid didn¡¯t have her uses, she would¡¯ve done away with that wench the moment sheid eyes on her.

    Katya preferred her maids to be pleasant in appearance, but not too dazzling. Take Kora and Lte for example, the empress¡¯ two personal maids, otherwise known to others as her left and right hand. They would easily be considered beauties in the capital. But Kora¡¯s brow was a tad too heavy and low, making her appear as if she squinted. And Lte, her shrewish personality was carved into her face, leaving her with a perpetual frown. With such people standing by her side, Katya felt even more stunning when she moved around the imperial pce.

    Katya slowly moved to the vanity, her eyes meeting Kora¡¯s in the mirror.

    .....

    ¡°Who gave you the discretion to make decisions on my behalf?¡± she asked calmly as two maids began to brush her golden locks. Her voice was gentle, like a spring breeze ruffling a few leaves. But the implications underneath were far heavier and deadly.

    Kora immediately dropped into a low bow, her white maid cap nearly tumbling from her head.

    ¡°My sincere apologies, your majesty. I did not intend to override your authority. However, her visitst night has yielded fruit,¡± the personal maid exined quickly in an even tone. She was ustomed to such situations.

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°Janice took one of the stronger alcohols, moonshine, and she headed towards the royal guard. She has yet to report back to Sunrise Pce,¡± Kora finishes.

    Katya nods, thousands of calctions running through her head. ¡°That maid, Janice, is very greedy,¡± Katya eventually concluded with a smile. ¡°For now, leave her be, let someone pick up her ck. I would like to see what show she will give us.¡±

    The empress¡¯ eyes then flicked mercilessly to Kora. ¡°However, I haven¡¯t forgotten this slight. Report to Lte to kneel for an hour.¡±

    ¡°Yes, your majesty,¡± Kora replied obediently. There was no purpose inining or begging. The empress was all too fond of invisible punishments. Pain that was felt, but not seen. Heard, but unwitnessed. Kneeling was the epitome of these concepts, as Katya had arranged for a smithy to design a few hollow kneeling tforms of hard, cold metal.

    The metal was thin as a sheet of paper, allowing the kneeler to feel burning hot coals within that would burn the victim but not leave a trace of the punishment. It was one of Katya¡¯s points of pride as an empress who exerted absolute control on all the pces affairs the way no other ruling consort has done before.

    As Kora was preparing to depart, a maid hurried into the room, one Katya vaguely recognized as one of the many intelligence gatherers she had long installed in the imperial pce. The girl¡¯s whispers were short and hurried, followed by a speedy curtsey as she rushed out. Katya looked at Kora expectantly.

    Kora lowered her head deferentially. ¡°Lord Bromley secretly entered the capital just past midnight.¡±

    Katya¡¯s lip curled with distaste. That old dog was supposed to be in retirement and far, far away from her domain. What brought him sniffing back to his old haunts?

    ¡°Where is the old man lodged?¡± Katya spat out gracefully. Even in anger, she never lost her bearing as an empress.

    ¡°An old inn within a league of Winifred za.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s close,¡± Katya murmured, delving into her thoughts. She pondered what strange events could have brought the old badger out of his hidey-hole, her delicate hands clenching as she thought of the recent sore before her eyes, Princess Winter. The culprit who stole the precious birthright she had created for her legitimate daughter.

    ¡°What are you ying at old man?¡± Katya wondered. The maids behind her began twisting strands of hair to form an intricate updo and delicate rouge was dusted on her cheeks. Kora, who was acquainted with Empress Katya¡¯s mood, took the chance to slip away for her punishment after holding the door for maids carrying in her dress.

    Katya actually did not know much about Lord Bromley. By the time she hade into the picture, the man had retired for a few years. However, even in her youth, she had heard whispers of the genius who was behind the major conquest of Belhelm by thete emperor. All the empress knew for certain was that once Lord Bromley became the personal tutor of Emperor Helio, he had risen from one of the forgotten bastards of the licentious emperor to the ruler of the Erudian Empire within a few years. And that alone, coupled with the fact her father spoke of him with a dark expression, put him on her watch list.

    Could he have possiblye to see Winter? He had visited the emperor once before, after Helio had taken the throne and shortly after Julian was born. The man had looked at the crying welp and murmured a few words to Helio, prompting a dark expression from her hateful husband. From then on, he hadn¡¯t bothered visiting Julian again, onlyter dragging the boy along his victorious conquests as an afterthought.

    That brat, Winter, bore a striking resemnce to Helio, one that only Crown Prince Augustus could match. Katya¡¯s sole regret was that both of her children strongly bore the Duvernay traits of yellow hair and a straight nose with a slight bump on the bridge. If it weren¡¯t for their golden eyes, the nobles would have a field day pondering whether or not they were truly Helio and Katya¡¯s children. Should Lord Bromley meet Winter and decide to take her under his wing, would she too rise to the highest branch and usurp her children?

    The thought alone filled Katya with intense hatred and loathing for Winter. In her mind¡¯s eye, the brat¡¯s golden eyes mocked her, forever serving as a reminder of her husband¡¯s infidelity at the one ce her talons couldn¡¯t reach, the military camps.

    ¡°Lte!¡± Katya called impatiently, certain that her head maid had finished arranging Kora¡¯s punishment.

    As prompt as usual, the familiar presence emerged, a footman opening the door to let her in.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Lte replied.

    ¡°Arrange for someone to find out what Janice didst night. I want any and every detail that can be uncovered.¡±

    ¡°Yes, your majesty,¡± Lte moved to leave, but Katya wasn¡¯t finished, an unfriendly glint shing through her eye that sent chills through every maid in the room.

    ¡°Also tell the staff to prepare for an outing today.¡±

    Lte¡¯s brows quirked up in interest. ¡°To where?¡±

    ¡°Rose Pce,¡± Katya announced in a severe tone. She turned and smiled at her pleasing reflection, now dolled up with makeup and her everyday headpiece, the Gavenport Tiara. The piece had a unique, fabled story, one that had attracted the newly enthroned empress to it a few years ago.

    The eye-catching, but demure jewelryposed of delicate diamond arches, each with a fat pearl swinging within. It was famously won in a bet by the then famous Lady Helene from the Empress. During a royal hunt, the Empress had proposed that anyone who could get their arrow the further than 200 paces would win a ticket worth 2,000 gold coins. Eager to prove their worth, several virile young men had fought to prove their worth, but even the strongest royal guard couldn¡¯t get it past 100 paces.

    At that point, a delicate young noblewoman who had not even debuted stepped forward and bravely announced that she could do the impossible task. The notion had caused quite a stir. Everyone had a goodugh at the thought the tiny woman could do what dozens of strong men could not. The empress was simrly incredulous, going so far as to bet her tiara the emperor had gifted as a wedding present in addition to the gold coins.

    Lady Helene took it all within stride, her confidence never wavering. Calling forward a personal servant holding a birdcage, the young girl tied an arrow to her pet hawk¡¯s leg and sent it flying. 50 paces, 100, 200, the bird kept going until it disappeared into the horizon.

    Then with a line that became famous throughout the empire though not many know from where it originated, thedy turned around and said proudly, ¡°You never said we had to shoot it from a bow!¡±

    Eventually, the tiara did be the property of the crown once more when Lady Helene married the Crown Prince and eventually became the Empress herself, the tale all but forgotten in the current era until Katya had inquired about the tiara herself.

    Katya was quite fond of it, especially when she connected the famous saying to the forgotten headpiece. She did not want to be the foolish Empress who had doubted her opponent and been utterly humiliated. Katya fancied herself a clever woman, one who was resourceful enough to shoot an arrow without a bow. But today, she sought to crush the arrow before it could set out on its path.

    Like the empress in the story, the empress knew that one can never be too unassuming of others. Winter may just be a girl today, but tomorrow bloom into a woman who can hold a fight with her. Today, Katya sought to crush the unseasoned wings of the Helene in her life and ground Winter permanently.

    Better safe than sorry, that was her firm life motto. Her youthful confidence had made Katya believe she would be chosen as Empress Consort until that bitch somehow became Helio¡¯s first wife and bore that rotten Crown Prince. She was older and wiser now, unkeen on making the same mistake twice.

    In the past few days, distasteful rumors had flowed from the streets to her royal ears, murmurs that the empress hated Winter and mistreated her behind closed doors. Perhaps one of her father¡¯s enemies had purposely spread the news to weaken her benevolent image among themon people.

    Katya did not care in the slightest.

    Commoners were like grass, going any direction the wind blows. The nobility, whorgely stood behind her, remained unswayed which is what mattered most in this world. Thus she felt little qualm about what she was going to do next. Anypetition for Julia and children must be eliminated swiftly, as all the others were.

 Chapter 47

    Ch. 47: The Calm Before the Storm

    Mrs. Laroche¡¯s voice fades into background noise as I loop a forest green thread around my fingers. My legs swing back and forth on the sofa, my heels nearly knocking into the fancy lion¡¯s w leg that supports the white seat.

    My mind can¡¯t help but recall Julian¡¯s retelling of the unused threads as I draw the thread taut between my fingers. The string doesn¡¯t break, its vibrant color indicative of its good quality.

    I, for better or worse, want to be part of the tapestry of this world. I want to be free from Peppermint, so I can wholeheartedly focus on carving out afortable life for myself. But so far, the only way I can think of weaving myself into the picture is by bing the promised child that Julia is favored to be.

    In the webnovel, Julia was officially announced by the Holy Church as the promised child when she was 8 years old, which means I have time to figure out how to steal the title from her. However, I also know from the webnovel, that the title ispletely bogus and will be exposed as a fake created by the empress someday in the future. But what other choice do I have, but to try?

    ¡°Your highness,¡± an icy voice inquired, dragging me rudely from my thoughts.

    I blink my flutteryshes up at a sour-faced Mrs. Laroche, murmuring a quick, ¡°Sorry.¡±

    She held her re for a beat, so that I could see how she was displeased with my inattentiveness, beforeunching back into her lecture.

    Her hand held a in silk handkerchief, pulled t within the wooden mechanism I¡¯ve seen before in historical movies.

    .....

    ¡°It¡¯s best to wear a thimble, to prevent yourself from identally harming your finger,¡± she resumes, handing me a special miniature thimble to looks more like a toy in her hands but fits my thumb perfectly.

    It was a wee suggestion, as the suddenness with which the long and slender needle pierced the fabric led to numerous pings of metal hitting metal. Each time the sound rang out in my sitting room, Mrs. Laroche would regard me with a stink eye and I would smile lovingly in her direction. This made for an absolutely peachy hour of haphazardous embroidery.

    ¡°What... What is this?¡± Mrs. Laroche asked in horror, never forgetting her manners as her freshly embroidered hanky moved to cover her open mouth. If my feelings were actually invested in this otherwise useless task, I would¡¯ve been hurt by her reaction, but instead, I had to smother a giggle or two.

    ¡°It¡¯s you!¡± I reply sweetly.

    On the low coffee table between us, Mrs. Laroche actually set out many subjects for me to recreate. There is a rose she plucked on her way in, a red vase, and a palm-sized detailed drawing of a songbird. Last night, I had stayed upte with Emma creating hundreds of cups of fruity pudding for the royal guard. It¡¯s bing warmer and warmer every day as the first days of summer are upon us, and I figured a cool treat would be more than wee.

    But how was I supposed to remember that today of all days, I had an etiquette lesson earlier than usual since Mrs. Laroche wanted to take extra time to teach me the foundations of embroidery? It was a soul-crushing moment reminiscent of my previous life¡¯s school days as I sullenly sent Emma out on her own with the snacks to her sword lessons.

    Thus as revenge, I decided to embroider Mrs. Laroche as my subject of choice. Her gray dress came out more like a messy blob, some threads loose while others were tight. Three small ck knots made up her eyes and mouth that is always pinched as if she sucked a lemon. Her brown hair looks like it was electrocuted on my hanky, the elegant bun ruined in my childish hands. Watching her satisfying reaction at my grand reveal, I am not disappointed in the slightest.

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s you! This is your hair, and your eyes and mouth, and that¡¯s your gray dress.¡±

    Sometimes being a child is not so bad. I can tell that my rendition of her appearance has riled Mrs. Laroche up, but she can do nothing other than swallow down her rage.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± my governess starts carefully, a slight hint of anger still evident in her tone, ¡°It is... improper... to embroider people. Next time please use a still object as your subject.¡±

    ¡°Mmkay!¡± I reply obediently. But Mrs. Laroche has high standards and is displeased.

    ¡°Nobledies, especially princesses, do not use suchmon vernacr. When agreeing, use your words. Yes, Mrs. Laroche, for example, would be a proper reply.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Mrs. Laroche,¡± I say, slightly less enthusiastically. Thankfully, my teacher does not notice.

    At this moment, a young steward rushes up to me with a panicked expression. Marie, who typically stands in the corner during my lessons, meets him halfway and they exchange flurried words before Marie turns to me with a simrly shocked expression.

    ¡°Her Majesty, the empress, has arrived at Rose Pce,¡± she says hurriedly, so that both Mrs. Laroche and I can hear her.

    ¡°Hmph!¡± Mrs. Laroche says indignantly, ¡°The panic within your voice would make those who don¡¯t know better think that the empress mistreats her highness. Your highness, take care to discipline your staff so they know how to carry themselves.¡±

    I pay little mind to her words. I know very well that the empress¡¯ act is Oscar-worthy. Other than those unfortunate enough to suffer her wrath, such as myself, one would assume she is a saint.

    The saint in question sweeps gracefully in my sitting room, her stunning personage wrapped up in a deep blue gown and followed by her pce¡¯s attendants. It¡¯s a breathtaking sight indeed, one I can¡¯t help but envy. Her entire person exudes light, like the sun. Even though she has hurt me so much, when the empress smiles down at me with none of the loathing I know she feels, I can¡¯t help but wish she liked me. That she stood on my side instead of against me. But my experiences have proved otherwise.

    ¡°Greetings, your majesty,¡± Mrs. Laroche and I say at the same time, dropping into a formal curtsey. Mrs. Laroche says nothing to me, but when I briefly meet her eyes when we rise, I can see the silent approval in her eyes.

    ¡°Winter darling,¡± the empress says sweetly as she personally helps me up from the curtsey, ¡°I take you as my own daughter. You do not need to be so formal with me.¡±

    Chills crawl down my spine as her cool hands take mine. Her cropped nails softly graze the top of my hands I desperately want to yank myself free. But I don¡¯t.

    If I did, I would inevitably look like a brat who doesn¡¯t appreciate the goodwill of the wife towards a child outside her marriage. The news, like much information about me, would make its way down the winding entrance of the Rose Pce and into the imperial pce, before everyone on the streets is talking about it. And then, my hard work in ndering the empress¡¯ name would be in vain.

    I return Empress Katya¡¯s gesture of goodwill with my own, holding her hand of my own volition and smiling at her with a childlike naivete. Her green eyesnd on the basket of threads and she smiles down at me.

    ¡°You were learning embroidery?¡± she asks. Mrs. Laroche silently excuses herself from the room and I reflexively swallow as a maid by the empress¡¯ side simrly shoos out a reluctant Marie.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say before correcting myself, ¡°I mean, yes, your majesty.¡±

    ¡°Now, now,¡± the empress chides in a calm voice, ¡°I told you to call me mother before, remember?¡±

    In your dreams, I want to yell. But I just nod half-heartedly as we take a seat at the sofa. Every nerve cell,tent animal instinct, and shred ofmon sense in my body is telling me to flee when Katya makes eye contact with me again, her perfect smile beginning to show cracks. But two of her maids have closed the sitting-room door and moved in front. It is the most polite trap I¡¯ve ever seen.

    ¡°The way I was raised,¡± Katya begins gently, her sapphire earrings trembling with each word, ¡°Embroidery is an art taught from mother to daughter.¡±

    ¡°It teaches you about life, specifically how proper women should live. The art is quiet and unintrusive. When one embroiders, their actions will never interrupt a conversation or draw an unnecessary gaze. It takes ce indoors and does not disturb the important business of one¡¯s father, brother, or son. With each breath, one remains innately focused on their task, their mind never pondering any disgraceful fancies unfit for a noblewoman.¡±

    The corner of my mouth falls briefly at the empress¡¯ pretty words, which fall smoothly on my ears but jars with my sensibilities. My modern ideology strongly disagreeing with her Erudian rendition of the ¡®women belong in the kitchen with a baby on their hip¡¯ speech. Within her words, a clear message is heard.

    Stay in yourne, you bastard.

 Chapter 48

    Ch. 48: Off With Her Head!

    I manage to fix my expression as my ¡®mother¡¯ pulls the basket of threads into herp, ¡°These threads, as they sit in this basket, they are without purpose. They are unused and unsullied, fit to be shaped as the owner desires.¡±

    She picks up one red and one white thread, almost absentmindedly twirling the two around her index finger. The colors swirl together and I swallow down the rage threatening to make itself known.

    Peppermint. Of course.

    My days have been a little too calm and now I realize that this damned author was just lying in wait, anticipating me falling intocence before hitting me with another blow. I can¡¯t help but wonder what is in store this time. Will it be more physical pain? A psychological blow? The empress is regarding me calmly, too calmly, and I feel like I am out of my depth. Katya has such a powerful presence, no wonder she was such a menace to ra in the webnovel.

    ¡°But sometimes,¡± she drawls gently, drawing out her sybles, ¡°Mistakes are made. You use red instead of green, drawing a bloody stain across an otherwise calm picture. And then your embroidery is ruined and must be thrown out. This is what happens when you don¡¯t take care of where your needle goes.¡±

    Empress Katya looks down at me expectantly as if waiting for a response and I nod weakly.

    ¡°What do you think, Winter? Do you think you have taken good care of your needle?¡± Her expression is soft and resigned, akin to a disciplining her unruly child. I don¡¯t know when or how this conversation about embroidery turned into a scolding.

    Her brief mention of blood cutting across the scenery also sends more chills down my spine. Is she trying to say she wants to kill or maim me? This woman seems to be underhandedly admonishing me for cutting into her life. Well, I¡¯m sorry Katya, I want to yell, I don¡¯t want to be here either!

    .....

    ¡°You haven¡¯t,¡± she ignores my nod. ¡°No Winter, you have not. But don¡¯t worry. Mother will teach you and all those who seek to lead you astray.¡±

    I scarcely have a moment to process the empress¡¯ words before the previously guarded doors open with a loud bang. I see iling legs first, then a maid dress that looks small enough to fit me before Emma¡¯s fear-stricken face fills my visionpletely.

    Emma? She is supposed to be at her lessons with Sir Robbie right now, not here with my stepmother! To my maid¡¯s credit, she doesn¡¯t let out a sound, devoting her entire energy into a futile escape effort against the two strong, expressionless maids, clutching her twig arms in a vise-like grip. But I am not nearly as fierce or brave as Emma, my mouth unconsciously letting out a soft exmation of, ¡°What the fuck?¡± under my breath. To see my friend, my sworn sister, suddenly be my weakness, the ground seems to have fallen out beneath me.

    How many countless times have I read about this scenario? So many years of sitting in my bed under my ancient but cozy Winnie the Pooh nket with a book; I flipped through the pages with a grim look on my face as I mentally scolded the protagonist for being foolish enough to have a friend or lover while fighting to survive in a difficult setting. But I get it now. Why can¡¯t I be selfish? Why can¡¯t I think of myself and make my time in this Empire a little easier? The reason is staring right at me, her ck eyes no longer solemn as she gazes at me in panic.

    I feel so ashamed.

    I¡¯m a user, just like those girls from school I¡¯ve always snubbed, acquainting myself with Emma so she could do some of my errands. And now my foolishness has implicated her. I know the empress was watching me, I¡¯ve known all along she had eyes in the Rose Pce. My teeth sink into the meaty flesh of my lip, almost drawing blood as a sharp pain brings me back to the present. Regret and fear are the only things I feel now, the guilt hitting me in waves at the same pace as my rapid-fire heartbeat.

    I¡¯m slow to respond to the appearance of Emma, giving the empress much time to soak in my many reactions.

    ¡°W-Why is she here?¡± I ask stupidly. I already know why. But I need this woman to confirm it.

    Katya smiles down at me, her pearly white winking at me in the afternoon sunlight filtering in.

    Her words soundpassionate and concerned as she bes judge, jury, and executioner of Emma¡¯s fate. ¡°Instead of being a proper ymate and apanying you with dolls, this maid has incited her mistress to engage in udylike habits. She encouraged her mistress to sell her clothes like amon wastrel and sneak out to meet men at odd hours. She extorts her mistress for spare change. Such a maid is not fit to remain by her mistress¡¯ side.¡±

    ¡°Wait, that¡¯s not-¡± I interrupt loudly, appalled by this charges the empress is tacking onto my poor friend. Her usation is the equivalent of pointing at ck and calling it white. And how did she know about us selling the extra dresses she sent? Does she know what I used the money from it for?

    After thinking that, I want to hit myself. Emma¡¯s head is on the chopping block and I¡¯m worried about my own welfare? When did I be this selfish?

    ¡°You didn¡¯t know?¡± the empress throws a fake pitying look at me, that if I wasn¡¯t wise to her nature from the webnovel, I would¡¯ve been fooled by. ¡°Oh, you didn¡¯t know dear Winter? That is even worse. Kora, bring the evidence.¡±

    One of the Empress¡¯ close personal maids that was frequently mentioned in the story as an emotionless enforcer with secretbat skills walks near, holding a familiar silk pouch. It¡¯s the bag of money I first gave to Emma, now stuffed to the brim with thetest additions.

    ¡°No, no!¡± I quickly rify, ¡°I gave all that money to her. She didn¡¯t steal anything. And everything you¡¯ve said, I ordered her to do it!¡±

    My speech is hurried and rushed, the tense situation getting to me. But the empress has a knowing glint in her eye at myst sentence.

    She sighs sadly, her lushshes gazing at the ground as her eyes grow sorrowful. ¡°How awful, for this maid to extort her own mistress like this. Extortion is theft in a prettier package. Such a young girl, without the guidance of a mother for so long, of course, you would fall under the spell of such a deceitful wench.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s my friend!¡± I valiantly yell, standing up from the chair as my terror is briefly forgotten. But my fear returns in full force when Katya looks at me, an undiscernible emotion in her forest-green eyes. Emma, who was forced on her knees by the two maids, shoots me a grateful look. But she never yells or screams, her face back to the typical, cold mask she wears. One would think I was the one forced to kneel on the floor before the female sovereign of the Erudian Empire.

    ¡°Friend?¡± Katya asks, the first hint of malevolence slipping into her voice. ¡°The people who serve you are not your friends. Those who do note from the same birth are not qualified to sit on the same level as you.¡±

    I roll my eyes as I kick my toe on the soft, fur carpet. The stepmother of mine never misses the chance to subtly drag me with every sentence.

    ¡°Remind me, Lte. What is the punishment for thieves?¡±

    ¡°Your majesty, for their first offense thieves lose one hand. For the second, both hands go. And for the third,¡± my eyes narrow as I unmistakably hear the glee in the personal maid¡¯s voice, ¡°death.¡±

    Katya tsks gently, looking down at Emma as if she were a bug under her foot.

    ¡°Begin. Step by step. Punish her for each offense.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t do this!¡± I yell frantically, running around the sofa to reach Emma. But the maids who went to guard the door move quicker than my small self, blocking my path so I can only see Emma between the tight gap between their ck skirt.

    ¡°Emma!¡± I yell, my voice cracking.

    This is clearly illegal and wrong. But every one of Katya¡¯sckeys watches on indifferently as a thin, wooden bench that I¡¯ve never seen is brought in. It is carried by two courtiers with pins from Sunrise Pce and one of them has a short, sheathed weapon on his side.

    The bench isid out right in front of my bed. If I were seated upon it, it would be like watching a TV show. Carrying out the brutal punishment inside my room as if this is a jail cell or the dungeon, the empress is clearly trying to scar me for life.

    I struggle harder against the maids, but I¡¯m just a child against two adults. With this pinky fingers, they could stop me from moving. The hands are not so gentle as the push me back, further away from Emma.

    ¡°Don¡¯t do this! Stop! You can¡¯t!¡± My pipsqueak voice is almost incoherent as I helplessly watch the men drag Emma to the bench. She isn¡¯t fighting anymore, resigned to her fate. They will cut off each hand, before killing her. And she is just a child! This is wrong, just morally uneptable!

    The taller man pushes Emma down on her knees, the other spreading her hand out t on top of the bench. I notice many cuts and grooves on the bench, it has clearly been well used in the past.

    ¡°No! Emma, run! Emma, I¡¯m sorry! J-Just go! It¡¯s all my fault anyway,¡± I cry out, fat tears running down my face and clogging my voice. I don¡¯t understand how she can just sit there and wait patiently for her fate. She is strong and fast for her age, if she tried, maybe she could escape. But then where would she go?

    My brief hope goes crashing to the ground once more. Better than me, Emma understands there is nothing else she can do. The empress also watches patiently, having settled down in a seat to watch the show. Dark, horrible hatred, the kind that snatches your breath away, fills my heart. I narrow my eyes at the blonde woman and want to do something terrible to her. Hurt her the way she is about to hurt me.

    I can¡¯t do anything though. I¡¯ve lost this round. As the courtier unsheaths the weapon and raises it high over his head, I wish more than anything for a hero to swoop in and stop him. For an arrow to soar through the open window and pierce the courtier¡¯s wrist before it falls.

    I¡¯m a tenacious kid, at heart. Born into poor circumstances, my whole life, I¡¯ve never been a quitter, attacking all my obstacles with a sassy attitude and vigor. How else would a schrship kid like me end up at a prestigious university? When I firstnded in this world, even though I was afraid, a tiny part of me always believed I would be able to turn around my circumstances. That I would somehow stop the empress and gain a decent life in this world.

    But I can¡¯t win. So I won¡¯t.

    ¡°Don¡¯t hurt her!¡± I let out, my voice weak and shaky.

    I look towards the empress, my watery eyes still able to see the faint, Mona Lisa smile she wears often. She looks more suited to attend the opera rather than watch a child maid get murdered. The swing of silver through the air pauses as if sensing the change in me as well. The heavyset courtier looks at the empress inquisitively as I throw down myst and only card.

    ¡°Hurt me. Please.¡±

 Chapter 49

    Ch. 49: Hands Off

    There is only one word that can describe the look in Empress Katya¡¯s eyes. Bloodlust. When they said that eyes are the window to the soul they weren¡¯t lying. Nothing else about Katya gives away her inner thoughts. Her hands are still, the perfect half-smile still hangs on her cherry painted lips as the courtier raises the de high above his head. But her eyes, the more I looked at her frantically I realized that she doesn¡¯t just want to hurt Emma.

    She wants to hurt me. Not just emotionally.

    So why not just give her a short cut? I¡¯m familiar with this sight, unfortunately. Nestled within the hazy memories of my youth lies one, a memory that still ys before my eyes clear as day. My mom and I were in dire straits back then, her misfortune of a low paying part-time job coupled with a shitty boyfriend. And as one can easily guess from where I¡¯m going with this, he was abusive. Deep purple and red marksy just out of sight on my mom¡¯s body, peeking out to say hi when she bent over to help collect my toys were her usual, sweet smile.

    It was a lousy situation, one that is easy to condemn from the outside. Why didn¡¯t she leave? Why didn¡¯t she take me in the dead of the night and escape? But we were as good as stuck. This shitty boyfriend also happened to own a two-bedroom apartment in a sketchy part of town, a godsend for my mom. So sweet Dolores, my mother, put up with the bastard for six whole months, saying nothing when he pped her hard enough to draw blood.

    She was so young back then. Come to think of it, my mom was probably around my age, pre transmigration, when she was with Frankie. He stunk of ripe BO on a constant basis, a stained wifebeater barely covering her burgeoning gut. And Frankie was a big guy to boot. He easily hit around 6¡¯4¡å and had a temper after he drank. It was any woman¡¯s worst case scenario, but since he never touched me, my poor mom just put up with it.

    But you know how it goes. One day, things juste to a head. I¡¯d been obediently taking an afternoon nap post a lunch of Kraft macaroni and cheese when the heinous odor that permeates throughout Frankie¡¯s hellhole seemed more concentrated than usual. I opened my eyes to hairy, filthy hands, the nails cracked with mud and dirt. They had reached towards me, the appendage looking so big it seemed to cover my entire field of vision. An equally filthy smile shined behind his hand as adrenaline began to rece my sleepiness.

    It doesn¡¯t matter how young you are, when your body is aware you are in danger your instincts kick in. And mine told me to MOVE. I rolled out from under the oldforter right as Frankie¡¯s hand came down on where Iy, his clumsiness knocking over my unlit Winnie the Pooh nightlight propped up on a buck doubling as a nightstand. There was no carpeting in that dump, my beloved Winnie the Pooh nightlight cracking in two on the floor with an audible sound.

    Dolores had rushed in and with a fervent passion she had never unleashed, she started screaming at Dolores. I mean, she has definitely scolded me before for not making my bed and kid stuff like that, but that time, my mom had flipped a switch. Now that I¡¯m older, I can understand why. What his intentions near my bed that day, one can sickeningly guess. Alternating between Spanish and English, as she does when she is upset, she got up in big Frankie¡¯s face and told him off, right before he sent her packing to the floor.

    .....

    The shattered piece of nightlight caught her fall, tearing her palm and sending red all over the floor. But Frankie just got started. His fists were going up and down, up and down, the battering rams eventually resembling the red floor. Then he stood up, gasping like a pig because he was out of shape and started swinging his tree trunk leg.

    As for me? I was a coward. I¡¯d stayed crouched in the corner, watching a man beat the ever-loving shit out of my only family member as if I were a spectator at the movies. I made a sound once, when one hit made a sick, squelching sound like someone had squeezed a ketchup packet with all their might. He had looked back at me then, Frankie, with death in his eyes. There was no man left in them, only animal. A fat, smelly animalpletely ruled by its instincts. The bloodthirst was so thick, I immediately shut up and fell back into my role as a trembling spectator.

    Eventually, the police showed up. I didn¡¯t know how to operate a phone back then, but I¡¯d like to think a kind neighbor far braver than me decided to do the right thing from all the noise. For you see, the minute Frankie started swinging my mom silently took the beating and his attention away from me. The only sound was Frankie¡¯s inhumane grunts and mutterings of curse words. Maybe he¡¯s why I¡¯m such a potty mouth.

    Anyways, after leaving that ordeal in the dead of the night two weekster since restraining orders are too damn expensive, Frankie¡¯s gaze stuck with me for a long time. It haunted me in my dreams, hung on my back like a silent watcher when I was alone. You don¡¯t forget that kind of bloodthirsty stare, the kind that is so devoid of humanity it could devour you and not even leave your bones behind.

    And today, I see that in Empress Katya¡¯s eyes. The veil of civility is thicker, but oh, it¡¯s there, waiting to be let out and tear my little self to shreds. In my mind¡¯s eye, I can almost see hering at me, her skirts a flutter, her maids gaping as she dives at me with bared teeth and wed manicured fingers.

    But Katya wouldn¡¯t be the viinous empress readers love to hate if she fell so quickly to her baser instincts, although the corner of her mouth curls slightly before falling back to her hard to read mask.

    ¡°Hurt... you?¡± she says, the words rolling out of her mouth in a pleasing manner.

    The knife hangs in midair and every eye is on me. I suck in a shuddering breath, hating the feeling of being the center of attention. I look to Emma and stares back, her dark stare not giving me anything. But she hasn¡¯t screamed. Yelled. Begged the empress for freedom. Promised information about me.

    She¡¯s really my friend, even in the face of death. My sister, my chosen family. Which means today, I can¡¯t be the spectator I was with Dolores. My mother¡¯s warm face appears in my head, her tan face framed by strands of dark brown hair that fell out of her ponytail. Even in the face of such a terrifying foe, a have a good feeling that my mom would be proud of me right now if she was here.

    ¡°Yes. It was me that did something wrong, so I should be punished,¡± I admit. I move to sit back down on the sofa beside her as if capital punishment was about to take ce a moment before.

    Katya regards me for a long moment. I stare back too, throwing caution to the wind. The same way she is trying to get a read on me, I simrly witness the inner struggle the empress is going through. I inwardly sneer to myself at how much she wants to hurt me. To think it is so tempting for her to hurt a little, five-year-old child, it makes me wonder where her virtuous and saintly reputation stems from.

    I can see the moment my idea wins out. The green of her eyes seems to drown me, her eyes narrowing slightly as she sets her eyes on her prey. It¡¯s all very subtle, but I can once again feel sweat fall down my head. I¡¯ve been spanked before by my mom¡¯s chan like any other Hispanic kid, but I have an inkling it won¡¯t be as easy this time.

    ¡°Lte.¡±

    ¡°Your Majesty?¡± Lte rushes over with a gleeful look.

    ¡°Clear the room. Bring my needles.¡±

    Lte can¡¯t help but look at me triumphantly before her domineering gaze falls upon the rest of the people in this room. She is the perfectckey for a woman like Katya, the bad cop to her good cop. For harsh matters that could tarnish her image, this personal maid is a perfect scapegoat.

    I helpless watch as Emma is dragged out, the door clicking shut with finality. Lte has also gone to fetch the needles, and I look down at the basket of threads with curiosity. I cross my fingers and hope that Katya will just teach me embroidery as punishment. I already stab myself so much with the needle it would be punishment enough.

    Katya¡¯s mask begins to crack more. Her slender brow twitches and her smile fades a tad. It¡¯s refreshing, in a way. An enemy you can¡¯t see, one that hides in the dark, that is much more frightening. The empress is so eager to harm me, she is willing to let off my maid for a chance at me. She must eliminate me, the sole obstacle to the false title of promised child she created for her daughter.

    ¡°You¡¯ve done 5 wrongs. Shall I list them?¡± Katya asks. I nod hesitantly.

    She seems to be a methodical woman. First, she asks Lte about the punishments for theft and now she is listing out my supposed wrongs. It shows that Empress Katya is a thorough woman, never doing things at half effort. That¡¯s good for her duties and bad, well, for me.

    Looking at me longer and longer seems to irritate her very much as well. Her mask cracks more and more, her Mona Lisa smile no longer present. ¡°You, dear Winter,¡± she says in an insidious manner that still carries a thread of her usual kindness, ¡°should have never been born. That is your first wrong.¡±

    I wonder why she insists on addressing me as ¡®dear Winter¡¯ as she verbally shreds me.

    ¡°Second, you shouldn¡¯t havee to the pce, my home.¡± I agree with her. Bianca¡¯s shack surprisingly felt like more of a home than the imperial pce.

    ¡°Third, you shouldn¡¯t have passed the test. You should have done everything in your power to fail.¡±

    ¡°Fourth, you should have never met with my daughter. You, dear Winter, are not worthy to be considered in the same family as Julia.¡±

    Ouch. I never asked to be part of this crazy family, I want to yell. I wanted to grow up in the shack until I was old enough to run away and carve out a living for myself.

    ¡°And fifth,¡± her voice gets lower, an edge of viciousness further coating her words. ¡± You should have never, ever sought out my son.¡±

    She spits out herst words, the disgust evident. Now I¡¯m further incensed by her ims, especially since it is clear as day that brat, Julian, spoke to me first through his crony, Meliorn.

    Julian, I want to yell at my stupid half-brother, your crazy mom is about to make me embroider ¡¯till my hands fall off!

    A knock sounds at the door, Lte has returned. She enters, her eyes sparkling with glee that makes me further ufortable. The box is made of dark brown wood, a shinycquer covering the pretty designs on top. It fits nicely into her two hands and appears quite innocuous, but judging from the little I¡¯ve gathered about Lte¡¯s personality, the contents within must bode ill for me.

    Lte stands before the empress and opens the lid to reveal a cushioned interior with several silver needles the size of an adult male¡¯s finger, and a tadrger than a strand of hair.

    I cock my head to the side in confusion.

    ¡°What?¡± I murmur as I get a closer look at the needles. At first nce, I just thought Katya was an avid collector of embroidery needles, but it has be apparent to me that these are not ordinary sewing needles. There is no eye to thread and after getting stabbed one too many times, I can tell that these needles are also too thin and long. Could they be some sort of ancient acupuncture needles?

    Katya turns to me, anticipation flitting through her eyes.

    ¡°Winter, give me your hand,¡± Katya orders, a faint breathy excitement in her voice. I move to meet my stepmother halfway and she reaches towards me with a needle pinched between her thumb and index finger.

 Chapter 50

    Ch. 50: Janice?

    A fat tear runs down my cheek, but I don¡¯t bother to rub it away. The cry that was about to lunge out of my mouth is wrangled down with herculean effort, leaving my throat aching. I still let out a wince, the air seeping out from my clenched teeth. The empress does not just want to harm me, she wants to cripple me permanently.

    In the hand I just extended, specifically my chubby little thumb, an unsightly view that would otherwise make my gorge rise awaits me. The needle I thought the empress was about to hand me is buried deep in the finger, the nail painfully separating flesh from fingernail as it delves deeper and deeper into my thumb.

    It¡¯s not that I didn¡¯t expect the empress to get physical with me, I just uncreatively assumed I would get spanked or something. I had thought that my newly discovered royal identity would serve as a shield and save me from most forms of physical harm.

    My lips bitterly curl into a grim smile as I stare at the piece of metal jutting out of my tiny doll-like finger. It¡¯s a clever way to harm someone. Even as copious amounts of pain run through my finger and up my forearm, if one blocks the needle out of sight, my thumb looks perfectly normal. Katya¡¯s hold on hand is soft, a hand that has never been met with roughbor or hard work, pampered since she was born.

    You see, hands are significant in the Erudian Empire, especially so for noblewomen. Women are fully clothed from head to toe, their only uncovered features usually their face or their arms when it is hot. We must wear gloves for all formal asions once wee of age and only show our uncovered hands to our future husband.

    For magical practitioners, hands are essential for wielding magic. For well-bred noblewomen, deft hands are needed for ¡®necessary¡¯ household tasks such as embroidery or ying an instrument. Hurting my hand like this, doesn¡¯t the empress just want to cut off my future prospects? Is this also why she made me hold the boiling hot teacup at Ladies¡¯ Court?

    ¡°Aaah!¡± This time I can¡¯t hold back my sharp cry as the second needle is shoved deep into my index finger, the sudden entry making me jump and giving me even more pain.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see...¡± Katya murmurs almost to herself, the empress¡¯ unmarred hands gesturing over the box held before her and she chooses her next instrument of torture. I don¡¯t understand why she is taking so long to choose as they all look the same, and every moment this is drawn out sends more tears down my cheeks and soaking the front of my dress.

    .....

    She plucks one up and twirls it with an ease that suggests she has done it many, many times before. Her previous anger bloodthirst is gone, my skin crawling as I unmistakably see joy carve a pure smile on her beautiful visage. The view alone creates a picture worth a thousand words. Her dark blonde brows are rxed, her eyes crinkling slightly in the corner with her smile. And now I see where Julia inherited her madness from.

    The image carries a certain wrongness, as it shes with the violent view below of my hand being stabbed like a pincushion. Anyone who could find joy in my torment, cannot be sane. And that scares the ever-loving shit out of me. This empress, my stepmother, is a psychopathic sadist. At least, that¡¯s my unprofessional verdict after referencing several binge-watched seasons of Criminal Minds. And they never mentioned this kind of madness in the webnovel!

    My hand is help once more in her delicate grasp and I grit my teeth, trying in vain to get my hand to stop shaking from the pain and terror. It is now she looks me in the eye, Empress Katya, her sickening calm piercing my chest.

    ¡°No one will ever ept a cripple as the promised child,¡± she tells me warmly as if we are speaking of the weather. Cloudy with a chance of violent acupuncture.

    I sink my teeth into my full bottom lip as she slides the third needle home with her cutting words. Panic seizes my breath, making it difficult to breathe as I digest her words.

    Her words, after all, are true. The Holy Church values purity. Pure in spirit, pure in body. That is one of their teachings in the webnovel. During one of her detective side missions that deviated from the main love story, ra was unable to be an acolyte of the Church for the sole reason that her predecessor before she transmigrated was known to be weak in health her entire childhood.

    It is now I unconsciously try to drag my hand away, but cotton turns into steel and her grip bes viselike. She enjoys watching my young face bloom with rm as I fruitlessly try to escape. But the worst part is that even if by some miracle I did manage to free my hand at this moment, I would¡¯ve delivered it right back to her in order to right my five so-called wrongs and keep Emma safe.

    An awful ck color appears around where the needle was nted. My thumb begins to loose outside sensation, no longer feeling the mild temperature of the room and instead solely experiencing the burning, biting pain of the needle. I can only stare in horror as it begins to crawl down my hand and simrly appear on my other fingers, like a cancer that has metastasized. The stark onyx color against my hand resembles frostbite.

    I only speak once through the whole ordeal.

    ¡°I could... I could tell someone you did this,¡± I sputter weakly, the annoying huffing that happens when you cry too hard making me stutter.

    Katya smiles down at me. ¡°And who would believe you?¡±

    So I just sit through the rest of the torment. In a way she¡¯s right. Even if a few individuals on the streets below the pce whisper that the empress is treating the bastard poorly, a good reputation can not be torn down in a day. After all, people would say that in her defense, what woman would truly wee a child not of their own into their home?

    At most, my intentional rumors have added a chip or two at the sturdy reputation of her image. In fact, since the Holy Church is in her pocket, just like my inspection for imperial blood, Empress Katya could easily turn the situation around get away with sentencing me as a witch. Wouldn¡¯t that just be me foolishly fulfilling Peppermint¡¯s deepest desires?

    Curiously, the ck poison stops short of the knuckles, although the pain extends from my fingertip to my wrist. Katya takes each needle out carefully one by one and tells me what a good job I¡¯ve done, like a kid who got a shot at the doctor¡¯s office. I don¡¯t respond.

    Katya seems just as intrigued as I am by my wound, but not surprised. She must be ustomed to this form of punishment with the needles. My hand, now free from her grasp, shakes and trembles on its own. Any random movement overpowers my average pain tolerance and sends a fresh wave of tears down my cheeks. It makes the boiling hot teacup punishment feel like a pinprick inparison. I cannot imagine going the rest of my life with such a blight upon my hand.

    If I even make it that long, my mind darkly mutters. I¡¯ve mostly taken losses in my confrontations with Empress Katya, and little do I expect the next one about tond in myp any second.

    An innocent knock sounds on my door, the precursor to my future troubles. My heart can¡¯t help but blindly hope the cavalry is about to show up. Sir Finn will kick the door down brandishing his fierce sword and Marie will pull me into a hug tofort me. But life cruellyughs at me as one of Katya¡¯s maids sticks her head through the door.

    Don¡¯t forget, the vicious voice in my head says again, you¡¯re all alone.

    ¡°Your majesty, something has happened down at the royal guard¡¯s barracks.¡±

    Katya smiles and the pit of worry bes a yawning void in my stomach. She doesn¡¯t look surprised, instead she¡¯s almost... expectant? I¡¯m usually a good read when ites to people¡¯s faces, but Katya is a tough nut to crack.

    ¡°Shall we?¡± Katya asks me, rising from the chair with all the grace of an empress. Her hands elegantly interlocking below her navel. I follow her lead, crossing my hands as well but with a different intention, to cover my ckened fingers.

    The weather outside is beautiful, offsetting my flower-filled pce wonderfully. You would never suspect it had been home to my torment and tears minutes before. Katya moves with her entourage of maids, the orderly procession only enhancing her presence.

    This. This is your opponent. Even I am briefly in awe, my hand for a moment not aching as I look at my stepmother. She¡¯s so pretty and looks so warm, her entire aura radiating ¡®motherly¡¯ energy even with her youthful image. I was just tortured by her and even I am spellbound. I wish I was reborn as Julia or that she just didn¡¯t hate my existence. I hate myself, cursing myself for being on opposing sides with this goddess.

    You can¡¯t win against her. Not unless you¡¯re the main character like ra, who was beloved by everyone in the webnovel. Even now we are heading to the scene that will seal the final nail in my coffin, and all I can do is gawk at her like a star-struck idiot. I¡¯m so pathetic and unworthy. Someone more qualified should take my ce and I want nothing more but to free myself from Winter¡¯s skin.

    I¡¯m not really Winter! I¡¯m Maria! You and I don¡¯t have any problems! Yet as I say these words, my heart knows it¡¯s not the slightest bit true. For better or worse, I¡¯ve be Winter. And now I must suffer in her ce.

    In the time of my chaotic thoughts, we arrive at the familiar grassy fields, a pinch of guilt running through me at the familiar sight. I think it through and I should have nothing to do with whatever problem has urred. Giving snacks to knights shouldn¡¯t be illegal and if it involved Emma, I believe Katya would¡¯ve brought it up when she was charging Emma with made-up crimes. Just thinking about those snacks makes me realize it is right around lunchtime and I¡¯m feeling low on energy.

    Right away, the scenery is different than usual. Since I¡¯ve always visited the royal guard in the earlier morning when the grass is still wet, I write it off as them participating in a different activity at ater part of the day. But the air is somber and different, a hostility in the air that has never been present before. I¡¯ve only sensed camaraderie and friendship amongst these men before.

    The knights are fully dressed, their navy uniforms spick and span, the high sun shining off gold buckles and fastenings. The seriousness on their face takes me aback as it is leaps and bounds apart from the carefree mannerisms I am used to. I chide myself again as I look at this elite group of soldiers I took for what, ymates? Acquaintances? They all have blood on their hands and wouldn¡¯t be so easily bought over by a couple of tasty cookies. Hindsight really is 20/20. If I knew at my rebirth what I knew now, the moment I could totter around on my chubby little legs I would¡¯ve run away from Bianca¡¯s hovel!

    When the see the approaching retinue, the somber group drops into a synchronized bow, one knee on the ground as a fist covers their heart.

    ¡°Your Majesty!¡± they thunder, the loud male voices making my heart jump slightly.

    Katya raises her hand and they all stand at attention. I look around the crowd for a familiar face, but I only see Robbie sulking in the back, kicking the dirt like a child uninterested in the matters of adults. But his hand gives away his anxiety, tightly clenched around the helm of his sword as if he is moments away from whipping it out and fighting off enemies. Sir Gregory, as themander of the unit now that the other forces are fighting off the rebellion in Avernall, is curiously absent.

    After greeting the empress no one says anything, but it is easy to tell there must be some great grievance for no one appears to be at ease. The gathered men strangely keep looking behind them and curling their lip.

    ¡°So all of you have gone mute all of a sudden?¡± says Sir Robbie¡¯s familiar teenage voice. He rolls his eyes dramatically. ¡°Fine,¡± he scoffs.

    Pushing his way to the front, he inevitably forces those crowded in the center to move clean out of his short, but murderous path.

    ¡°Pray tell, your majesty,¡± Robbie spits with a fury I¡¯ve never seen. His face is so red, his freckles almost disappear.

    ¡°Who is she?¡±

    And indeed there is someone. Sheltered, or perhaps better said, caged, within the group of men. I see the crumpled body of a young maid on the ground. She is on her knees, fierce tremors running through her body so that even the empress and I from a respectable distance away can see them.

    When I see her face, my mouth falls open unavoidably and I swallow back the name I¡¯m about to utter.

    Janice?

 Chapter 51

    Ch. 51: Guilty Until Proven Innocent

    As I stare further, my mouth opens wide enough for my jaw to threaten to dislocate. It¡¯s my former maid alright. The same chocte waves tumble from her head as her white maid cap is crumpled on the ground but that is where theparison ends. This woman is beautiful. Jaw-dropping, supermodel beautiful. It¡¯s obvious Janice has been battered around a little, but it only serves to make her more pitiful.

    Her eyes have heavyshes, giving her a constant e-hither¡¯ look. Her brows, which in the past had a soft arch, has be even more defined, and her lips are more pouty and red without any lipstick. stic surgery doesn¡¯t exist in this world, and even if it did, my former maid wouldn¡¯t be able to heal this quickly. What kind of sorcery has turned the girl-next-door into a sexy bombshell worthy of even contending with the empress beside me?

    ¡°This wicked woman hasmitted a grave crime against one of our own,¡± Robbie continues.

    I realize that as the only person on the scene who has seen Janice before her suspicious beautification, I am the only one who realizes that something is very different about this maid.

    ¡°She snuck into the barracks in the dead ofst night and has poisoned ourmander. At this moment, he lies unconscious in his bed and feverish.¡±

    Themander, that¡¯s Sir Gregory! I stare at Janice in shock and in the same second she looks up, hundreds of emotions shing in her eyes before she stares back at the floor.

    My head shakes slightly at the magnitude of what Robbie¡¯s implying. But I just can¡¯t fathom how the girl I kicked out of the pce less than 2 months ago had the glow up of a lifetime and somehow managed to return. The situation is so far beyond what I was expecting at the maid¡¯s sudden entry, I find my mouth floundering like a fish at the surprising sight.

    My reaction, as expected of the one who runs this pce, is not missed.

    .....

    ¡°Winter, do you know her?¡± Empress Katya asks in concern, quickly drawing attention to me before I can fall back to a poker face. She bends down slightly and pats my back as if concerned, my senses vaguely recognizing she has put gloves on. My body jerks away instinctively before seeing all the eyes that are now upon us.

    I also offhandedly recall how it wasmon in my past life to put on gloves before we touch something that disgusts us and dispose of it.

    Empress Katya sessfully promotes the image of a loving mother-daughter rtionship while calling attention to my strange reaction. Denying it would only make me look more suspicious, so I answer promptly in as few words as possible.

    ¡°Yes. She was my maid,¡± I reply curtly, not shying away from the connection between Janice and I. It seems Janice did not take myst words to heart and I cannot resist pinning a sinister re on her.

    A gasp runs through the empress¡¯ entourage, deliberate I¡¯m sure. The royal guards who once tossed friendly smiles in my direction now look as if they want to run me through a thousand times with their swords.

    ¡°Oh my, really?¡± the Empress asks, sounding simrly surprised.

    ¡°I fired her a while ago. I don¡¯t know what she is doing here,¡± I answer honestly. But the res weighing me down do not ease the slightest.

    Janice is still lying on the ground, but as the Empress continues to speak, she looks at the woman pleadingly, setting off rm bells in my head. How could Janice know the Empress? Was she the Empress¡¯ spy in my pce? And as I consider the possibility of a connection between the two women, a terrifying realization hits me. This could be a trap.

    ¡°Winter, I believe you. Lte, go fetch the pce registry. I too wish to know how an expelled servant managed to return to the castle.¡±

    Empress Katya is caping for me, her voice seemingly severe with anger as she wraps around me protectively. Her light floral perfume overpowers the faint manure as she draws close, the scent now making me sick. But I¡¯ve already learned from the first time that flinching away would do me more harm than good. So I must stay still within the arms of the woman who crippled my right hand not even an hour ago.

    The tides of public opinion begin to turn in my favor as Lte rushes off to retrieve the registry. There are apologetic gazes thrown my way as if I¡¯m just a poor kid mixed up in something that wasn¡¯t my fault. But it is no good, I realize as Katya begins to rub my backfortingly. The higher you climb, the further you fall. The more that the empress makes it look like I¡¯m innocent, the easier it is to convict me as the guilty party.

    It is with this unease sitting low in my belly that we wait: me, Katya, and our audience, the knights of the royal guard. Before long though, another audience member joins us, making my hands crinkle my skirt in further fear and nervousness.

    The royal guard bows as one. I wonder if they practice often to synchronize.

    ¡°Greetings, Your Eminence,¡± they say together. Duchess Taylor waves at them to stand without her usual grace, too focused on rushing into the barracks where Sir Gregory is. Tears mar her face as she and her maids rush inside to see her only child.

    Janice, as a lowly maid embroiled in something that at the very least would result in the loss of her life, begins to feel the tenseness of the situation too.

    ¡°I-I can exin,¡± she says weakly, sounding as if she¡¯s been up all night. A couple of knights sneer down at her, cowing the proud maid. Janice looks for aid elsewhere.

    ¡°Y-Your majesty?¡± she pleads to the empress.

    Katya looks righteous as she stares down at Janice. Both are beautiful beyond words, but the difference between them is like the sky and the earth.

    ¡°Just tell the truth, Janice. Tell the truth, and perhaps you can be exempt from capital punishment,¡± the empress replies slowly and clearly as if speaking to a child.

    I understand the hidden meaning at the same time as Janice and we both immediately stare at each other. But this time, I¡¯m the prey and she¡¯s the predator. Seeing how venomously Janice is suddenly looking at me, I wish I hadn¡¯t been so quick to make an example of her at the Rose Pce. I should¡¯ve chosen someone more docile and malleable.

    Lte is returning. The eagle-eyed knights notice her first in the distance, then Janice. And my former maid quickly makes a decision that is not in my favor. I shake my head at her once. Don¡¯t. Please don¡¯t. But if there is one thing I¡¯ve learned about Janice in the short time I knew her, there is nothing that girl isn¡¯t willing to do in her self interest.

    A shakey hand rises from the ground, filthy with mud as she points at me. The anger and terror transform into anguished tears at the drop of a hat, pretty tears flowing down Janice¡¯s face as she, with her own mouth, tears off the veil of innocence Katya kindly ced upon me.

    ¡°Her! It was her!¡± Raw sobs shake her voice and make her usation more convincing. ¡°Princess Winter ordered me to seduce Sir Gregory so that the royal guard could support her!¡±

    Damning words. The outcry is instant. Pity turns to disgust at the drop of a hat, a few swords being drawn in fury. All around me, people stare at me as if I¡¯m inhuman, a monster, a disease. Katya¡¯s maidservants, following in the footsteps of their Oscar-worthy master, stumble back, one or two acting like weak-hearted women and crying.

    As for my ¡®mother¡¯? The empress doesn¡¯t let go yet, so devoted is she to making it seem like she truly cares for me as a child. But she allows her arms that are caging me to shake, for her face to mouth the word, no, over and over again as if she just cannot believe what she has heard.

    Janice has already given me the title of a schemer, it is a burden too difficult for me to remove myself. But knowing that doesn¡¯t make the weight of this unwanted crime any easier.

    ¡°That¡¯s not true!¡± I insist, all the while knowing that anything else I say will only make me guiltier. ¡°I-I fired her for her poor service and have never seen her since!¡±

    ¡°I believe her,¡± Katya bravely insists, as all the while the odds turn in her favor. ¡°The pce registry will back up her im!¡±

    My stepmother just looks like a devoted mother who wouldn¡¯t believe the worst of her child. But if that were true, why would she conveniently remind everyone about the pce registry? Looking at the innocuous booklet in Lte¡¯s arm, I remember just how easy it is to forge writing in an era where theputer hasn¡¯t been invented yet.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Lte says deferentially, handing the booklet to the empress¡¯ shaking hands. Her head is bowed, but I¡¯m short enough to see the triumphant smirk on her face. I¡¯m done for. I know it.

    The sobbing maids conveniently fall silent as Katya flips through the pages, pushing the knights to simrly quiet down their infuriated roars and curses.

    ¡°Disgusting wench,¡± someone mutters.

    ¡°Must be the daughter of a whore, telling people to seduce our captain at such a young age,¡± another spits venomously.

    In the silent field, everyone can hear the not-so-quiet mutterings. But no one corrects the offenders. Perhaps, I reflect numbly, everyone is thinking the same thing.

    I¡¯ve always found the empress to be a difficult person to get a read on. However, in this instant, the woman lets off an impressive disy of emotions. Her hands grip the book tightly, slightly trembling. Katya flips through page after page with a hard to conceal eagerness, making the audience believe she is truly devoted to proving my innocence. But this does notst long. At longst, her hand seems to reach the correct page and she stops, voraciously reading through with her finger underlining the sentences. Then, the pause.

    A dramatic pause. Empress Katya¡¯s green eyes fill with unshed tears, tears that never fall down her cheeks, but hang in the corner of her eye, sparkling beautifully in the afternoon sun. The verdict is all to clear as she looks at me.

    ¡°Winter...¡± she says weakly. Her legs teeter as if she is about to slump over into a dead faint from the shock.

    ¡°Your Majesty!¡± the maids chirp, rushing to support their falling mistress. She doesn¡¯t fully faint. That would be a bit much. But as her body is supported by her dutiful attendants, Katya shakes her head at me slowly. With but one word, the verdict has been cast.

    Robbie, who still stands at the front of the pack, picks up the fallen pce registry, straightening out the pages before announcing belligerently.

    ¡°Janice Hawthorn. Age 18. Currently serving in theundry department.¡±

    It should¡¯ve read, expelled from the pce with no pay for offending the princess. With theundry department being the only woman-only work area closest to the barracks, this fabricated evidence is quite damning. I don¡¯t even say anything at the point, my heart turning to ashes as I find myself guilty of a crime I haven¡¯tmitted.

    My legs grow weak under me from the severity of my situation and I tumble to the floor, my hands breaking my fall. The mud conveniently coats my ckened, ruined hands, hiding it from view before anyone notices.

    ¡°Someone get her! She¡¯s the reason why ourmander is practically on his death bed!¡±, an angry knight yells.

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother. She¡¯s halfmoner, right? Thew should still be able to sort her out fairly enough,¡± Robbie says darkly. I recall how he stared at Sir Gregory so reverently and know that under the sinister ns of another party, I have cut in him deeply.

    ¡°Robbie,¡± I start, rubbing my tender knees as I return to a standing position, ¡°Think about it. Why would I even do this? I¡¯ve never been inside the barracks, how would I not only send a maid whose never even apanied me to the building? How could she know which room he¡¯s in?¡±

    A strange guilt shes by his face at myst sentence, but it hardens as he looks at something behind me. There are fast approaching foosteps, then a burst of pain that sends tears to my eyes. Someone has pped me.

    ¡°You, You whore¡¯s daughter!¡± the duchess cries, sending another fiery hit towards my face. I move to duck, but Duchess Taylor is quick and catches me with her left hand. I know without looking that there are now two matching red palm marks on my tender skin.

    A flurry of anxiousness at the sight of the woman who just days before handed me matching earrings makes my mouth dry.

    ¡°D-Duchess Taylor, it wasn¡¯t me!¡± I insist. I can¡¯t refute the evidence, but I hope with all my heart that someone on this field will eventually take into ount that this level of scheming is too difficult for a young girl on the eve of her 6th birthday.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I trusted you and took you for my niece. Dare to plot against my son after I treated you so well. You are not worthy of those gold eyes!¡±

 Chapter 52

    Ch. 52: To the Tower

    Her finger is up close to my face, almost touching my nose. I manage not to swat the appendage away, too focused on pleading my case with the only noblewoman who doesn¡¯t openly scorn me like the rest.

    ¡°You should have been left to die in the slums where you were found. If no one had brought you back, then... then my son...¡± she doesn¡¯t finish her sentence as she dissolves into tears again. Duchess Taylor looks up at me frantically and I step back instinctively thinking she is about to take another swing at me, but her eyes narrow on my ears hatefully.

    Of all the days for me to wear those earrings, I think to myself balefully.

    ¡°Take them off. Take THEM OFF!¡± she shrieks. Her voice is so loud, it takes me a second to understand what she said.

    I oblige quickly, my eyes finally prickling with warmth. I remember how fondly she smiled at me the other day when she handed them to me. How could it all change so quickly?

    ¡°Duchess Taylor...¡± I plead, as my fumbling filthy fingers struggle to take the studs off.

    Duchess Taylor looks away sharply, her voice carrying none of her usual sweetness as she says, ¡°Take them off for her then.¡±

    ¡°The maids by her side approach me with an unfriendly expression as they immediately tug the studs off my ears and onto the grass. The duchess personally steps on them a few times, crushing the thin earring until the speckles of emerald blend into the grass.

    .....

    To watch my newly cherished possession get crushed into the ground in seconds, saying I wasn¡¯t affected would be a lie. The earrings that had symbolized a newly founded friendship between Duchess Taylor and myself now symbolizes the death of that bond.

    I can¡¯t say that I was super attached to the earrings, but seeing the crushed gems sparkle causes the scene before me to start to blur. A blind panic fills me as I turn away, not wanting my tears to be seen. My sleeve brushes angrily across my red face, my heart fuming at my injustice.

    ¡°Get that wench taken away! Save my son! Where is the doctor?¡± Duchess Taylor sounds and looks like another person, her hair unkempt and voice shrill as she wails. But as a crying woman in a field of men, it only serves to draw pity for a woman who probably reminds them of their mother.

    ¡°There need to be serious consequences for this, royal family or not.¡±

    ¡°Mdy, fret not. This situation shall be addressed, we knights of the royal guard pledge to pursue this to its fullest.¡±

    Everyone on the field has been utterly brainwashed, staring at me with such disgust and revile I could drown from the usations that are being thrown at me. Get a maid to seduce Sir Gregory? He was kind enough to me already, what need would I have for that? It¡¯s such a load of hogwash in my ears, but somehow the truth has been twisted to fit this new, sinister narrative. If this is all truly the ploy of the empress, I can¡¯t believe she would just haphazardously y with the lives of a knightage that is pledged to defend the royal family to theirst breath.

    The puppet who carried out this great y is still kneeling on the field, but she has been ignored in ce of the fake puppet master, me. She inspects trembling hands with trepidation before suddenly feeling the weight of my gaze and looking up. The former servant regards her former mistress in a detached manner and she smiles. It¡¯s ugly, despite her pretty face, full of hate and revenge.

    Was this worth it, I want to ask. She seems caught up in the triumph of turning the spotlight from herself to me. However, I can easily guess that as the culprit who physically did something to themander, no matter what the Empress promised her, her fate won¡¯t be pretty either. At the end of the day, we are both two fools who got yed by the same person.

    As for the true puppet master herself? Empress Katya has made a full recovery, standing strong on her two feet. Aside from asionally dapping a handkerchief on reddened eyes, she is absolutely fine.

    The voices on the field begin to quiet down, perhaps having run out of insults for me although the hostility, if anything, has intensified. Katya senses this shift as well, for she murmurs something to the smirking Lte, who dispatches two maids to my side.

    They both have the poker face of someone whose been in the employ of the pce for a while, not showing any sorrow or happiness as they quietly murmur the empress¡¯ orders to detain before not so delicately grasping my arms. Empress Katya has milked out every ounce of entertainment out of my torment and as it dwindles, she is ready for the real purpose of her mission. Getting rid of me.

    ¡°Not the dungeon,¡± I gasp out as I helplessly struggle against their strong grasp. I remember the taste of warm blood and the harsh scent of iron, along with a plummeting feeling in my chest. I don¡¯t want to go back there. Never again.

    ¡°Oh no, you won¡¯t go to the dungeon. You¡¯re royalty. You go to the tower,¡± the maid says with a false cheer. They continue to drag me away with great haste, the royal guard quickly disappearing behind me.

    The two maids look rather alike so I call them Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum in my head.

    I want to roll my eyes at her reminding me of my newly founded imperial status. I had been just as royal back then, yet that mountain of a knight had insisted on detaining me anyways. Royal in name, but not in identity. This bes abundantly clear to me as I am roughly tugged away from a crime scene I didn¡¯tmit.

    The hands release me suddenly in front of a quaint tower at the very edge of the imperial property. It took the better part of an hour to arrive, my short legs so weary of keeping up that they dragged behind me on the ground. Now springy strands of grass and pebbles make their way into the holes that have been torn open.

    My weary eyes settle on the two-story building, the exterior painted in the same off white color. It would otherwise look like a normal building if it weren¡¯t for the fact that all the visible windows had steel bars in front to clearly prevent any escape attempts. The cone roof is a tired gray color and the tower looks just as deste as the abandoned shrine I encountered my half-brother in.

    Howrge are the grounds the pce was built on for there to be so many winding corridors and empty spaces?

    ¡°You go here,¡± Tweedle-dee, the shorter maid, says, finally interrupting the long silence that followed after I stopped griping at them.

    ¡°This is where important prisoners with... special identities are detained.¡±

    ¡°If anything is ufortable, please let us know. We will serve you for the duration of your stay after.¡±

    A luxury prison is a step up from the dungeon, but I still feel uneasy as I look at the quiet tower.

    ¡°...And what happens after my duration?¡± I ask hesitantly, acknowledging the elephant in the room.

    ¡°That is for the emperor to decide,¡± Tweedle-dum exims. It¡¯s unnerving how their face remains pleasant without fluctuation. Just like their mistress.

    The lone guard posted in front is burly and alert, even if I was a full-grown adult in Maria¡¯s body, I would still struggle to escape him. He opens the wood door with an unfriendly grunt and we enter the dark hallway. The wood door ms shut behind his with a loud bang.

    ¡°He¡¯s deaf by the way, so even if you managed to escape your room, bribing him won¡¯t do you any good,¡± Tweedle-dee noted helpfully as we passed the outdated wallpaper that¡¯s peeling at the corners.

    When she mentions my room, I notice that I will not be alone in this short tower. At intermittent gaps, there are wood doors simr to the entrance, unadorned with any paint with a small opening covered in grim bars. If one were tall enough, they could easily peek inside to glimpse whichever important prisoner resides within.

    A lengthy sigh breaks the silence of the passageway, ites from the inside of one of the rooms. It is an empty sound. No joy, no anger, not even sorrow. Like a broken thing letting out onest burst of life before it dies. The sound is rather chilling and echoes in my head as I sit alone in the deste chamber I have been led to. Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum leave after promising me to visit once a day. In this istion, I may grow to look forward to the visit of my dear mother¡¯sckeys before long.

    ¡°It¡¯s not so bad,¡± I mutter to myself kicking the simple bedpost to test its sturdiness. It¡¯s rather pointless. I just a kid and rather skinny one at that. A bed of feathers would not be ttened beneath me, even with my extra weight gain over the past 2 or so months.

    ¡°There¡¯s a bed...¡± I muse slowly, ¡°A candle, a firece, a chair...¡±.

    It¡¯s a little technique my mother taught me, to try to look for the good in every bad situation. Once we were stuck living in a small storage closet that a bakery loaned out for extra money. When I had told her I couldn¡¯t find anything good about the cramped space that could barely fit our ratty suitcase, Dolores had covered my eyes.

    ¡°Breath in, mi amor,¡± she had told me, her warm hands blocking out my vision.

    I had taken a deep breath, then two, a faint sugary fragrance bing empowering as my other senses sharpened topensate for theck of vision.

    ¡°It¡¯s sweet! Like candy and sweets! Now I¡¯m hungry,¡± my 10-year-old self had pouted.

    ¡°But isn¡¯t it nice? Every day, we can smell something wonderful. Not everyone is this lucky,¡± she had told me. I¡¯d spent the rest of our short tenure there like a bloodhound sniffing the air obsessively and telling my mom whatever confectionery I thought it was. We even made a game out of it. When I guessed the special baked good correctly, which was fortunately rare, Dolores would buy it for me as a treat with the leftover money from her tips as a waitress.

    ¡°There¡¯s a rug too. Now my feet won¡¯t get cold at night... and there¡¯s a-a window...¡± the tears I had forcefully shoved down on the field decide to make a reappearance as I¡¯m still canvasing the bedroom.

    ¡°The w-window has a decent view... shit!¡± I exim, my voice too wobbly to carry on. My throat aches and my eyes burn as I finally let out the emotions I¡¯ve pent up. Harsh, shuddery breaths leak out of me as I cry too hard to even breath properly.

    ¡°Mom!¡± I sob quietly, burying my face into my hands. I miss my mother, I miss my old life. I even miss my scum fiance, who never knew how tofort me and would pat me on the back in a loving but awkward way. And my trash best friend who would¡¯ve bought me chocte ice cream and sassily asked me, ¡°Who should I kill for making my bestie cry?¡±. I¡¯ve tried so hard to limate to this world, tried my best to fight for a ce. But I¡¯ve lost. I¡¯m not good enough. I¡¯m all alone, without a single person who knows me.

    I have grown to appreciate and care for Emma and Marie, but I¡¯ve onlye to know them recently. A painful thought urs to me, and my chest grows tighter as my sobs be more pitiful. In this entire world, no one really knows me. Not a soul.

    My hands desperately clutch into the fabric on my chest and I sink to the floor. As a rather quiet, but stubborn person my whole life, I¡¯m not meant for these kinds of experiences. This story is meant for a worthy main character, who luckily is a ck belt in karate and a government spy, or a musical prodigy who happens to have an IQ above 150. Reading a few books with witty protagonists covered in plot armor has not prepared me in the slightest for the reality of transmigration.

    I wish I never met Bianca, the Mad Dog, Maria, Emma, Janice, Julian, Katya, Helio, or Julia. I wish I had never met them at all.

    I fold overpletely, my forehead touching the ice-cold floor. I shift my forehead to the side and the cool surface meets my warm cheek, still swollen from Duchess Taylor¡¯s p. A draft seems toe from beneath and a strand of snot leaks out of my nose unhindered. I¡¯m a mess. A stupid, ordinary mess should¡¯ve never evere to this world.

 Chapter 53

    Ch. 53: A Surprise Guest

    Escape is futile, as expected.

    When my tears dry up and leave a deste wastnd in their tracks, I dully make fanciful escape ns to pass the hours.

    I could fling my chamber pot like a frisbee at the window hard enough to break the iron bars and climb down by tying my bedsheets together. But the chamber pot of cheap tin isn¡¯t strong enough to bend iron bars wider than my tiny wrist. Besides, at the moment, it is embarrassingly full as the servant who brings in my meals like clockwork empties it at that time.

    It¡¯s small moments like this that make me fervently long for modern appliances like the toilet. I exist in a state of limbo, the passages of time marked by the changing shadows that arch across the bedroom floor. I have nothing to work towards, nothing to look forward to. I can only wait for the inevitable verdict.

    Sometimes I wonder how it will go. Will guards rush in dramatically at night and do away with me with only the moon as my witness? Or will a spectacle be made of my death, with the fanfare of a guillotine Winter experienced in the webnovel? I try to pretend I¡¯m not frightened, but there is no point. There is no one to act for here, alone in this ¡®luxury¡¯ prison. But I still hide anyways, letting out silent tears in the cover of darkness when the fear starts to get to me.

    One interesting development hase of this captivity. The charred tip of the candle shivers within the me, ready to fall before I lick my right-hand fingers and do away with the me altogether. Yes, my right hand. When I woke up the next morning after being brought to the tower, the crumbling pieces of dried mud ked off to reveal the unexpected sight of untainted flesh.

    I had inspected it vigorously, holding my appendage under the morning light to search for even the smallest speck of the ck poison that had covered my fingers and brought me unimaginable pain. Like a dream, it was gone, all the ugliness and pain. But not without consequences. Out of habit, I reach for the small tin candleholder, only for the item to tumble out of my hands to the floor with a ng.

    My right hand is now ridiculously weak. Like a newborn fowl trying to stand on its legs for the first time, my hand that appears perfectly fine is utterly incapable of doing the most mundane tasks. To my chagrin, I couldn¡¯t wipe myself after using the chamber pot, having to obtain another piece of cheap muslin after the first tumbled from fumbling fingers into the container. When I tried to take my lunch tray of stiff bread and stinky goat¡¯s cheese from the servant, it would have nearly fallen to the floor if it wasn¡¯t for the servant¡¯s quick reflexes.

    .....

    I try to look on the positive side. But locked up in a tower with dour prospects, there seem to be none. I can¡¯t even pass the time by writing with shards of charcoal, as I did in Bianca¡¯s shed, since I¡¯m a rightie. Now I¡¯m going to have to learn to write all over again with my left hand. And with theckluster medical care of this era, not to mention thepleteck of doctors willing to take a look at my hand, I¡¯m going to be stuck like this for life. If one thing came out of this, it¡¯s that I hate Empress Katya more than I¡¯ve hated anyone in my entire two lives, including my ex-fiance and ex-best friend.

    I vividly imagine ordering Sir Finn to kick her in the shin with the special pair of steel-tipped boots knights wear in battle. Or forcing a herd of wild horses to run over her body. Since I can¡¯t do anything in real life, I make sure each version is as painful as the strange needles that ruined my hand. My active imagination truly has no limits in the depths of my depression.

    On the eighth day of captivity, I have now resorted to singing random songs I can recall from my time as Maria. I¡¯ve gone through a few Destiny¡¯s Child hits, too many Christmas carols to count, and am currently burning my way through anything else I can think of.

    ¡°576 bottles of beer on the wall. 576 bottles of beer on the wall. Take one down, pass it around, 575 bottles of beer on the wall...¡± I sing as I kick my feet on my thin bed covers. I¡¯m no Mariah, but I¡¯m actually not half bad, having partaken in choir in both high school and college.

    ¡°Little girl, do you n on singing on the way to your execution?¡± an elderly says with a chuckle on his voice.

    My singing stops for a second, but I carry on quickly and even louder than before.

    ¡°Take on down, pass it around, 574 bottles of beer on the wall!¡±

    I¡¯ve been saddled with a massive no-fucks-given attitude, the kind death row inmates settle into after realizing their fate is inevitable. But my mind hasn¡¯t stopped working, quickly running through the possibilities of who this individual could be.

    First off, he¡¯s old, his voice carrying the typical roughness of one that has weathered more than a few decades. He also addressed me as ¡®little girl¡¯, an annoying moniker for my inner adult, but rather interesting as only someone who is highly ranked or of importance within the pce¡¯s affairs would be so nonchnt about my title, for what little it is worth. Lastly, the framing of his question is more like that of an ally than a foe.

    But my mind drifts to myst noble ally, Duchess Taylor, and my still slightly swollen cheeks that have slowly recovered with the rough fabric of the Tower¡¯s pillow. Her youthful spunk was definitely evident when she took a swing at me. Nheless, at the moment I am feeling less than charitable towards any potential future noble allies.

    Move in silence, my mother had taught me. Now I understand that means forging ahead alone.

    ¡°I heard it¡¯s your birthday,¡± the man says, undeterred by myck of response.

    This time I pause, my eyes widening from where Iy in my bed. Ipletely forgot.

    ¡°Surely you would much rather celebrate within the luxurious pce walls with gifts than can fill rooms instead of this decrepit Tower. The empress arranged a lovely location for you, this designated prison for criminals of... unique identities,¡± he continues.

    Actually I¡¯d rather celebrate far, far away from Radovalsk, maybe in a distant province in a tiny cottage where no one will ever find me. But I don¡¯t respond with this, allowing an awkward silence to fill the air.

    The old man chuckles a bit. He soundspletely calm, which I find interesting considering how the empress¡¯ maidservants had been clear on how impossible it is to get in and out of the Tower. Just how potent is this man¡¯s identity for him to move around the Tower like it¡¯s his own home and speak to me through the small barred window on the door?

    ¡°How¡¯s the food? Are your lodgings to your satisfaction?¡± he asks like he¡¯s concerned.

    I let out a small huff of augh, suddenly irritated by his false inquiries of my wellbeing. He doesn¡¯t care about me. None of these aristocrats do. They just care about themselves at the end of the day: their goals, their people, their wealth. I wonder what this man could want from me too, for him to y nice with the worthless bastard.

    ¡°Quite satisfactory,¡± I finally reply with a sarcastic bite.

    ¡°It can¡¯t be that different from how you lived with Bianca, right?¡± he asks, going for shock value.

    It works. I instantly roll over on my bed, narrowing my eyes at the face I see between the bars. Both the Mad Dog and Finn assured me that no one would know of my past once I stepped into the imperial pce. Yet, it was alluded to on the field by Duchess Taylor and by this old gentleman now.

    His hair ispletely white and surprisingly full, his beard cropped short to give him a schrly look in his dark clothing. He has the lightest blue eyes I¡¯ve ever seen, icy ones that makes me settle on my haunches like a threatened beast.

    A jolly disposition flows around this grandpa in a way that should be disarming but sets my rm bells ringing as if he were Santa us armed with a machine gun instead of presents. With one look, I can tell this is someone who has seen much and done much. And I have an inkling that this ¡®much¡¯ dabbles in ces that would even make my adult self scurry away in fear.

    Seeing my suspicious gaze, the gentleman just smiles wider.

    ¡°Lord Bromley, at your service,¡± he introduces after finally catching my attention.

    ¡°My title,¡± I murmur in a voice too quiet for him to hear.

    ¡°Pardon?¡± he asks in a good-natured way, turning his ear towards me. ¡°I¡¯m getting on in the years so it can be quite difficult to hear sometimes.¡±

    ¡°I said,¡± my nk expression the furthest thing away from a smile, ¡°Why don¡¯t you address me by my title?¡±

    Lord Bromley looks puzzled for a second, but falls into an indulgent mood as he clearly chalks up my question to a child¡¯s foolishness. Only a fool would worry about a silly title when their neck is on the line after all.

    But my concern is not so childish. In my marketing sses, one of the most important things we learned about was how to sell a product, be it a person or an object. The most critical part of this process is the name, how it is addressed. If it¡¯s a celebrity, you promote only with their stage name so they can be tightly associated with the image that name produces, sort of how Lady Gaga instantly brings to mind the image of a an entric pop star in a meat dress.

    The magic of Lady Gaga dies when you look at her as ordinary Steffani Germanotta. So the same goes for my title: as superfluous as it seems at this point, it is irrevocably tied to my identity. To lose it, would be to lose myst edge in a sense. Thus, for this old man to call me ¡®little girl¡¯ and not call me your highness tells me wonders about his character. And that alone makes me averse to this supposed ally of mine.

    ¡°My apologies, your highness,¡± he starts with a disrespectful chuckle. Lord Bromley looks a touch more rxed as if realizing he is truly dealing with a young child. I watch him with unamused eyes as heunches into his already failed pitch.

    ¡°...But you need to earn that title,¡± he finishes.

    ¡°Hmmm,¡± I reply, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. The old lord is correct in a sense, but that doesn¡¯t change my opinion. He clearly wants something from me, but on the other hand, he doesn¡¯t respect me enough as a potential partner.

    His pride is now evident, his guard now lowered so much I can start to get a read on this fellow.

    ¡°You say you are a princess, but I would not know looking at you. It would be like calling a duck a swan. But you are not a duck are you?¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± I decide to y along.

    ¡°No, you are not. You, just as much as your sister Julia, deserve to be a real princess. You deserve to live the best life full of riches and servants. After all that suffering in those slums, don¡¯t you deserve that at least?¡±

    I nod hesitantly, my 6-year-old eyes wide open like I¡¯m buying every word. His self-assured expression makes me sick like I¡¯m already in his grasp.

    ¡°Little girl,¡± he says switching back to the old moniker to bait me, ¡°do you know who I am?¡±

    He doesn¡¯t wait for me to answer before continuing with a look of immense pride.

    ¡°I am your father¡¯s personal advisor, the man who put him to the throne. And if you do as I say, I can give you the life of delicious food and pretty dresses you dream of.¡±

 Chapter 54

    Ch. 54: Nah, I¡¯m Good

    I scoff internally at Lord Bromley¡¯s promise, although I allow my little eyes to light up and regard him with the same excitement any child looks at candy. If I were truly a little girl, perhaps I would be swept up by his promises, but a well-known saying rings through my head.

    There¡¯s no free lunch in America.

    What does this old man want in return from me for him to fulfill these lofty promises? I paid attention in history sses, bastards were pretty much raised outside of the pce and away from anyone¡¯s eyes. Some were relegated to servants within their own homes. So what worth is a bastard daughter who can¡¯t even contend for the throne to Lord Bromley?

    An uneasy feeling fills my chest. It can¡¯t be anything good, especially since I¡¯m a girl. Perhaps if I was a boy, I could study hard and get into the Imperial Academy, perhaps painstakingly carve out a career in government and earn a title. But as a woman, what worth do I have in this old-fashioned world besides my pretty face and future marriage?

    ¡°You were my father¡¯s advisor?¡± I ask, opting not to reply to his promise and instead focus on the fascinating tidbit of information he divulged.

    It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t believe him, however, in the webnovel, this wily Lord Bromley was not even mentioned once. For someone who was important and powerful enough to elevate my father to the throne, surely he would¡¯ve been mentioned once. Unless... he either died a natural death or my father took him out of the picture. I¡¯m leaning towards thetter option. Someone this ambitious, only an ipetent leader would keep them by their side.

    Lord Bromley smiled, a vicious smile that reminded me of a wolf. ¡°Indeed. Back in the day, your father was just like you.¡±

    A bastard. But he didn¡¯t say it aloud, as if the word was too ugly to be put forth in the open. I suppose that isn¡¯t unusual though. Bastards, in this world, are like dirty secrets in the closet, meant to be kept out of sight. If it wasn¡¯t for the scarcity of the imperial bloodline after my father wiped out a majority of his rtives, I suppose I would¡¯ve been left to rot in the slums with Bianca.

    .....

    ¡°Unappreciated. Relegated to a distant corner of the pce and forgotten. Barely surviving under the shadow of his elder brother. But once I brought him under my wing, he has since flown up the highest reaches for any man,¡± he says.

    I am actually interested in what he has to say, as my father¡¯s backstory was never included in the webnovel. But gaining these small insights into his past only heightens my irritation with him. As a fellow illegitimate royal, shouldn¡¯t he sympathize with my plight and be kinder to me? Maybe treat me to lunch every now and then to validate my existence in the pce?

    I think of the cold, raven-haired man seated on the throne and I involuntarily sneer, although Lord Bromley is too carried away in the past to notice.

    Now I find this man¡¯s presence to be nuisance and I¡¯m ready to nip this conversation at the bud.

    ¡°You know,¡± I start in a whimsical, childish voice, ¡°My aunt was a prostitute. She was always spending time with many strange men. When I asked her why, she told me that nothing was free. Both our home, her clothes, my food all cost money. So while she gave them her time, they also gave her nice things in return. My aunt told me that nothinges free in the Erudian Empire.¡±

    Of course, my story is totally false, as Bianca was either drunk or whining about my existence most of the time. Idle conversation between the two of us never urred, but she never questioned how I managed to learn how to speak so quickly.

    ¡°So since you want to give me nice things, what do you want? Do you want me to spend time with you too at night?¡± I ask, pretending to be an innocent child who doesn¡¯t know what happened every night in Bianca¡¯s room.

    For the first time, Lord Bromley looks ufortable, coughing to relieve the difort of my ¡®innocent¡¯ question. I give him a point for that. If he were even the slightest bit interested in what I had said, I would¡¯ve been thoroughly disgusted by him.

    ¡°No. Not at all.¡± he quickly rifies before eagerly changing the subject. ¡°Have you ever heard of the Old Continent?¡±

    ¡°Nope!¡± Actually, it was loosely mentioned in the webnovel as a distantnd across the sea with a mysterious, thriving kingdom. The Old Continent is far, beyond the distant north of the Erudian Empire and across the choppy seas of the Moor. I twirl a loop of hair around my finger, very curious. After all, I¡¯ve also heard that strange hair colors are the norm across the ocean.

    Unfortunately, despite the enticing hook, the next words Lord Bromley spoke sshed me in cold water.

    ¡°Have you ever thought of your marriage, Princess?¡±

    He calls me my title for the first time, and his desire lies within my previous assumption. Lord Bromley doesn¡¯t even need to borate further, for I understand in an instant: Tie me in marriage to a random individual from this mysterious kingdom and enjoy a luxurious life as a princess consort to be before I¡¯m shipped across the Moor. After all, my identity as an illegitimate royal is worthless, so I might as well be engaged to someone important for my presence to have any worth in the imperial pce.

    Not for the first time, I miss my modern world, where girls have many more options besides getting married.

    ¡°No! I don¡¯t want to get married!¡± I whine loudly.

    Lord Bromley sighs but he looks like he expected this kind of outburst. ¡°As a member of the imperial family, marriage is something that is considered from the moment you were born,¡± he says.

    I scoff at his words. As a bastard, I was definitely not in this kind of careful consideration. Who knows, if I made a deal with this wily old fox and I¡¯ll find myself married to a 50-year-old divorcee with a penchant for young girls.

    ¡°No! No! No!¡± I even get off the bed and stomp my feet loudly. Get the message, Lord Bromley, I am never going to get married to some noble or prince from a ce I¡¯ve never even heard of. I¡¯m a girl, not cattle. If you really need a princess to marry off, look to the beloved Princess Julia, not me.

    ¡°But this is-¡±

    ¡°NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!¡± I roar obnoxiously every time he tries to get a word in. Such an immature action wouldn¡¯t be possible if I wasn¡¯t a child.

    ¡°It would benefit y-¡±

    ¡°I DON¡¯T WANNAAAAAAAAA!¡±

    ¡°Little girl, thi-¡±

    ¡°NOPE! NOPE! I¡¯m not listening! LALALALALALALA!¡±

    I even stick my fingers in my ears and below at the top of my lungs. No way in hell am I going to agree to this proposition. That would make me a fat pig waiting to be ughtered, pampered and fed delicious meals before being dragged to the butcher.

    In the short breaths I take in between yelling, I watch Lord Bromley¡¯s face grow darker and darker as he continually gets interrupted by me. I find it interesting how he is so quickly offended by a child.

    Such a small stomach for dissent, I muse to myself, no wonder he was left out to dry by my father, the emperor. My active imagination conjures an image of a small dark-haired child with bitter, gold eyes, punished for horsing around like others his age and told to finish learning an entire book before eating anything. It reinforces my desire to not associate with this lord in any way, shape, or form, as I can see myself being forcefully carved into an image of his liking if I were to ept him as my mentor.

    The silly back and forth goes on for a bit, bringing great amusement to the dim mood that has gued me since I was dragged here. But I have the good sense to cease the noise when Lord Bromley loses the urgent tone and bes quieter. I look at him and his face is still carved into a mask of irritation, but his voice at least is moderate as usual.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± he starts, surprising me again with my title. I recall what he said just minutes prior, about earning the right to it. ¡°This is the best option you will get.¡±

    The false camaraderie he employed to get my trust is gone, although he still sounds somewhat pleasant. ¡°You can either die or give yourself a chance to survive. Surely even a small thing like you can understand that?¡± Lord Bromley is pretending to be reasonable, but a ruthless aura lies beneath his worlds.

    I scoff at his words. After all, as an unfavored royal marrying into a foreign country, I can understand that his idea of a ¡®best option¡¯ would just be a prolonged death sentence for me. I want to tell him as much, but of all the people to disy my above-average intelligence to, Lord Bromley is not one of them.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not,¡± I reply huffily, ¡°The guillotine is better. Winter is never going to get married!¡±

    I cross my arms and we have a short stare-off that he breaks away from first.

    ¡°Have it your way, girl,¡± he says. Without so much as a by your leave, he then leaves, his even footsteps getting further and further away until I can¡¯t hear them anymore. My back hits the wall and I slide to the ground in a daze.

    I had lied. I would do anything to get out of being executed, short of killing someone. But cing my fate in the hands of a man like Lord Bromley feels like an even bigger mistake. I don¡¯t want to die. I¡¯ve already done that one too many times.

    I look at the tepid weather outside the barred window of the prison bedroom and the excitement from the previous interaction plummets. I am quite literally Rapunzel in a tower, only I don¡¯t have loving parents waiting to wee me back into the fold. Instead, my parents, directly and indirectly, are the ones who¡¯ve put me here.

    ¡°You¡¯ve done this before,¡± I reassure myself. ¡°You literally spent five years in a tiny bedroom, this is nothing!¡±

    But my heart disagrees. It dwells on the way Duchess Taylor¡¯s lips pulled back around her teeth as she viciously ndered me, the suspicion and disappointment in the eyes of every knight that had once graciously praised my baked goods. I left the shack, went into the real world, and got kicked right back into the shack. Aftering out to see the world and making friends, being confined hurts even more than it did for my previous years.

    My sixth birthdayes to pass with no fanfare at all. Only that in the many songs I sing to myself through the day, I add in a little happy birthday. Winter is 6. Maria is 27. Both are having a miserable day.

    My mood is like a rotting fruit, with each passing day growing more bitter and malleable. Sometimes I feel like I¡¯m floating in the clouds,pletely removed from the world in my little bubble. But then there are days when each breath I take is a waste of energy. I spend much of my time fantasizing and nning my future, each version more oundish than thest.

    First, I imagine myself being rich enough to fill the slightly outdated Rose Pce with decorations and furniture of my choice. I recall the fine boudoir where I burned my fingers, the ornate paintings and vermillion cushions on the chaise lounge. I imagine myself as Cleopatra, only needing to point a finger before a servant brings me a bowl of grapes.

    As for my imaginary fortune, I¡¯d make it all in business. In this current day and age, I believe that a tradingpany could flourish and serve as a perfect cover for intelligence gathering. I had given Lady Arabe a one-year waive of paying me my cut for her to establish her future thriving business, and soon that should give me enough funding to start my dreams for real. That is if I survive.

    Like the summer rain outside, reality once again washes away my fantasies. But on this dreary birthday of mine, never did I expect for arge event toe to pass. Distant trumpets reach my ears and I rush to the barred window, pressing my little hands up against the water stained ss.

    It¡¯s futile, as the Tower is so far removed from the main pce buildings that I can see absolutely nothing. I sigh softly, returning to the bed I have spent my dayszing away on. For my deadbeat father to return to the pce, whether it is a good thing or a bad thing, I will soon find out.

 Chapter 55

    Ch. 55: Bearer of Bad News

    The bombshell news spread the pce like a gue, swiftly and decisively. The emperor has returned.

    From my isted roost, I am not privy to the madness that ensues in the capital and the information the returning vanguard brings. The pages of newspapers are awash with the same news: Baron Bourdain, the baron of a sleepy province within the Duchy of Avernall had financed the upheaval, prompting themon people to demand for their tiny region to be seceded from the Erudian Empire and join with Sarsaval, the neighboring kingdom. It was an irrational demand, as the area had been conquered from Sarsaval over 100 years ago and it wasn¡¯t treated any differently from any other province, town, or region within the Empire.

    Upon the arrival of the emperor and the deployed units of the royal guard, the rebellion had quickly been quelled, but the traitorous Baron had escaped to Sarsaval, leaving his family behind to face the consequences. The return to Radovalsk was glorious and prompted sincere patriotism amongst themoners. g bearers carrying the Erudian Phoenix walked out first, singing of the recent victory. Following was the Emperor Helio and Crown Prince Augustus, in their white and gold military uniform, setting women¡¯s hearts aflutter.

    ¡°Oh my, the emperor! I fear I may faint!¡±

    ¡°What country or kingdom canpare with us in terms of having such a handsome sovereign.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll say, Her Majesty is a lucky woman!¡±

    For a sinister killing god, the emperor¡¯s unparalleled looks won him significant support among the female poption, and prevented a louder outcry against his tyrannical actions. Looking at his face, one would not know that he had razed the rebellious region to the ground, leaving little but cinders and tears behind.

    Crown Prince Augustus, who was almost a mirror image of the Emperor with dark brown hair rather than ck and his mother¡¯s high cheekbones, waved proudly from his steed, rousing the crowd further. The royal guard marched in sync behind and it was a jubnt day for all but one in the capital.

    .....

    ¡°Hurry, hurry,¡± Julian said impatiently, his trademark grin out of sight. He was a handsome youth, but he appeared slightly bedraggled due to the mild dark circles under his eyes. As a member of the imperial family, he had to dress formally and greet Emperor Helio in the throne room once he had returned to the pce. The servant girl who was hanging the knotted rope from his epaulets dropped the essory to the ground altogether, prompting a dark frown from the usually easy going prince.

    ¡°Felix, get me some servants who know how to dress me!¡± he snapped, ignoring the reddening eyes of the kneeling servant. The young prince wasn¡¯t actually worried about the reception, but what came after, when the news of his sister reached Emperor Helio¡¯s ears.

    He was wondering how his old man would react. As a middle-aged individual shoved into a young boy¡¯s body after an untimely death, he did not have much affection for his ice block of a father, but Julian did have a healthy dose of fear. His old eyes could sense the disgust and tension between his father and mother, the way his father hated to reduce his killing aura around the empress so they could sit beside one another during formal events.

    Only Augustus ever received any semnce of affection, due to the fact that his mother was the only person Emperor Helio probably ever loved, and even then that so-called affection would be better referred to as ¡®tough love¡¯ in modern times.

    A more steady-handed maid fastened the epaulets to Julian¡¯s shoulder,pleting his formal uniform. Followed by a short procession of servants, Julian hustled to the foyer before the throne room in silence. His mother stood there with Julia beside her, his dreaded little sister whining about something as usual.

    Julian bowed slightly towards Empress Katya. ¡°Mother,¡± he said dutifully, frowning at Julia. He was not blind to the calctions of his mother, however ever since he had arrived in this world, she had treated him very sincerely thus it had always been easy to overlook. Until now, when a fellow traveler from another world arrived.

    His brow creased as he struggled between the new half-sister from his true world or the mother that had cared for him since his youth.

    ¡°Julian, is something the matter?¡± Katya asked, her eagle eyes noticing the discrepancy in his expression.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m fine,¡± he said hastily. Katya did not appreciate the sudden distance between mother and son for the past few weeks, but as Emperor Helio was about to return, she thought it would be wiser to inquire whyter.

    ¡°Mother, there is no need to worry about Julian,¡± Julia said brightly tofort their mother, her deceptively charming face barely hiding the inner wrath within. Julian snorted coldly, ignoring his little sister who unfortunately shared the same name as him.

    Watching Empress Katya caress the golden tresses of his sister, Julian wondered how such an intelligent woman could have given birth to a demon-like girl. She went through pce staff like dresses, discarding them and acquiring new ones at an rming rate. Empress Katya covered up the strange idents within Sunset Pce, but as someone who had worked in business for decades, he could sense the insidious personality within that little girl.

    As his mother continued fretting over Julia¡¯s perfectly fine self, he beckoned Felix over with a flick of his head.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± Felix said, dropping into an obedient bow. Felix was his most trusted confidant, who had apanied him as long as he could remember and handled all of Julian¡¯s important tasks.

    ¡°When Father returns to his study, you must tell him about Winter¡¯s matter before any of Mother¡¯s people get there,¡± Julian whispered, nervous at the thought of impeding his mother¡¯s authority.

    ¡°Princess Winter?¡± Felix asked, a strange expression crossing his face before it disappeared as rapidly as it had appeared.

    ¡°Yes. You must tell Father that she was framed... by the maid,¡± Julian said urgently, omitting the fault of his mother, ¡°And was subsequently locked in the Tower to await punishment. Ask him to review the case of who truly poisoned Sir George.¡±

    The past few days had not been restful for the young prince. He had spoken in length with the low ranking nobleman in charge of Winter¡¯s case for hours and several cups of tea to no avail, the man was firmly in his mother¡¯s pocket and had little interest in exploring an option where Winter wasn¡¯t persecuted for the crime. It made his head hurt, splitting his attention and devotion between two parties.

    A herald stepped into the foyer, his hands sped behind his back as he generously bellowed, ¡°Attention! His Majesty, Emperor Helio of Erudian has returned. His Highness, Crown Prince Augustus of Erudian has returned.¡± As everyone in the foyer folded into a respectful half-bow, the doormen opened the doors of the foyer and in strutted Julian¡¯s father.

    Long legs and a swishing cloak filled Julian¡¯s periphery vision, the only sound that could be heard once Emperor Helio had entered were the soft footfalls of himself and Augustus on red carpet. His father looked the same, his bearing and aura as if he were carved out of ice. An unfriendly eye swept over his bowed family members as he passed by without halting.

    Julian was no longer bitter about the preference towards Augustus from his father. He was an adult and had been a father too in his past life. He had simrly once carried the burden of leadership and knew how lonely it was for those on top. But he couldn¡¯t help but have a twinge of sympathy for his mother, who was ignored as usual as doormen finally opened the door to the throne room, where his father always spent an awful lot of time in.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Julian, his mother and sister said formally. Even though they were family, being a member of the imperial family had strict rules and they still had to gree the emperor as subjects.

    Emperor Helio¡¯s close steward who had the ability to withstand the emperor¡¯s killing aura much better than dozens of previous servants, made an apologetic look towards the prince, empress, and princess still waiting in the foyer as the emperor and crown prince hadrgely ignored them.

    ¡°His Majesty is grateful for your greeting,¡± the steward said, his greasy appearance at odds with his even speech. At first nce, he looked like someone easy to bribe, but the man, named Harold, was actually a tough nut to crack. ¡°You may all return.¡±

    The Mad Dog, a figure who was Julian¡¯s ¡®cool uncle¡¯, came in after Helio and Augustus, his rxed demeanor a far cry from father and son. He didn¡¯t follow the father and son into the throne room ahead, pausing at Julian. The tall, redheaded man pped a friendly hand on Julian¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°Julian!¡± his father¡¯s right hand said, dropping the royal titles, ¡°How have you been?¡±

    Julian smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve been well, Uncle. I trust the suppression of the rebellion went well?¡±

    Empress Katya and Sir Wolfgang had always been at odds with each other, Katya instructing Julia¡¯s wet nurse to carry her out as she threw an unfavorable nce towards the roguish knightmander. But it slid of Wolfgang like water off a wet duck¡¯s back as he led Julian out towards the archery range.

    The Mad Dog let out a long sigh. ¡°Depends on how you would define well,¡± Sir Wolfgang said, the easy grin sliding off his face.

    ¡°Were the rebels that troublesome?¡± Julian asked with a frown. From what he had heard, arge portion of the opposition were simply armed with shovels and basic tools.

    ¡°Yes and no. The main force was easy to dismantle, but we think that there were more yers involved than we had originally thought,¡± the Mad Dog admitted. A pair of maids stepped out of their path and bowed before they giggled softly behind their hands like love-struck fools.

    Neither Julian nor Sir Wolfgang noticed as they had arrived at the range and began stringing the weapons. ¡°More as in it wasn¡¯t just that traitorous baron?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Some unexpected things happened too, that caused the need for the Duke of Avernall to call for backup in the first ce. Mind your elbow,¡± Wolfgang instructed.

    He steadied Julian¡¯s arm, as archery was his greatest weakness when it came tobat.

    ¡°Steady there. Aim right for the center and... beautiful! Not a bulls-eye but close!¡± Sir Wolfgang praised as Julian fired a round towards the red and blue target. It felt a little ufortable to shoot in his formal uniform.

    ¡°What kind of unexpected things?¡± Julian asked impatiently, eager for more news.

    ¡°Well... the Duke seeded in pushing the force back in out of the capital of his duchy, Belhelm, and into the Dredgen Woods between us and Sarsaval,¡± Wolfgang said darkly, ¡°But they had nned on it, the entire forest had be a trap. ording to the few survivors who made it out, there was a strange sorcery we have never seen before, on that caused the earth to rise to the height of a tree and could blow fully armored men to pieces.¡±

    Julian jumped in rm, causing his next shot to go wide. He was grateful his back was to Sir Wolfgang, otherwise his shaken expression would have set the sharp knightmander¡¯s rms off. Causing earth to rise and blowing limbs off? For a modern soul such as his, that sounded eerily like a detonated explosive.

    ¡°Oy! That shot was sure off!¡± Wolfgangughed, falling quickly back into his easy-going demeanor.

    ¡°Yes, it was,¡± Julian said weakly, running to go fetch his own arrow before a servant could pick it up.

    All the hairs on his neck rose, as he weighed the possibility of their neighboring country possessing modern weaponry. In a world that didn¡¯t have guns, this was the kind of revtion that could turn a great empire to rubble overnight. The Native Americans and the Chinese were longstanding examples of this devastation in his past life. Was it possible there was a traveler in that kingdom? And if those really were bombs, what other advanced weapons might Sarsaval have up their sleeve?

    Winter¡¯s matters slipped to the back of his mind, but Felix, ever the obedient servant had already departed to inform the emperor privately once he received the message that the emperor had left the throne room and headed towards his study. After all, the young manservant was awfully good at ying his role of dutiful servant to Prince Julian.

    He moved with haste through the imperial pce, smugly smiling to himself as made sure as many servants within the halls noticed his quick movements. This way if his young master inquired in private, all Prince Julian would hear was how frantically his loyal manservant had rushed through the halls to deliver a message that unfortunately would never reach the ears of the emperor.

    The teenage servant came to an exhausted stop before the wing of the main pce that housed the Emperor¡¯s private quarters. Two knights crossed their sword in his path, before noticing that he wore the livery of Prince Julian and allowing him to pass. But once Felix entered, he stopped and waited, taking an exorbitantly long time to tie his shoes.

    Footsteps echoed behind him, the light ones of a woman.

    ¡°Well done, Felix,¡± a familiar voice said behind him, and Kora walked past him in a leisurely pace. In his outstretched hand a slender piece of paper was ced, one with a smell thatforted him like no other. Three gold tickets, a paper form of currency which was worth 100 gold each, was ced in his rough palm.

    ¡°Thank you. I will return to the young master and inform him that I could not enter the study before you,¡± Felix said simperingly. ¡°But this... will it be enough?¡±

    He gestured towards the money.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. The empress knows of your affection and ced Janice in the nicest Red House in Radovalsk. That price should cover you for a visit or two,¡± Kora said knowingly. She knocked on the study door and the footman within allowed her to enter so she could tell the empress¡¯ rendition of Winter¡¯s affairs to the emperor and obtain a swift conviction.

    Felix did not care for the young princess¡¯ matters nor Prince Julian. For he was a young man in the spring of love, his heart bubbling as he broke his master¡¯s trust and all but sealed an innocent girl¡¯s fate.

 Chapter 56

    Ch. 56: What Helio Saw

    Helio sat with his head bowed as his wife¡¯s personal maid exited his office. He rubbed his chin slowly, a little annoyed with the events that had passed since he was gone. He did not care for Katya, but he could admit that she ran the imperial pce like a well-oiled ship raring causing any problems or such. But now, within the few months a discovered descendant of his had been brought to the pce, there was such arge scandal.

    The maid was good with words, painting a damning narrative against Winter. But the emperor was not a stupid man, he knew this was just the machinations of his wife. Now the question guing his mind was what to do?

    The illness of Sir Gregory was too strange and the maid sneaking into the barracks made a mockery of the pce¡¯s security. Rising to his tall stature from his office desk, Helio knew he wouldn¡¯t be able to get any work done until he went to go see everything for himself.

    His heavy footsteps quickly alerted the doormen of his impending exit and the twin doors to his study opened. His face had his permanent scowl, further entuated by his dour mood over the events that had passed within the pce. It was events such as this that made him hate the imperial pce, his home, to his very bones. He almost yearned for another uprising or rebellion to quell, just so he could leave the cold halls that still seemd to mock him years after he had paid the price of blood and won the throne.

    A distant figure approached Helio as he stepped out of his pce building with his small retinue, the smallest number of people he was required to have tail him as the sovereign of the Erudian Empire. And even when he went out with them, he never lessened his killing aura so that they would be forced to stay several feet behind him.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Sir Wolfgang drawled and Helio¡¯s drawn expression loosened a tad.

    He nodded solemnly, his version of a greeting.

    ¡°We are headed to the barracks,¡± he ordered. Knowing what it was about, the Mad Dog¡¯s devil may care attitude simrly dimmed, revealing the shrewdmander underneath.

    .....

    ¡°You know that this was all mostly Katya¡¯s doing, right?¡± Wolfgang started as the two, tall men walked towards the royal guard barracks at a brisk pace. Wolfgang was smart and never referred to Katya as Helio¡¯s wife and empress, always calling her by name or ¡®that woman¡¯.

    ¡°That woman has her ws sunk deep into the ce. Makes me sick.¡± the young lord remarked with a sour expression, ¡°I was shooting arrows with Julian a little while ago and the number of eyes on us could not be counted in the single digits.¡±

    Beside them, the luxurious marble tiles and gold filigree were traded for grass freshly stomped by heavy, male boots.

    ¡°I know.¡± Emperor Helio replied. They both looked up at the brick buildings that housed the main forces of the royal family, the afternoon sun casting a long shadow towards them.

    A young knight that had been wandering outside startled suddenly as he looked up to see the Emperor and themander of the royal guards standing before him.

    ¡°Y-Your Majesty! Sire!¡± he cried, dropping into a full bow with one knee nted on the grass and a fist on his chest.

    ¡°Rise,¡± Sir Wolfgang said, knowing that his friend and ruler would not bother to say anything, having already stalked past the young sprig into the musty building.

    The barracks was a ce that housed men, one whiff was enough to inform anyone of that. However, both Wolfgang and Helio had grown up in conditions such as these, they¡¯d even shoveled through the outhouse with their bare hands many moons ago when they were much scrawnier and weaker. It did little to phase them.

    Surprised knights mingling within the barracks during their downtime when they weren¡¯t taking shifts around the pce cried out simultaneously, ¡°Your Majesty!¡±

    Even one that had been extravagantly tossing sunflower seeds into his mouth dropped on his knees, crying out with the rest of his peers before tilting his head back and catching the seed.

    Emperor Helio had a domineering presence, and it wasn¡¯t just from his killing aura. Before he had entered, Helio had deliberately diminished his aura but even without it, the dark-haired killing angel had stained his sword many times with blood and it could be seen with one nce.

    Helio did not engage with any, but the starry eyes did not lessen as the emperor moved down the hall to the end where Sir Gregory, the interimmander when Sir Wolfgang was not present, lived. A few of the younger nobleds who had recently joined and had only heard the famous stories of the emperor, could not help but gasp to themselves in awe. Seeing their fearsome sovereign automatically made them want to work harder to prove themselves within the most prestigious regiment of knights in the Empire.

    An attendant that had been beside Helio rushed to open Sir Gregory¡¯s door for the emperor, but Helio was long ustomed to doing such things for himself. Without any prelude, he walked in, startling the Duchess who still had tear tracks on her face.

    ¡°Y-Your Majesty!¡± she cried, her maid helping her up from a wood stool to drop into a curtsey. It could be seen that her son¡¯s injuries had hit her hard, for Duchess Taylor, who always presented a bold, yet reserved image was now in shambles, her dress several seasons old and her face looking like it had aged 10 years in two weeks. Both she and the room stunk of medicine.

    ¡°Please exit the room as His Majesty meets with Sir Gregory,¡± a faithful attendant requested with his head bowed. As Duchess Taylor knew it was an immense honor for Emperor Helio to visit one of his subjects, she did not tarry any longer and quickly left. Her hands viciously grasped the folds of her skirts as the reverent expression she had held disappeared.

    She greatly hoped that the emperor would be able to see what havoc his demon spawn daughter had wreaked and pass a swift and decisive punishment. Her son was her bottom line, her reason for waking up every morning. For an unfavored little witch to dare to plot against him, Duchess Taylor knew she wouldn¡¯t be satisfied with anything less than death! She had already urged her husband, Duke Taylor, to also push for this punishment once the emperor returned to government proceedings.

    Helio was rather sensitive to others¡¯ intentions, it was a trait that had helped him survive his perilous childhood. He felt the dark anger boiling within the aging woman, but dismissed it as he turned to look at the knight before him.

    The two of them were roughly the same age, and while the emperor had no enmity with Sir Gregory, he also didn¡¯t have any fond memories. The interimmandery in his bed without moving, looking pale and wan, unlike the many tanned and healthy knights of the royal guard. If it weren¡¯t for the faint rise and fall of his chest, one could assume he was dead.

    Wolfgang whistled slowly. ¡°That crazy maid must have had personal resentment with this man, for him to be so badly injured.¡±

    He turned to a cowering aide standing in the corner. ¡°What did the doctor say about his injuries again?¡±

    ¡°S-Sir, the doctor said that he doesn¡¯t know what happened to this k-knight. He hadn¡¯t ingested anything from her as far as their deductions could tell and he did not have any apparent wounds.¡±

    ¡°How mysterious,¡± Wolfgang said with a mocking smirk. He was incredulous of this doctor¡¯s report and wondered whether those rats had been coerced by Katya to give ackluster medical report.

    The emperor did not seem to be listening though, his hands imposingly held behind his back as he observed the unconscious knight. He crouched, gaining a closer look at the side of Sir Gregory¡¯s head before his eyes narrowed menacingly.

    Wolfgang had seen that look before. He ushered the trembling aide out, only to raise his brows in surprise as Helio sent him out as well.

    ¡°Me?¡± he said with surprise.

    There was no mirth in Helio¡¯s icy gold gaze. ¡°Yes.¡±

    The Mad Dog was smart enough to simrly exit, though he was bewildered by the circumstance. What could have made the emperor so uneasy he would force everyone from the room and stay with Sir Gregory alone?

    Within the room, Emperor Helio was burning with cold rage, the shock of the matter making it burn even hotter. A rush of memories soared through his head and his hand folded into a fist. Faintly hidden in the curls that fell down Sir Gregory¡¯s neck and missed by the doctors¡¯ subpar inspection, there was a faint bite mark at the top of the knight¡¯s throat where the head meets the neck.

    It had bruised and was a stark purple color that stood out against the man¡¯s now pale skin. He had seen this mark long ago and recognized it for what it was.

    The bite of one of Akira¡¯s spawn.

    It was likely that even the empress did not know what had done this, but this revtion set Helio¡¯s teeth on edge.

    ¡°Someday boy, you will encounter an enemy you can¡¯t pummel into the earth or kill. Then what will you do? Brute force is a gift, but also a curse if used too heavy-handedly,¡± Lord Bromley had once warned him long ago when he had held that deceitful man in his confidence.

    But Helio hadn¡¯t listened. He too had made a deal with the devil, exchanging the life of someone he loved for the ability to strike fear into the hearts of all his enemies. And he had paid its price that fateful night years ago when the original Rose Pce had burnt to the ground with his heart sleeping inside it none the wiser.

    Feeling the painful memories bite at his heels like a ravenous dog, Helio punched the wall beside him hard, leaving a crater from the force. Looking down at this injured knight that had been dragged into Empress Katya¡¯s scheme, he felt like his past was mocking him.

    Therge man folded onto the stool previously upied by the duchess, his face buried in his hands. Within the heavy silence of the bare room, his killing aura slowly absorbed the energy within theatose Sir Gregory, drawing it deep inside where it would only be seen when he carved his bloody path through a battlefield. Now that he knew the culprit, he didn¡¯t realize how he couldn¡¯t feel Akira¡¯s taint within the room when he initially entered. The malevolent energy, the same one he had embraced with open arms to im a throne that was never supposed to be his, churned within the body of the knight beside him.

    Did he regret making the deal with Akira all those years ago as a young boy trying to survive the deadly military camps? Did he regret that his literal presence pushed away everyone from except for those rted by blood? Did he regret losing the only person he had ever loved, a woman he loved more than his own life, in exchange for iparable power?

    His face was terrifying nk as he considered his answer. For, in fact, the young emperor did not regret any of the decisions that had given him his current power. And that was what frightened him. The throne was him and he was the throne. They were one and the same, as he reminded himself often. Even if the Holy Church disagreed with this notion, Helio¡¯s grasp on imperial power was too firm for those nonsensical believers to shake.

    But Akira putting one of his creatures in his pce was an anomaly Helio did not ount for. After he had received the great demon¡¯s power and conquered the throne, the presence of Akira seemed to slither out of Radovalsk, disappearing into a corner of the Empire far enough for him to look the other way when strange things and disappearances urred. It was a being that enjoyed the taste of suffering and torment, extracting a fair debt from Helio before vanishing. Thus, in Helio¡¯s cunning mind, he could find no reason for Akira to return after having already gotten what he wanted.

    The sovereign sighed slightly, his mood growing darker and his presence ring as he stood up, once again the picture of a fearless tyrant. For answers, Helio would have to seek out his estranged mentor, the one he swore he would never turn to for help again.

    ¡°You can¡¯t stay away, can you boy? In the end, you always need my help to keep the throne,¡± Lord Bromley echoed in his ears, words from a decade ago.

    The door to Sir Gregory¡¯s room opened with a bang, startling those waiting outside.

    ¡°Your Majesty, I-¡± Duchess Taylor said again, wanting to express her gratitude and subtly inquire about what was to be done.

    Helio strode past her without a word, his long strides forcing Sir Wolfgang to jog to reach him.

    An aide stopped beside the bewildered Duchess. ¡°A statement of the situation will be issued shortly, please be respectful of His Majesty¡¯s busy schedule.¡±

    She watched as the tall, imposing man and felt her knees wobble.

    ¡°Mydy!¡± her servant wailed as Duchess Taylor nearly fell to the ground.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she replied calmly. She prided herself as being much stronger and valiant than other noblewomen due to her past of wielding a sword with her father and brothers as a little girl. But all her fortitude was for naught as she nearly copsed like the popr caricature of a feeble, overly pampered noblewoman. This kind of person, Duchess Taylor noted with satisfaction, would not be lenient even with his own children.

 Chapter 57

    Ch. 57: Free at Last?

    Meanwhile, Helio asked what was to be done with the maid, Janice, in question.

    ¡°I just heard from one of my men watching the pce that the woman wants to send her out of the pce quietly and ce her in a Red House that wealthy men often frequent. Apparently, she is a shockingly beautiful girl.¡± Sir Wolfgang reported.

    Helio smirked, the half-smile almost breathtakingly handsome if it wasn¡¯t for the sinister glint in his eye. Although he hated to stay within the imperial pce and capital, he recognized the need to be well connected to the news and knew well about the secret and not so secret affairs of Radovalsk. Being ced in a Red House, a courtesan house where women were not required to sleep with customers, just entertain them, would actually be such a boon for Akira¡¯s spawn.

    Sir Wolfgang saw the malevolent glint in his ruler¡¯s eye and sighed. ¡°Would you prefer I arrange for the shadow guard to dispose of her tonight?¡±

    Helio shook his head. ¡°Just send her to the lowest, filthiest brothel you can find and arrange for someone to keep a close eye on her.¡±

    ¡°As you wish, Your Majesty,¡± the Mad Dog replied, confused as to why the sovereign was just doing away with the woman altogether as he normally would.

    But Helio wasn¡¯t done. ¡°As for everything else... Sir Gregory was struck with a strange illness that happened to coincide with when theundry maid visited. Due to the empress condemning one of the royal heirs with faulty evidence, she must relinquish the right to run the pce to someone else, either that Duchess or someone we know doesn¡¯t stand in the same political circles as her family.¡±

    Sir Wolfgang kept his head leaning forward after Helio had spoken, waiting for more reparations to be made from the incident.

    .....

    ¡°And the girl? Winter?¡± he finally asked, thinking of the little white-haired girl with round, expressive eyes.

    There was a pause. ¡°Do nothing,¡± Helio said coldly.

    ¡ª¡ª¡ª

    ¡°Your Highness,¡± wails Marie at my knees as she copses before me.

    Emma says nothing, but her eyes appear a little red before she looks away from me.

    By a stroke of genius luck, or perhaps Peppermint had an off day today, I have been released from the Tower, escorted by two guards back to my previous residence. I breathe in the warm air, carrying a touch of humidity from recent rainfall. The grass of Rose Pce is slick beneath my feet.

    I don¡¯t know how to feel. What should I feel? I watch the fat tears roll down Marie¡¯s face and feel detached, like I¡¯m watching a show. The other maids of my residence are also kneeling, but every time I look away, my wayward mind fantasizes themughing. Arge Cheshire cat grin. Mocking me.

    I squeeze my eyes tight. Suddenly I wish I was still in the Tower, a crazy, strange thought. I¡¯ve known that life isn¡¯t fair. I¡¯ve known that ever since I watched kids at my elementary schoole in with matching socks and perfectly packed lunches, the white bread sandwiches cut in half with fancy fillings. They would talk about their summer vacations to Hawaii when sharing their summer adventures with the ss, while I spoke about finding enough soda cans and beer bottles to redeem for money.

    But at least I could work hard for my own merit. Didn¡¯t I get it all? A good university, a decent apartment, a used car with all its payments fulfilled, and a loving fiance. I catch myself on thest part, my mouth falling into a cynical smirk. Jonathan¡¯s actions no longer sting, as it¡¯s been 6 long years since the betrayal, but it¡¯s a symbol of when my life started to fall apart.

    I lost a lover, a friend, even my life. And at my second chance at it all, the social barriers are too high for me to climb. It¡¯s like I¡¯ve been branded, the word ¡®bastard¡¯ tattooed across my face. No matter how much I try to please the nobles, all the smarts of the past 27 years crammed into a 6-year-old¡¯s body, they will hate me.

    That vile disgust in Duchess Taylor¡¯s eyes, I can see it everywhere now. I saw it in the eyes of the guards who unlocked my doors and let me out. I saw it in the scurrying servants whoy their curious eyes upon me. For a second, I think I even see it in Marie.

    Who would¡¯ve thought that the Tower would be a haven? I just want to shut myself away and never leave.

    My steps are wooden as I follow Marie into the Rose Pce. I¡¯ve been living here for a few months, but this ce already feels so foreign. Every nook and cranny is practically brand new to me and I know that I do not belong. My heart feels cold, and even the warm bath Marie gives me does little to warm it.

    I¡¯m not a child after all. I can read between the lines. On the surface, it appears as if Emperor Helio interceded on my behalf and punished Empress Katya. But I can tell this was just a power y. Empress Katya was too powerful and influential in the pce, my father, no my sperm donor, wanted to take her down a peg. Under the guise of her harming a royal heir, he can easily loosen the sturdy roots of the empress and the Duvernay family.

    When I have nothing to do, I sit and stare out of the window of my bedroom, watching the still and lifeless rose garden that I asionally witness gardners pruning. A pretty piece that sits idly gathering dust, that would be the best way to describe me. I¡¯m fed and clothed once more at a status befitting a noble personage, but neglected in all other ways. Mrs. Laroche will nevere again, it seems, her contract to work here terminated. Instead of a rose, I feel like ivy growing on a wall, growing unhindered and uncared for until the fateful day it is taken out by the roots and disposed of for a lovelier nt.

    I sit by the window for one whole day, then two, and even take my meals there.

    I¡¯m going to leave, I suddenly tell myself on the third day.

    When this thoughtes to me, my heart sighs in relief and I suddenly feel like I can breathe again. This is the right thing for me to do. I hate to impose myself on people who don¡¯t care about me or want me dead. I¡¯m tired of the stares, both in this life and my past life. I¡¯m tired of watching the silver spoons and cutlery brought with my meals slowly disappear and get reced with lower quality ones. I¡¯m just... tired.

    In my dreams, I see a quiet cottage sitting in the middle of a field, the tall grass swaying gently around it. It¡¯s nicer than Bianca¡¯s shack and quieter than the pce. I imagine that no one would ever give me dirty looks there or even know who I am. I can just exist in peace.

    But I know it would be hard to make this dream a reality. I¡¯m trapped in a kid¡¯s body with the distinguishable feature of gold eyes. Any ver looking to make a quick buck or sharp-eyed city guard would pick me up speedily. I could starve to death as I don¡¯t know how to survive in this world that is at least 200 years behind mine. The cold of winter could take me away in my sleep.

    I¡¯m going to run anyway.

    When I ask Emma to give me her spare uniform, she doesn¡¯t even seem surprised.

    ¡°Tomorrow,¡± she tells me, her one-word answers quiteforting.

    ¡°Will youe with me?¡± I ask tentatively.

    The young maid shakes her head. ¡°I need money.¡±

    I snort loudly and pat her on the shoulder, a slight grin crossing my originally despondent face.

    ¡°Don¡¯t ever do something you¡¯ll regret for money,¡± I warn kindly, my eyes warm. I sincerely hope that the rest of her life goes well and she someday makes a fortune. I know it would be better for me to tell her not to fixate on money so much, but in a way, Emma and I are the same ilk. To tell someone not to be so obsessed with moneyes from a ce of privilege, a privilege I have yet to enjoy.

    I flop onto my bed, realizing this is thest night I will ever spend in this damn pce and feel happy. I oddly feel the same way I did when I was younger and my mom had found a new ce to stay. An uncharted terrain that I¡¯m eager to explore as I put the old one behind me.

    Nothing is sacred to me here. I don¡¯t care to take any of my clothes, save for the inest dresses and hair ribbon. Emma has also snuck some preservable food to me: dried peaches, bread, old-fashioned jerky. I feel ready, and as I put on Emma¡¯s maid uniform, which is a tad bit toorge on my mini body, I tuck a pouch of gold coins into my waistband.

    Then I run. The directions Emma gave me ze through my mind, turn left at the statue of your great-great-grandfather. Crawl through the bush next to the chipped pir. It¡¯s nighttime and the pce is asleep, the handheldmps everyone carries alerting me of human presence from a distance away.

    There¡¯s a small dog hole near one of the walls, so small it¡¯s a tight squeeze for Emma. The dense shrubbery that shrouds the gate and walls decoratively covers itpletely, but by sheer luck she managed to find it. I take a deep breath, my heart pounding as I look at the shrub Emma exined. It¡¯s all that stands between me and freedom.

    And then I¡¯m past it, belly crawling onto the wide street that is blocked off by guards. Emma¡¯s information is especially thorough, as she even helped me time when the guard shift ended and they swapped ces. I look back at the imperial pce with a bitter grin. Even after studying political science and preparing for a future in politics, I still got bitten by this ce. I know I won¡¯t miss it in the slightest.

    I don¡¯t notice the faint gold perimeter surrounding the pce suddenly glow brightly, then disappear, so focused am I on leaving.

 Chapter 58

    Ch. 58: The Boy

    TW: mentions of suic*de

    It feels unreal to stand on the quiet streets outside the pce, well regted by pce guards so the nighttime hubbub can only be found a few blockster. I walk slowly, my short legs barely covering any distance. I tape myself to the side of buildings and feel a distinct nervousness rise within me.

    Was running away a good idea? I want to suddenly be indoors and far away from the night breeze ruffling my white hair and the asional movements I spy within closing businesses. My hand tightens on my bag as I forge forward, my eyes wide open as if it will help me detect any further threats.

    I¡¯m out. I¡¯m free, kind of. As long as I¡¯m a citizen of this empire, I¡¯ll never truly be free. Like a spider¡¯s web, the connections between me and the pce are too numerous to count and I doubt I will ever truly be free of them. I pit opens in my stomach as the strict guard perimeter loosens and I enter the busy Winnifred za. I trip over a loose stone, so busy am I in looking at my surroundings.

    Bianca never took me out, except for the one, dizzying asion I went to the doctor for a high fever. So although I have lived in Radovalsk my whole life, I am more of a tourist in the capital. Winnifred za is as beautiful as I heard. A dazzling fountain several feet tall and carved from gold sits in the middle of a fountain, wielding a glimmering torch. I already know it¡¯s Helio, the god that the Erudian royal family is supposedly blessed from. I don¡¯t feel very blessed though, gold eyes or not.

    The streets are smooth, the creamy stone pairing beautifully with the scenic restaurants and well-dressed patrons. It is a picture of a flourishing city, freshly ripped out of the paintings from my history textbooks. Skirts ensembles are full and flush with rich colors that are difficult to dye, the watches and monocles sported by men glint silver under the streetlights. There is an invisible wall between me and them, as if the fruits and bounty of this city are meant to be solely enjoyed by the wealthy and affluent.

    It is under such a streetlight I am discreetly lurking, the fresh paint carrying a faint iron scent and the flickering me within themp itself sending shimmering colors through my hair. My window at Bianca¡¯s offered me a small peek at the outside world and I have seen the streetlights of this world before. However, the ones in the slums are decrepit things nted on unpaved streets. Most are covered in graffiti and more of a decoration as the night¡¯s watch never lit themps the way they do the others.

    Large carriages belonging to well-to-do families cross the road, their sumptuous colors present from the reins on the horse to small detailing on the carriage door. A distant clocktower tolls, it¡¯s 9 o¡¯clock in the evening. For someone who has spent years trapped indoors and then another few months stuck in the pce, I drink down the sight like a starving man although I¡¯m filled with slight difort as well as awe.

    .....

    It seems that no matter which world I¡¯m in, the chips will always be down for me. The circles of the wealthy and powerful will never let me in, so why should I bother trying?

    I don¡¯t cross further into Winnifred za, leaving the beautiful ce and its people alone as I venture into a dark alley. I¡¯ll just camp out somewhere quiet for a few days before I seek out work as a childborer at one of the factories on the outskirts of the city. I¡¯m certain I¡¯ll be able to transform my luck with my current smarts and be a sessful businesswoman before long.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s the end of that,¡± I say decisively, ignoring the feeling of a lump sitting in my throat and the prick of tears in my eyes. Will an rm be raised if it is discovered I¡¯ve gone missing tomorrow? Or, more likely, will my disappearance be swept under a rug until the public entirely forgets an illegitimate princess once existed?

    The echoing footfalls of my practicalce-up boots multiply, but I¡¯m too lost in my thoughts and don¡¯t hear it. But I certainly feel it when a momentter a stinging blownds on the back of my head and sends me to my knees. The hit is like a wake-up call. I¡¯m shaking my head and scrambling backward, the sound ofughing dinner guests dining outside and evening chatter drilling into my head. I curse myself for losing my impable street sense that kept me safe when I was Maria.

    As I¡¯m scooting back frantically, my back hits something sturdy that definitely isn¡¯t a wall. I can smell coal and soot, along with a faint undercurrent of sweat.

    ¡°Hey boys, what ¡®ave we here?¡± someone drawls slowly, their voice caught in the early phases of manhood.

    ¡°Blimey, it¡¯s a girl! Strange looking one too.¡± My blurry vision starts to adjust and I can see a figure in front of me, their face still smooth with youth. There are 2 hazy figures before me, along with the person blocking my exit. My attackers can¡¯t be any older than a typical middle schooler.

    One of them saunters up and kicks me in the chest hard with his boot, the person behind me conveniently moving so I roll over the cobblestones. A shattered piece of ss sticks my right arm and I feel it seep blood as the ss buries itself in my flesh.

    ¡°Ah!¡± I involuntarily cry from the acute pain of broken ss.

    ¡°Oh look! She¡¯s scared. Are ya scared, lil¡¯ girl? Want your mama?¡± someone whines in a babyish voice. Deep down I know these are practically kids, but the alley obscures their faces so I can only see shadows and their rough clothing. Their breeches are torn and gazes are vicious, I can already tell that no mercy will be extended to me.

    ¡°L-leave me alone,¡± I cry pathetically. I would ordinarily be braver, but at my current size, I am not an opponent for these older children. My head is still ringing from the blow and my arm is sending tears running down my face. It almost seems like every time I want to take charge of my fate, something unforeseen will hinder me.

    ¡°Not a chance on that? Now, what ¡®ave you got there, eh? Money? Food?¡± Quick hands reach for my provisions and pouch and I¡¯m too weak to stop them. The nk of the coins is a drug to these boys. I can see the gleam of white as their eyes widen from the sound and they surround the bag.

    ¡°Oy! That¡¯s real, mate!¡± the one who had been behind me says.

    Another bites down hard. ¡°Ow! Yeh, you¡¯re bloody right, Cobb.¡±

    ¡°Enough, enough.¡± says the ringleader, the only kid who hasn¡¯t taken a swing at me. ¡°Why would a little girl be running around with enough coin to buy herself a whole week at the top Red House?¡±

    The less quickwitted minion who had taken a swing at me, his meaty fists hanging menacingly replies, ¡°A lil¡¯ girl wouldn¡¯t be goin¡¯ to a Red House.¡±

    His friend cuffs him on the ear. ¡°Stupid. He¡¯s talking about the amount of coin she be carryin¡¯. This little girl is probably rich. Maybe she got lost or something.¡±

    The ringleader chuckles. ¡°Lost? I¡¯d wager the story¡¯s a little different, eh?¡± he says to me. They all turn their attention to me and I wish I could bury myself under the earth.

    ¡°You probably ran away didn¡¯t you. Tired of your rich mommy and daddy telling you what to do, huh? Well, wee to the real world sweetheart! Hope you like it!¡± they all loudly guffaw with each other. Theugh dies down too soon.

    ¡°Now what should we do with her?¡± the hitter asks, looking awfully eager to hurt me again. ¡°If she runs and tells the authorities, we¡¯re dead.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, maybe dump her in the river and make a bloody run for it.¡±

    ¡°Wait!¡± I shout desperately, wobbling to my feet. I feel sturdier than I look, but I want to maintain my weak appearance so I can make a run from these would-be murderers. ¡°I-I¡¯m actually an important person. A princess! So... if you kill me the imperial pce would enlist the Holy Church to find the murderer and no ce in this empire can hide you from their magic!¡±

    The two cronies pale instantly, one dropping the bread he was knawing on. Like any other child, the threat of authority can whip them into shape. But unfortunately, the ringleader, who is a little taller and older, does not fall as quickly.

    ¡°Oh, really?¡± he asks, his voiceden with skepticism. ¡°Alright, princess, riddle me this. If they cared about you so much, why did you run away?¡±

    His question hits my bluff right on the head and I make a show of grabbing my aching head as I begin to discreetly prepare for a full-out sprint.

    ¡°I know why.¡± All of sudden, the ringleader has stepped in close, his eyes piercing mine as he bends down to match my stature. ¡°It¡¯s because you¡¯re like us. Unwanted. Unloved. Maybe even a bastard? Ha, those nobles makerge blunders and then pretend they don¡¯t exist. Who¡¯s to say we won¡¯t get a pat on the back for helping your parents dispose of you?¡±

    His speech is more proper than the other two cronies and the corner of his mouth folds into a sadistic smile. From the wan light from the streets, I can see his green eyes, one of them slightly milky from blindness. It only makes this kid more frightening.

    I bolt out of the blue, putting right foot over left as I veer down the back end of the alley and into a dizzying array of dark streets.

    ¡°Shit, she¡¯s running!¡±

    ¡°Do you always have to state the obvious, Cobb?¡±

    I can hear them trail after me, but I just run in any which direction switching at random before I hide behind a parked cart without a steed. Three sets of footsteps thunder past then disappear, but I still wait as the nighttime chill begins to peck the thin fabric of my dress.

    A shiver runs through my six-year-old body, the adrenaline is wearing off. Like an unweepanion, my head starts throbbing again and I wince as my hand brushes against a forming knot. My feet ache from running and the sleeve of my dress is matted with blood. I have no food, no money, and I¡¯mpletely and utterly lost. I rummage through my pockets in search of a stray coin that could¡¯ve fallen in and my hand touches something.

    It is small and round, and I pull it out with excitement at the thought of finding a gold coin. Just one, is all I need. Just one.

    I pull it out and flip it through my fingers my heart freezing as a familiar red and white pattern fills my eyes. Those spiderwebs tying me to the imperial pce suddenly tighten into a noose around my neck. Peppermint. My fingers are still slick with the blood leaking out of my arm and the candy slips from my fingers to the ground below me.

    I don¡¯t know whether to curse the sky or the candy on the ground. I don¡¯t know if Peppermint is an omnipotent being or someone who the Fates gave special discretion to mess with me. My body feels so tired and worn, carrying a burden no other 6-year old kid should worry about. It is inhumane, the levels of torture Peppermint has put me through so I can y the role of a meek Winter who will eventually get falsely used and murdered when I be 16.

    My hands shake, my chest quivers. I can¡¯t make sense of anything except for the peppermint on the ground, mocking me in all my pain and aloneness. I feel a thick, ck hatred well up within me at the unfairness of it all. My entire life I have fought an uphill battle and I just keep getting pushed back down. Peppermint, society, my father, all of them have yed their part. And I¡¯m sick and tired of it all, so much so I wrench the ss from my arm in one motion and bring it to my neck.

    My breath rushes in and out as if I¡¯ve run a marathon. I am alone in the street, not another soul in sight.

    No one would see. No one would care. And maybe it¡¯s better that way. The bloody piece of ss drips all over my hand and the ground below. The tip is held close to my neck, if I pushed my hand closer by a hair¡¯s width, I would nick my youthful flesh.

    The ringleader was right. I can¡¯t escape from the castle, not as long as Peppermint keeps manipting the world around me. I barely know how to survive in a world set in the past without a single lightbulb and skirts I keep tripping over. My mom is assumed dead and my dad wants no part of me. My hand clenches tighter around the ss. There is no point in me lingering and extending my suffering. I know I¡¯ve lost this game I never asked to be a part of.

    I close my eyes, my breath calming and my mind emptying. I send out a fervent prayer that I will magically wind up in my world again, that my original death was a fluke, and I¡¯ll finally be able to see my mother again after six long years. Fat tears fall down my face as I prepare for the final strike.

    My hand is in a downward motion when a sharp pain res across the back of my hand as if something small and structured just struck it. The blow is hard enough and strategic ced, my grip immediately weakening and the ss tumbling from my palm and snapping into a thousand pieces. The weak moonlight allows me to see my reflection in the shattered ss ¨C tear covered, splotchy, weak. I fall to my knees, the skirt doing little to pad my fall as I haplessly look for another piecerge enough for me toplete the deed with. There is none.

    I¡¯m sure it¡¯s some good samaritan who thought they were doing me a favor and my endless sorrow slowly starts to shift to anger, then fury. All they¡¯ve done is waste my time. Unless they can stop an author with godlike powers or have enough power to protect me from the imperial family, they could take their good will and shove it. Slowly, as if my head is being lifted by a puppet string, I cast a dead look at the culprit that had foiled my escape n, as I was certain I had been alone on this abandoned street before I acted.

    The empty brick and mortar buildings cast heavy shadow on the cobblestone street, but they don¡¯t obscure the curious sight before, one that clears away my rage with haste. For it was not an adult full of false sentiments, but another child like me. It¡¯s a boy, seated in a wheelchair.

    A butler stands behind him, his face obscured in the shadows and his ck suit appearing especially menacing at night. But I don¡¯t take notice of that. I don¡¯t notice how the shadows twist and contort around the butler and child duo, the way a lone raven let out a long caw before it dropped from a nearby roof, dead.

    It could be best described as a fixation. The butler is actively pushing the boy closer and I can see he is rather well to do. He wears a smart waistcoat, the grey color matching his cks perfectly. Pale brown hair curls tantalizingly around his eyes and ears, so faint in color it looks like it has been washed out. But most alluring of all are his dazzling amethyst eyes that regard mine, nothing but the warmth and friendliness I¡¯ve been starved of sitting in them.

    He¡¯s close enough for me to touch, I almost want to for a second. He looks right around my age, although his brilliant smile reveals that he has already lost his front teeth and had them reced.

    The boy reaches out for me, his little palm open towards me, unphased by my sudden recoil. I don¡¯t understand. I look like a wreck and I nearly slit my throat in the middle of the street. Any sane person would not be looking at me like I¡¯m special... like I matter to them.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± he asks sweetly, his hand still extended towards mine.

    No, I want to answer. My dry lips don¡¯t move and I know I¡¯m still staring foolishly at this boy. But I can¡¯t and don¡¯t say anything, my hand just falling onto his as if it were meant to be. The cold and the pain instantly take a backseat as I feel the warmth from the boy¡¯s hand. He squeezes it reassuringly and all the weight I have been carrying seems to fall from my shoulders.

    And in that beautiful moment, the world shrinks to a poption of three: just me, him, and his vibrant purple gaze that swallows me whole.

 Chapter 59

    Ch. 59: 2 Years Later

    (2 YEARS LATER)

    As it turns out, a great many people live in the imperial pce, an even greater number than I knew to begin with. After the madness surrounding my high profile imprisonment and usations died down from a roaring fire to smoldering embers that spark every now and then, I enjoyed a new status within the pce. Invisibility. Kind of.

    Everyone still very well knew who I was. The stares have never stopped and the bright shock of white hair serves as a constant calling card of my identity. It practically screams, ¡°Here I am! That illegitimate bastard who nearly killed one of themanders of the royal guard! That¡¯s right! It¡¯s me!¡±

    It doesn¡¯t help that Empress Katya, intent on fulfilling her role of a doting, kind mother, calls me often to the Sunrise Pce, the long walk kindling intense stares and murmured gossip through the halls for the next few days. It is on these long walks that I witness therge number of nobles who hide themselves within the scaffolding of the pce, so determined to attain even a small piece of imperial favor.

    A few of these noblewomen, newly debuted a residing in a distant pce at the empress¡¯ permission, had decided to make things difficult for me for the mysterious poisoning case that was swept under the rug although I¡¯m stillrgely believed to be the culprit. The empress graciously stepped in and stopped them from bullying me, sessfully drawing much praise for being a wonderful stepmother to the child my father had with a mystery mistress.

    A fierce knocking sound draws me out of my reflective thoughts and back to the present- inside the trunk of my brother Julian¡¯s carriage. Normally, I would¡¯ve noticed the sessive small bumps that ur when the carriage rolls over the small metal ridge of the outdoor gate to the pce.

    ¡°Your highness, Prince Julian is signaling for us to exit,¡± Emma said faithfully, not looking ufortable despite her feet curled around her head from the tight squeeze we both have made into the trunk. Ordinarily, the fit isn¡¯t so tight, but now Emma is 9 years old and much taller than she was in the past. Surprisingly, my runt size has persisted, and I am only incrementallyrger than I was when I first arrived at the imperial pce.

    I push open the secret inner door of the trunk, one that leads to the interior of the cushioned royal carriage as opposed to its outer lid. The trunk carries a slight stink of manure, as it isn¡¯t cleaned as well as the rest of the carriage before it is left in the stables. My head is covered in a straw bo, all my hair twined underneath so not a single lock of white is visible. Bedona was carefully dripped into my eyes, the stinging pain having woken me up fully earlier this morning. They are now a boring, nondescript brown, matching the in brown dress both Emma and I are wearing.

    .....

    ¡°Every time I see your disguises, I can scarcely believe it is you,¡± Julian says in slight disbelief, watching with arms crossed as I crawl from the inner door onto the cushioned seat opposite of him.

    ¡°That is kind of the purpose of a disguise,¡± I mutter dryly to my half-brother, knowing we lookpletely unalike at the moment. My unusual features make for a distinct calling card, helping me stand out without trying. When they are hidden I look like an ordinary, albeit incredibly cute little flower seller.

    ¡°Emma, have you got the flowers?¡± I ask while extending a helping hand to Emma. She refuses it, somehow managing to lug in two heavy wood woven baskets full of flowers we¡¯ve ¡®borrowed¡¯ from an untraveled corner of the pce. Just like me, they won¡¯t be missed in the slightest.

    ¡°Where are you off to today?¡± Julian inquires after Emma and I have settled ourselves into the seats that feel like clouds, a far cry from the chilly metal container we had been forced to sneak out of the pce in. His eyes are wide open and seem to have a trustworthy appearance, the golden tan he is reacquiring as it grows warmer making him appear like a young Adonis.

    ¡°Nowhere in particr,¡± I reply I say in a sing-song manner, losing eye contact from his golden gaze and opting to look out the window. I don¡¯t need to look to see the guilt that will inevitably well up in his eyes.

    He shoulders some of the me for the incident from two years ago and the subsequent ostracization I¡¯ve faced from high society even as a young child. As for how I feel about him... it¡¯splicated. As an old soul in a young body, I know he can clearly see what kind of person Empress Katya, his mother, is like. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt as it is a difficult decision to oppose your mother who has always been good to you. But the backs of my calves still sting from myst visit to my dearest mother.

    An awkward silence hangs in the air, at odds with the merriment ensuing outside the carriage. Radovalsk is beautiful as usual, the warm sun bathing the streets and citizens in dappled gold. The high steeples of the distant Holy Temple stand out among the fine buildings of East Bend, their sun crest waving on a small g. All because the empress bribed them toe up with a bogus promised child prophecy for her daughter, I am forced to face Katya¡¯s wrath for unluckily being born just a few months after Julia and casting doubt on Julia¡¯s position.

    In the webnovel, Julia had acquired the title with ease when she was still in her youth, as the fabricated prophecy had stated that the royal child that was to be born that year Katya was pregnant would bring great fortune to the Erudian Empire. It had created a much-needed bond between the imperial family and the Holy Church and increased Julian¡¯s im to the throne as his biological little sister whose name was quite simr to him was a holy maiden the masses worshipped. In actuality, the promised child prophecy served as a shield for Julia, whose horrible antics and cruelty were kept under wraps by the Church until ra, the main character, brought them into the light.

    ¡°You know, I¡¯m so-¡± Julian lets out abruptly as if something is sitting on his chest.

    ¡°I know,¡± I sigh.

    ¡°No, really I-¡±

    ¡°I know, Julian,¡± I say with finality. I¡¯m well aware that he means to apologize for his mother, but what good will empty words do without any action? I¡¯d rather he wallow in guilt than give him falsefort that I¡¯ve ¡®forgiven¡¯ him for his inaction. The entire situation makes me think of the quote I learned in my philosophy ss what feels like eons ago.

    ¡®The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.¡¯

    I¡¯ve witnessed this firsthand as I¡¯ve grown familiar with the capital over these many months of moving around incognito.

    The dreaded silencees to an end as the carriage pulls up to the constable office Julian has an official meeting at. The horses loudly whiny and the carriage trembles, although the shaking is minimal as the make of the carriage is impable.

    Julian lets out a long breath, but not one of relief. I can see the disappointment in his eyes from myck of forgiveness, but I don¡¯t feel bad in the slightest. As long as he feels bad for his actions, he will continue to help Emma and I sneak out of the imperial pce in his carriage every month.

    I scoot out of Julian¡¯s personal transportation, embarrassingly having to crawl out from my stomach so my toes can touch the step that appears to be miles away from the carriage¡¯s body. A mock salute serves as my farewell before Emma and I round the corner and disappear before the escorts from within the constable officee out to fawn over Julian.

    ¡°Your highness! Our sincere apologies for beingte, we did not know you would be arriving so... early?¡± a short pudgy man wails as he drops into a bow before Julian who smoothly exits the carriage. All traces of his past mood are gone as he dons the familiar royal mask of imperial prestige.

    Emma is still looking back as we assimte into the crowd, my flower basket clutched in my good hand. As fate would have it, the hand that the empress turned into a pincushion looks quite normal, the frightening pitch-ck color long gone. However, it is rather useless, and can¡¯t carry anything heavier than a pen.

    ¡°He¡¯s good isn¡¯t he?¡± I exim nonchntly, scanning the throngs for a good spot to sit and sell our wares.

    ¡°He reminds me of his mother,¡± Emma just says, her bo adorably askew as she apanies me to a bustling corner that surprisingly hasn¡¯t been taken yet. It sits right beside a popr little bakery, one that lures numerous well-dressed children to drool over the confections disyed behind a shiny ss window. They tug at their mother¡¯s fluffy outer skirts, startling a shockedugh out of their parents. It¡¯s a heartwarming scene to behold, one I am envious of. Oh, to be loved by your parents. The warmth of Maria¡¯s hugs pales inparison to that of my real mother.

    ¡°Flowers! Come buy flowers for your wife, sister, niece, or if you¡¯re especially naughty, for your mistress! Fine tulips from the north, lilies from the south. Put a smile on a pretty girl¡¯s face and buy some flowers!¡± I cleverly shout in my childish voice, sending a hum ofughter through those who hear. It¡¯s my best impression of the peddlers on the streets of New York attempting to sell their baseball caps, popcorn, and such. Who would¡¯ve thought my marketing minor woulde to aid me at such a time?

    The ensuing ng of coins shows that my efforts today were worth it. As I get older, I can understand Emma¡¯s love for money. Her face looks especially ruddy as she swirls around the jangling silver and gold coins from today¡¯s efforts. We buy a small pastry from the nearby bakery, as their flourishing business was partly responsible for our sess.

    Wiping crumbs from my mouth, I turn to Emma expectantly.

    ¡°Now then, shall we carry on with the real business?¡± I ask cheerfully, straightening out my appearance, and ruffling the wrinkles out of my simple apron.

    For you see, these past two years, I have been rather busy myself.

 Chapter 60

    Ch. 60: Arranged Marriage

    I look intently over the letter in my hand, ensuring there are no mistakes in the message:

    Lady Westmont,

    I¡¯m d to see that your sales are improving.

    Perhaps consider marketing to even more exclusive clientele ¨C nobles?

    Spend less on ads, go by word of mouth.

    Introduce private consultations for important parties.

    Consider buying more exclusive fabrics.

    Do continue to hold onto our monthly 20% until I am able to collect.

    .....

    -Pandora

    The scrawl is a little messy as I am still mastering the art of writing with my left hand, but legible.

    ¡°Your highness, shall I ce the letter upon the windowsill?¡± Emma asks as I fold the letter neatly and ce it in its envelope.

    ¡°That would be very helpful,¡± I say with a smile, as the ledge of the window is too tall for me to reach even upon the tips of my toes.

    We stand in the narrow gap between Arabe¡¯s and another famous store in East Bend. There is a marked difference between the East Bend and our other upper-ss haunts where we sell flowers. It is quieter, despite the beautiful day. Patrons do not stroll along the streets, instead discreetly exiting expensive carriages to enter salons and exclusive shops. This is where noblese to y, the streets still shining from the dedicated nighttime cleaners who upkeep the luxurious neighborhood.

    With our funding, Lady Westmont, the crying Arabe from the Spring Ball two years ago, has managed to open her clothing atelier in East Bend, a prominent and famous fixture in the webnovel by the time ra transmigrates into the story. The building is cream-colored, with white trimmings and a striped awning. In the short time we have lingered, not a soul has entered the store, but the numbers she provides us each month let me know that her dresses have been selling well. I know that Lady Westmont will eventually figure out how to run her business perfectly, but I see little harm in providing her some modern marketing advice to bring her earlier sess.

    Emma grunts as she reaches up and ces my letter upon the window sill, as we have done for the past several months on the first day of each month. I crouch, my small frame growing even smaller, and watch patiently.

    ¡°Is there a response letter?¡± I ask the struggling maid. My rough skirts pool on the ground beneath me, but it is of little matter as this is East Bend. My clothes are more likely the dirty the ground than the ground is likely to dirty me.

    Emma turns to look at me, slightly puzzled.

    ¡°No, your highness,¡± she replies, patting the ledge once more for good measure. I frown slightly, my chipper mood at the improving weather slowly melting away like an ice cream cone under the hot sun.

    ¡°How peculiar,¡± I mutter to myself, standing up straight. I know that I¡¯m in a precarious position. After providing Arabe¡¯s with a lump sum to open her business, I have only asked for 20% of all the profits she made. However, I am still living within the imperial pce and cannot collect my own money. On the basis of trust, I always ask Lady Westmont to hold onto the money for me for me to collect some day in the distant future. In return, she tallies her profits and tells me how much she has made in a return letter. In this manner, I have managed to make 250 golden tickets from Arabe¡¯s over the past few months, or 2500 gold coins as each ticket is worth 100 gold coins.

    But today, there is no return letter.

    ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s justte today?¡± I ponder to myself, biting my lip nervously. Waiting is not a luxury I have. Whenever Julianpletes his business at the constable office is when Emma and I must return to the imperial pce.

    At this moment, a low keening noise assaults Emma and I¡¯s senses. Emma has a quick reaction time, whipping away from the window and in front of me, her hand settled on her apron pocket threateningly. I know for a fact that there is a dagger in there, but the royal guard stopped training Emma a long time ago. She tells me she learns simply by watching, but unease still fills me as we both freeze for the next minute.

    Time ticks on and the sound doesn¡¯t get any louder or quieter. It is clearlying from the back of the building and pauses every couple of second before it resumes. Emma rxes her stance, but her hand is still settled on the pocket.

    ¡°Shall we go look?¡± I ask cautiously. First, we don¡¯t find our return letter and then we hear suspicous noises. Only the protagonist in a horror movie would think nothing was wrong with the current situation.

    ¡°Why?¡± someone wails sorrowfully from the same location as the sound. The muffled sound of someone blowing follows and Emma and I regard one another with a look of embarassment as we realize that the keening sound was simply a woman crying.

    Strolling around the corner of the building with our baskets, Emma and I happen upon a young woman crying on the steps leading to the backdoor of Arabe¡¯s. She wears a woman¡¯s equivalent to a suit in this era: a full ck skirt with a matching short business jacket, followed by a ruffled white blouse beneath. Her dark brown hair is piled atop her head in a prim bun.

    ¡°Miss, are you alright?¡± I ask quietly, falling easily back into my childlike mask.

    Her face had been buried in her hands as she cried pitifully, but as she lifts her head it takes all my willpower not to jump. I know for certain that this is Lady Arabe Westmont, the owner of this fine atelier, even though I haven¡¯tid my eyes on her since that night at the Spring Ball.

    Lady Westmont looks up at me, but she doesn¡¯t see me, her eyes nk and spilling enough tears to sessfully rece the grand fountain in the middle of Winifred za. I recall how there was no reply letter waiting for us on the window sill easily conclude that something must have urred that has made this poor girl grief stricken enough to forget to send us a return letter. However, despite being her business partner, I am an anonymous partner she hasn¡¯t met and a child at that. It will be tricky to get an answer from her mouth.

    Pursing my lips, I make a quick decision and indicate for Emma to give me a defective lily that we didn¡¯t sell earlier that day.

    ¡°For you, mydy. You are too pretty to cry like this,¡± I say sweetly. At first, it seems like Lady Westmont doesn¡¯t hear me once more but I manage to stubbornly coax the flower into her hand. A few of the white petals are crinkled, yet not only does Lady Westmont not notice, her loud sobbing slowly dies down.

    Emma and I give her a moment to gather herself before I pat her hand and look endearingly at her face. ¡°What happened, miss?¡±

    Splotches of red stain her nose and cheeks, but Lady Westmont has a good gene pool as she still looks lovely. She wipes her nose loudly and looks a little embarassed, but speaks to me nheless.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m,¡± she starts, her voice still thick with sorrow, ¡°I¡¯m getting married.¡±

    It¡¯s as if there¡¯s been a thunderbolt on a clear day, even the stoic Emma widening her eyes slightly. If Lady Westmont wasn¡¯t so focused on twirling the flower around her fingers, which are covered in slender bandages, she would¡¯ve seen our strangeness.

    I clear my throat and continue. ¡°Isn¡¯t getting married a good thing? You can wear a pretty, white dress and ride around on a pony!¡± I exim childishly.

    Lady Westmont lets out a slight hup sound, one that Itently realize is a chuckle.

    ¡°I suppose marriage can be like that, if you know and love your groom,¡± she replies, her hands suddenly tighten on the stem of the flower, bending it a little bit, but the young woman doesn¡¯t seem to notice.

    ¡°You don¡¯t love him?¡± I ask curiously, dying to know who it is. I know that arranged marriage ismon in this world, especially for the wealthy. However, I have always foolishly assumed that because Lady Westmont¡¯s parents are deceased and she has no guardians as she is in her early 20s, it would be of little conflict.

    ¡°God, no!¡± she exims,ughing bitterly.

    A fresh round of tears fall from her eyes. I pat her back in genuinefort, finding a strange kinship with this orphaned girl. When I was engaged all those years ago to that douchebag, Jonathan, it was only because I could see myself spending the rest of my life with him. I can¡¯t imagine what it¡¯s like making vows of forever with someone I don¡¯t even know.

    I roll up my sleeves and get in a fighting stance. I pat my chest and shout, ¡°Who is it? My friend and I will find him and beat him up!¡±

    Emma, to her credit, follows along with my act and simrly drops into a far more threatening stance than me, her eyes narrowing. But to Lady Westmont, we are just ying children and she has a goodugh at our expense.

    ¡°Oh, how quaint,¡± she says, patting my head. ¡°But you girls wouldn¡¯t stand a chance against a member of the royal guard.¡±

    I cross my arms and allow a doubtful expression to cross my face while eating up the clues Lady Westmont is unknowingly dropping.

    ¡°Are you sure about that? All they seem to do anyways is march around in their fancy uniforms anyways.¡±

    Lady Westmont pats me on the head once again. ¡°You¡¯re too cute. But no, he is a rather important member of the royal guard and has numerous des and awards under his belt. Not to mention, he¡¯s rather...rge.¡±

    Her expression darkens as she continues to talk about her mystery groom. I¡¯ve got an inclinging in my head about who it is, and my stomach turns as I continue to try to coax answers from my unknowing business partner.

    ¡°That¡¯s good then! My mommy says that marrying a rich man is the smartest thing a girl can do. You won¡¯t have to work anymore and you¡¯ll be taken good care of,¡± I tell Lady Westmont in aforting manner, even though I¡¯m just stoking the coals of rage.

    The spark of my words causes a full fledged fire. ¡°Take good care of me? Ha...¡± Lady Westmont says slowly and dangerously.

    I wisely back up as she spryly jumps to her feet.

    ¡°Take care of me? I¡¯m no fool. Sir Berrick just wants to marry me so that way he can take advantage of my stupid father¡¯s name and gain the admiration of the army! So who¡¯s really taking care of who?¡± she yelled angrily at the wall before her.

    My heart skips a beat as I recall therge hand that wrapped around my ankle and the bright sh of sunlight that had blinded me when I was tugged ruthlessly out from under the hedge. The t, lifeless gaze of a towering knight that was permanently burned into my memory. A shiver runs down my spine. Sir Berrick is one person I can go the rest of my life without ever seeing again. Lady Westmont¡¯s reaction now makes perfect sense to me.

    I can see that there are a lot of pent up emotions within her, the anger and sadness fighting one another to make itself known. It¡¯s a terrible feeling, to realize your fate is no longer in your hands. A feeling I have been forced to swallow down on the daily for the past two years.

    Lady Westmont kicks the wall for good measure as well, her breath heaving from her chest. She doesn¡¯t turn around for a while, just breathing. My gut starts tingling and I have a bad feeling.

    ¡°But the real question is,¡± the young woman asks slowly, not turning from the wall, ¡°Why are you so curious anyways?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I ask stupidly. Emma is vignt and her hand settles on her apron pocket, but I indicate with my hand for her to stand down.

    ¡°As I said, I¡¯m not a fool.¡± Lady Westmont says, spinning from the wall furiously. ¡°So who do you work for, huh? Did someone pay you toe and witness my embarassment? What¡¯s the point?¡±

    The woman is quick and she clenches my arms tightly so I cannot run. Her voice grows shaky as tears fall once more.

    ¡°Can¡¯t you people leave me alone? I said I would no longer participate in high society, but you¡¯re so determined to make my life hell! I didn¡¯t ask for this marriage, go and tell your boss that!¡±

    I process the information Lady Westmont is giving me as she shakes the living daylights out of me. I knew Lady Westmont had been bullied by other noble girls for her family being awarded a noble title instead of earning one, but I didn¡¯t know that she had been chased out. And from the way it sounded, she was still being harassed by some of them.

    I think back to the poisonous gazes thrown my way in the imperial pce and the deadly gossip I asionally overheard that could ruin an innocent person¡¯s reputation overnight. High society was a lion¡¯s den, disguised under fine jewels and immense wealth. And the queen of the lions was my dear ¡®mother¡¯, Empress Katya.

    The pieces all suddenly fit together, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle. Ist saw Sir Berrick at Sunrise Pce, my wonderful sister¡¯s humble abode. Thus, if he is marrying Lady Westmont, there is only one person who can decree that.

    ¡°D-Did the empress decree your marriage?¡± I ask, my brows furrowed and my face serious, a farcry from the childlike act from earlier.

    Lady Westmont stops shaking me and regards me suspicously.

    ¡°Of course, who else can?¡± she replies, as if it was incredibly obvious. ¡°Now, answer me. Who- Who are you?¡±

    I look up at Lady Westmont and suddenly grin. ¡°Call me Pandora.¡±

 Chapter 61

    Ch. 61: The Young Lord Wolfe

    ¡°So I told her my name was Pandora!¡± the girl finished proudly, a faint blush covering her youthful cheeks.

    ¡°That¡¯s an unusual name, why did you choose it in the first ce?¡± Young Lord Wolfe asked as he gently nudged a te of food closer to Winter. He smiled slightly at her exuberance, his amethyst eyes glinting slightly. From the outside, his gaze appeared rather friendly, but the intent behind the gaze was as cold as a viper sizing up its prey before lunging in for the kill.

    However, it was not a look one would expect to find on a 9-year-old child thus it was missed by everyone present, a small party of the hawk-eyed Emma, Winter, and his butler as the young lord had bought out the entire upstairs of an upscale restaurant called Laronde for them eat and speak. For just like Winter, the Young Lord Wolfe was not necessarily a child but Akira, the Devourer himself. And as for why the formidable demon had supnted himself in a crippled human vessel that hadn¡¯t even reached adulthood, his reasoning was simple.

    Akira hade to y.

    It had been too long since he¡¯dst spoken with that unruly upstart that he¡¯d helped onto the throne. Perhaps the boy had be so enthralled with his new role, he¡¯d forgotten the cost. Akira aimed to help him remember. And the very first piece sat right before him, wrapped tightly around his finger.

    ¡°There¡¯s a story I once heard about a young woman who was curious and opened a box. From that box came everything horrible and terrible within the world ¨C sickness, death, greed, war. Then she mmed the box shut, leaving one thing within it, hope. Since then, mankind has been able to hold onto hope to face the darkness Pandora released into the world,¡± Winter recited with a pleased expression.

    Akira scratched his chin, his interest slightly piqued. He¡¯d never heard such a story before.

    ¡°I chose the name Pandora so I could always remind myself to always be cautious and never lose hope. But I did forget to heed my own warning and got burnt,¡± she finished, her face adopting a cynical look as she regarded her right hand strangely.

    .....

    ¡°The box,¡± Akira asked slowly.

    ¡°Huh?¡± Winter looked back up, dragging herself from her thoughts.

    ¡°Where did the boxe from?¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± Winter screwed up her head in thought. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since I heard the story so I might be missing a few details. But the entire case was set up by gods who were upset with humanity. They granted the curious, beautiful Pandora to a foolish human who was so enchanted by her he ignored the warnings of his brother and married her. The same gods gave her the box as a wedding present and told her to never open it, but they had granted her a curious personality so her opening the box was inevitable in a way.¡±

    Winter¡¯s lip curled at the word inevitable and she briefly looked out of the window, the soft afternoon light filtering onto their table. She hadn¡¯t even noticed how much time had passed, so happy was she to meet with her sole friend outside of the pce.

    ¡°Inevitable... do you believe in fate, Winter?¡± inquired the young boy who had previously been watching Winter recount her tale with an appropriately enthralled expression. He leaned forward and his wheelchair wobbled, causing Winter and his butler to simultaneously reach out and try to stabilize him.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Akira assuaged them both, patiently awaiting Winter¡¯s answer.

    There was something strange that hovered around the girl constantly, like an invisible hand that could manipte the environment and people to its will. He had probed it gently with his senses and it did not feel like something his old friend, Helio, would do. The force felt like something not native to his world But one thing was certain, Akira did not like it. And things he did not like naturally did not have the right to exist.

    Feeling the wide-eyed stare of her friend, Winter goodnaturedly patted his hand.

    ¡°Fate? I-I believe it exists. But I don¡¯t believe that it is something we have to follow. We should fight to create our own path,¡± Winter said as she clenched her fists under the table.

    There seemed to be hidden anger in her words and the Devourer hid a smile as the details became clear from his few words. It could be concluded that Winter knew of this force¡¯s existence and disliked it. It was her good fortune that this force was also working against his wishes, so he supposed he could be magnanimous and help Winter suppress it.

    ¡°Indeed. But I don¡¯t suppose I¡¯ll ever be able to walk a path on my own,¡± Akira sighed quietly, injecting a slight amount of sorrow into his voice and gazing down slightly at his wheelchair-bound self. Hemended himself for finding a vessel that induced an appropriate amount of pity from any onlookers.

    ¡°No, my lord you can¡¯t think like that-¡± Winter eximed, feeling bad for her young friend. He was in simrly sad circumstances just like herself and the mirror between their life strengthened the connection she felt with the bright-eyed kid.

    ¡°Elias. Call me Elias. We¡¯re friends aren¡¯t we?¡± Akira interrupted yfully.

    ¡°But you¡¯re a lord and I¡¯m just a-,¡± Winter started nervously,pletely devoted to her fake act of a peasant girl. Akira indulged her little act, as he could patiently wait for her to reveal her identity to him on her own ord.

    ¡°You¡¯re my friend,¡± Akira repeated seriously, emphasizing the word friend.

    ¡°Yes. Yes, we are,¡± Winter agreed with a smile. Akira could practically see the girl¡¯s silent promise to devote herself as an even better friend to the young lord.

    ¡°You should walk it for me. Both my fate and yours,¡± Akira told her in that heartwarming moment, his voice still in the high register of childhood but still managing to ensnare any listener¡¯s ears.

    ¡°You told me how your family doesn¡¯t care about you so you don¡¯t want to have anything to do with them. But wouldn¡¯t it spite them even more if you managed to crawl into their hearts and make them regret the way they¡¯ve treated you up until now? Wouldn¡¯t you be able to secure better prospects for yourself in the future this way?¡± Akira argued logically.

    Winter naturally recoiled at Akira¡¯s words and a slight frown appeared on her cute, little face.

    ¡°Future prospects? As in marriage?¡± Winter chuckled sourly and shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ll be long out of the picture before anything like that needs to happen. And my family wants me dead and gone. I¡¯m simply doing them a favor by making these arrangements.¡±

    ¡°Doing them a favor? You sell flowers asionally, how much money does that make? Your business with Arabe¡¯s, how lucrative is it for you to make enough to run away from the capital with adequate protection as a young girl?¡± Akira asked, hitting the hard questions. ¡°You¡¯ve tried this before, the first time we met. You won¡¯t survive on your own.¡±

    ¡°I can!¡± Winter replied indignantly. ¡°And everything has a purpose! I sell flowers so I can hear people¡¯s gossip and buy the newspaper for the capital¡¯s news. My business at Arabe¡¯s will bring in a lot more wealth in the future when her atelier is sessful.¡±

    But Winter didn¡¯t seempletely convinced in herself, a fact that was ringly obvious to Akira¡¯s shrewd eyes. He continued poking holes in Winter¡¯s argument, continuously wearing down her desire to run away. After all, how could he y his game if the key character was missing?

    ¡°And how sessful have your efforts been?¡± Akira asked, propping up his head on his hand and giving Winter an almost mocking look.

    ¡°Quit making fun of me, you¡¯re too young for this behavior!¡± Winter chided in embarrassment, engaging in her strange habit of speaking to Akira as if he were her junior.

    ¡°And you¡¯re too young to run away from home,¡± Akira expertly countered.

    The two sat in a deadlock, quietly sipping tea. Winter had impable etiquette for a young child despite only receiving a few weeks worth of teaching from Mrs. Laroche. Akira was slightly too well spoken and clever to be an ordinary child. However, both did not interact with children often, as Emma was an unsual girl as well, thus neither noticed the other¡¯s strangeness.

    ¡°I¡¯ll stay home until I¡¯m a little older. That¡¯s all I can promise,¡± Winter finally bit out after the two had finished their staring contest.

    Akira shrugged his little shoulders. ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± And then perhaps remembering the age of his vessel, he added sweetly, ¡°Then you can be my friend for even longer.¡±

    Winterughed and reached across the table to ruffle his light brown locks, the afternoon sunlight making him look like a cherub. ¡°Fine, fine, fine.¡±

    ¡°If you take your sister¡¯s spot though, you can stay with me even longer!¡± Akira added slyly, trying to extort more time for Winter to stay in the capital.

    Winter instantly frowned and retracted her hand. ¡°Elias, I shouldn¡¯t have told you that!¡±

    Akira put up an offended pout. ¡°But it¡¯s true! I hardly have any friends, what will I do if you leave me?¡±

    His big eyes blinked endearingly at Winter and the young girl found herself tongue-tied for a heartbeat. This was the scene Sir Finn walked into, his light footsteps easily picked up upon by Akira although he said nothing.

    Akira slid a level nce at the knight who was poorly disguised as an ordinary gentleman, his noble bearing still prominent without the navy uniform. Sir Finn, Akira had found, did not seem to care for him very much the few times they had met. Winter for her part, looked slightly bashful she left the restaurant with her ¡®cousin¡¯.

    His little face fell back into its typical cavalier coldness, a smile hanging from his petite lips although there was a malevolent air around him like a dark cloud.

    ¡°I chose well, did I not?¡± Akira murmured to his butler, Chester, another servant of his in disguise.

    The shadows moved and twisted around the tall butler followed by a low, ¡°Yes, sire.¡±

    He liked the tenacity that hung around the girl, the unrelenting spirit in her eyes. It was quite reminiscent of her father, Emperor Helio, back when he went under another name and was still fighting for his ce in the imperial family. It had been beautiful, the things Helio had done with the power Akira had given him. He¡¯d razed through the imperial bloodline, leaving scarcely an infant alive, and sat down on the bloody throne he regrly took lives to maintain. But Helio had made one mistake, in assuming that his end of the bargain to Akira was fulfilled. In fact, it wasn¡¯t.

    And the Devourer would make him pay most dearly for that error.

 Chapter 62

    Ch. 62: Snow White¡¯s Evil Stepmother

    Sir Finn¡¯s pace is hurried as he weaves through the backstreets he knew like the back of his hand. A discreet carriage that was out of ce among the fancy carriages riding around East Bend is hidden in one of these backstreets behind the illustrious stores and salons.

    ¡°Slow down!¡± I whine, my little legs unable to keep up with his long gait. He¡¯s changed too over the past two years, losing the yful cunningness in lieu of a sharp presence that promised retribution. Sir Finn looks older, tanner, and wiser, something anyone could benefit from.

    ¡°Why do you keep running out of the pce? You¡¯ll get killed by those foolish actions, your highness,¡± Finn bit out angrily.

    ¡°How¡¯d you find me?¡± I ask in response, nearly stumbling off the step into the carriage. Finn catches me gently before running a hand through his tinum hair in frustration.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter. You¡¯re needed at the Sunset Pce and if you¡¯re not there is half an hour, the empress will be suspicious.¡±

    The mention of my ¡®mother¡¯ sobers me up quickly and a serious expression overtakes my face. For a while, all that could be heard was the creak of the carriage and clopping hooves. A bead of sweat runs down my forehead but it¡¯s not from the cold. I worry if Sir Finn knows about how I¡¯ve invested in Arabe¡¯s

    ¡°Why do you keep sneaking out of the pce to see your friend?¡± Sir Finn asks.

    My face unknowingly softens as I think of Elias.

    .....

    ¡°He¡¯s lonely and just wants someone to talk to,¡± I reply, my heart feeling pity for the disabled child.

    I don¡¯t tell him how we had first met at my darkest hour and he saved me from ending it all. Like a radiant shaft of light and innocence, I just want to see Elias enjoy the childlike happiness I will never enjoy. He¡¯s expressed that his father hates him for being disabled and causing his mother¡¯s death, forming a strange kinship with my circumstances.

    More money, more problems. He dresses sharply, looking like a little gentleman every time we meet, but underneath who knows how badly his father has beaten him? I¡¯ve seen him wince when his butler carries him onto his chair and the ck and blue bruises encircling his wrist when he reaches for a cup of tea. He¡¯s suffering just like me, but he doesn¡¯t have the benefit of being an adult¡¯s resilience like I do. Yet somehow, he finds the strength to be optimistic and smile through his troubles. I would never say it to his face, but Elias inspires me to fight more for my life.

    Finn harrumphs but I can tell he gets it. ¡°Perhaps one day simply invite him to the pce instead of running around outside without protection.¡±

    I stifle augh, looking out the window as we take a secret street that leads to the servant¡¯s entrance of the pce where fresh produce is brought in every morning.

    ¡°Without protection? Protection from who? Everyone who hates me lives inside the pce, not outside,¡± I retort bitterly. Sir Finn says nothing in response because he knows I¡¯m right.

    Both of my cheeks are showered in kisses from Marie when Emma and I return to the Rose Pce in secret, still d in the cheap, brown flower selling dress. In actuality, I did not have to purchase this gown, as I actually found it in my closet. If it isn¡¯t apparent already, the veneer of generous treatment that I had received when I arrived is no more.

    Marie babbles happily to me as she helps me wipe my face and apply the solution to my eyes to make the bedonna fade away. Ordinarily, there should¡¯ve been maids to aid me in dressing and undressing, but aside from Marie and Emma, only a handful of maids help take care of my pce. Meals are frequently cold upon arrival and my clothes are poorly made and less vibrant.

    ¡°My nephew, your highness. He seems to be doing well for himself. I¡¯m quite excited as ording to my friend in theundry department, he is due to arrive in the Capital any day now by boat. Isn¡¯t that wonderful?¡± Marie exims cheerfully, her crow¡¯s feet curling on either side of her eyes.

    She rubs dirt on my face, making me whine like an actual child. ¡°Softer!¡± I squeak in my high-pitched voice. Even 8 years after waking up in this body, I still miss my former voice which was a pleasantly husky tone with a slight hint of a Hispanic ent.

    ¡°Yes, your highness,¡± she chuckles, bemused by what I would assume to be my undeniably charming face that doesn¡¯t seem to work on anyone except her.

    ¡°I¡¯m happy for you, Marie,¡± I say sincerely, stepping into the petticoats for my dress before Marie ties it around my waist. I mean every word. Emma doesn¡¯t have any family and in that way, we both support each other as sisters. But Marie does have one and I am d that hers seems to be doing well.

    ¡°I¡¯m happy as well. Now, don¡¯t forget to be a good little girl over at Her Majesty¡¯s pce, alright?¡± Marie says in a grandmotherly tone, tapping my nose with a smile although I can see her nervousness in her eyes.

    ¡°I will,¡± I reply obediently, tucking in onest item in the slitted pocket on my dress.

    Her words are sweet and well-intentioned, but deep down both of us know that my behavior will make no difference. I always return in the same state from Sunrise Pce. I¡¯m a little older now, old enough not to need a nursemaid ording to Empress Katya. Nowadays when I walk through the pce, I must walk alone.

    Summer is just around the corner and the gorgeous creamy buildings within the pce and their golden decorations show off their full glory under the sun. I feel out of ce walking through the marble hallways supported by stone pirs and loosen the cor of my in dress as I feel like it¡¯s choking me. My heart beats faster and faster, although my pace remains the same. I feel fortunate as I spy Sunrise Pce in the distance without having encountered any errant nobles temporarily residing in the pce, or worst of all the Duchess of Mulworth, Duchess Taylor.

    The familiar incense, the same darkened hallways, my throat gets dry with fear as I¡¯m led towards my ¡®mother¡¯ by a silent maid who didn¡¯t even greet me properly. An exquisite woman stands with her back turned in the sitting room I enter cautiously, creating a beautiful image without even showing her face. The simple brocade dress cinches on her small waist before falling into a pale skirt that shimmers in the sun,plimenting her golden locks.

    ¡°Good afternoon, Royal Mother,¡± I express in a respectful voice, dropping into my best curtsey. Even with Mrs. Laroche¡¯s valuable lessons taken away from me, countless punishments from Empress Katya have forced me to perfect it.

    Empress Katya turns slowly, a dizzying vision as she looks down at me with eyes that are neither warm nor cold. Just a nk, terrifying gaze that makes my hairs stand up straight.

    ¡°Winter.¡± She sounds as lovely as she looks. Katya fits the mour and grandeur of the imperial pce, looking like she¡¯s stepped out of a Rococo painting I would have admired in a museum in my past life.

    I want to hate her. In a way, I do hate her. But I also admire the empress, the way she uses her beauty, knowledge, and noble lineage to get what she wants. It makes me sick to my stomach to realize that I admire the person who does me the most harm in the entire imperial pce. Howughably stupid of me. This is why I want to leave so badly, get away from this terrible ce.

    ¡°You¡¯rete,¡± she says tly. I swallow back a sigh. It seemed I would not be leaving Sunrise Pce unscathed again.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mother,¡± I answer. Empress Katya¡¯s face breaks its cool mask, appearing as if she swallowed a fly as I call her mother. It¡¯s rather amusing, considering it was her who told me to address her this way.

    A mother. I haven¡¯t had a real one of those since I died.

    ¡°You know what the punishment is,¡± she simply replies, settling down in a cushioned armchair embellished with gold leaf. Her nails shine blood-red the way my calves soon will as Katya takes a sip of tea from the piping hot set a maid brings in. Another maid brings in a short box, one that I climb onto expectantly and lift my skirts. I praise my luck that at least this time around, she gave me enough time to heal from thest round before going at it again.

    ¡°What are the four ts of womanhood?¡± she asks, starting the game both of us know well.

    I y along willingly. ¡°Demure. Quiet. Pious. Gentle.¡±

    ¡°How is your embroiderying along?¡±

    ¡°I have made some progress,¡± I answer, reaching into my pocket to pull out thest minute item I had tucked in.

    It¡¯s a small handkerchief decorated with a rose, the emblem of the House Duvernay. I have found that when I embroider things that rte to her, it puts Empress Katya in a better mood.

    ¡°Not a Percheron horse?¡± Empress Katya asks lightly, inspecting my work in the sunlight.

    The Percheron horse is the emblem of House Taylor. I smile gently as if I don¡¯t realize the empress is mocking my former rtionship with Duchess Taylor that has burned down to ash due to her machinations.

    ¡°Roses are lovelier. People tend to prefer a simple rose to a warhorse,¡± I simply say.

    Although House Duvernay has never attained a dukedom, they are more influential within the Erudian Empire than House Taylor and through strategic marriages have a hand in almost every noble household throughout the empire including here within the pce. Duchess Taylor being awarded the right to manage the pce has always rankled Empress Katya although I¡¯m sure she still has a secret hand in its affairs.

    ¡°That is true. But Percheron horses are known to be fond of eating roses,¡± Empress Katya replies. Her voice is still light but her eyes are gloomy, perhaps reflecting on her loss of power in her own home, a subtle humiliation. I know that I am on thin ice and choose carefully with my next words.

    ¡°Yes... until they choke on the thorns,¡± I stare at my feet as I respond quietly, but I can feel Katya¡¯s icy green gaze on me. It hangs on me like an oppressive nket for several breaths until she chuckles lightly and the temperature of the room seems to return to normal.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± she says betweenughs that show off straight, white teeth, ¡°Until they choke on their own mistake. Alright, I¡¯ll lessen your punishment a little.¡±

    I let out a breath, realizing I had passed a test I hadn¡¯t even known I was taking. I step up on the familiar wood box, lifting my skirt and rolling down the thin garters so I wouldn¡¯t sweat to death in the heat. My eyes fall to the outside garden, just beyond the ornate window as she takes the hard, slender stick and begins thrashing the back of my legs. I don¡¯t even wince, as I¡¯m used to it by now.

    Interestingly enough, this pce doesn¡¯t seem to have any roses. In fact, I¡¯ve only ever seen them at my Rose Pce. For a man who hates House Duvernay, it¡¯s curious that my father would give his beloved first wife a pce decorated in them.

    Warmth runs down the back of my calves as the stinging blowse to a stop.

    ¡°You did well today, Winter,¡± Empress Katya says warmly. She always speaks nicely after she¡¯s done hitting me as if it¡¯s supposed to serve as some type of balm for inflicting pain. I turn to look at her and her eyes are shining and her face looks more animating. I don¡¯t have to be a psychologist to recognize the sadist before me, but I say nothing, allowing a small smile to grace my face.

    I try to think of happy things as I ignore the pain throbbing on the back of my legs like a heartbeat. My mind recalls the optimistic days when I had just arrived at the pce and thought that my modern intellect would carry me to a path of victory. I¡¯d told Emma stories of Snow White, who she had cutely called Snow E and her evil stepmother. But my life has been no fairytale.

    Unlike the beloved Snow White, my existence is reviled in the pce. My ¡®mother¡¯ is ced on a pedestal as a saintly mother of the empire instead of hated. Elias told me to fight for my ce instead of run away. Do I even have the ability though?

    ¡°Thank you, Mother,¡± I reply in a voice that doesn¡¯t show my innter turmoil, my legs shaky as I step down from the box. A maid quickly enters to take away the box and stick and its as if nothing happened, if it weren¡¯t for the faint coppery scent in the air. Each step sends shooting pain in my legs, but the empress maintained her sick promise as it doesn¡¯t ache as badly as thest time. I feel a touch grateful, before I brutally stomp out the feeling.

    Katya indeed has a talent for mental maniption, even for an adult like me.

 Chapter 63

    Ch. 63: Princess Leia¡¯s Buns

    The warm cloth running over the back of my legs feel soothing over the fresh cuts inflicted by the stick I was beaten with. Katya is slow and methodical, as she is with everything, each wipe uniform over my torn flesh. The hand that hits me is also the hand that feeds me.

    I roll my eyes at the hypocrisy, although my back is turned to her so she doesn¡¯t see. Although our mother-daughter bonding time is over, I can sense that Katya isn¡¯tpletely done with me yet. And I am correct, as Empress Katya begins to speak again.

    ¡°What do you know of the Holy Church, Winter?¡± the empress asks, dropping a bomb on my peace of mind.

    I wonder if I should be cocky and say that I know that she¡¯s in cahoots with them and asked them to create a fake prophecy, only for my idental birth to ruin said prophecy.

    Or maybe I should say that it¡¯s full of dishonest priests who aren¡¯t afraid to lie to the emperor.

    ¡°It¡¯s the state-sponsored religion that teaches Helionic scriptures to the masses,¡± I respond solely with the facts, excluding any of the tea I could¡¯ve spilled.

    If it were two years ago, my response would probably be spicier. But these days have made me more than aware of how much of a mere mortal I am without ra¡¯s magical female lead halo. Or better yet, the uselessness of my right hand when carrying heavier objects has made me aware. My woes as a side character have been with me since day 1 in this crazy world.

    ¡°Correct. Well done,¡± Katya praises, switching from a warm cloth to a room temperature salve that dulls the harsh sting. ¡°We will be visiting the Grand Temple here in the capital in a few days in celebration of the Midsummer Festival. I will have some proper attire sent to your pce shortly.¡±

    .....

    ¡°Proper attire?¡± I inquire, half twisting around to look at her from where I¡¯m syed across herp.

    ¡°At any Holy Church, a woman must bepletely covered. There are certain garments that must be worn to attend. We will be meeting with the High Priest and receiving his blessing as the royal family. Afterward, we shall meet with themon people. Perhaps we will also hear some good news on that day. You must remember to remain well-behaved and quiet, Winter. None of the silly business you used to do,¡± she finishes in a chiding voice as if I¡¯m a naughty child she¡¯s indulging. I¡¯m not a child though, and I hear the underlying message.

    Trantion: Don¡¯t fuck it up for my precious baby, Julia.

    ¡°Yes, mother,¡± I reply obediently. I¡¯m getting good at ying this game with Empress Katya.

    It seems that the day to proim Princess Julia as the promised child hase sooner than I thought. But then again, the webnovel never clearly delineated when the false canonization of Julia urs. I suck in a breath, but it conveniently happens when Katya presses down on a wound with salve so it flies under her radar.

    My old n flies to the forefront of my mind, the half-baked n to somehow rece Princess Julia as the fake promised child. It wasn¡¯t a bad n, just one I¡¯ve forgotten over time, and one that would tie me to this world the way Prince Julian mentioned so I can no longer be freely manipted by Peppermint.

    If I want to take fate by the bullhorns and make it my bitch, the way Elias told me to just today, I suppose this would be the best way for me to do it. It¡¯s so coincidental, the way an opportunity to stay and prosper in the capital has fallen into myp. I think of the way Elias would be so excited if I were to remain in the capital and an unknowing smilees to my face. That wheel-chair bound child is too cute.

    But it falls away in the next second as I realize that I would have toe clean about my identity as an imperial princess, rather than a poor pauper as I¡¯ve led him to believe. Would he hate me for the lie? I resolve to ask Emma when I return and gain a real child¡¯s perspective, as I can see no other way to force my family to pay attention to me than if I became the symbol of hope themon people have awaited anxiously.

    ¡°Sorry, Julia,¡± I mutter halfheartedly as I trudge back to the Rose Pce. Of course, I¡¯m not sorry at all. That little girl was a psychotic devil just like she was in the webnovel, and although I haven¡¯t seen her in a while I highly doubt she¡¯s changed.

    I feel introspective as I slowly return to my abode, pondering the future. The n to run away with my money has been my driving force since that hopeless night when I almost did something I thought I¡¯d never dream of. I have always thought that was the smartest move, but in reality, I¡¯ve been deluding myself.

    Peppermint could impose a sudden blockade at the city gates or make it so an off-duty royal guard catches sight of me and returns me to the pce. In truth, I¡¯ve been lying to myself this entire time. My n to run away was futile.

    With only one card in my hands now, I feel anxious. I suppose once we enter the Grand Temple, I can faint dramatically and act like I¡¯ve had a vision. I do know the future of the book after all and there were a few mentions of arge-scale war that will soon erupt where the rebellion took ce not long ago as Sarsaval fights for their old territory. If I spoonfeed handfuls of the future, I could convince people that I¡¯m really the promised child.

    I chew idly at my fingernail, worrying the nailbed. After all, Empress Katya won¡¯t simply stand back and watch me steal away the position she invented for her child to solidify Julian¡¯s im to the throne. Yet I have no better n. It¡¯s like I¡¯m driving a car with a blindfold on and no seatbelts. Any wrong move could throw me off and kill me.

    In my haze, I wander past the pristine white gate of my pce, meandering around the rose-covered hedge that shrouds portions of the Rose Pce. Something possesses me and I reach out and brutally grip an errant rose, tearing it from its home.

    The symbol of my father¡¯s love and the symbol of the second wife he utterly hates. I squeeze it hard, the thorns nearly piercing my flesh and sending pain into my senses. Save for Emma, Marie, and Finn, I realize that I truly hate every other person I¡¯ve met in the damn imperial pce.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± a young voice hesitantly asks behind me. It¡¯s Emma. I¡¯m not surprised she managed to find me as she¡¯s always been an observant kid.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I say cheerfully, hiding away my previous dark mood.

    ¡°Your smile,¡± she just says, ¡°It¡¯s fake.¡±

    I chuckle sheepishly, feeling foolish for trying to fool my first ever friend here. ¡°Of course, you¡¯d notice.¡±

    We walk back together, within thefortable silence thates when you know the other party well. I take her hand in mine and notice a fresh cut that I¡¯ve never seen before. Despite being covered in wounds myself, my heart aches for my young friend.

    ¡°What happened?¡± I ask, spinning her palm in my hand. Her hands these days feel rougher, with thick calluses developing on her skin.

    ¡°In the future,¡± Emma suddenly says, her expressionless face appearing vulnerable and younger than usual. ¡°I will protect you. As a knight, just like the Prince Charming you always talk about.¡±

    I see the fiery determination in her eyes, and I feel touched. I don¡¯t know how I would¡¯ve survived without her.

    ¡°Yes, my knight in shining armor,¡± I answer, my heart feeling warm.

    The next few days pass by both slowly and quickly as it always does in the pce. Curled up in my favorite corner and staring out the window, it all seems the same. Sitting for long periods of time is a talent I¡¯ve been forced to perfect since I¡¯ve arrived in this world.

    Two days before the royal engagement at the Grand Temple, the maidse to my pce. They¡¯re actually seamstresses and they poke and prod me like an embroidery pincushion in preparation. The satin fabric catches in the light, showing that Katya decided to put a couple more coins down for this purchase. But the color itself is dull, a solemn gray that was made to blend into the background. The long sleeves taper off into points over my hands and the dress goes up to my neck with minimal silver threading for the buttons down the front.

    I understand what Katya meant by fully covered when the women pull out a crespine, the medieval hairpiece which look like double buns that cover the ears. It is white, and the tail end of the fabric covering tucks perfectly into the neck of the dress. My long white hair pulled into twin braids that loop around my ears before they tug the crespine over it andpletely cover it. It is very reminiscent of Princess Leia¡¯s buns from Star Wars and simrly has very little adornment. I twirl in the mirror without a smile when they step back to admire their handiwork. For the most part, the outfit makes for an odd look as if I¡¯ve jumped into my high school history textbooks.

    Unlikest time, I don¡¯t intend to make any alterations though.

    ¡°Very lovely, your highness,¡± Marie says, ever my cheerleader. I smile wanly in her direction then obediently sit so the seamstresses can take off the intricate outfit.

    ¡°On the day, we¡¯ll bring you a circlet to wear on top,¡± a seamstress lets me know gruffly as she packs up her tools. She doesn¡¯t use my title and although Marie frowns at the disrespect, I don¡¯t react. I¡¯m used to it by now.

    But I don¡¯t intend to tolerate it in the future.

 Chapter 64

    Ch. 64: Not Even a Red House

    (STARTS FROM 2 YEARS AGO)

    A loud din awoke Janice, a headache piercing her head. It was the pulsing kind and disoriented her before she was able to acquaint herself with her surroundings.

    ¡°What in tarnation?¡± she said involuntarily, rubbing the sleep on of her eyes as she looked around. She couldn¡¯t recognize where she was. It wasn¡¯t the maid quarters of Sunrise Pce, nor anywhere simr to the imperial pce. The room was dark as night had fallen, and entirely constructed out of crude wood. A heavy perfume hung in the air, the cheap kind, and there wasughter and singing vibrating the floor beneath her.

    The memories came flooding back.

    Framing Princess Winter. Being dragged away. And now...

    She looked down at her body, appalled to find her maid¡¯s uniform gone and swapped with a cheap, itchy dress that revealed a generous amount of her bosom. Janice coughed, her throat feeling scratchy. She couldn¡¯t fathom what had happened. This... this wasn¡¯t the Red House she was supposed to be sent to.

    ¡°Hello?¡± Janice called tentatively, intermittent coughs breaking up her speech. She rubbed her throat with a delicate palm, confused by her surroundings. For a moment, the haughty former maid appeared vulnerable and frightened, the kind of woman any man would try to save.

    A low, feminine chuckle broke up the encroaching darkness and despair. As if it had never been there, the vulnerability melted away, leaving behind a scowling exterior.

    .....

    ¡°Who is it?¡± Janice retorted. There was the familiar scratch of a match on wood and then a spark of light appeared on the other side of the musty room. Janice¡¯s eyes took a moment to adjust as a slender candle was lit, her eyes narrowing on the target. It was a girl, perhaps a few years ahead of her in age and marginally less pretty, although quite lovely in her own right. Despite the clear toil of her desperate situation leaving its mark on the olive-skinned beauty, it was clear that she had once possessed a morous lifestyle.

    ¡°Sarah,¡± the girl said curtly, the shadows cast from the flickering candle enhancing the shadows on her face and making her look eerier.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care who you are!¡± Janice snapped, channeling her uncertainty over her situation into her mood. ¡°Just tell me, what is this ce?¡±

    The former maid lurched into an intimidating standing position above the grounded Sarah, her legs stiff from being on the hard floor for hours. Surprisingly, Sarah wasn¡¯t off-put by Janice¡¯s tone.

    ¡°Another newbie,¡± Sarah muttered to herself, ¡°Well that attitude is going to wear off soon enough.¡±

    To Janice, she said in a matter-of-fact tone, ¡°This isn¡¯t the Red House you were expecting, huh?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Janice eximed, bewildered by how the girl knew.

    ¡°They told you they would send you to a Red House, but now you¡¯ve woken up in a lowly brothel. You¡¯ll be disappointed to know that noblewomen, despite the many virtues they are taught, are rarely honest,¡± Sarah continued, watching indifferently as Janice¡¯s face went through several expressions within a minute.

    Janice floundered, flopping back to the ground before Sarah, the wind from her skirt nearly causing the me of the candle to go out.

    ¡°B-But she promised-¡± Janice stuttered.

    ¡°They always do.¡± Sarah cooly countered.

    ¡°If I just did that one thing for her-¡°.

    ¡°Deception is an art form long mastered by them to survive in high society. You were yed for a fool. Say, what¡¯s your name?¡± Sarah blew on her nails as if the world ending realization for Janice was just another day of business for her. And in a way, it was.

    ¡°Janice,¡± Janice was too shocked to maintain her regr attitude and sounded somewhat polite for the first time.

    ¡°Janice,¡± Sarah drawled slowly, lifting the candle to take a good look at the former maid. She tsked in appreciation. ¡°I must say, you are very pretty. I¡¯m not surprised they went back on their word and tossed you here. In a Red House, your poprity would drive many noble¡¯s wives for a tizzy when they don¡¯t know why their beloved isn¡¯ting home at night.¡±

    Janice howled in fury on the inside, furious she had done the empress¡¯ bidding without receiving her end of the bargain. She didn¡¯t admit to herself though that she wouldn¡¯t have yed along to the scheme if she too didn¡¯t desire to see Winter¡¯s demise, as Janice was exceptionally skilled at passing the me from herself. That was exactly what she had desired, to wrap a wealthy, unsuspecting noble brat around her finger and secure a lifetime of wealth and glory. But s, she was subjected to this dingy brothel where the best customers were probably construction workers. If Empress Katya stood before her at that moment, Janice would have tried to tear into his neck the same way she had Sir Gregory.

    Suddenly recalling how her body had craved something unspeakable and she had bitten Sir Gregory as if he were a chicken leg, Janice paled further. With the madness that had followed, she had not had the chance to process everything that had happened that day. Janice frantically felt her face and checked the back of her hands, but as she had seen before, her hands were spotless and beautiful as before, as if those age spots and wrinkles were nothing but a bad dream.

    ¡°Quick, tell me. How do I look?¡± Janice asked in shock, looking at Sarah desperately.

    Sarah was confused by the sudden flip in the neer¡¯s demeanor, but simply figured that perhaps the girl thought that she may have been scarred secretly before she was brought here.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, your appearance is the same as it most likely was before,¡± Sarah assuaged.

    ¡°Are. You. Sure?¡± Janice bit out slowly, staring usingly as if Sarah herself had shed her across the face.

    Janice red at her with a frighteningly sharp gaze, one that put Sarah on edge as she noticed a dark glint in the neer¡¯s eyes that she hadn¡¯t noticed under the haughtiness. As someone who had pandered in flesh for years and had long understood the darkness of people¡¯s hearts, Sarah was always a good judge of character. And there was something inside that girl that she didn¡¯t like.

    Nheless, Sarah let out an easygoingugh.

    ¡°Of course! Smooth cheeks with a hint of a blush, lips as red as cherries, and flowing brown locks. You look like you could be a princess or a pampered noble miss,¡± Sarah replied convincingly, going above and beyond with thepliments to settle the unhinged Janice.

    It worked like a charm. Instantly, a sigh flowed out of Janice and she fell back into her cocky expression as if it were Sarah¡¯s great fortune to see her beautiful face. Sarah shook her head internally. A beautiful face in a ce like a run-down brothel close to the West Bend meant that Janice would get worn out like an old shoe before the year was even through.

    Realizing that her previous behavior was a little strange, Janice decided to butter up the girl before her for more information. Imposing a sickly sweet attitude that made Sarah even more ufortable, Janice smiled and asked, ¡°Has anything happened in the capital recently?¡±

    ¡°Hmmm... as in what¡¯s thetest gossip on the streets? Well, people are saying that the youngest princess of the royal family, the one who was recently discovered, may have attempted to murder a knight. But it¡¯s all up in the air at the moment since not many people believe that a kid who hasn¡¯t even lost her teeth could kill a grown man,¡± Sarah responded. Janice perked up and leaned in.

    ¡°Oh really? Did they mention anything about aplices or anything?¡± she asked eagerly.

    ¡°No, they haven¡¯t. The entire case is kept under wraps since it involves the imperial family, but considering the circumstances, the rumors should clear up soon.¡± Sarah answered, curious about Janice¡¯s sudden interest. But she quickly let go of her curiosity. It was that kind of desire to y with fire that hadnded herself in this filthy ce to begin with. And it seemed that same fire would soon burn the girl before her, if it hadn¡¯t already.

    As Janice digested the information Sarah had told her, fuming at the fact that Winter, that brat, hadn¡¯t already been beheaded, Sarah spoke again. Her conscience was pricked and despite not liking Janice one bit, she still felt she had to equip the girl for her miserable future.

    ¡°Listen,¡± Sarah began slowly, looking away from Janice, ¡°Things... will not be as you expect. This isn¡¯t a Red House-¡±

    Janice snorted obnoxiously. ¡°That¡¯s for certain.¡±

    Sarah cleared her throat loudly with a pointed look at Janice and continued, ¡°This isn¡¯t a Red House, so don¡¯t expect to get the decent treatment you would¡¯ve gotten there. Here, your foodes from how many clients you take. You¡¯ve done that before haven¡¯t you, been with a man? If you were thrown here, I can assume that you¡¯ve had some experience.¡±

    Janice gritted her teeth in hatred at Sarah¡¯s words, not appreciating the gesture of goodwill that Sarah was willing to help her limate. Did she not look like a pure girl? She had been pure until she had bedded the head courtier so she could enter the pce as a servant. Besides, Janice knew that she was so pretty that there wasn¡¯t a single man who would decline her even when knowing she wasn¡¯t a virgin.

    ¡°In a Red House, you aren¡¯t forced to sleep with clients. If you are talented in music or dancing, you can perform to earn your keep instead of sleeping with men. You can also auction off your first time and keep arge amount of the bidding amount. There are also wealthy and important clients that you could be the mistress of. But here, from dawn ¡¯til dusk, you have to serve whoever the head madam tells you to serve. There¡¯s food twice a day, but she won¡¯t feed you if you don¡¯t make the amount of coins she feels your face is worth. You are very pretty, so the amount for you will probably be very high,¡± Sarah said. Normally, she wouldn¡¯t havepared their circumstance to that of a Red House, but she found Janice annoying so Sarah subtly let her know what she would be missing out on.

    As expected, Janice¡¯s face paled further. ¡°No, no I can¡¯t be here,¡± she shook her head emphatically.

    ¡°Who¡¯s in charge of this dump?¡± Janice asked frantically. ¡°I must let them know that there¡¯s been some sort of mistake. I¡¯m not meant to work in this kind of ce.¡±

    She shuffled slowly towards the door, the feeling of pins and needles in her legs.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t rmend that,¡± Sarah sighed, sounding resigned to her fate. But Janice couldn¡¯t dream of trying to survive here. All her dreams of wealth, fame, and fortune had been within her grasp when she had been given her pretty face. And now, it seemed her pretty face would doom her to a fate worse than death in this ce.

    ¡°Is that so?¡± Janice spat viciously, looking over her shoulder at the girl who was still slouched across the slow in an uely manner. ¡°Thene and stop me!¡± she taunted.

    She wanted to rile up the calm Sarah, whose mouth had delivered her awful verdict. Janice wanted to hit someone and fight and drive the ugly emotions rushing through her out.

    Sarahughed again, the same low chuckle that had first alerted Janice of her presence. It fanned the mes of Janice¡¯s anger further and Janice stopped short of the door and whirled around.

    ¡°Is something funny?¡± she asked furiously. If the girl found amusement from her situation, Janice had no qualms about hitting her where she sat.

    It was a full bellyugh, one more fitting of an old man than a young woman.

    ¡°No, not at all,¡± Sarah said in betweenughs, wiping a tear from her eye. ¡°I really would go and stop you if I could.¡±

    ¡°If you could?¡± Janice replied incredulously, settling her hands on her hips in a disgruntled manner.

    ¡°Yes, if I could.¡±

    Sarah had been leaning on the floor, her arms propping her up. A threadbare nket covering her legs. But as Janice watched, Sarah pulled the nket from her body and grasped the candlestand with a knobbly hand that had seen muchbor.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re...,¡± Sarahmenced in lifting the skirt of her dress from her legs and Janice¡¯s irritated voice trailed off as her eyes opened wide. Starting from Sarah¡¯s knee, where a supple, olive-skinned calf should¡¯ve been, was a hideous little stump of gnarled flesh that was purple and red where it was cut.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t even have the decency to cut it properly when they did it too,¡± Sarah said bitterly before lowering her skirt and pulling up her nket, her easygoing exterior finally showing a crack.

 Chapter 65

    Ch. 65: The Thriving Viiness

    (BACK TO PRESENT DAY)

    Janice truly wasn¡¯t one to listen to others¡¯ warnings. But as always, experience proved itself to be the best teacher.

    It would be heartwarming to think that Janice got everything she deserved. Forced to work in a slum brothel for the remainder of her youth, it is a fate that would cow even the brightest and most ruthless of spirits. The head madam of the brothel had a taste for blood, and in addition to working girls to the bone, flogged them if they weren¡¯t energetic enough. She had a special set of whips, each assigned to a day of the week. Janice only worked Fridays. And even then, the whip on Friday was the least caked in blood.

    You see, Janice had grown into her potential and embraced the dark thing that had been ced within her. When the head madam looked at her, she could see something just as bloodthirsty as herself within the beautiful girl¡¯s eyes, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She saw how clients came stumbling from Janice¡¯s newly created personal room, delirious and pale, but raving about how wonderful their experience was. She also saw how one of the steadiest girls she owned, Sarah, had withered away and died shortly after sharing rooms with Janice for a few months.

    The slums breed good survival instincts in those who survive it.

    The head madam had never touched Janice since, allowing the former maid to set her own hours and even acquire her own room. Meanwhile, the darkness in Janice grew more palpable, like a shadow that covered the entire brothel. It brought clients in like flies to dung, driving up the business and money. But it didn¡¯t necessarily make everyone happy. All the workers could feel it too, even if they couldn¡¯t quite ce their finger on where it came from. But those who knew gave Janice arge berth. Not that Janice minded it, or even noticed.

    Her clothing was good- at least, as good as it got for a brothel worker in the slums. Despite the wear and tear that tugged wrinkles onto the faces of dreary girls and made their skin rough like sandpaper, Janice miraculously managed to maintain her appearance so that it was as if she had been tossed in the previous week instead of two years ago.

    Her eyes were darkened with makeup, making them appear more seductive and she lounged half within the shadows of her personal boudoir,plete with sheer curtains hung near the entrance to add to the ambiance. A knock sounded on her door and a mousy girl stepped in hesitantly.

    .....

    Her knees wobbling, the girl dropped into the curtsey that Janice insisted on from everyone she forced to work for her. It brought a smile onto Janice¡¯s face, as she casually waved and allowed the girl to start speaking. If any outsiders were to happen upon the scene, however, it would look like a tired parody of a popr Red House courtesan or a nobledy.

    The room, despite being nicer than any other private room at the rundown brothel, was still threadbare. The hung fabrics were tired prints from several seasons past. The ¡®servant girl¡¯ had a thick entmon to the poorer areas of Radovalsk. But for Janice,

    ¡°Erm, mdy, thatd hase by again with news,¡± the girl said in a quavering voice. Her sweaty hands tugged at her rough skirts as Janice adopted a contemtive expression.

    ¡°The one from the pce?¡± Janice asked carefully, anticipation obvious in her eyes.

    ¡°Yes, mdy. S-Shall I escort him in from the back entrance?¡±

    Janice cast a fierce re at the girl, her short patience already worn thin. ¡°Well, where else would you escort him in, Sarah?¡±

    She twirled her fingers around the strand of pearls a customer had spent his life savings to purchase for her, hating how small the beads were.

    And, yes. Janice had kindly decided to bestow Sarah¡¯s name upon her new ¡®servant girl¡¯. Former known as Emily, the fellow worker at the brothel who had received special dispensation from the head madam to be Janice¡¯s personal dog.

    New Sarah scurried out of the room, too afraid to bear the disfavor of Janice, who ordinary should not have been any more important than her. Slipping down to the first floor unnoticed, she crept to the back rooms where the cheap alcohol served to clients was being secretly mixed with water. Handing over a few dull silver coins to the old, half-blind servant who constantly worked to dilute the ale, Sarah opened up the back door a crack to witness that the figure in a dark cloak still stood waiting.

    ¡°She, I mean, mdy said you cane in,¡± Sarah half-whispered half-said. The man pushed past her into the building, already knowing his way around the dingy, perfume filled brothel.

    It was early in the summer morning, just after thatst of thete-night customers had stumbled off hungover, yet Sarah felt a gust of cold air apany the cloaked man inside. She shivered slightly, her religious self feeling an odd omen. Sarah reminded herself to beg Janice for an opportunity to attend the Blessing Rites for the Midsummer Festival at the Grand Templeter that day. Sarah had heard that this particr year would be special as the royal family would personally attend, the thought of the handsome princes leaving her feeling rather excited as she slowly meandered upstairs to ask Janice.

    As for the cloaked man, he pulled back his ratty hood to reveal an infatuated look towards Janice.

    ¡°Felix,¡± she crooned softly, having long perfected the art of wooing men. Prince Julian¡¯s loyal aide stood still like an obedient puppy as she ran her fingers over his jaw. The two years had done the pimply teenager some good, and although he wasn¡¯t as attractive as the noble men in Radovalsk, he no longer served as a sharp contrast against Prince Julian¡¯s youthful charms.

    ¡°Janice,¡± he answered, his eyes full of stars.

    Janice¡¯s eyes traced longingly down his neck and she felt a brief sh of hunger but she buried it. It hadn¡¯t been long since she¡¯dst fed from a client and although she was no longer as sloppy as she was her first time, she didn¡¯t want to overindulge and leave her loyal subordinate in aa.

    Felix mistook Janice¡¯s gaze for affection and the look in his eyes deepened. Although he was a few years younger than Janice, he still dreamt of being a dashing knight in her eyes who swept her out of her humble circumstances at the brothel. The young aide felt immense hatred for the empress who had condemned his true love to a brothel, however, one would not know as he still loyally reported to Prince Julian¡¯s mother of her son¡¯s not so furtive actions.

    He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled Janice in for a kiss, a kiss that was quickly cut off by Janice. She did not mind asionally exchanging favors with Felix, but she truly had no interest in the young sprout.

    ¡°Now, now,¡± she said shyly, subtly breaking out of his grasp. ¡°What news do you bring, Felix?¡±

    Regarding the shy expression on her face, Felix didn¡¯t register the distance between them, an exuberant expression on his face as he reported the news.

    ¡°I highly suspect that the prince and Princess Winter are having dealings with one another,¡± Felix answered furtively.

    Janice¡¯s eyes snapped to the closed door before she tugged both of them onto the bed.

    ¡°Are you certain? You know I don¡¯t like spections, I want evidence,¡± she said decisively.

    Felix nodded seriously. ¡°I¡¯ve apanied his highness for several years. Once a month, he always acts strange on his assignments and leaves me behind before he leaves. I followed him thisst time this week and he was very taken with his carriage, casting many secret nces at it as if there were something precious on board. He instructed the stable hands to be extra cautious when leading the carriage out. And when he returned, he looked particrly upset and there was a faint fragrance of roses. The only area in the entire pce that grows roses is the Rose Pce.¡±

    He said it all in one breath without stopped, simply regurgitating information. He made a good spy as his attention to detail was impable.

    Janice leaned back, the thin smile on her face not disguising the naked hatred in her seductive eyes. Her fate was because of that royal bastard, and although Felix assured her that the brat was not living too well in the pce, she longed to tear the girl¡¯s throat out with her own teeth. The taste of iron filled her mouth as an elongated fang identally cut the inside of her lip before the wound healed just as quickly. Janice smiled pridefully to herself. With the advantages from Akira, both visible and hidden, the world would be hers sooner orter. And from there, she would kill everyone who had ever put in her dire straits.

    ¡°Janice... Janice?¡± Felix was shaking her arm when Janice escaped from her thoughts.

    Without a thought, she snatched back her arm and rudely replied, ¡°What?¡±

    Then realizing it was Felix, she quickly adjusted her attitude when she saw his hurt face. ¡°Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts. How are my chances of being employed in the pce again?¡±

    She asked this question every time she saw Felix.

    The young man shook his head again. ¡°Not very good. Your face is too recognizable but I have bribed a few people who are willing to look the other way if you enter again with a disguise.¡±

    Janice sharply recoiled. ¡°A disguise?¡± she scoffed, her brows almost reaching her hairline. Her newfound beauty was meant to be unted, not concealed.

    ¡°Then there is absolutely no way,¡± Felix said firmly. Janice let out a loud, exasperated sigh and flopped onto the bed.

    ¡°Fine. Then we must move to the second n. Since you can¡¯t help me with the first, you must certainly help me with the second, alright?¡± Janice sweetly begged, hitting Felix¡¯s chest gently with her fists as if she were a delicate young noblewoman.

    Felix looked down at her dotingly. ¡°Of course. I¡¯ve already instructed the hired men to attack in the middle of the night and destroy the head madam¡¯s office with all her documents. They will make it look like a job gone wrong and burn this ce down to a crisp in the middle of the night. You will be free-¡±

    ¡°-free to go work at a prominent Red House with a new identity!¡± Janice sang gleefully, cutting Felix off. ¡°Oh Felix, you¡¯re such a dear!¡±

    She nted a generous kiss on Felix¡¯s lips, allowing him to push his disgusting tongue into her mouth as a reward. She peppered him with questions whileying in his arms. The early morning sun filtering in through the window onto them as if they were a young couple in love.

    ¡°What will my new name be? You chose a good one, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Janice Prescott,¡± Felix answered dutifully.

    ¡°Hmmm, not bad. Prescott... that sounds noble doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°That is why I chose it, Janice.¡±

    Janice nted another kiss on his cheek, cing her generously disyed decolletage in his line of vision.

    ¡°Lovely! When is it going to happen?¡±

    ¡°Next Thursday, when business is slowest and there aren¡¯t many clients inside the building.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Janice said casually, ¡°And when those ¡®thieves¡¯e in to destroy the office and my paperwork, tell them to be sure to wipe out all the vermin in this ce.¡±

    Felix was a bit slow in understanding. ¡°...Vermin. There are pests here? I thought you told them to clean your room properly?¡± The trusting, open face of the young aide adopted a ferocious, out of ce expression.

    ¡°No, no, no. Not that kind of vermin. They set traps, although I still see rat dropping all over the room. I mean the people,¡± Janice hissed. ¡°All the faces here, these filthy whores that I have to look at every day, I want them dead.¡±

    In Janice¡¯s heart, since they had witnessed her humiliation, none of them could survive. As for Felix, he was no stranger to the uglier things in life, having worked in the bloodstained imperial pce since he was brought in as a boy.

    ¡°Yes, of course.¡± Then Felix paused slightly. ¡°Even your personal maid?¡±

    Janice rolled her eyes, ¡°Oh, you mean Sarah? Heavens, they can kill her first!¡±

    A squeak sounded behind the door Janice had thought she had shut. She had been blessed with sharper senses and while Felix still sat with his typical, dull expression, a sinister grin pulled across the face of the vixen beside him.

    ¡°Speaking of vermin,¡± Janice said loudly all of a sudden, ¡°I feel as if there are one too many pests nearby right now.¡±

    Behind the door, Sarah¡¯s blood froze in her veins. She scurried away, burying the question she had intended to ask Janice as she rushed towards the head madam¡¯s office. Janice heard the girl run, but said nothing.

    ¡°Why do you look so happy all of a sudden?¡± Felix asked, spying the sudden cheer on Janice¡¯s face.

    Beyond the thin walls of the brothel, the sounds of singing and excitement for the Blessing Ritesmencing the Midsummer Festival were already underway. Even in the dead slums, Janice could make out a child¡¯s joyousugh and themon Helionic carols being sung by the washerwoman who worked nearby.

    ¡°Something tells me today will be a very exciting day for all of us,¡± Janice answered cryptically as Felix ced a kiss on her palm. She had been a little hungry after all.

 Chapter 66

    Ch. 66: The Circus Has Arrived

    I¡¯m on edge when I open my eyes to the familiar ceiling of my room. Something gnaws away at my heart, but I¡¯m not quite sure what. Is it nervousness or apprehension? I know I have no reason to be afraid if I y the cards in my hand right, but the same unfamiliarity of the fateful day I was brought to the pce echoes through my mind. I had thought I was being smart and stayed out of sight, but a sudden illness had dragged me into the crosshairs of the royal guard. Then just when I had thought I had what it took to fight the empress, D-Day came and I was used as a criminal and estranged from my only ally, the duchess.

    ¡°Bad dreams?¡± Marie asks, using a soft towel to dry my wet hair.

    I snort under my breath. ¡°Something like that, I suppose.¡± I make eye contact with her through the mirror and she smiles at me. Marie had diligently watched as thedies had done my hair the other day, and without error, she twists my long locks into twin buns she can stuff into the in white crespine.

    Emma stands in the corner and watches silently until I beckon her toe.

    ¡°Hey Emma,¡± I start cautiously, ¡°If you and I were friends-¡±

    ¡°We are not friends, your highness. We are sisters,¡± she interrupts matter of factly.

    I grin, the short sentence doing wonders for my mood. ¡°Indeed. But I¡¯m talking about myself and another party that isn¡¯t you. If we were friends and ites out that I¡¯ve been lying about my identity since we met, would you- would you hate me?¡±

    There is a rare vulnerability in my voice, one that still Marie¡¯s hands and prompts Emma to stare at me through her short ck hair she hides under.

    .....

    ¡°You are speaking of Sir Wolfe, are you not?¡± Emma says, ever the psychic.

    ¡°Well yes, if you must know.¡± I grudgingly admit, impressed by the solemn girl¡¯s mind-reading capabilities, ¡°I fear that after today¡¯s events, he might hate me.¡±

    Emma¡¯s little brow crinkles in confusion. ¡°Hate... you? Whatever for?¡±

    ¡°I mean, I¡¯ve been lying about my identity the entire time we¡¯ve known one another,¡± I exin carefully, before wincing as Marie identally tugs at a strand of hair too hard.

    ¡°He¡¯ll be happy to see you more often,¡± Emma concludes, the confusion gone. I shake my head with a mirthful expression, both amused and impressed by her thorough thought process.

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right,¡± I muse to myself.

    I¡¯m a bundle of nerves as I admire the dull appearance in the mirror. I must say, the empress has outdone herself. Perhaps after the debacle of the Spring Ball where I was able to shine in part due to her discrepancies, she took it upon herself to give me the most drab, forgettable outfit in existence. My white hair is a standout, so she cleverly covered it with a in white crespine. The simply gray dress does not do me any favors either.

    Everything about it screams, look away. But after two years of that, I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m going to throw away my newfound peace in exchange for a seat at the table.

    ¡°Damn it Elias, I hope your wish doesn¡¯t get me killed this time.¡±

    ¡°What was that, your highness?¡± a male voice suddenly asks, causing me to jump two feet in the air.

    I whirl around, hand on my heart, to see Sir Finn waiting at the door with a knowing grin.

    ¡°Errr, nothing,¡± I chuckle nervously, hoping he didn¡¯t get the wrong impression from my words. But the blonde-haired punk, who would be a few years younger than me if it weren¡¯t for this cursed little body, keeps smirking down at me making me fear the worst: that he heard me and thinks I¡¯m in love with my young friend.

    Thinking of Elias¡¯ squishy little face and gemstone-like eyes, I just shake my head. He¡¯s more like a son or a little brother to me than anything else, even if we are technically right around the same age.

    I clear my throat in the most adult-like manner I can achieve, not knowing that my adultish mannerisms just make me cuter in the eyes of Marie and Finn.

    ¡°It¡¯s not what you think, Sir Finn,¡± I say with all the seriousness I can muster, looking at him with imploring eyes. I¡¯m not looking to wind up on Chris Hansen¡¯s To Catch a Predator show.

    He pats my head with a heavy hand and I scowl at him. ¡°Of course, your highness.¡± he says in a bemused voice that assures me he does not believe me in the slightest, ¡°It was my erroneous assumption.¡±

    It takes a herculean effort to manage not to clobber this grown man over his head, mostly dissuaded by the fact that even if I jumped, I¡¯d only manage to hit his chest. Can 8-year olds even have crushes? At that age, I was still in my horse girl phase and trading My Little Ponies underneath the lunch tables. I was more interested in trying to obtain a rare cherry red pony than obsess over boys with cooties.

    I hear a delicate snicker behind me and even sweet Marie isughing at me! I briefly consider aborting the mission and hiding under a mountain of pillows in my room, but a wet nket in the form of my dearest mother is waiting for us in the path and puts out everyone¡¯s giggles.

    Empress Katya smiles down at me, looking resplendent in a cream-colored gown made of buttery soft silk brocade and pinned shut with gold and ruby embellishments before a brilliant red underskirt peeks out from where the overskirt splits open. Her crespine is white as well, but covered in a bejeweled ruby and gold headpiece that shimmers under the summer sun. Both Julian and Julia, who stand a few feet behind her, are in matching colors, although Julian wears a male appropriate attire.

    Julia¡¯s eyes look big and sweet as she says in her high pitched voice, ¡°Mother, the ve is here! Can I throw her in the dungeon again?¡±

    And she¡¯s just as sweet as ever.

    I haven¡¯t seen her since that fateful day with Sir Berrick years ago, but she hasn¡¯t changed much her face still as doughy and sweet as ever, in sharp contrast with her mouth and behavior. Even though I live under a rock in the pce and have but a few low-level informants, even I have heard of the bodies carried out of Sunset Pce in the early dawn hours. You can tell a Sunset Pce maid from a mile away, even if you don¡¯t see her orange pin denoting where she works. They jump at every little sound, their forearms covered in bruises new and old.

    Julia smiles at me after she says her words. I just look away, following the silent procession as we arrive at the royal carriages. The pce is a stunning ce to live, but it looks especially beautiful today, the tulips lining the path especially vibrant as we weave our way to the carriages. Already present and waiting, my father and brother, or in better terms, the king and the crown prince await us all.

    Manservants run around frantically like worker bees, checking the ensure each white thoroughbred horse has its iron horseshoes and plumed headdress. These carriages are especially exquisite, all white and gold in decoration. No one speaks as we wait for the final arrangements and there is but a hint of warmth that can be felt from the scene of strangers standing together.

    I almost wish the cheering throngs could see us right now. Here is your beloved imperial family, estranged from one another and formal to a fault. How¡¯d you like them now? I feel somewhat grateful that I stick out like a sore thumb, just as Katya would like. I want nothing to do with these people. But ironically, to survive, I must be like them.

    Katya catches my roaming eye and splits from Julia to approach me. She crouches down to my level, her heavy skirts pooling around her as she caresses my cheek.

    ¡°Winter, are you alright?¡± she asks with a believably concerned expression.

    ¡°Yes, mother,¡± I reply, falling back into the usual game of pretending to care for her.

    She smiles at my obedient response, briefly ignoring the steward informing us we can board the carriages now and assigning us all to different ones for safety purposes.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be good, won¡¯t you Winter?¡± she asks innocently enough. ¡°There are always consequences whenever you are bad and I don¡¯t you to get hurt.¡±

    Her palm is warm but her words are like an ice-cold knife to the heart. Her eyes are fiercer than a wolf¡¯s, boring into mine as if she can fish out all my secrets and inner thoughts with just one look. The way her honeyed words can flip the situation from her beating me almost at whim to myself causing the punishments would be hard to believe if I didn¡¯t hear it for myself. She is too skilled at manipting people to the point that I don¡¯t know if I should flee all the way to Sarsaval or apud her.

    Speech fails me, but I nod and it must look convincing for she leaves without another word and boards the same carriage as Julia. She¡¯s a sharp woman, Katya Duvernay. She¡¯d be a great executive or boss if this were my world. I trip over my dress, the boring gray getting caught under my shoe and inadvertently reminding me that this will never be like my old world, my old life. So I¡¯ll respect Katya, but as my enemy.

    I follow after Katya and make a point to smile sweetly at her after I climb in. Julian and Augustus board a carriage to themselves, no doubt the empress¡¯ machinations as it is tradition for the crown prince and the emperor to have a carriage to themselves for official outings such as this. Despite losing her right to run the imperial pce officially, it can be seen that Empress Katya still has some tricks up her sleeve.

    We leave through the front gate of the imperial pce a grand thing fashioned out of ck iron wrought andplete with gold finishings and the Erudian Empire¡¯s phoenix crest. Today, due to the special nature of Blessing Day, the cordoned-off blocks before the pce are exempt from the royal guard¡¯s patrol and civilians crowd the streets. The throngs of people are enthusiastic and diverse.

    The myriads of people cheer the names of those they admire and love in the imperial family. I don¡¯t expect to hear my name amongst them and as we ride closer to the Grand Temple, I do not. There are windows from which we can look out at the people and wave and from my carriage, the empress and Julia do it generously. I just crouch lower and try to disappear from view.

    ¡°Your Majesty! Long live the emperor!¡±

    ¡°Empress Katya, a smile, just one please!¡±

    ¡°Crown Prince Augustus just looked at me! I shall die a happy woman.¡±

    When we all eventually disembark and a footman helps me step down the steps that extend from the door, I can hear the sudden lull in chatter. As we are the imperial family of the empire and descended from the very man who inspired the Holy Church, we are allowed special discrepancy to park the carriages right at the pure marble steps that lead into the glorious structure that constitutes as the holiest site for those of the Helionic faith.

    ¡°It¡¯s... the new princess,¡± I hear someone hiss under their breath, standing several feet from me although I feel as if they whispered just in my ear. Over a thousand eyes fall upon me as I scowl up at the burning sun that¡¯s searing my poor retinas. I manage to get out a weak wave, no where near the caliber of Empress Katya and her children who are naturals at this. They wave and smile at the crowd like tried and true Hollywood celebrities, rousing up the crowd that was previously stunned by my appearance.

    Emperor Helio and Crown Prince Augustus just stand there solemnly as if someone owes them each one million gold coins. But of course, they are men, so the unfriendly gaze with which they survey the crowd just elicits fierce screams from horny women and nods from approval from men who like the ¡®show of strength¡¯. It¡¯s all rather ridiculous, like a circus in fact.

 Chapter 67

    Ch. 67: I Have a Vision!

    I finally know what Princess Kate feels like as a member of the English royal family, although at the moment I¡¯m nowhere near as beloved as the British beauty is. My ¡®mother¡¯, on the other hand, is thriving in her element. I marvel at her smile, which is equal parts elegant and weing, managing to make one feelfortable when the people view it. Julia matches and is currently holding the queen¡¯s hand instead of her nurse¡¯s and looks adorable in her small crespine.

    As the fanfare slowly dies down, my feet unwillingly follow my family into thergest temple of the Holy Church, marveling at its simrities with the most ornate and prolific of cathedrals in my world such as the Vatican. We wander in and the difference between the outdoors and indoors is stark.

    Outside there was great fanfare, with cheering citizens flying colorful streamers decorated with a symbol of a phoenix, its wings spread wide within the Holy Church¡¯s sun emblem. It symbolizes the unity between the imperial family and the Holy Church, especially fitting for today¡¯s Blessing Rites when we pray for the empire¡¯s good fortune as descendants of the man who was first blessed by Helio.

    It resembles a typical church, something I am extremely familiar with as I always sang in choirs at the churches my mother would diligently attend every Sunday without fail, even with the chaotic, constant moving we were subject to. Our footsteps echo and skirts swish as we move down the spacious aisle and follow the deferential priest who is leading us to the front altar.

    ¡°If you could pick up the pace, your highness. The Holy Priestess doesn¡¯t have all day,¡± a lower-ranked priest taking up the rear snidely mutters in a tone only I could hear. I roll my eyes, amazed at the disrespect I constantly put up with.

    Well, I did promise myself to start turning things around for myself.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I ask as I didn¡¯t hear him properly, my light voice carrying around the quiet interior. My father and oldest brother don¡¯t look back at me and don¡¯t care, but I can see Julian cast a nce back towards me. I ignore the question in his eyes and turn to face the lower-rankedckey who spoke to me.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I suddenly ask in the same low, hard tone, the sudden change from a cheery, upbeat child¡¯s inquiry to a lower intensity startling him. I look him in the eye, never mind the fact that I nearly have a crick in my neck since as an adult he¡¯s much taller than me.

    .....

    The sh of gold works like magic and I can tell right when it hits him. That¡¯s right, I want to yell, put some respect on my name! But I settle for a far more mature sneer until the now wimpy priest says, ¡°D-Donovan.¡±

    I nod once and shelve the name in my imaginary Burn Book, which already features a majority of my family, several pce servants, and a few nobles.

    We reach the front where the altar stands, proudly shrouded in gold and marble and holy imagery. The high-ranking priest who led us all over bows low.

    ¡°I shall bring the Holy Priestess forth to conduct the prayer service,¡± he says. I scoff quietly in the back, not having forgotten how he nearly did me dirty two years ago. I need to get his name so that I can put it in my burn book.

    ¡°Mother, who is the Holy Priestess? Why do we have to wait for her? Shouldn¡¯t she be waiting for us?¡± Julia asks, tugging at Empress Katya¡¯s had with a pitiful look. It¡¯s quite adorable until she opens her mouth again.

    ¡°She should be flogged for disrespect and kicked out of the Church. What do you think, Mother?¡± The contrast between her sugary sweet voice and what she says makes me think she would do amazingly in a horror movie in my world.

    Emperor Helio casts a dark nce over his shoulder at Empress Katya,pletely ignoring the pouting Julia below. I create an imaginary conversation between their silent looks.

    His dark re: ¡°What are you teaching this child?¡±

    Her pleading eyes about to shed a tear: ¡°If you helped with her and met her asionally she would turn out better!¡±

    His even darker re: ¡°You are trying to turn this around on me?¡±

    Now I can definitely see a tear in her emerald eyes: ¡°Your Majesty!¡± Empress Katya sniffs a little bit, wiping a tear that just won¡¯t fall with a dainty finger and putting up an aggrieved expression.

    Just like myself, Julian is a bystander to the silent conversation, although his eyes appear to carry somepassion and concern for his mother naturally. But he doesn¡¯t do anything as doesn¡¯t want to harm his already weak standing in his father¡¯s heart. What a hypocrite.

    I, on the other hand, feel absolutely nothing. Perhaps a long time ago when I actually read the book, I stupidly felt bad for the poor male lead¡¯s father and his loveless marriage. But my perception and reality are two very different things. Now that I watch this scene, I just think that since he married her to have a handle on the powerful House Duvernay, he should¡¯ve realized that this was the price he would pay.

    I slowly walk around the standoff, positioning myself before a wide expanse of floor to prepare for the greatest performance of my life. I walk through the steps in my head taking deep breaths to calm myself. The moment the Holy Priestess appears, I¡¯ll drop into a dead ¡®faint¡¯ like a character from a soap opera. When I conveniently wake up about 10 minutester or whenever feels right I¡¯ll say that I had visions of the future.

    Although the current timeline is still a few years before the main character, ra, arrives, they reference the past often enough for me to have a rudimentary idea of the important events that will ur in the next decade.

    There¡¯s going to be arge scale war very soon with Sarsaval, spurned on by the escaped nobleman who fled there. It will be costly and dangerous, resulting in the lives of thousands of Erudians although a bittersweet victory is won five yearster. Contact is reached with the mysterious and elusive Old Continent around the same time as the victory is won and a sessful trade route is established across the sea with the new ally. The Duke of Avernall will soon pass away and the dukedom will fall into the hands of my good friend, Finn, in but a year or two.

    I could remember more, but the pages I wrote the full story in Spanish are still back in Bianca¡¯s shack. But once I establish myself as a legitimate promised child and properly tie myself to this world so Peppermint can¡¯t manipte me anymore, I¡¯m sure procuring them will be as easy as pie. As for my future after all the content I¡¯ve learned from the books hase to pass, I¡¯ll be old enough to have my own fortune and travel the world so that way no one can pinpoint my location. I¡¯ll spend my money freely until I die an old catdy with 10 pets.

    All that, with a side of revenge of course! I¡¯m too petty to leave without dishing a little bit in return for everyone who¡¯s made me miserable so far.

    ¡°Hey,¡± a familiar voice says. It¡¯s Julian and I frown slightly as he stands directly in the direction I am nning to faint in.

    ¡°Hey yourself,¡± I mutter, adjusting my body so I can faint in the correct, dramatic pose right before the altar. The boy irritatingly steps once more into my path, drawing a fierce re in his direction.

    ¡°What¡¯s your deal?¡± I snap, trying to calcte with my eyes another good angle I can faint in.

    ¡°Better question, what¡¯s your deal?¡± Julian asks, suspicion heavy in his gold gaze. He¡¯s wearing his full formal uniform, the state uniform as opposed to the military uniform. The brilliant red jacket along with the gold pins and epaulets feels like a beacon, drawing all the stares in our direction.

    ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about,¡± I answer, sweat suddenly pooling in my armpits.

    ¡°Yes, you do,¡± he says matter-of-factly. ¡°You keep staring at the floor as if it¡¯s a million dors. What are you nning to do?¡± Julian crouches as if he¡¯s tying his shoes when he hisses out thest sentence.

    I curse myself for being so obvious. Perhaps I¡¯m so used to being ignored that I never thought someone would actively pay attention to me. And that someone being a rtively sharp adult who is from my world as well, does not bode well for me when I don¡¯t know where his allegiances align.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you just mind your business, huh? Not all of us are lucky enough to be born as a beloved prince you know,¡± I bite out sourly.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been helping you out of the pce for two years as you do God knows what and you can¡¯t even tell me this little thing? Winter, this is a big day. None of your antics will do you any good,¡± Julian sighs tiredly as if I really am a small child.

    When we first met, I had thought that Julian would prove to be a wee ally, but hearing him mocking me sends a fury I didn¡¯t know I was capable of feeling running through my chest. I decide to deflect his piercing questions before someone unfortunate begins to listen in. I re up at Julian and take the offensive, the best defense in any interrogation.

    ¡°Oh? My antics,¡± I lightly chuckle before turning serious, putting finger quotations around the word ¡®antics¡¯. ¡°Do you know what sort of antics your beloved mother gets up to? Do you know what she does to me whenever we meet? If we weren¡¯t in the most sacred building in this entire empire, I would lift my skirts and show just how far your mother¡¯s love goes for me.¡±

    Julian looks startled to suddenly be on the recieving end of the interrogation, as I had expected. But there is no surprise, no shock, confirming my worst hypothesis.

    I smile as I scathingly continue, ¡°You know, don¡¯t you? That¡¯s the worst part. The fact that you know what kind of person your mother is, but you can stand there in your righteousness and tell me off. It¡¯s in her eyes. They just go... hollow. ¡± I nod my head towards the empress, who is softly cooing to a whiny Julia. Julian is wordless.

    ¡°But her face carries such joy. It¡¯s sickening, seeing that face when she h-hurts me. And I get it, wanting to see only the best parts. She really is a woman to admire. Every word, every move, nothing she does or says can be criticized, only praised. But that doesn¡¯t hide the ck, soulless heart she has. So I must ask you Julian, why must I thank you for one small favor, when you stand back and see what I go through everyday in the pce without doing a thing? Even if I wanted to burn this building to the ground with all of us in it, it wouldn¡¯t be your ce to tell me not to. I truly don¡¯t me you for loving her. But by not acting, it makes you just asplicit in her actions. It makes me want to punch you in smug little face, then punch myself for actually thinking you were my friend once upon a time.¡±

    This time when I step away from him, Julian doesn¡¯t follow, his gaze unfocused as he hopefully requests on the sudden heartfelt words that rushed out of me. I take another quick look around the room, but thankfully no one is paying attention to me.

    The sound of distant approaching footsteps startles everyone out of their thoughts. My father was slouched against a pew, with only Augustus standing within a few feet of him. My ¡®mother¡¯ straightens into a standing position and pats Julia¡¯s hand to remind her to stay quiet. Julian looks dazed as he, along with the rest of us, look towards the arched door, with golden scriptures carved onto it as two distinct footsteps approach.

    It¡¯s the same dog priest as before and a young woman, no a girl. And she¡¯s absolutely stunning.

    She wears white robes with the Holy Church¡¯s sun emblem sshed across the front. Pale blue lines the robe, creating a stunning contrast with her ebony skin and perfectly matching her pale blue eyes. Her ck, curly hair sits in two cute puffs on her head, although her stature has me pegging her at around middle school age.

    ¡°Our new Holy Priestess, discovered in a remote vige near our southern borders,¡± the priest says in a simpering tone.

    I distantly recall some fuss made a few months prior about the old Holy Priest dying and people being sad about it, but as I never cared much for what happened with the Church, I didn¡¯t pay attention to the recement. The girl looks sweet and is definitely an upgrade from whatever old fogey had the job before her, but has a solemn bearing that denotes her importance. The once dull altar seems toe to life with her presence.

    In sync with the rest of my family save for my father, we all bow to the Holy Priestess, the second highest ranked person in the empire after the emperor. I was momentarily distracted by meeting someone as cool as this new Holy Priestess, but I finally find a nice patch of ground to faint on and have my fake vision. However, I can feel a pair of eyes follow me as I straighten from the curtsey and out of habit, I look up to meet a cerulean gaze.

    It feels like the ocean at first, calm and cid. Then fireworks explode in my brain.

    And all I can think as darkness obscures my eyesight is: This was definitely not my n!

 Chapter 68

    Ch. 68: So... I¡¯m the Chosen One?

    I¡¯m not alone in the room when my eyes adjust to the bright lights of the room. The grogginess that typically follows waking up tugs at the edge of my consciousness, but it relinquishes its grasp when I realize that I am in an unfamiliar room. The small space is bright and full of light, just like the rest of the Grand Temple, and I¡¯mying on a narrow bed with sheets as starched as my hair.

    As if awakening from a nightmare, I straighten into a half seated position.

    ¡°You¡¯re awake. Good!¡± a chirpy voice I don¡¯t recognize says. I look to my side, my expression still in that squinty, befuddled expression most people have when they first awaken. It¡¯s the new Holy Priestess, seated in a humble wooden chair beside me. She is the only person in the room with me.

    ¡°I... I-What is this? What happened?¡± I¡¯m so perplexed and confused. I had indeed nned to faint, but that was real. The moment I had met a pair of stunning, sky blue eyes something had happened and my brain logged out of the real world.

    The Holy Priestess looks unconcerned, fluffing her afro puffs with a nonchnt expression.

    ¡°You fainted after you made eye contact with me. As it would turn out, you have Holy Power within you in a capacity no one has ever seen,¡± she said casually as if we were discussing the weather.

    I rub my eyes and take a nce out the window, relieved to see that the sun has hardly moved since thest time I saw it. But the words finally register and I stare at the Holy Priestess in shock, nearly breaking my neck from the whish.

    ¡°Wait, what?¡± I stare hard at thest pair of eyes I saw before I actually fainted, the Holy Priestess¡¯ face a calm opposite of my own.

    .....

    ¡°You are the promised child, Winter,¡± she says.

    I shake my head, wondering if I¡¯m hallucinating.

    ¡°And no, this is not a dream. We are both in an empty bedroom within the lower levels of the Grand Temple,¡± the Holy Priestess adds.

    ¡°Are you-?¡±

    ¡°No, I cannot read your thoughts,¡± she finishes smoothly.

    I chuckle softly despite the strange circumstances. ¡°You¡¯re good.¡±

    ¡°I try to be,¡± she answers with a grin, suddenly looking very much like the middle school aged child she is.

    I let out a loud, long sigh. ¡°So... can you tell me what has happened?¡± I inquire, eager to fill the gaping hole of knowledge.

    As far as I know, I don¡¯t have any preexisting health conditions, but considering how I¡¯ve woken up to the second most powerful figure sitting beside me, I can feel that there is more at y here.

    ¡°To put it frankly, you are the promised child. You are the beacon, the symbol of hope for the empire, and Helio¡¯s physical promise to all of us that he is still among mankind,¡± the Holy Priestess says. ¡°Would you like some water?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that would be great, your Holiness. Should I call you your Holiness? Ok, I just will.¡± I answer quickly. ¡°But wait, isn¡¯t that more what your role is about? And um... maybe this isn¡¯tmon knowledge, but the oracle dering the child born to the imperial family 8 years ago... it¡¯s.... a fake.¡±

    Myst words slip out in a voice barely above a whisper.

    ¡°Hmmm?¡± the Holy Priestess shifts in her robes with a perplexed expression.

    I wonder how to delicatelymunicate what I know from the story withouting across like I know all the Holy Church¡¯s secrets.

    ¡°Er, yes. Apparently, the oracle was fake-¡±

    ¡°Oh no,¡± the Holy Priestess interrupts with a cheeryugh. ¡°Oracles can¡¯t be faked.¡±

    She looks so confident that it slightly throws me off what I want to say. However, I know for a fact from the webnovel that the empress arranged for some higher-ranking clerics in the Holy Church to stage a realistic oracle. Oracles are visions sent directly from Helio that only the Holy Priest can receive and are treated and respected as words straight from the god¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°But your Holiness, I heard,¡± I look left and right before leaning in, ¡°I heard that my m-mother in the year that she was pregnant with my sister made certain arrangements with people in the Holy Church to somehow get the Holy Priest to fake an oracle iming that a child born to the imperial family that very year was the promised child.¡±

    ¡°Oracles are impossible to fake,¡± the Holy Priestess said with a casual shrug. I still can¡¯t wrap my head around this kid being the highest-ranking priest in the entirend. ¡°I would know, I¡¯m the Holy Priestess.¡±

    ¡°What? So what does that mean?¡± I rub my head in confusion, feeling the beginning of a headacheing in.

    ¡°It means that Helio¡¯s motives and actions can sometimes align with those of us mortals. And thus, the fake oracle indeed became real,¡± the Holy Priestess replies.

    I stare at her with a dazed expression. ¡°Your eyes...¡± I slip out before I can stop my mouth.

    ¡°The color is startling, is it not? Helio saw fit to give me his great vision and unsurpassable wisdom, but as a result, I have lost my own,¡± she replies calmly.

    The words take a minute to sink in, before my eyes widen. She was blind?

    ¡°Oh wow, I¡¯m so sorry! That was so untactful and rude of me to mention it like that,¡± I blubber out, a wave of guilt washing over me.

    It was no wonder she had reminded me of blue-eyed white cats, which are more prone to blindness.

    ¡°It is no matter, I¡¯ve been unable to see since Helio first spoke to me about two years ago. I¡¯ve long be ustomed to this and can now ¡®see¡¯ in many other ways,¡± the Holy Priestess replied.

    Thinking back to how she was able to predict what my thoughts and next words were with ease just moments ago, I believe her words.

    ¡°You know, your Holiness¡± I still bumble out, ¡°You¡¯re very beautiful. Incredibly stunning. You could be a supermodel when you grow up.¡±

    Her eyes crinkle into adorable folds when sheughs and I feel slightly better for my gaffe.

    ¡°Oh,¡± she says as herughs die down and she wipes tears from her eyes, ¡°But what is a supermodel? Some kind of toy?¡±

    As my mind conjures an image of a toy model building set, this time I have a goodugh.

    ¡°No, no, no! It¡¯s... a beautiful woman. A woman who is so admired for her beauty that her pictures can be found everywhere,¡± I exin quickly.

    ¡°Fascinating,¡± the Holy Priestess says lightly, ¡°But I must serve as a Holy Priestess until I die, so I will not have a chance to try out this other role.¡±

    I think back to how the old Holy Priest was reportedly an ancient, withering man and feel the sudden levity of the mood dampened by reality. The weight of being the promised child that I had longed for sits heavily on my shoulders. But unlike the fake title I had sought for protection, it turns out to be very real and very frightening.

    ¡°Why did I faint after we locked eyes?¡± I ask solemnly, remembering how her blue gaze had burnt mine before I¡¯d cked out. I look at them now, admiring how the cerulean contrasts with her warm brown skin. But I feel none of the same, strange sensations.

    ¡°Like calls to like,¡± the Holy Priestess sighs, standing up from her chair in one fluid motion. ¡°We are both vessels of Holy Power, however as yours was untapped and unawakened, meeting my eyes kickstarted the process within you. You can see it, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°See what?¡±

    ¡°The magic. When it is performed on or near you,¡± the Holy Priestess said, looking at me intently.

    ¡°No I can¡¯t-,¡± I stop midsentence when I think back to the strange sights and music I heard when I was getting tested as a member of the imperial family and the way I could see the imperial physician check my health with his magic. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re right! I can! Howe I didn¡¯t connect the dots?¡±

    ¡°Connect the dots?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Erm, make the connections,¡± I quickly exin. I need to be more mindful of my usage of modern lingo.

    ¡°You are a very funny girl,¡± the Holy Priestess said with a smile. ¡°I propose we be friends.¡±

    ¡°Friends? Heck, ya,¡± I blurt out. ¡°Ahem, I mean... that would be my great honor, your Holiness.¡±

    I finish with a mock bow and grin at her sheepishly. ¡°But if we¡¯re going to be friends, I can¡¯t call you your Holiness all the time, it¡¯s a bit of a mouthful.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Aria.¡±

    ¡°Winter, at your service.¡±

    I shakily stand up from the bed, surprised by how weak I suddenly feel. Aria catches me before I stumble to my knees.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I murmur to the older girl, my heart feeling warm.

    I manage to walk on my own, my legs feeling like pins and needles as we emerge from a dark hallway and a long set of stairs to the same altar as before. My whole ¡®family¡¯ waits with expressions ranging from annoyance to contemtion. I can tell from the pillows on the floor that they have already finished the prayers necessary for the Blessing Rites.

    ¡°Winter!¡± Empress Katya suddenly exims as if she was extremely concerned for my wellbeing.

    Just hearing her say my name makes me wince. She approaches from where she sat beside Julia to pull me away from Aria¡¯s side and hug me, her expensive floral perfume filling my nose and making me want to sneeze.

    The hug is tight, a little too tight. But her acting is impable. If I didn¡¯t know what kind of person she was, I would not know that the empress is fuming, raging mad.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you to be careful before we left? And now you¡¯ve fainted!¡± she coos with concern, caressing my cheek. Her hands are warm andforting, but send a tremor of intense fear down my spine that I cannot control. The empress¡¯ subtle warning did not escape me and my adult ears although she very much appears to be a loving mother towards me. She worries about my supposed illness, but Katya doesn¡¯t acknowledge the diagnosis: myself being the promised child.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, mother¡± I answer contritely, ¡°It was never my intention.¡±

    I cough weakly as if I¡¯m really not feeling well so I can escape and sit on a pew far away from her and Julia. Settling down, I can see that the expansive hall has attained a few more guests, high ranking clerics, priests with important roles within the Holy Church who travel to other locations on asion to give blessings and hold mass in addition to under the table dealings. Their solemn faces match the somber mood within the room instead of the jubtion that should¡¯ve urred if it were Julia instead who was dered the promised child.

    ¡°Holy Priestess,¡± a wily one starts seriously, ¡°Is it truly... the Holy Power?¡±

    The undertone couldn¡¯t be more obvious, almost as if he wants her to deny something. But Aria must no doubt detect this as well and nods seriously as she stands behind the altar and subtly reminds everyone in the room who she is. At the Grand Temple, only the Holy Priestess is qualified to stand behind the altar no matter the reason. Even the cleaners must use long-handled brushes and mops to clean it.

    ¡°There is no doubt. She has reacted to the Holy Power within me and fainted. Princess Winter is indeed the promised child from my predecessor¡¯s oracle.¡± There is no pomp or baritone in her voice, but one cannot argue with the sweeping presence Aria has.

    One cleric looksughably ill, loosening the color of his silk ck robe and another looks as if he has much more to say. But finally, a brave soul does speak out once more.

    ¡°It couldn¡¯t be a... mistake by any chance, would it, your Holiness?¡±

    ¡°Are you doubting the oracle of my predecessor? Are you questioning the words of Helio, even as an important figure within the Holy Church? I will have you know as you are all esteemedpany, oracles are impossible to fake on pain of death by a thousand lightning bolts for maligning Helio¡¯s word,¡± Aria says, her voice not wavering in the slightest as she delivers a death blow to any ns to delegitimize me.

    The cleric who tested me years before approaches the altar slowly and makes a show of bowing to the Holy Priestess. ¡°Your Holiness, discovering another party capable of wielding the Holy Power is indeed a cause for celebration. But perhaps, would you consider allowing us to block this information from the masses? As this discovery was so unexpected, we will require time to study old records of the role of a promised child within the Church. Debuting her now will lead to confusion and discontent amongst the people.¡±

    I smirk to myself, my head tilted downwards where no one can see. As expected, these people are quite good at twisting things to their agenda. But I remember thest thing Aria murmured to me before we emerged out of the hall, a few words that had instilled a hope I had hardly dared to dream of.

    ¡°I can see it. The thread binding you to this world. It¡¯s a beautiful gold color and the only thing I can still see with these eyes.¡±

    I pinch myself to keep fromughing inappropriately. No matter what happens, my worst enemy, Peppermint, can no longer y with me at will.

 Chapter 69

    Ch. 69: Call to War

    A slow but definition conclusion is reached in the ensuing conversation, one that my father chimes little into as the clerics exercise their vocal cords andpete in who can repeat the same message with as much fancy vocabry and vernacr as possible: no one can know the princess¡¯ powers.

    To say the following atmosphere is tense would be like saying the sky is blue. It¡¯s so thick I could cut it with a knife and spread it on toast like butter. I know the bad blood between the Holy Church and imperial family runs deep, and my father¡¯s usurp- ahem, ascension was not the ideal situation they had hoped for.

    You see, there can¡¯t be two suns in one sky. And considering how the Holy Church¡¯s crest is a sun, I don¡¯t need my high school English teacher to point out that it¡¯s a metaphor to how they consider their religion to be central to the empire¡¯s needs even above that of the Erudian imperial family. However, unlike the unrivaled power the popes had in the Europe of old in my past world, our royal family is actually rted to Helio, the very god that is worshipped. That would be as if the French royal family were actual descendants of Jesus, which would significantly undermine the papal authority the church was able to hold over European royals¡¯ heads and make executive decisions with.

    Coupled with the rumors of the emperor¡¯s dabbles in forbidden magic and his mysterious killing aura better suited for a battlefield than the throne, it would not be an understatement to say that the Holy Church is on terrible terms with my father. In the carriage ride back, I can¡¯t help but smirk to myself as I look out the window. Helio is just the name my father gave himself after he took the throne, perhaps under a misguided belief that naming himself after the god would make the Church and people look more favorably upon him. But judging from the fiery res between some of the high ranking clerics who clearly decide the Church¡¯s agenda and Emperor Helio, it has only worked out halfway.

    Is this why he married Empress Katya? House Duvernay and the Holy Church have a strong rtionship, with one of the five bishops, the highest rank within the Holy Church after the Holy Priestess, being Katya¡¯s uncle. Did he marry her to somewhat repair the broken rtionship between the Church and imperial family? I think of the towering, imposing character of my father, especially the first time I had ever seen his majestic self. I was terribly frightened by the sight of Emperor Helio seated upon his throne, his cutthroat yet cavalier handsomeness very much like that of a cobra, its deadliness adorned by its glorious scales.

    Perhaps my father and I are alike, chained to a destiny neither of us chose. I never asked to be a princess in this deadly game of power. He never asked for these checks and bnces to his imperial might. But my pity doesn¡¯tst long, as Emperor Helio had the initial choice to go down this path. I didn¡¯t.

    The icy state of the carriage practically lowers the interior temperature despite the summer heat filtering in through the shimmering ss windows. I can feel both Julia and Empress Katya sending waves of hatred and malignant thoughts in my direction. Well mostly from Julia and her beady little eyes. When I looked up briefly, Katya had a somewhat detached look, the same zed effect in her eyes that I often spy before she ¡®lovingly¡¯ beats me. It scares me right into staring out the window once more.

    When we return my father exits first, then Augustus. After which, Empress Katya, Julia, and Julian slowly exit and return to their luxurious dwellings deep within the borate pce grounds. Julian doesn¡¯t cast his annoying puppy dog look in my direction, which I appreciate. For someone who was a grown man before transmigrating, he is far too attached to his psychotic mother. Or perhaps, he recognizes that my unofficial investiture instead of Julia could be detrimental to his chances of making it to the throne. I decide to be optimistic and assume it¡¯s the first.

    .....

    As is custom, I amst to leave, the footmen looking rather bored as they set a cushioned step for me to exit from. I do not have the same procession of attendants and servants as anyone else leaving the stables, because I am not deemed important enough to warrant it.

    A family bound by rules, tradition, and blood, both shared blood and spilled blood. I look down at my clean palms and wrists, free of any jewelry or adornment but royal nheless thanks to the precious gold jewels that are my eyes. How much blood was spilled for me to exist here as an imperial princess instead of the starving child of a foreign ve? I remember the webnovel vaguely mentions that Emperor Helio killed several extended members of the imperial family, even the distant offshoots with lower-ranking titles and quiet wealth. Indirectly just by existing, my little hands are stained too.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± Marie is waiting in the small yard beside the royal stables, the grass shorn short so that any noble or royal woman wouldn¡¯t trip on her heels in the grass. Emma stands behind her like a little guard and I break out into my first genuine smile since learning the earth-shattering news that I¡¯m the chosen one, erm the promised child. I sh a quick middle finger at Empress Katya¡¯s long gone back, finally enjoying the chance to mock her for her slip up.

    Even though she hid it well, I¡¯m sure it must burn her soul to know that the fake but fancy title she was going to hand to Princess Julia on a gem-encrusted tter not only turned out to be real but also became mine! I mutter a quick thank you to Helio, who I did not believe in until that moment, for being a real one and giving me this boon. Now it¡¯s simply a question of what I¡¯m going to do with this promised child role to set myself up for life.

    ¡°Marie!! Emma!!¡± I squeak in my high pitched voice, rushing over to hug them both.

    There is a loud intake of breath as I try and fail to wrap my arms around the fluffy maid skirts. Marie smells like the roses of my pce, perhaps the only source of the floral scent that I don¡¯t hate. Living at the imperial pce has managed to ruin the most romantic flower permanently for me.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Sir Finn?¡± I mumble in Marie¡¯s skirt, my face still buried in them. I had thought for certain that he woulde to greet me with Marie and Emma.

    There is a brief silence, prompting me to look up at Marie who has a rather serious expression on her face. There is never a good reason for her ever-smiling appearance to look this way and without realizing it I hold my breath. The silent ws of dread begin to dig into my heart.

    Noticing that I am affected by her mood, Marie forces out augh but it looks fake and is just a sh of teeth.

    ¡°It is nothing to worry about, your highness. He was just summoned away urgently for a meeting with the Royal Guard. He shall return soon,¡± she says reassuring, taking my hand to lead me back to the Rose Pce.

    But if anything, her words only make me more nervous.

    I let go and step back. ¡°Urgent meeting?¡± I repeat, the sense of dread growing stronger.

    I rub my chest unconsciously and Emma nods in confirmation. The royal guards never break from their patrol unless there is a state-level emergency. And to my knowledge, there is only onerge oing event to warrant this kind of urgency.

    I feel physically ill and the sudden shift in my mood throws off my two loyalpanions.

    ¡°Do not fear, your highness, Sir Finn will return soon,¡± Marie says in an effort tofort me. But I feel freezing cold on this summer day and a bizarre urge tough. Is this Peppermint¡¯s doing? Or was this how it was meant to be in the webnovel? Because I feel more and more certain with every step, that the war with Sarsaval must have begun.

    Over ate-night cup of warm milk, the confirmation spills out in the pce, not even leaving even quiet corners uninformed. It is war indeed.

    When I hear the news, the cup in my hand shakes then tumbles from my hands, even though I held it with my strong, left hand. It is all too fresh in my mind what happened thest time Emperor Helio wasn¡¯t in the imperial pce.

    The loud crash draws in Marie. Emma, who told me the news, shifts my seat back with unexpected haste so not a single ssh of milk gets on my nightgown.

    ¡°I¡¯m so dead,¡± I mutter in my breath, shaking my head with a half-grin on my face although there¡¯s noughter in my heart. It¡¯s the kind of tired amusement one has when they realize that all theirbor, all their toil was for naught.

    My instincts were spot on from the start. I look at the messily scrawled message sitting on the delicate coffee table beside me, the cheap ink bleeding in some ces and still not fully dry. It¡¯s from one of Marie¡¯s old friends who works in theundry department and informs me crudely of whatever news she hears from the talkative lot she works with.

    There are but a few words on the page, but I can interpret what she¡¯s saying with ease since I¡¯m supplemented by what I read in the webnovel:

    The traitorous baron who escaped to Sarsaval not long ago has managed to prompt the neighboring kingdom not only to fight for its long lost territory, but against the entire Erudian Empire. Sarsaval boasts of its new secret weaponry capable of ripping several grown men to shreds within seconds and already has forces set to march across the border and into the Dredgen Woods.

    I let out a loud, shaky breath as I reread thest line of the note, iming that my father and the crown prince will be leaving for the frontlines being set up in Belhelm with great haste as soon as dawn alights the sky. It is already dark outside and by the time it is light, I shall be abandoned here in the great, beautiful prison with a tantalizing prize everyone wishes to snatch from me.

    I simrly recall that Sarsaval directly borders the duchy of Avernall within which Belhelm is a prominent city, so Sir Finn will no doubt be leaving with the earliest forces as well. The implications for me are grave, so much so that my selfish self has not even begun topute what war means in this era of cannons and swords for themon people.

    If the cookie-cutter words of my textbooks held any truth, it will be brutal and ugly, an utter devastation upon thend. A devastation I will never live to see if I stay here in the pce.

    There is a knock on my door, the first one I¡¯ve heard in a while that is not from Marie or Emma. Usually, the maids here just barge in without care toplete their duties.

    ¡°Come in!¡± I say cheerily, slowly shifting the long victorian style nightgown over the broken shards of my teacup on the ground that reflects my current mental state.

    A maid peeks her head in, a cute teenager with buck teeth and a more trustworthy face than the other maids of my pce.

    ¡°Hello, your highness. Is there anything you may require before turning in for the evening?¡± she asks dutifully, the very picture of an obedient servant.

    It¡¯s the treatment I¡¯ve always deserved from the careless maids of the Rose Pce who always ignore my existence, but now it sends tremors running down my spine. This is nothing but a welfare check disguised as a maid doing her job. Perhaps a quick look to see if I know the critical news and whether I¡¯m going to run. It makes my mouth go dry with terror as I appease the maid quickly and she shuts the door with a satisfied expression.

    My paranoia induces me to believe that I suddenly feel something thin and cold against the back of my neck and I p it frantically, drawing a troubled gaze from Marie and Emma who cast worried nces at me aftering to the same dark conclusion as myself.

    I can already feel the guillotine carving mercilessly into my tiny neck. Because I know for a fact that if I do not leave the imperial pce within the next 24 hours, tomorrow¡¯s sunrise will be thest I shall ever live to see.

 Chapter 70

    ?Chapter 70: Ch. 70: Call Me Houdini

    I could hear the girl¡¯s cries still echo in my ears when I awoke before the sun. Sleep was eager to elude me, instead the familiar cries of the book Winter haunting me the way it used to in the past. Her back was turned from me, her white hair in frayed knots tumbling to the ground as shey crumpled and defeated.

    I had spent much of thest knight with Marie and Emma, packing nondescript cloth bags that were easy to carry on our person and full of warm wool dresses, easily stored provisions, and gold coins stealthily sewn into the clothes so they wouldn¡¯t jingle and make a racket. If I were a few years older, I¡¯m certain I would have dark circles that resembled a roon. A loud yawn escapes my mouth and I hastily crawl from the bed.

    Emma, who was napping on the small sofa near the firece perks up instantly from the noise. I nod in greeting, too nervous to even speak loudly.

    ¡°When do you think would be a good time to leave?¡± I ask Emma in a low voice as we begin to braid my obnoxiously long ice colored locks into twin braids.

    ¡°Half past seven.¡±

    My lips twist into a lovely little frown. ¡°Sote?¡± I mutter, looking outside at the cover of darkness that still hangs over the ominous morning.

    ¡°Yes, your highness. The guard rotates at the time and vignce is at its lowest,¡± Emma reports.

    ¡°You are too good,¡± I exim in appreciation, shaking my head in disbelief and nearly ruining our work.

    .....

    ¡°Oh, my bad,¡± I whisper shyly as she catches the braid that went flying out of her hand. ¡°You know Emma, you really are the best. For real. The MVP!¡±

    ¡°MVP?¡± she inquires softly, the flickering candle making her cheeks look so squeezable that I have to mp my hands around my french braid to resist the urge.

    ¡°Most valuable yer! I don¡¯t know what I would do without you,¡± I say sappily, feeling so oddly touched at this kid¡¯s loyalty to me. The children in this world, save for my siblings, are the sole gems in this world.

    ¡°You can give me money, your highness,¡± Emma replies without missing a beat, dousing my excitement. How could I forget this girl¡¯s obsession with money? If I weren¡¯t so poor, I would give her heaps of the precious gold stuff, but right now I¡¯m quiet strapped for cash.

    ¡°Ahah yes, of course,¡± I can already feel my meager coin purse crying. Arabe¡¯s is still new and untested in Radovalsk¡¯s elite social circles. ording to the webnovel, it is only when the most eligible debutante of the following year¡¯s social season wears a dress from the humble East Bend store that its name bes worshipped amongst the nobility. But for now, my initial investment and following expenses have only been a drain on my finances.

    The braids are soon finished and Emma¡¯s short ck bob doesn¡¯t require anything so we just sit tensely in the semi-darkness, trading small jokes as the morning light slowly filters in. The dress I wear is a casual one, the standard navy color nondescript along with tanned leather boots that are good for long-distance walking. Marie brings in bread and jam for breakfast and we all engage in a silent waiting game. I have already begun to feel unsafe after the emperor and the crown prince¡¯s hasty departure

    ¡°Time?¡± I ask, chewing on my thumbnail.

    ¡°7:15, your highness.¡±

    ¡°Time?¡± I ask hurriedly again barely two minutester.

    ¡°7:17, your highness,¡± Marie answers with the patient of a saint. She pats my head softly as we sit in the room, calming down my heartbeat which is running like a stallion.

    ¡°You remember what to say, right Marie? Just y dumb. Pretend you don¡¯t realize that I left,¡± I remind my loyal nursemaid with a pleading gaze.

    It would be much easier for two children who are often overlooked

    ¡°I naturally remember, your highness. Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t disappoint you,¡± Marie replies. She begins to help me tie on the matching white apron and cap I¡¯m going to wear over my dress for our grand escape, when a knock sounds at the door once more.

    ¡°Come in!¡± I yell, tossing the apron, cap, and bags under my bed at lightning speed and jumping onto the covers in a casual manner. My hands are clenched tight behind my back as the same maid fromst night pops in and drops into a quick curtsey, looking sweet as ever.

    ¡°Her Majesty wishes to see you, your highness,¡± the maid says with a smile adding an open me to the dry kindling that is my mood.

    By some miracle, I manage not to let my expression twitch, maintaining a cheerful grin as I respond, ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll be right down in a moment, just let me put on my shoes.¡±

    Emma, Marie, and I share a look at one another as our hastily nned but effective n goes down the trashcan.

    ¡°Time?¡± I ask once more, a faint warble in my voice as I slowlyce my boots up.

    ¡°7:23, your highness.¡±

    Sweat hangs on my brow, but it¡¯s not from the warm weather outside. I clench my jaw tightly as I run through a thousand and one scenarios in my head, anxiously trying to find one that will bring Emma and I safely out of the pce in the next 10 minutes.

    ¡°Think, think, think...¡± I mutter repetitively. But shes of the empress¡¯ serene smile before she punishes me cut in between my harried thoughts without warning. My palms be slick and sweaty, causing theces of my boots to slip from my tiny fingers not once, but twice.

    My eyes wander the room to and fro, the way one¡¯s eyes do when their thoughts move faster than a car down a racetrack. The light summer curtains, recently opened by Marie to let light in, glint off something from the ground. It¡¯s a sharp of the teacup I brokest night.

    And just like that, I suddenly have a brilliantly stupid, yet nostalgic n of escape.

    ¡°Team huddle,¡± I call out with open arms, Marie and Emma leaning in close as I whisper a few quick words. I know that if I don¡¯te out soon, the empress¡¯ spy will get suspicious and be extra vignt on our way to the pce, or even worse, bring more spies to supervise.

    We exit the room in quickly and I send a sharp nod to Marie, tears pricking my eyes as I realize this will be thest time I¡¯m going to see her for a while. I don¡¯t know how long this war willst or how long my father will be away from the imperial pce. At the moment, I can¡¯t even guarantee I¡¯ll make it to Belhelm in one piece.

    ¡°Godspeed, your highness,¡± she whispers as she pulls me in for a surprise hug, her warm Marie sent reminding of the first time we met when I first came to the pce. We¡¯ve seen each other almost every day since and not waking up to Marie¡¯s upbeat personality will be jarring for me.

    ¡°I¡¯ll miss you so much, Marie,¡± I whisper fiercely into her skirts, my words barely audible to her ears. Then we separate and I walk down the stairs with Emma as Marie goes to a previously discussed location. The maid smiles at us by the door and we obediently follow to Sunrise Pce, a path I¡¯ve taken many times before and one that has always ends in blood, even including today.

    It is just us on the path, the cheery maid almost trots down the path, asionally looking back to smile at me and make sure I¡¯m following. I take a deep breath before Iunch into the performance of my career. Gradually, I first let the smile fall from my face. Then, I bite my lip hard enough that I sweat from the effort of holding my tears back and appear pasty and ill. Emma, the soulless, frigid, yet lovable girl that she always is, dies a quick death.

    Brown eyes are shoved an inch from my face, running over my whole body frantically.

    ¡°Your highness? Your highness? What¡¯s the matter? Please tell me!¡± she half-yells fearfully, clutching my arm so that we bothe to a standstill. The location is no ident. ording to Emma, it¡¯s the closest path the section of the perimeter gate that faces the streets. I don¡¯t have a clock nearby, but it must be 7:30 by now. This is our only opportunity to leave.

    I hold my stomach and heave slightly as if I¡¯m about to throw up my breakfast. The maid hears Emma cries and doubles back quickly to look over me. There is an undisguised urgency that twinkles in her eye, one that she doesn¡¯t cover fast enough as sheys her hand on my other arm.

    ¡°Oh?¡± she exims in surprise and false worry, ¡°Your highness, you aren¡¯t feeling well? You must hurry on to Sunrise Pce then, so mayy down and not let her Majesty feel worried.¡±

    We are much closer to my pce than the empress¡¯ pce, but of course a spy would not mention that delicate little detail.

    ¡°Emma...¡± I whine out, allowing the first tears to well up in my eyes pitifully, ¡°I don¡¯t feel good. I-I don¡¯t feel well at all.¡±

    My acting is so good I can see Emma raise her brows briefly and look over me carefully, before carrying on with the ruse.

    ¡°You weren¡¯t feeling well in your room, why didn¡¯t you insist on postponing meeting with her Majesty?¡± Emma asks me with false concern.

    ¡°I-I didn¡¯t want to disappoint my mother,¡± I answer weakly. Besides, I had faked being sick once to get out of being beaten. It resulted in double to beatings the following encounter. The maid gives a faint tug to my arm, but I double down in the act, pretending to sway right where I¡¯m standing.

    ¡°Oh! Your highness, hold onto your consciousness!¡± Emma yells loudly, making a mountain out of a molehill. I look Emma in the eye and she looks back at mine, ready to wrap up the show.

    The previous cheer on the maid¡¯s face is long gone and I can see her wrangle with a decision in her mind, a stony, unforgiving look in her eye. She makes up her mind, I can tell when she does, because she bends over to pick me up right where I¡¯m standing.

    ¡°Righty then, your highness. I shall carry you over as quickly as possible so an imperial physician can examine you- oh my goodness!¡±

    With the strength I would use to tear into a set of delicious baby back ribs in my past life, my teeth ravage my tongue unforgivingly, fat tears rolling continuously down my face as blood fills my mouth. Then I dramatically lean over and heave the blood from my mouth, allowing it to mix with my saliva for a truly gruesome sight.

    There¡¯s an illness that has been the bane of the poor and impoverished in the Erudian Empire for a long time, the bloody flux. An illness that consists of constantly throwing up blood from your decaying organs and has an expensive treatment n that not everyone can afford, any average citizen with an ounce of sense avoids those gued with it like, well the gue.

    And this spy of a maid is no exception. Dropping my arm like a hot potato, she jumps away and stares in horror at the never ending blood and spit pouring out of my mouth. Emma just stands beside me and periodically yells, ¡°Your highness!¡± as I follow through with my gross scene. I look up shakily at the maid and wide, terrified eyes stare back at me, satisfying something dark inside me. I wipe at my mouth, allowing the red liquid to generously cover my palm then reach towards her.

    ¡°Help me!¡± I wail sorrowfully. I rush in to hug her but the maid leaps onto the manicuredwn beside the pathway as if the floor isva and bolts. I was expecting a little more resistance, but when Emma hands me a handkerchief to wipe away at my hands and face, I realize that the scene was indeed quite messy for an unsuspecting viewer.

    Running while wiping away enough blood for a murder scene is as difficult as it sounds, not to mention my tongue is on fire.

    ¡°Ah, fuck! That really hurts!¡± I whine, although my words aren¡¯t legible as I stuck the handkerchief in my mouth until my tongue stops bleeding.

    ¡°I told you that I could cut my palm for the fake blood, your highness. There was no need for this,¡± Emma says calmly as we cut away from the path and start foraging through immacte hedges and bushes.

    We pass an exotic flower garden, then another, weaving through sections of the vast imperial pce that I¡¯ve never seen. Yet Emma knows it like the back of her hand. I almost don¡¯t me her sky high rates, she has been my best friend andpanion since I¡¯vee here.

    ¡°Yes, but why should you have to get wounded on my ount? And how on earth would I have spit it up? It would look strange if I kissed your palm before spitting out blood. This was they only way. Ack! idently bit my goddamn tongue again!¡± Iin.

    Near a certain bush, we both slow down, shoving our arms deep into the plush greenery until our hands meet with familiar objects. I smile, despite the pain radiating from my mouth. Marie came through, hiding our bags at a specific location near the edge of the pce gates. At the post where a guard would normally stand, no one is there. We are on time. I look left and right, but no onees running at us with spears or yells.

    Emma seems to be in simr disbelief as we speedily army crawl under the fence, the ck iron scratching at our backs and nearly tearing our dresses. Emma¡¯s cap and gown have now simrly been left behind and we stand up with shared expressions of shock.

    ¡°You did it,¡± she says, the words seeming toe out involuntarily as we huff for breath in a speedy run through the winding alleys away from the pce.

    I hold my bloody, spit covered handkerchief in one hand and take hold of Emma¡¯s with the other.

    ¡°No, we did it,¡± I reply warmly, feeling more kinship with this stony girl than I¡¯ve ever felt with my real family.

 Chapter 71

    Chapter 71: Ch. 71: The Ugly Side of Arranged Marriages

    My mouth hurts like a bitch as we constantly move further and further away from the imperial pce. I¡¯ve been, forck of a better term, sitting on my ass the entire time I¡¯ve been in this world. Thest time I properly ran was in myst life when I was trying to beat the line to the delicious taco food truck that came to our university campus every Wednesday. Not to mention, I¡¯m a tiny kid probably stuck in the single-digit percentile for both height and weight so I¡¯m covering very little ground with each step.

    Bile and saliva mix with the blood, creating a disgusting iron and sour vor in my mouth that I discreetly spit out when we pause for a break in a discreet alleyway tucked between two oppressive mansions that house individuals I probably saw at the Spring Ball. Emma looks ready to go, her head swiveling left and right as she keeps an eye out for private guards, while I stagger weakly on myst legs, ready to melt into a pool of jelly. After she politely waits for me to take a generous swig from the simple leather canisters of water we brought, her bouncing feet are ready to take off once more.

    ¡°Hold on! Wait! Time out!¡± I cry out, heavy breaths breaking up each word.

    I know she¡¯s been secretly spying on the royal guard and training herself in swordsmanship but they must be prepping for the Olympics with the way there isn¡¯t even a hair out of ce or a hint of redness on her cheeks. My face is burning hot and I¡¯m certain a splotchy mess courtesy of this cardio and the sun.

    ¡°Our odds of getting caught remain high if we don¡¯t get somewhere safe, your highness,¡± Emma countered, picking up my cloth satchel from the ground and slinging it over my shoulder. I look at her dark eyes, suddenly feeling as if I¡¯m witnessing the spirit of my high school PE teacher inside her.

    Mr. Church, is that you in there, reincarnated just like me?

    It doesn¡¯t help when the sun crawls higher and higher into the sky, setting an ufortable, oppressive heat for us as we move as quickly as we can on foot. Between the imperial pce and themon areas ordinary civilians frequent, there are several streets with heightened security, before evolving into higher-end, quiet neighborhoods with streets you could eat a meal off of and solemn mansions the upper ss dwell in.

    .....

    I may live in the imperial pce, but the trappings of wealth still elude me as they did in my past life. I felt ufortable in the alley, knowing the ignoramus living in the home beside me, eating luxury meals of tes of fine china andining about not having enough gold tickets to buy the dress they want for the social season, instead of running for their lives. Yet if I had reincarnated into one of them, would I be as critical as I am now?

    The excitement of escaping from the pce is quick to leave in the midst of pain, disappointment, and painful reality checking. The two of us around lunchtime make a pitstop at Arabe¡¯s, the luxury boutique¡¯s mauve awnings a wee sight. The twinge in my boot-covered feet with each step makes me miss stealing a ride in Julian¡¯s carriage to East Bend rather than making all those miles by foot.

    ¡°Is it just me, or does it look abandoned in there?¡± I ask cautiously, leaning close to the window disying an exquisite chartreuse evening gown. Within the store, instead of the two assistants bustling around like usual, the luxury clothing store appears to be closed.

    ¡°We didn¡¯t get the hours wrong, did we?¡± I lean back in confusion, mopping sweat off my forehead as I meander around the storefront as inconspicuously as possible.

    ¡°We have the correct time, your highness,¡± Emma replies, tapping on the windows.

    ¡°Shh!¡± I exim with a finger to my lips.

    But suddenly we can spy movement from within the store, a shadowy figure moving towards the clear ss and pine wood french doors to stare at us before the familiar click of an unlocked door sounded. One of the assistants, a pretty, dark-haired girl whose hair was neatly coiffed and nails were clean leaned outside.

    ¡°She said you woulde. Pandora?¡± Her demeanor is unfriendly and she cocks an eyebrow at our strange appearance.

    ¡°Um... yes. That is us,¡± I say hastily, taking the lead as we step inside to a thankfully cool interior. She is kind enough to offer us a ss of water, one that is much warmer than the crude thermoses we are carrying and we both chug it down gratefully.

    ¡°So where is Lady Arabe?¡± I ask. ¡°As a representative for her investor, I find it rather odd that she isn¡¯t in at the moment.¡±

    ¡°Yes, that is why I¡¯ve been here waiting for you,¡± the assistant said. The showroom of the store was empty of its usual disy and she leaned back casually against a wall with a sigh.

    ¡°Lady Arabe¡¯s gone to be married.¡±

    ¡°Married?¡± I almost yell before I can help myself. Arabe couldn¡¯t be more than 20 thest time I saw her, which in my world, would be quite young to tie the knot. But I adjust my expression quickly, resorting to shaking my head on the inside. I recall the empress¡¯ machinations in tying Lady Arabe and Sir Berrick together to strengthen her faction¡¯s power in the army thanks to Lady Arabe¡¯ste war hero father, and my heart falls at Arabe¡¯s plight.

    ¡°Yep. The guy¡¯s a real prick and wanted to get it done in a quick ceremony at the Holy Church. From the way herst letter went, she must be wed by now,¡± the assistant answers, her mouth pressed in an unhappy line.

    A fierce banging rings across the front door and I almost bang my head on the ceiling with the height that I jumped. Emma and I are on edge, her hand skirting the hidden pocket in her skirt with a dagger. If it¡¯s the imperial pce guards that Katya has sent after me, I won¡¯t return without a fight.

    ¡°Wait!¡± I hiss to the assistant as she trots over to the door. But she opens it before my words are heeded, throwing back a confused expression towards me as Lady Arabe tumbles in. A in coach, not at all fit for a noble family, looms near the entrance and quickly rides away after she enters.

    Her arms wrap around her assistant and a painful wailes from the young woman. Her clothes are drab and not that of a young, newly married madam. The dull gray walking set, a proper structured jacket paired with a full hoop skirt, appears like something that would suit the fancy of my stern former governess as opposed to a bright youth. Her bo, the same steely gray, tumbles from her head in the fervent embrace, revealing a splotchy red face from excessive tears. Her under eyes are so dark it looks like someone wiped soot across them, and they stand out even more due to the weak pallor of her once tan skin.

    ¡°Lady Arabe, how do you do?¡± I ask to be polite, although even a blind man would be able to tell that Lady Arabe, now formally Lady Berrick, is very much not doing well.

    ¡°I can¡¯t go back there! Holy Akira, that ce is hell!¡± she sobs, her tears falling continuously like a waterfall.

    The concerned assistant guides Lady Arabe to a chair, giving her the same ss of cool water as Arabe¡¯s hysterics slowly diminish.

    ¡°There¡¯s to be a war,¡± Arabe states matter of factly between hups, drawing a gasp from the assistant. Although Emma and I already knew, we make a bit of show, covering our mouths and staring at one another in disbelief.

    ¡°That man, that ¨C hic! ¨C that animal!¡± Arabe shivers inly as if even in the dark-colored long sleeve jacket on a summer¡¯s day, she is still cold. His eyes when he looks at me every night. If it weren¡¯t for the fact that he was called to the frontier in Belhelm ¨C hic! ¨C this very morning, why I fear...,¡± her hands shake around her ss of cold water and the assistant removes it from her hand and sets it on a tea table nearby. A sliver of bruise flesh peeps out between her glove and sleeve, making me feel nauseous.

    Visions of what my mother had endured at the hands of bad boyfriends sh through my mind and despite my abject fear of the mountainous Sir Berrick, I desperately wish I could nt a fist in his demonic face. Abuse. An ugly five-letter word. It seems that for some, this war could be a blessing.

    ¡°The things he did... I never thought marriage would be this way. I will just stay in this shop and never leave! He will have to pry me out of here whenever hees back!¡± Arabe exims emphatically, wiping her face off messily with a handkerchief embroidered with a horse.

    Spying the animal, I suddenly leaned in closer, curious if it was the famous Percheron horse of the Mulworth Duchy, Duchess Taylor¡¯s emblem. But my lean-in was caught by the assistant, who was already suspicious of us prior.

    ¡°Hmph. Since you can see that Lady Berrick is indisposed at the moment, do return at ater date,¡± she orders us, her body in front of the former Lady Arabe Westmont protectively.

    At her new title of Lady Berrick, Lady Arabe nched.

    ¡°Just call me Lady Arabe! Not Lady Berrick, the name of my beastly husband. And most definitely not Lady Westmont, that cursed family name that caused all this,¡± she fusses, fresh tears spilling over again.

    I open my mouth, but nothinges out. What can I say? This isn¡¯t myst life, where it was easy to up and move if you don¡¯t like your partner. As far as I know, a marriage sanctioned by the empress is unbreakable unless you approach the empress to dissolve it.

    Emma tugs at my hand bringing me back to the present.

    ¡°Then please excuse us, Lady Arabe,¡± I say softly, tactfully calling her by her first name, rather unusual in a culture that addresses women by their maiden names or married names.

    Perhaps sorry to kick two little kids out, Lady Arabe¡¯s gaze soften, her red-tinged hazel eyes focusing on us.

    ¡°Tell Pandora that I¡¯ll work in the shop as much as I can now that my husband is gone to the battlefront. And I¡¯ll try to set up a way to send in my designs so they¡¯re still made even when I¡¯m... at my husband¡¯s residence,¡± she ends her statement bitterly, her fingers wrapping fiercely around the handkerchief in her hand as if it¡¯s Sir Berrick¡¯s neck.

    I shake my head. ¡°No, don¡¯t worry about the contract and the shop. Just... take all the time you need, mdy,¡± I reply awkwardly but firmly. I see shades of my mother, Dolores, in her and I wished that my mom wouldn¡¯t have had to worry about supporting us financially despite the struggles we faced at home.

    We leave in a far more somber mood than we were when we came in, my spirits only slightly lifting as we exit thevish neighborhoods in exchange for the constant flit and hum of busy city streets. Today reaffirms my desire for my own power because deep down, I know that Young Lord Wolfe was right.

    I do need to power to change my fate and fight for my unsteady future. But watching Lady Arabe sob over the shambles of her destroyed life and not being able to give any falsefort, I realize that I also need the power to help change other people¡¯s fate¡¯s for the better.

 Chapter 72

    Chapter 72: Ch. 72: A Weird Kid Named Jack

    I can only temporarily forget today¡¯s madness when the marketce, the same one I saw on the fateful day the royal guard stormed Bianca¡¯s little home, unfolds before us.

    The lively atmosphere, with the fragrant spices from all over the empire reaching my nose, and the colorful expressions on the painted masks hung in wooden kiosks, this market feels more like a ce I could get used to than the frigid pce.

    The first order of business is buying a map, the pricey hand-drawn information costing a little more than Emma and I expected. But we don¡¯t have a choice in the matter. Making it to Belhelm is a matter of life and death. The precious scrap of paper, with eye-popping colors delineating between busy roads, quiet shortcuts, dangerous passes, and bodies of water, is even more useful than I could¡¯ve anticipated.

    ¡°The attention to detail on this,¡± I marvel, turning it around in my hands as I observe the straight lines and drawings. Even if we go hungry a couple of days from now, with this treasure in our hands, it¡¯s totally worth it.

    I look up to see Emma¡¯s head in the clouds, her head slowly swiveling side to side and taking in the sights. I grin a bit despite myself, the only child in me suddenly feeling like I¡¯ve gained a younger sibling. The confusion in her eyes is positively adorable when I get on my tiptoes and ruffle her ck bob a little.

    In the busy terrain that the capital¡¯s marketce is, I have a simple cap on, not particrly unusual as this is a ce where street urchins and average people move about in unison. I can see street stall owners pass a cursory, suspicious nce over us, perhaps to see if we look like the thieving type, before they move on to smile and call for potential customers.

    ¡°They¡¯re looking to see if we are impoverished snatchers or belong to a street gang, your highness,¡± Emma answers my silent question as we move unhindered.

    .....

    ¡°And what do they see?¡± I ask, curious for her insight.

    ¡°We are clean, clothed properly without holes, and don¡¯t wear a red or blue armband. They feel that they have nothing to worry about.¡± It¡¯s true. Aside from the minimal dried kes of blood around my mouth, we must look quite ordinary.

    My tongue is still stinging and the swelling has made it so fat that speaking feels a tad difficult. But the difficulties we are undergoing do little to diminish my spirit now that my entire being has escaped like a canary from the cage that is the imperial pce.

    I catch Emma once more surveying the area suspiciously when we catch a break, leaning against some crates of fish with an overly fragrant aroma thanks to the hot sun.

    I pinch my nose and finally say, ¡°It¡¯s alright, Emma. Empress Katya won¡¯t announce my departure from the pce so we won¡¯t be hunted down by foot. What do you keep looking around so avidly for?¡±

    ¡°My friend, your highness,¡± Emma says solemnly. Her hand flutters around the pocket of her dress, where I know her dagger is hidden.

    ¡°Is he a good friend? And how would he even know to find us?¡± I inquire carefully. The afternoon sun bears down on my pale skin, turning it a splotchy red that¡¯s a bit itchy. I dreadfully miss my stunning tan skin from my previous life, which only bronzed under the sun.

    I have faith in Emma not to endanger us and to have good judgment, but at the end of the day, we are 2 kids in a dangerous world. My jaw clenches as I find myself looking around as well.

    ¡°Where is he? Why did you invite him? Did you not have faith we could make it on our own?¡± I ask a bit harshly, standing up from crates so quickly that the top one nearly falls over. My intense questioning falls t as I bnce the smelly container, fish juices pouring over my exposed hands.

    Emma is nice enough to rinse my hands off with a bit of water. ¡°You won¡¯t find him by looking, your highness,¡± she murmurs the faintest hint of augh in her voice. I look at her incredulously. Did this stoney little girl sound... amused? But her face doesn¡¯t crack or blush as I stare skeptically.

    ¡°When Jack wants you to know he¡¯s here, you¡¯ll know,¡± she trails off. My hands still stink up a storm, but at the very least they are semi-clean.

    ¡°So... what¡¯s the signal going to be then? A re? A g?¡± I try to pry answers from Emma but her lips are sealed tighter than Fort Knox.

    ¡°Ok, or just don¡¯t tell me. That¡¯s totally fine too,¡± I pout, leaning back on the crates as if it didn¡¯t nearly fall on me a minute prior. A faint breeze runs through the busy market, cooling off the intensity of the heat to a pleasurable level. A yawn escapes my mouth, then another. I¡¯m about to drift off tolnd for a short nap when I hear the first cry.

    ¡°Fire! Fire! Quick some water!¡± a shop owner cries, the oil slick rags he¡¯s beating his kabobs with doing little to temper the mes.

    Emma stands up from where she had been seated still as a rock for the past hour, her shadow the only thing moving as time ticked by. Seeing her move, I put two and two together.

    ¡°Oh! Oh, so this is the signal? That¡¯s... original...¡± my voice trails off as our originally peaceful corner of the market dissolves into mayhem. Syed over several blocks and intersected with the actual stores on the streets, the marketce is a sprawling bem of metropolitan life and while hectic, maintained a degree of calm. But that veneer is gone, as one stall after another suddenly catch fire, prompting shrieks and cries of unholy interference.

    ¡°Holy Akira! I knew I should¡¯ve gone to massst weekend. Helio, forgive me!¡± a portly man rushes past, abandoning his crude pastry cart in the din. Standing behind Emma, who truly is my Prince Charming, we retreat into an alley as the area clears out in minutes, revealing one calm soul who is drinking in the scene generously.

    ck boots, rolled-up brown trousers, off-kilter suspenders with one tumbling off his shoulder, and a worn zer 2 sizes too big. All topped off with the signature smile of a kid getting too big for his britches. Jack. Clever Jack, he says. I nearly snort, but my years in the imperial pce have tempered my snarkiness somewhat. I¡¯m sure my eyes are thoroughly disapproving though.

    ¡°Hmm, what fun have you brought today Emma? It¡¯s been dreadfully boring down at the Gold District without your quick hands. Finally seen that the high life isn¡¯t all it¡¯s cracked up to be and decided to rough it with us?¡± the brat asks, hardly appearing to be any older than Emma yet still trying his hardest to sound slick.

    This time, the snort doese out.

    Warm chestnut eyes wander over to where I am, the gaze surprisingly jaded for someone as young as he is.

    ¡°So...,¡± he asks Emma without looking away from me, ¡°This is the passenger you were referring to?¡±

    ¡°Yes. My... sister,¡± she replies. My heart swells at her response.

    Jack looks between the two of us incredulously, a mocking smirk hanging from his lips. Without much ado, he leans back and breaks into an obnoxiousugh, one that is easily heard in the abandoned, burning section of the marketce and is echoed by the young cronies behind him. His mouth opens wide and his teeth appear extra white, like theugh of a conman before he fleeces you for all you¡¯ve got.

    ¡°Are we iming rtions with strangers now, Emma? I think you know better than I who your real siblings are,¡± he sauntered close, looking at Emma with a daring look as he entered her personal space. Emma, who has always been my favorite little stoic, finally expresses a little emotion, her lips pulling into a straight line. Jack¡¯s hit a nerve.

    With the proximity between the two kids, I have the opportunity to stare hard at them both. Jack has inky ck hair that curlszily at the ends, the long tendrils sitting unruly on his head like a little pirate in training. It echoes Emma¡¯s ck hair and suddenly I feel like I can see a mild resemnce in their arched brows and cupid¡¯s bow. My eyes widen involuntarily, wondering if I¡¯ve just met one of Emma¡¯s immediate rtives.

    ¡°Oh no, passenger. We aren¡¯t blood siblings,¡± he waves azy finger between the two of them. ¡°Just cousins.¡±

    ¡°Distant,¡± Emma spits out.

    ¡°But her real siblings they¡¯re,¡± Jack spins in a dramatic circle before pointing his finger to the ground. ¡°Down there! With the rest of the family. Isn¡¯t that right, Emma?¡±

    The two stare hard at each other, Jack¡¯s infuriating smile driving home his statement. The brat leans in close again, a master at pushing buttons. It seems that we may have a budding basket case on our hands if he isn¡¯t considered one already.

    ¡°Enough. If Emma wanted a recap of her family history, I¡¯m sure her own memories will suffice. Now back up before your breath makes this narrow alleyway unbearable,¡± I finally cut in, unable to take the silent stare off any longer.

    Jack obliges, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he backs out of the narrow gap, expertly maneuvering around a barrel in his way. His eyes glint with renewed interest as he looks at me the way a kid would look at a new toy.

    ¡°Quite the friend, huh?¡± I mutter to Emma as I strut past her out in the market. To my surprise, the mes are already dying down and everything seemsrgely unharmed. Aside from the well-cooked kebabs, the kebab stand appears as it did before, only this time without customers.

    Jack grabs a jam-filled pastry from the pudgy man¡¯s cart, taking two wolfish bites as he looks over me.

    ¡°Who is she?¡± he asks between his loathsome, open-mouthed chewing, using the but end of the pasty to point at me.

    ¡°She¡¯s with me,¡± Emma answered, crossing her arms over her chest.

    ¡°I can tell,¡± Jack replies as if coaxing a baby. ¡°But does she have a name? I can¡¯t very well call her passenger the whole time can I?¡±

    ¡°The passenger¡¯s name is Maria. Clever Maria, since we seem to be handing out titles easily these days,¡± I reply snidely, walking past Jack to grab a snack on my own. The bread and cheese in my own pack will definitely get tiresome so I might as well enjoy the variety early in the journey while I can.

    Emma jerks slightly at my choice of name, perhaps assuming I am honoring Marie with it. If only she knew where the name reallyes from.

    ¡°Well then, passenger,¡± Jack stands up and dusts his hands off as he enunciates the p, ¡°where can I take you? And what are you doing with our beloved crew member?¡±

    ¡°Crew member?¡± I answer.

    Jack grins, his adult teeth too big for his mouth and ruining the menacing effect he was going for.

    ¡°Dear cousin, do you mean to tell me that you never told your dear new sister of your past?¡±

    For the first time since we met that fateful day at Sunset Pce, I see Emma¡¯s face nch.

 Chapter 73

    Chapter 73: Ch. 73: Aunt M

    TW: Panic attack

    Not too many miles away, donning a light coat that covered her maid¡¯s frock, Marie stood at a harbor, the salty wash hitting her smiling face. A paper was clutched to her chest and the middle-aged woman was practically jumping for joy as she waited expectantly with other eager mothers, fathers, wives, and children.

    ¡°Quite frankly, I can¡¯t believe that the ship ¡®ad the nerve to make a detour before arrivin¡¯. Don¡¯t none of these merchant mongrels realize that the passengers they be helpin¡¯ to transport are more important than some goods?¡± An old man blowing thick smoke from his pipe scowled as he cursed the ship everyone was waiting for.

    ¡°Hon, haven¡¯t I told you not to curse the ship our son is currently on? That merchant ship is the only transport from the north to the capital. It¡¯s already our blessing that they are always willing to take a few passengers with them.¡±

    ¡°Oh, bullocks. It¡¯s a scheme and everyone ¡®ere is in on it!¡± He waved off his patient wife, pointing the chewed on end of his pipe towards the waiting crowd in suspicion.

    ¡°It¡¯s here! It¡¯s here! I can see it!¡± someone cried in excitement, distracting Marie from the old man¡¯s words as theypletely slipped from her mind. Her heart felt full, eager to see the nephew that she hadn¡¯t embraced since he was as tall as her knee.

    Marie had found that she hade to be quite blessed in herter years, even without a child or husband of her own. From meeting the princess whom she loved like a daughter to waiting for the nephew she hadn¡¯t seen in years finallying to visit her. But the joy didn¡¯t distract the erratic pulse of her heart, which wished to follow Princess Winter on her harrowing journey. Marie could barely breathe that very morning when Princess Winter had fled the imperial pce. Marie knew that she was a simple woman, but she wasn¡¯tpletely stupid.

    .....

    She had been in the pce for a number of years as her gray hairs served to prove and understood the undercurrents of tension behind the glittering facade. Princess Winter¡¯s appearance had shattered the status quo, thefortable web the empress had encircled around the imperial family. And now, without any protection, the web circled closer and closer around the vulnerable little girl, forcing her to hold her wits about her as she underwent torment no other child would ordinarily recover from.

    But now, the spider was tired of ying games. Or more aptly, no longer willing to. Princess Winter was too tenacious and too lucky, able to emerge from the Empress¡¯ schemes alive and intact, which was more than what most of the Duvernay family¡¯s enemies could say ording to secretive whispers she had heard as Marie plunged her hands in soapy water. But the discovery of the princess¡¯ promised child status could not havee at a worse time and the spider couldn¡¯t tolerate the struggling fly shaking its web any longer.

    The gangnk banged onto the dock, the crowd surging to meet those who leaped off cheerfully, full of youthful spirit. Those disembarking appeared to mostly be young men, perhapsborers who traveled to work depending on the season. Marie felt troubled as she suddenly realized she didn¡¯t know what her now-adult nephew looked like and for a moment stood alone, clutching his letter to her chest like a lifeline.

    ¡°Aunt M! Aunt M!¡± a young male voice cried. The crowd suddenly seemed to part and a chipper young man jumping up and down while waving his arms was revealed. He was handsome and bright, a ruddy tan from his days out on the open sea in early summer. His clothes, while not in mint condition were fresh and clean.

    ¡°Leif,¡± Marie crooned, visions of the sweet little boy who stunk of milk merging with the chipper young man before her. Leif rushed towards her and wrapped her in arge hug, a literal breath of fresh air from the stench of fish that the other passengers had. Hot tears pricked Marie¡¯s eyes as she pulled back tough at her sister¡¯s beloved son.

    ¡°Look at you! You decided to inherit your looks solely from your father, didn¡¯t you? Naughty boy!¡± She ruffled his shaggy dark hair and took his bag from his shoulders despite emphatic protests.

    ¡°Aunt M, that¡¯s because my personality came from Mother¡¯s side of the family. And look, wouldn¡¯t you say I¡¯ve got Mother¡¯s and your eyes?¡± He shoved his wide-eyed hazel pupils in her face, winking yfully. Despite being 20 years old, Leif could almost pass as 16 with his baby face that made him all the more lovable to kind-hearted Marie, who promptly went to buy her nephew a hearty meal at a pub to fatten him up.

    ¡ª¡ª

    I finally understand why some people beat their children.

    Seeing Emma bite her lips, her eyes turning red with unshed tears for the first time since I¡¯ve met her, I¡¯m ready to choose violence and teach Jack a lesson he¡¯ll never forget.

    ¡°Emma¡¯s past is none of my business. Even if she murdered the old high priest I couldn¡¯t care less,¡± I say, gritting my teeth as I hold back my hand itching to have a go at his smirking face.

    And I¡¯m being 100% honest. I truly don¡¯t care what Emma did in her past as long as she is sincere in her friendship with me. To prove my point, I grab Emma¡¯s hand and we start walking in the opposite direction of Jack and his cronies.

    ¡°We can do this on our own, Emma. We don¡¯t need them,¡± I huff resolutely. But strangely, I¡¯m met with resistance and find myself digging my heels into the earth to push forward with each step.

    ¡°Is that so, passenger? Jack meanders closer, his handszily roosted in his pockets. ¡°You really expect to make it from here to Belhelm, two itty bitty little girls, all on their own?¡±

    He hits the nail on the head, targeting the one fact that has worried me endlessly since I began this hasty n to run away. Warning bells go off in my head, as neither Emma nor I have told Jack our destination. Jack must spy the guarded suspicion in my eye as he continues, ¡°Rx, pretty girl. These days, people are paying good money to escape from Belhelm. But if you¡¯re leaving the capital, the south and the east are too far to travel to on your own. But now I¡¯m curious, what business do you have in going to the warfront.¡±

    ¡°None of your business,¡± I snap mercilessly, crossing my arms defensively.

    ¡°Well, now it is. And if you don¡¯t tell me,¡± Jack throws his hands up helplessly, ¡°My gang and I can¡¯t use our resources to help you get where you want to go.¡±

    We lock eyes, neither kid willing to give up ground. I feel a slight modicum of respect for this brat, although I¡¯d still like to take my mom¡¯s chan to his butt. He¡¯d have a future as a cutthroatwyer in my world. Except this isn¡¯t. So I do need his help.

    ¡°My... father,¡± I bit out through a clenched jaw, annoyed to lose a verbal battle to a child much younger than my true age. ¡°He¡¯s at the front. I need to get to him.¡±

    ¡°Eh? Your dear old pops? And why couldn¡¯t you stay home? You seem to be fed decently.¡± He leans in close and obnoxiously sniffs me like a pitbull. ¡°You smell nice too, a little bit like blood though.¡±

    My tongue stings in reminder of his words.

    ¡°My mother... no, stepmother. She wants to kill me,¡± I admit.

    ¡°Oh ho! Murder! How interesting, passenger. You¡¯ll have to tell me more on the road,¡± he swallows down thest of the pastry and throwing a quick nce over his shoulder, walks down an alley with the practiced ease of a boy who knows the streets inside and out.

    ¡°On the road?¡± I mutter, my weary legs following after him even though I¡¯ve already sat around for the greater part of an hour. Judging from the sun¡¯s position in the sky, I would be turning in for a nap around now. But instead, I¡¯m about to travel cross-country with strangers. If it weren¡¯t for the fact that I¡¯ve already tied myself to this world with the gold threads only Aria can see, I would think that my old foe, Peppermint, was messing with me once more.

    ¡°What, did you think you could walk all the way to Belhelm? That would take you two years on those little legs of yours. I¡¯m already looking forward to the good stories we shall all tell on the road,¡± he finishes cockily, throwing a pointed look at an ufortable Emma who shrinks away.

    Jack: 1, Winter/Emma: 0.

    If I said I wasn¡¯t intrigued about whatever past Emma is hiding, I would be lying. She¡¯s barely 10 after all, I didn¡¯t know anyone could have a ¡®past¡¯ at that age. But it wouldn¡¯t be unusual either. Emma is resourceful, not prone to childish behavior, and possesses nimbler hands and feet than any other ordinary girl her age. I can take a few stabs in the dark about what she may have done before, but either way, it doesn¡¯t affect our sisterhood.

    To show my solidarity with Emma, I squeeze her hand that I¡¯m holding. But to my surprise, she wriggles out of my grasp and walks a short distance away from us as if we are two separate parties. I had hoped to ask for some background as to how Jack will get us to Belhelm and if he¡¯ll require any payment, but I¡¯m forced to swallow down my burning curiosity and apprehensiveness, cing my fate in the hands of a mouthy kid who thinks he¡¯s clever.

    I feel like the only person in the world, small bits of rock and trash crunch under my feet as we leave the demolished corner of the market for untraversed pastures. Even though the pce was more full of danger than ake of flesh-eating piranhas, I was somewhat used to it. I¡¯ve spent the greater part of my life indoors, with the first 5 quite literally so. In some ways, despite getting a taste of the ugliness of this world, I¡¯ve also been sheltered from the vast majority of it all. And now, after more hours of walking and watching the sun slowly retire for the night, I am forced to confront the ugly underbelly of Radovalsk.

    The paint is chipped between these buildings, then the bricky underneath is fully exposed. A violent fight on a street corner gets broken up by a constable who is a tad too generous with his club. This is Radovalsk, without the exotic goods and lively hawkers. Despite there being no chill, I rub my arms nervously, feeling goosebumps under the sleeves of my dress. I can feel Jack asionally throwing looks back at me, probably trying to figure me out as I¡¯ve been trying to figure him out. I ignore it and rub the back of my neck, although it does little to dispel the feeling like someone is watching me. I wish I was in my room right now.

    Jack, his gang, and Emma maneuver easily around piles of trash, napping alcoholics, and wanderers like ourselves. Yet I trip over odd bits and bobs, gag when the rotting food in the trash suddenly hits, and jump from small noises. A buzz builds in my ears, first a low hum, then slowly getting louder.

    I wince and rub my ear as if rubbing it hard enough will make the sound go away, but no one sees since I¡¯m at the back, just like I was in PE ss during the mile run. I¡¯m a princess of the most powerful empire in this world, and I can¡¯t stand a little buzzing sound.

    A princess, an ugly little voice in my head mocks. Are you sure?

    I don¡¯t realize when, but I see that I¡¯ve stopped walking when the trio before me turn around to stare. Their shadowed eyes on this moonless evening are using,ughing at me as I slowly curl into myself, my hands over my ears. It¡¯s so overpoweringly loud like a siren, amplifying every other sound around me.

    ¡°Get ahold of yourself, Maria,¡± I mutter shakily in Spanish. Squeezing my eyes tight as I try to countdown and imagine myself in my room not at the Rose Pce, but in the Tower. I imagine the bars on the window and the simple furnishings. I inhale and exhale while holding the image in my mind¡¯s eye.

    A weight falls on my shoulder and I crack open an eye to see Emma, her concerned face hovering over mine. She¡¯s saying something, I can tell because her lips are moving, but I can¡¯t hear a thing over the damn buzz. A warm gust of wind tugs at my clothes and I feel utterly naked, the calm, cool, and collected Winter disappearing to wherever the sun went.

    ¡°I-I can¡¯t hear you,¡± I exin urgently to Emma, ¡°I need to go inside. I need to go to my room.¡± My soul is untethered from my body and I can barely think, barely feel. Hands flutter over me, small ones so they must be Emma, but the only thought I have is to go inside. To go to my room.

    Then I can¡¯t even feel Emma¡¯s hands. It¡¯s like I¡¯m alone, in an abyss of my own making. I rub furiously at my arms and ears, but it does nothing, it¡¯s not enough. Somehow, my hands find their way to the back of my calves where the stinging cuts my mother dealt are still healing. When I tear into those and fresh warmth pools at my fingers, I can finally feel something. But someone tears my hands away from the wounds and I sumb to the abyss.

    Alone.

 Chapter 74

    Chapter 74: Ch. 74: Out Of the Frying Pan...

    A heavy bang to the back of my head woke me up as I resurrect from the dead, dramatic gasps and all.

    My head is pounding like I¡¯ve got either a really bad hangover or a concussion, and a heavy arm still full of pins and needles palpates the newly forming, tender knot on the back of my head. I wince loudly, grabbing everyone¡¯s attention in the cart if I hadn¡¯t gotten it already.

    ¡°Your-¡± Emma¡¯s body jumps forward as she supports me into a proper sitting position. Low hanging mist kisses my skin as I luxuriate in the pain from my head and tongue. Due to the improper position I¡¯ve been stuck in during this bumpry ride, twinges run through by body like I¡¯ve gotten a good workout in the other day.

    ¡°Water...¡± I wheeze out, my mouth feeling as if it were stuffed with cotton balls.

    Emma makes haste, passing the canteen to me which blessedly, perhaps because it is early morning, feels cool as it rushes down my throat.

    ¡°I-I... what happened to me?¡± I asked Emma, trying to ignore the obvious stares from Jack and his two cronies who keep staring as if I¡¯ve grown another head.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± Emma says right by my ear, ¡°You had one of those... episodes.¡±

    .....

    ¡°Ahhh,¡± I can only say in response. I¡¯d feel embarrassed, but perhaps the deste scenery surrounding us has me numb. One of Jack¡¯s henchmen (or perhaps henchkids), is driving the cart with expert ease, somehow flicking the reins while throwing confused looks in my direction as I pass the canteen back to Emma.

    I came back from the Tower physically in one piece, but the best way to describe it is it feels like I¡¯ve left a part of my soul there. On a few asions particrly when I¡¯m outdoors after spending so much of my formative years as Winter indoors, especially when I feel worn down by my circumstances like an old shoe, the feeling res up further and takes over my entire mind. I can¡¯t breathe, I can¡¯t hear, and I feel as if I¡¯ll have my haircut below the neck as Katya drinks my blood if I stay outside for another minute. Wonderful souvenir, isn¡¯t it?

    Lucidity follows after the drink of water, although my stomach has turned into an empty cavern in desperate need of sustenance.

    ¡°My apologies,¡± I exin quietly to the boys, ¡°I¡¯ve been prone to illness since I was young.¡±

    They are all young and I¡¯m certain the excuse will fly over their heads, but it seems that ¡®Clever¡¯ Jack didn¡¯t earn his nickname for nothing.

    ¡°Illness?¡± Jack draws out the word as he hands me a chunk of bread he broke off with his hands. It¡¯s a bit stale and god knows where his hands have been, but the first bite sends a signal through my body that has me tearing through the bread like it¡¯s myst meal on deathrow.

    ¡°Passenger, you are truly full of good stories. So why don¡¯t you start sharing some now?¡± he asks not so casually as before after I finish eating. But it is nothing but clear to me that Jack is drowning in suspicions right now, suspicions that have no doubt grown by leaps and bounds after my episode.

    ¡°Oh I¡¯d be happy to share, right after you tell me why we¡¯re on a horse in the middle of nowhere and how a small child such as yourself managed to procure a ride,¡± I sarcastically countered in a deliberately yful tone. The drumbeat in my head grows louder, but after food and water, it is a tad more manageable.

    ¡°Small child,¡± Jack chuckles, triggered the way children often are when someone points out their size. ¡°Have you taken a look at yourself, runt?¡±

    He looks ready to stand up and go back-to-back, but the wobble of the cart dissaudes him and he settles onto the bale of hay with a disgruntled expression.

    ¡°I¡¯m a good 2 to 3 years younger than you, so it¡¯s not a fairpetition. But I¡¯d wager by the time I¡¯m your age I¡¯d be looking down at you,¡± I watch Jack¡¯s ire rise and feel pleased that I¡¯ve temporarily managed to deflect his line of questioning. But Clever Jack is like a dog with a bone, he doesn¡¯t want to let up.

    With a cocky grin shing adult teeth that are slightly too big for his mouth, Jack says without preamble, ¡°We are on a cart I¡¯ve temporarily loaned from my gang, the ck Fists. Me n¡¯ my boys, we¡¯re members of it along with Emma for a while before she went on her way. And I¡¯ll ¡®ave you know, Emmett here has been workin¡¯ stables since he could walk so I¡¯m sure he can handle this cart just fine. Ain¡¯t that right, Emmett?¡±

    ¡°Hear ye, hear ye!¡± Emmett said in agreement, releasing one hand from the reign to pump his fist.

    Jack grins at me like he¡¯s won, but- ¡°You didn¡¯t answer where we are, don¡¯t get ahead of yourself,¡± I say. I¡¯m just dying the inevitable. He knows it, I know it. The wattage of his smile doesn¡¯t dim as he continues.

    ¡°We¡¯re on the outskirts of Radovalsk, where it¡¯s mostly farnd. Belhelm is but a few days ride away. Now... how about a story from you, passenger?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Maria,¡± I correct him.

    ¡°Is it?¡± We have a moment where we stare at each others eyes, neither willing to forfeit. Before my eyes shed inevitable tears, Emma crosses between the two of us to grab her knapsack and cuts the connection. In all my days of doing high school debate, I did not expect to find an opponent in a 10 year old. Am I losing my touch?

    My hand inadvertently brushes the back of my head and I find a ready excuse- I¡¯m simply not in my best form. If Jack had found me on my better days, I would¡¯ve easily been able to take him down a peg or two.

    ¡°You know... I¡¯m not too fond of readin¡¯ myself. Too many words clumped together in too little space. But you know what I¡¯m good at? Lookin¡¯ at pictures,¡± Jack starts slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

    He unearths something that was half hidden under a nearby haybale as Emma and I tense. It¡¯s a copy of The Times, thergest run newspaper in the entire empire. As befitting their role, they report all the major events in the Erudian Empire weekly and I already know what the biggest news of this week would be.

    ¡°Imperial Family Fulfills Blessing Day Rites,¡± Jack reads ceremoniously. The old-time typewriter font is in bold, ck unmistakable letters, right above a ck and white drawing of the imperial family greeting citizens before the Grand Temple.

    ¡°Oh!¡± Jack actspletely shocked, pulling the paper close to his face as he inspects something. ¡°Oh, but who could this little girl be? Hmmm, you two share an awful close likeness, wouldn¡¯t ya say?¡±

    He shes the evidence right before Emma and I¡¯s eyes with a dramatic flick of his wrist. The Times does deliver a few copies to the imperial pce, but I haven¡¯t had a chance to look at thetest issue before I escaped. It is my first public appearance and the artist drew a decent likeness of my face, the curvature of my eyes and chubby, squishable cheeks a perfect match. If I were in the pce, I would marvel at how urately someone standing several feet away managed to capture my likeness. However, instead ants crawl over my stomach as my mouth begins to taste of acid.

    Horror. Fear. All that good stuff begins to course through my veins.

    But nheless, it is not like I can simply throw in the towel and confess. Emma and I agreed when we left that no matter what we could not admit to my identity. I¡¯d even used bedona to make my eyes a murky brown, so that only my white braids revealed my identity. In the thriving metropolis that is Radovalsk, hundreds and thousands of citizens also have various hair colors and skin colors, allowing me to blend in more effectively than I ever could in the pce.

    I force myself tough, at first sounding like I¡¯m coughing before I put more effort in it. I shake my head and look at Jack, properly. This kid is quite good. Emma is mute beside me, but it isn¡¯t unusual as she has the same amount of presence as a block of wood even on her best days.

    ¡°What do you want to hear, hm? I¡¯m the newly discovered princess! I somehow managed to escape the pce, all by myself. Oh and for some reason I want to go to the most dangerous ce for any imperial family member, the warfront. That makes sense, right Emma?¡± I say, elbowing Emma as if its a funny joke.

    ¡°In fact, Emma, why don¡¯t you just address me as ¡®Your Highness¡¯ from now on so Jack feels morefortable in the presence of royalty?¡± I add cheekily. I¡¯m feeling my humor a bit more and Jack¡¯s two cronies are already sheepishly looking away. Jack¡¯s face is still, neither giving nor forfeiting.

    ¡°Hmmm,¡± Jack sighs, the tension bursts like a bubble and he swivels around to regard the slow moving scenery. The earth road, which isn¡¯t paved unlike most of Radovalsk, is slightly damp from morning dew. Fields covered in dense fog litter the sides, with asional figure moving in the midst. It¡¯s quite peaceful actually.

    Until Emma yelps loudly and I hear the familiar sound of her dagger unsheathing. But it¡¯s toote. Jack, with a vicious grin I did not think children were capable of outside of horror movies, moves like a well-trained viper, cutting across the space between us on opposite sides of the cart in a heartbeat. A thin but razor sharp knife emerges from his clenched fist as he leans half of my dumbfounded figure over the edge of the cart, my long braids nearly tangling with the rolling wheels.

    ¡°Not another step, Emma. Shouldn¡¯t ¡®ave had your guard down, wasn¡¯t that the first thing we learned? And to think you used to be the best seedling of our entire gang,¡± Jack said casually, as a cold metal kisses my skin and makes my forehead bloom with sweat.

    ¡°Jack-¡± I wheeze out as my back is unforgivingly pressed into the wood side of the open air cart.

    He tsks softly although the knife doesn¡¯t budge an inch. ¡°It¡¯s Clever Jack, goddamnit Maria! Or would you prefer I addressed you as Winter, your highness?¡± Jack mocks.

 Chapter 75

    Chapter 75: Ch. 75: ... And Into the Fire!

    ¡°Woah, woah, woah, woah! Jack, let¡¯s talk this out properly instead of resorting to violence?¡± Iugh weakly as the razor presses further against my neck. I feel faint moisture in that area along with a sting and my heart drops since I know he¡¯s cut into my flesh. Who would¡¯ve thought I¡¯d be more in danger of losing my head outside the pce than in? What a dazzling twist of irony.

    ¡°It¡¯s Clever Jack, passenger! Say it correctly,¡± Jackins. Seeing how worked up he¡¯s getting about his name, I see a crack in his adultlike persona and go for the kill.

    ¡°Are you that clever? After all, threatening a royal person is grounds for execution in Erudian civil code,st I checked,¡± My voice is low and full of deliberate, suggestive inflection, although it¡¯s hard to maintain in my weird body position. However, it seems that being threatened at knifepoint really has a way of clearing one¡¯s head.

    ¡°But would anyone know that you¡¯re here, Maria? Didn¡¯t you say that your stepmother wants to kill you? I¡¯d be doin¡¯ her a favor,¡±

    ¡°Eh, that¡¯s true,¡± I answer calmly, somehow managing to shrug as I¡¯m still bent backwards over the edge of the cart, ¡°She does want me dead. But you know what else the empress wants? A good reputation. And once I¡¯m dead, she can do the whole song and dance of how much she loved me and wishes to avenge me. And I wonder just who she¡¯ll make a spectacle of hunting down and killing first? Is getting a good story really worth implicating your entire gang?¡± Like an earworm, I can hear my crystal clear logic burrowing into Jack¡¯s head. Every word I just said is absolutely true.

    ¡°Jack,¡± Emma barked sharply, louder than the typical monotone she usually converses in. Jack looks over his shoulder at her and I give myself a double chin trying to keep the knife steady while taking a nce. Emma¡¯s wicked dagger, which is much more effective than Jack¡¯s thin razor knife, is pressed against the neck of one the other crony who was seated on the floor of the cart the entire time. The kid is the only one of us behaving like a kid, snotty sobs wracking out of his throat as Emma holds the dagger dangerously over his generous stomach area.

    ¡°One stab here, Tommen will never be able to go to the restroom naturally. Here,¡± Emma¡¯s knife moves with surety as it drags the cloth of his shirt and forces a whimper out of Tommen. ¡°Tommen will never be able to swallow his food. Back here, Tommen will bleed out in under 5 minutes. I will choose one at random if you don¡¯t release her highness in the next minute.¡±

    .....

    Her threats sound more frightening with her childish, monotone voice. But I¡¯m still proud of her. She really is my knight in shining armor. I swivel slightly triumphant eyes at Jack as I gauge his reaction, my lip inadvertently curling as I see indecision take a front seat to his prior confidence.

    Emmett, seeing that his crew are in a tight spot, moves to slow down the horse, but Emma pipes up again.

    ¡°If you stop the cart Emmett, I will choose Tommen¡¯s kidney as my first target,¡± Emma says without turning around. The sleeve of her maid dress, which looks like an ordinary ck dress without its apron, is wrapped firmly around Tommen¡¯s neck and as they¡¯re close to the same size, Tommen cannot wriggle away from Emma.

    ¡°Boss,¡± Tommen lets out in a choked voice, fat tears rolling down his face. I feel a little bad, but it¡¯s not like I asked Jack to threaten me so that Emma could respond in kind. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Newton¡¯s thirdw, aka the only thing I remember from high school science.

    At the end of the day, Jack is still a kid and despite being a cutthroat little bastard very simr to the young vagrants who wandered around the impoverished slums I was originally raised in, he cares about his friends. The knife pressing against my throat loosens and something warm trickles down my neck.

    ¡°Hmph, leaving West Bend really changed you, Emma. Look at you, suckin¡¯ up to the same damn people who put us in the slums,¡± Jack says bitterly. He wipes my blood from his knife onto his trousers before magicking it away to wherever it was before with quick movements and slight of hand.

    I wipe at my neck, revealing a smear of red on my hands. Emma¡¯s eyes darken at the sight and she doesn¡¯t relinquish her grasp on Tommen. ¡°Just get us to Belhelm,¡± Emma counters. ¡°And I just left the ck Fist because it wasn¡¯t paying enough.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry I will most certainly be bringing you both to Belhelm. But I¡¯m afraid we must now discuss the subject of payment, thanks for the timely reminder Emma,¡± Jack scoffs. The sh of hurt I saw in his eyes drowns once more in his cocky gaze.

    A high blush has crept up Emma¡¯s neck, the only signifier of her dismal mood. But eventually, she shoves away Tommen and crawls over beside me, her entire person beset by a foul mood.

    ¡°Free transport is only avable for members of ck Fist, a lifelongmitment,¡± Jack drags out ¡®lifelong¡¯ as he res at Emma, ¡°But since you currently don¡¯t consider yourself one and would rather clean up the messes of a royal brat, then I will require somepensation for this journey.¡±

    Something moist touches the neckline of my dress and I realize the cut Jack made is leaking again.

    ¡°Alright,¡± I say right after the words leave his mouth. He looks a little bbergasted, his hands already settling on his knees in an authoritarian position. But it is a reasonable expectation for Jack to want money. Which I don¡¯t currently have, save for the few coins sewed into my clothes. But I¡¯m sure if I ever make it back from the battlefield in one piece, I can start worrying aboutpensating this kid. ¡°I agree.¡±

    ¡°Your highness!¡± Emma hisses, her eyes shing towards Jack with distrust and malice. Jack res back, the kiddie re off only amusing considering they¡¯re both only 10 years old. They are way too young to be worrying about making money and learning how to fight, but unfortunately, their living circumstances didn¡¯t give them a choice.

    It¡¯s not fair. For any of us.

    I let out a long sigh, feeling once again like a harried babysitter forcing little siblings to make up with each other as I did in my part-time gig.

    ¡°Look. I know you¡¯re doing us a great favor. And for the record, I am sorry that Emma and I had to lie to you about my identity. But logically speaking, as a member of the imperial family, I¡¯ve got a target on my back at all times. Emma didn¡¯t tell you not only for my safety but for yours as well,¡± I say in a calm tone. Emma slips a handkerchief in my hand and I wipe off at my neck although the blood is partially dried and stands out stark against my skin.

    ¡°Ande now, do you really think I¡¯ve got it so good?¡± I chuckle softly. ¡°Sure I had decent meals and clean clothes, but everyone wants me dead. I¡¯ve been poisoned and tortured before I lost my first tooth. Without Emma, I¡¯d wager the grass on my grave would be as tall as I am. Really! Look, Jack, life hasn¡¯t been fair. Not for you. Not for me. Not for any of us.¡±

    I wave my hand around the cart, having sessfully taken hold of everyone¡¯s attention. ¡°One day, I¡¯d like to change that. I¡¯ve recently been told I have a gift, something that could make a difference for all of us. But I would have to live long enough to figure out how to even use it. So yes, I will pay you. I¡¯ll buy you a fine and dandy house maybe not in East Bend, but somewhere nice. I swear it. So can you bring us to the frontier safely?¡±

    My earnest plea ends and I slump against the back of the cart, having said my piece. I can see Jack turning my words over and over again in his head and Emma is silent as usual, but her thoughts feel introspective rather than angry now.

    His lip curls into a sneer. ¡°Pretty words from a pretty girl. Where my mother used to work, she¡¯d whisper pretty words into the ears of noble snots day in and day out without meanin¡¯ a single word. How do I know you¡¯ll be honest, especially about this so-called ¡®house¡¯?¡± he asks with distrust. Emmet and Tommen, whose eyes had begun to sparkle once I mentioned the house, now switched to matching scowls.

    ¡°What kind of leverage would you want for me to keep my word then?¡± I ask, throwing up my hands as a gesture of good faith. Based on his words, his mother must have worked in a Red House, which exins why he¡¯s a good-looking child with abandonment issues from Emma¡¯s exit.

    From the little I know, Red Housedies aren¡¯t allowed to keep their children in the establishment once they reach a certain age, which was why Bianca had opted to take up a ve contract as a prostitute in West Bend when she took me in as a baby. In her drunken rants and temper tantrums, her cheeks glowing red from the alcohol and the glow of the humble firece, I had pieced this much together over the years.

    ¡°Hmmm...¡± Jack says, rubbing his fingers on his chin as a positively devilish expression crosses his face. I¡¯ve seen it before many times, the face of a kid who¡¯s about to do something utterly stupid.

    ¡°Jack! Don¡¯t be unreasonable,¡± Emma harshlymands her distant cousin.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you worry about your dearest rtive bein¡¯ taken advantage of instead of this royal brat, huh?¡± Jack retorts bitterly. The meager peace I¡¯d managed to build is already on the verge of copse. Guiltps at my conscience as I realize that the only reason these two kids are having a disagreement is because of me.

    ¡°The name is Winter. Not passenger, not royal brat. That would be referring to my half-sister. And Emma, it¡¯s alright for Clever Jack to be hesitant. I would be too in his position,¡± I mildly scold them both, but appease Jack by using his given nickname.

    ¡°Psshhh. It¡¯s going to be one or the other until you earn my trust, passenger,¡± Jack scoffs.

    I shrug. ¡°Alright, Jack.¡± His little face darkens as I skip out on his nickname after generously using it for the first time ever. Two can y the game.

    ¡°I want something that can be easily identified as yours. Something like,¡± He suddenly reaches forward and I embarrassingly flinch from the sudden motion. ¡°This snow-white hair of yours. I¡¯ve never seen anythin¡¯ quite like it.¡± A hand grabs my one of my braids, which miraculously haven¡¯t gotten dirty in yesterday¡¯s wild escapades and gives it a good tug.

    ¡°Ass,¡± I mutter, prying my hair-free. A handprint is now staining the previously pristine hair.

    Jack carries on as if he didn¡¯t hear. ¡°Cut a lock of your hair and give it to me and then I will take you straight to Belhelm.¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t be a big piece, right?¡± I nervously argue, thinking of the long locks that have grown out since I was born. Its length is one many women would envy, and over time I¡¯ve grown to like it.

    ¡°Naturally,¡± Jack reassures in a tone that says otherwise. I gulp lightly, feeling as if I¡¯m being held over the edge of the cart by knifepoint once more.

    ¡°Hey, boss,¡± Tommen, his slightly pudgy crony mutters. ¡°What¡¯s the difference between ¡®er hair and an olddy¡¯s hair.¡±

    I move my arm as if I¡¯m going to smack him but he sits there shamelessly and smirks. Doesn¡¯t this brat know how popr white hair is these days in manga and manhwas? I was over the moon when I first saw it in a reflective bucket of water and have heard many clients praise Bianca¡¯s hair which was slightly more off-white than my own. Even Maria hasplimented me hundreds of times when she does my hair. The interwoven silvery strands sparkle like the full moon off a cidke. I¡¯m sure this kid is just jealous.

    ¡°Oh it¡¯s different alright,¡± Jack disagrees, flipping up his razor knife out of nowhere with a skill that belies years of patient practice. ¡°When you get up close, it¡¯s unmistakable.¡±

    I unbraid with shaky hands and don¡¯t see him cut since I squeeze my eyes shut before the deed is done. And then we went happily ever after to Belhelm without a hitch.

    Not.

 Chapter 76

    Chapter 76: Ch. 76: Assassin¡¯s Creed IRL

    I spent the following majority of the ride to Belhelm sulking over the three-inch piece of hair that is now missing from my hair.

    ¡°Just cut it all, right under my chin like this,¡± I instruct Emma.

    ¡°Your highness, you will regret this hasty decision,¡± she replies without missing a beat.

    ¡°Hasty? Look at me!¡± I wave at the unnoticeable chunk of hair I¡¯m missing in my almost hip-length braids I can practically skip rope with.

    ¡°It truly wouldn¡¯t be noticeable if you braided your hair again,¡± Emma replies robotically.

    ¡°But that wouldn¡¯t change the fact that it¡¯s gone! Is this... is this what amputees feel like?¡±

    I know I¡¯m being dramatic. But this missing lock of hair, as ¡®small¡¯ as Emma thinks it may be is just the final nail in the coffin of all the injuries I¡¯ve umted. Taking inventory of every injury I¡¯ve had since I was recognized as an imperial princess, I¡¯ve hurt my tongue, throat, fingers, right hand, and shins. Now my hair just serves as a catalyst for me to whine about all my injuries.

    .....

    Clever Jack stares at me as if I¡¯ve grown an extra head, while Tommen and Emmet sneak furtive nces when they think I¡¯m not looking. I suppose they¡¯re unustomed to my personality, although thete nights spent around a fire telling stories has helped alleviate the gap a little.

    ¡°Quit staring so much, unless you don¡¯t want to hear the story of Rapunzel,¡± I say with a sly grin, already beckoning for everyone in the cart to gather round for another tale.

    ¡°Rapunzel? Is he a famous knight? Did he y dragons?¡± Tommen excitedly blurts out and he shuffles over without any regard for Jack. I can tell the child in Jack wants to listen, but he¡¯s intent on sitting on his hay bale in the corner like a king so I speak especially loud.

    ¡°y dragons? No, how dull would that be? She¡¯s a princess blessed with long, magical hair as long as the tower she¡¯s trapped in. But,¡± I shamelessly insert, ¡°Before I carry on, I¡¯m going to need a little bit of that muffin you ¡®borrowed¡¯ from thest tavern we stopped at, Emmet.¡±

    ¡°Blimey! No way!¡± cried Emmet, nearly releasing the reins in his hands as he flung a look back. But Tommen, in the manner of a good friend, reached into Emmet¡¯s bag and pulled out the muffin wrapped up in a cheap, linen napkin.

    ¡°Tommen! You cursed dog. Stealin¡¯ my food just for a story, eh?¡± Emmet whined. ¡°I don¡¯t care about stories, I want to hear what living in the imperial family is like!¡±

    All eyes turn towards me and although no one backs up Emmet¡¯s statement, they look like baby birds begging for food from their mother. I oblige, but suddenly feel a little shy.

    ¡°Well...¡± I start, loosening my cor slightly, ¡°What you do wish to know?¡±

    It makes sense that they¡¯re curious. The same way my eyes unavoidably browsed tabloids about the British royal family at the grocery store check out, it must be the same for others.

    ¡°What¡¯s it like being important?¡± Jack starts with a smirk.

    I chuckle lightly. ¡°Important? I¡¯ll take it as noble. Well, the social season has just begun. Usually, that brings nobility away from their vassal regions that they stay in for a majority of the year into their mansions within the capital. They attend fancy events and try to make advantageous matches. As royalty, you can receive the best of the best of tributes from around the empire. And the imperial pce is as beautiful as it is dangerous.¡±

    ¡°But what about... the king? Y-your father. Oh! And your siblings.¡± There was a little awe in Tommen¡¯s eye as he hands me the muffin.

    ¡°Well, being in his presence really can kill you, unless you¡¯re rted to him. He¡¯s probably every bit as fearsome and scary as you¡¯ve heard. Augustus,¡± my mind wanders back to how he scowled at me at the Spring Ball and I realize I¡¯ve never even formally met the male lead. ¡°He¡¯s... well-loved by my father. My father doesn¡¯t like any of us other than him. Julian, he¡¯s a wily brat still suckling on his mother¡¯s tit. And Julia is a demon spawn wrapped up in the body of an adorable little girl.¡±

    ¡°Pffff!¡± I hear beside me. I widen my eyes not sure if I heard correctly. Was that Emma...ughing?

    But by the time I turn my head, she¡¯s fallen back to her ssic poker face.

    The days were long, following the official ushering-in of summer after the festival. And for the first time, I am able to see what the world is like outside of Radovalsk. Exiting the capital, I can truly see what life is like for the Erudian popce. Nature is prolific here and not caged into the parks and borate hunting grounds that have been set up around the capital. The citizens and farmers wear simple homespun clothing and smile less at strangers. Inns charge far less than the run down ones in West Bend, a fact that surprised all of us as it is also Jack and Emma¡¯s first time out of the big city.

    Wood signs with chipping paint point out directions for Emmet¡¯s sharp eyes to follow. The days of sitting in the rudimentary open cart have left a faint reddish burn on my face,ughing at my poor decision to not bring a bo along for the trip. But the rush of air along my face and the distant towns and cities we pass by bring me a certain levity that I haven¡¯t felt since... honestly since I died.

    My mother would¡¯ve loved this. The clearly hand-constructed wood buildings, shepherd boys herding their family¡¯s goats, a shoe peddler promising to make one¡¯s shoes good as new for as little as 10 silver coins. We never traveled, but she had always found living in the countryside a quaint idea if it weren¡¯t for the fact that we¡¯re Hispanic and probably would get chased out with pitchforks. The ever-present smile that has grown on my face the further we get from the imperial pce and its elegant horrors fades away like morning fog. The muffin I¡¯ve been knawing on for the past half hour tastes sour in my mouth.

    Does she miss me? Has my mother perhaps moved away to another town now? I don¡¯t even waste a single thought on that scumbag, Jonathan.

    ¡°Your highness?¡± Emma says when my expression twists out of shape.

    ¡°Your highness this, your highness that,¡± Jackzily gripes as he flicks the horsewhip and narrowly misses my arm, ¡°Don¡¯t you ever get tired of it?¡±

    ¡°Not really,¡± I answer as Jack sneers at my reply. But as unhumble as that answer sounds, the title doesn¡¯t really bother me anymore. If I insist for others not to call me ¡®your highness¡¯ but still enjoy the trappings and privilege of a princess, as double-edged as those privileges currently are, I would look like a hypocrite at the end of the day.

    The day I decided not to kick the bucket myself and return to the pce, I fully epted the burden and perks of being a member of the imperial family.

    Tommen tsks loudly to back up Jack. ¡°You must be as bad as those noble snots who spend their free time running around the city and causing trouble.¡±

    I roll my eyes. ¡°They probably never had to worry about being murdered or beaten in their entire life. They definitely didn¡¯t spend their earliest years growing up in poverty. And they¡¯re certainly not buying some people a whole house just so they can ride on a rickety cart in the middle of nowhere on their way to a battlefront,¡± I retorted casually. Stinging Tommen with my sharp tongue turns the young boy red from annoyance and starts to buoy my poor mood as I get my mind off my mother.

    We¡¯ve meandered into a quiet town near the duchy of Avernall that should be only a few kilometers away from the duchy¡¯s capital and our ultimate goal, Belhelm. The cobblestone is worn down and weak, crumpling along with the rest of the town¡¯s infrastructure. As we bump along the road,zy tumbleweeds rolling by us, I haven¡¯t yet realized that this small vige is very different from the others we¡¯ve passed through.

    ¡°I heard Avernall was supposed to be wealthy, but this town reminds me quite fondly of home!¡± Emmet chortled from the front, prodding the horse to pick up its pace. He wasn¡¯t wrong. A wee diversion from the ensuing argument, all 4 of us in the back take the chance to look around the shantytown.

    The slums of West Bend aren¡¯t totally miserable, the dark alleys and broken streets asionally revealing pockets of happiness. A few kids unearthing a silver ticket in the muck, the bells ringing throughout the entire capital on national holidays. But this ce is truly lifeless.

    There really isn¡¯t a soul walking around, door ttering as the wind blows them open and reveals dark, abandoned interiors. Unease crawls over my flesh and gives me goosebumps, despite the warm summer sun still shining from above. My nervousness is shared by Jack and Emma, thetter of whom has already begun to settle her hand on the dagger hidden in her pocket.

    ¡°Just pick up the pace and get us out of this godforsaken wastnd,¡± Jack gripes at Emmet. But even if we¡¯d had a car, we wouldn¡¯t be able to escape.

    There¡¯s a long, slow whistle, easily audible to us all on the cart. Jack flinches, recognition lighting up his eyes instantly. He grabs Emma first, who grabs me, ducking us all down below the edge of the cart.

    ¡°Get down!¡± he barks. His warning is none too soon as an arrowes careening over to where Tommen had been loungingfortably just a moment before.

    ¡°Holy Akira!¡± cries Tommen, his face going white as the shaft of the arrow quivers from the power of the shot. The tip is buried deep into the wood and would have certainly killed the boy if he hadn¡¯t moved. Time hangs in a bnce, as our bodies go into fight or flight and everyone freezes on the belly of the cart. The horse, sensing the disturbance in the air whinnies loudly and begins to run as Emmet curses more heartily than a sailor.

    ¡°Looks like you brought baggage, passenger,¡± Jack mutters, his mouth inches from my ear where we are allying like starfish to the seafloor. Interestingly, I don¡¯t sense much fear from thed, his eyes already shifting around the empty buildings to locate where the shooter came from.

    Small ck figures begin to scale the roofs toward us, making great haste as they slide and flip from building to building. Now that we have visual on them, the next time one fires an arrow, everyone takes cover, even Emmet who ties the reins to a hook on the driver¡¯s seat and joins us behind.

    ¡°Blimey. That¡¯s good aim,¡± Emmet marvels, chalking the distance between the shooters and us in seconds.

    ¡°Get down before you lose an eye,¡± I scold through clenched teeth, yanking the kid down as everyone else res at him.

    Life or death. I¡¯ve faced it many times, but not quite like this. I almost want tough as we potentially ride to our deaths in a steedless horse in a duchy we¡¯ve never been to. Katya, how thorough you are.

    ¡°So, let me guess. Compliments from your mum?¡± Jack mutters dryly.

    ¡°I would imagine that is the case.¡± I sound much calmer than I feel on the inside. Suddenly, 4 other lives are sitting in my hands, in addition to my own. The fragility of my existence I have always known, but I cannot stand the thought of condemning others to my death.

    We are ahead of the assassins, but only marginally. All they¡¯d need to do is hit the horse for us to end up in a horrid ident or get close enough to aim for the inside of our open-air cart. I push Emmett further inside, allowing my position to be further back and the easiest one to spot.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± Emma hisses angrily, grabbing my arm.

    ¡°No, this is fine. This is good. If they keep trying to aim for me, they¡¯ll be less likely to try to shoot you lot,¡± I tell her in a stalwart manner. I¡¯d pat myself on the back for my bravery if I weren¡¯t nearly about to piss myself.

 Chapter 77

    Chapter 77: Ch. 77: Split Up

    In between the panic of flying arrows, I marvel at the calctions Katya had to make to trap me like this. As we were entering the duchy of Avernall without any official paperwork or business, and are all young children, there was a high chance we would¡¯ve been denied entrance into the thriving region. However, we were able to avoid this potential pitfall by taking scenic backroads near farnd and steering clear of main roads. Thus, Empress Katya was able to not only calcte where I would arrive, but when and clear out the town in advance.

    If they taught me how to strategize like that in college sses, I can promise you I would¡¯ve found a much more prestigious job than assisting the mayor¡¯s campaign office.

    But they didn¡¯t and thus I am stuck in an open cart with deadly arrows aiming to take my life as a frenzied, frightened horse is my only mode of escape. Brilliant move, Winter. I¡¯m ying chess while the empress is ying checkers. Although she was the final boss in the webnovel, ra¡¯s story was more focused on romance and as the main character, she never underwent much hardship. But as a measly side character courtesy of Peppermint, It¡¯s clear I¡¯m getting the real, uncensored version of all the characters.

    An arrow thuds into the floor of the cart inches away from my twig-like ankle. I can¡¯t hold back the yelp thates out.

    Tears are generously running down Tommen¡¯s face, mixing with his snot. The rest of us try to hold up brave faces, but we are kids being hunted down by master assassins, there¡¯s only so much fear one can hold back.

    ¡°Jack,¡± Tommen cries with his body curled into a fetal position, ¡°A house ain¡¯t worth our lives!¡±

    Gears are turning in the boys¡¯ heads, so clearly I can practically see the machinery. Me or them or their precious house? Jack¡¯s trademark know-it-all grin is long gone along with our peaceful road trip and something dangerous glints in his eyes.

    .....

    I can practically see the line being drawn in the sand. 3 versus 2, the odds are definitely not in our favor. Especially when I know where they¡¯vee from and what they¡¯re made out of. Seeing grown men get robbed and shanked in the middle of the streets by a beggar boy was amon ploy and allegiances mean nothing in the face of hunger and poverty.

    And at the end of the day, despite all of using from the filthy streets of West Bend, they will never view me as their own. Distrust and shiftiness dance across all the boys¡¯ faces, causing Emma to bark at them. Their desire for ¡®flight¡¯ wanes as unfriendly eyes brand me where Iy huddled on the floor of the cart.

    ¡°Clever Jack wouldn¡¯t be so bold as to go back on his own promise, would he?¡± Emma murmurs casually, flipping the dagger in her hand expertly and cutting through an arrow that had coincidentally flown overhead. The broken pieces tumble before an abandoned storefront, the fresh produce long moldy.

    I almost feel a teare to my eye as Emma positions herself against her former friends and discreetly tries to use her body as a shield for the arrows. Our sisterhood is real. And I know for a fact that I have someone real on my side who cares for me. Even if the care originally started for my money.

    ¡°Emma, when I get back and I have some money, you¡¯re getting a raise,¡± I whisper over the lump in my throat.

    ¡°What is a raise, your highness?¡± Emma asks coolly with her back to me. ¡°And we will return to the pce together.¡± Jack pulls out the razor and Tommen slowly unfurls from the ground. They remind me eerily of the boys who robbed me blind the night I tried to run away from everything and end it all. But oddly, I don¡¯t hate them for their sudden betrayal, despite the fact that muffin crumbs still hang from my lips.

    I smile at Emma¡¯s promise. I hate to force her to break it, but I can see no other way for us all toe out alive withouting to blows or turning into the pincushion in my embroidery basket.

    ¡°Don¡¯t...¡± words fail me slightly, emotion rising in my chest like the tide as I look over the edge of the cart and begin to subtly calcte the distance to the ground. ¡°Don¡¯t hate your friends. They¡¯re just trying to survive, like you and me. This world is not very kind to us underdogs.¡±

    Now Emma can feel that something is wrong with my speech, a sharp-witted girl especially attuned to others¡¯ emotions. The deadly dagger drops slightly as she sacrifices visual on Jack and his gang to look back at me. There¡¯s a crack in her stoic expression and the broiling emotions of disbelief and sorrow pierce through.

    A series of several events ur at once, in tandem.

    I can see Jack suddenly slide forward, taking advantage of Emma¡¯s distraction, his body closes in on me as he slides low against the floor. A lucky arrow zips over our head and plunges into the shoulder of the crazed horse tugging our cart to hell, stopping Jack¡¯s slide midway. The cart shakes vigorously as the horse rises onto its hind legs and whinnies in distress as Emma catches herself and rushes to block Jack. As for me?

    I toss my body over the edge of the cart like I¡¯m Matt Damon jumping out of a moving car in Bourne Identity. Turns out he made the move look a whole lot easier than it actually is.

    My shoulder hits the ground with a high impact of 60 kilometers per hour and the subsequent rolling does little to distribute the pain. I. Am. In. Agony. What¡¯s new.

    ¡°Ack! Motherfucker!¡± I squeak out in my kid voice, tears stinging my eyes as I swear my right arm is dislocated. The stunt doubles make jumping out of a moving vehicle look so easy, I suddenly want my money back for every action movie I¡¯ve ever been to.

    My weird outburst is not witnessed by those in the cart, who are distracted by their tricky predicament. More worryingly although it was my intention, my ungainly dismount is seen by the assassins, who flip off the roof like Olympic-level gymnasts andnd more steadily on their feet than cats as they begin to stalk me.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± Emma shrieks, her voice sounding raw as she somehow in the chaos of the rattling cart manages to notice my escape.

    I throw an apologetic look her way over my shoulder, already on the move. As I¡¯ve hoped, the assassins have all but forgotten my traveling partners as they tear after me with uniform precision. I know that with my short kid legs, the odds aren¡¯t in my favor. But as pain radiates through my shoulder like spidery veins of hot acid, I¡¯m not in the right headspace to n a decent escape. I can barely see where I¡¯m going, so focused am I on putting one foot in front of the other in the never-ending goal to put some distance between myself and the assassins. As long as I keep turning and winding around corners, I¡¯m hopeful that my back won¡¯t turn into an open target.

    I am quite literally running for my life. My mouth is bone dry and my eyes are stinging since I¡¯m too fearful to blink too much, lest I miss something dangerous. I careen through another alley, jumping over a fallen barrel with the dexterity of a donkey, my braids beating against my back like a drum.

    My n is about as effective as striking a rock with an egg. I slide out of the alley, the heels of my boots burning against the still healing blisters I got from the whole day of trekking through Radovalsk with Emma, Jack, and the gang. Every inch of my body reminds me how painfully out of shape I am, how woefully defenseless I am in the face of an enemy with no qualms about murdering a kid.

    ck arms lunge out to wrap around me before I finish sliding, the movement so sudden I can do little more than freeze as my heart bottoms out. I¡¯m like a doll hanging from a child¡¯s arms within the viselike grip wrapped around my waist. I know I¡¯m a child, but the difference in our size is so jarring and my furious wiggling makes no difference. The precious lead I¡¯ve garnered is being eaten up as I can hear light footsteps make their way over. My skin prickles as if aware that in any second, a knife could be buried in my chest.

    ¡°Let me go! Please! Aaah, someone please help me! Please!¡± An arm breaks free in the midst of my caterwauling and I rake it across the assassin¡¯s face. It meets with a hard surface, the ck masks they all wear. I won¡¯t even know who killed me in myst moments. Panic is choking me along with the restraining arm around my waist when I tumble to the ground unexpectedly.

    The man that had been holding me grunts, probably in pain, but I don¡¯t bother to check for too long as I whizz past, the tiny break making me even faster than I had been before. I manage to catch a short nce at what took him out, and it seemed that a shiny piece of metal not unlike the razor that had been held to my throat days before is buried in his calf. Jack?

    I¡¯m at the edge of the town now, nothing but the main road to Belhelm and pure fields of corn untainted by the afternoon¡¯s violence before me. But I can¡¯t help but take another look behind me at the cursed town, disbelieving what I had seen. Clever Jack is seatedfortably on the back of the iling horse, cracking his whip against its bloody wound before throwing a friendly wave in my direction. I don¡¯t see Emma, Tommen, or Emmet before I cross over the hard-packed dirt and disappear into the corn.

    It sounds like thousands of people are shushing me, as the nts rustle in greeting as I bolt through without qualms. Stalks of towering nts strike my face and arms, but it¡¯s easy to ignore as I focus on putting distance between myself and the assassins. Now, my short stature has be a blessing.

    I have no food, no water, and zero clue how to hunt or survive in the wilderness other than what I¡¯ve witnessed old reruns of Naked and Afraid I used to chuckle over. The human body can survive without water for up to 3 days, but I¡¯m a child and already feeling rather thirsty so I cut that time in half.

    The only boon I have on my side? I was smart enough to memorize the route to Belhelm. But cutting through a cornfield was not part of the original n, meaning it will take a little bit of improvisation and a whole lot of luck to reach the warfront in one piece.

 Chapter 78

    Chapter 78: Ch. 78: Cornfields and Crown Princes

    I know that I should probably get some sleep when I begin worrying about whether or not the assassins will burn down the several hundred-acre cornfield I¡¯ve disappeared into. Every rustle, buzz, and p of a wing has made me jumpy, winding up my nerves without any release. My jaw is tensed, causing the muscle to ache as the first tinges of a headache begin to make itself aware to me.

    It would not be logical for them to burn down the field so close to the army base camp, I eventually realize, as the possible evidence of arson could lead to serious blowback on the empress. She wants to kill me discreetly, but hiding in here and constantly moving as the sun goes down, I¡¯m a near impossible figure to discover. This maze of a field has be my blessing.

    Iplete my next moves on autopilot, moving westward despite hunger and thirst. Before the sun haspletely set, I finally happen across a road cutting straight to the army base camp of Belhelm, the unpaved road still covered in hoofprints and deep gorges from heavy wheels carrying supplies and rations.

    In the dusty backroads of the duchy of Avernall and just outside the reportedly stunning city of Belhelm, this pathway shines like the golden road to Oz. It¡¯ste at night when I seemon foot soldiers with the nowforting livery of the Erudian phoenix hanging from their armored shoulders in a half cape. It¡¯s like I¡¯ve reached the finish line.

    Crass jokes and the crackling hearth the soldiers are seated around keep the crunch of grass under my foot practically inaudible. In fact, I¡¯d wager my salivating gulp at the scent of the wild chicken they¡¯re cooking over the fire was louder than my footsteps. But something else preupied my attention soon, the military wagon carrying the rations.

    ¡°Come to mama,¡± I mutter before I can help it, my short legs barely making the leap onto the side of one of the covered wagons. At the same time my arms and legs securely connect with the side of the wagon almost 5 times my diminutive size, a burst of raucousughter erupts around the fire and covers it.

    Slipping under the tarp is child¡¯s y afterward. ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± I smirk victoriously as if I¡¯ve hacked into a firewall rather than broke into my own nation¡¯s military rations. The underside of the tarp is mind-numbingly dark as it¡¯s evening and the light of the fire can¡¯t prate the tanned, animal skin tarp. But it¡¯s not so bad. The scent of bread is heavy underneath and I simply follow my nose like a bloodhound, my hands feeling out cautiously until they meet something soft.

    .....

    It¡¯s a crate, stacked high with uncut paan, a traditional simple bread dish often consumed across thend that Bianca couldn¡¯t ever afford. The uncut piece is twice the size of my head while being soft and airy in my hand. Yet there¡¯s a denseness to it that promises fulfillment. Tearing into the cold piece, a burst of olive oil and dried veggies found within meet my tongue and I have to stop my eyes from rolling back in my head.

    It¡¯s official. This has to be the best meal I¡¯ve ever had in my life.

    After nearly finishing off the entire uncut piece, I pat my stuffed belly and feel around to try to discern what other goods are in here. I manage to discern a few barrels of potatoes, dried bs of jerky meat, and an alcohol barrel that manages to take up a majority of the space under the tarp. Go figure. Even in war, these men have their priorities straight.

    Did I enjoy a little ale for myself before tucking in for the night? I suppose you¡¯ll never know.

    The brief levity of a filling meal doesn¡¯t distract me from the uing day¡¯s events. I know that Emma, Jack, Tommen, and Emmet must be fine because my break for the cornfields drew away the assassins that were chasing us. But nowes the question of how I am to present myself at the military front.

    Camped right before the Dredgen Woods that separate the Erudian Empire and Sarsaval, being mistaken as a thief could have much more dire consequences than cutting off a hand. My eyes and hair are a calling card of the oft mentioned but rarely seen imperial princess, but even I wouldn¡¯t believe it if a filthy urchin tried to pass themselves off as the daughter of the esteemed suprememander and emperor, Emperor Helio.

    I don¡¯t even consider trying to appear before my father. His icy re at my small person that day in the throne room and hisck of punishment to Empress Katya spoke volumes.

    ¡°Why keep me alive, Helio?¡± I muse to the potatoes in front of my curled-up body.

    It¡¯s a redundant question as I already know why. When my father finally sat down upon his bloody throne years ago, he killed a slew of distant and immediate imperial family members to do so. Distant cousins who inherited the famous golden gaze? Dead. Ancient doddering aunts and uncles in distant provinces still carrying the imperial bloodline? Sayonara, forever.

    ording to the webnovel, he was smart enough to kill them off through mostly natural and subtle means. For the rest, Helio sessfully beefed up crimes to the point that only imprisonment or death could follow. Thus, during my wonderful retreat to the Tower, I was in close familialpany for the entire duration.

    Empress Katya had a funny habit during my many visits to hervish sitting room. She spoke, a lot. Sometimes it was about politics. Sometimes it was about the many etiquette skills Ick. But once in a while, with a dazed look in her eye as she soothingly applied salve to my stinging calves, she¡¯d talk about my father.

    And for once, I could get another perspective of Emperor Helio outside of the rose-colored lens of being the male lead¡¯s father within the webnovel or my own cynical point of view after too many poor encounters with him.

    ¡°He won¡¯t ever love you, you know,¡± she had begun without preamble. I had turned to look at her, tendrils of her unbound blonde hair tickling my cheek. But it was as if she were on autopilot, her eyes trained on the rhythmic movements of her hand on my legs.

    ¡°He just needs you. You don¡¯t need to be happy, well-fed, or even in one piece. You just need those beautiful golden eyes.¡± It was then she had looked at me, a hand stroking the corner of my eye as if they were truly precious. ¡°Beautiful eyes which are so rare these days. Do cherish them and be a good girl, Winter.¡±

    I disagree with her. They may be as bright and shiny as real, authentic gold, but in my heart, they¡¯re worth less than a penny. But I understand the underlying message. Theck of living imperial descendants lends importance to my otherwise unmentionable bastard identity.

    It was after that meeting that I had gone to the royal library, putting the poor librarian Henry to work as I¡¯d fetched registry after registry of the imperial family members. Hundreds of people, just like me, who had grown up in the opulent sprawl of the pce in the pinnacle of wealth and power. I read of princesses who had married out to esteemed noble families and distant kingdoms, carrying away with them, the new title of Archduchess. I read of a prince who traveled thend incognito as a minstrel before marrying amoner and settling down. So many stories from hundreds of years, all written eloquently with borate swirls of aged ink.

    The most recent stories from the past 50 years all end within the same 2 years though, the year before and after my father came to the throne. Archduchess Medina, heart attack at age 42. Grand Prince Peter, suffered a grievous wound during a duel for the hand of a woman and died 48 hourster. The Duke of Provoth, the lord of an old duchy now carved up into various noble territories in the south, was used of selling off ¡®good¡¯ citizens into very for extra coin and beheaded. The registry even mentions how popr this move made the emperor to themon people.

    You are allowed to sell yourself into very when you can¡¯t make ends meet, when you¡¯re captured as a war ve, or if you¡¯re born into it from your parents. It makes for booming business in the east and south of the Erudian Empire, where manufacturing and construction are a prominent industries and requires many hands on deck.

    It¡¯s all hypocritical, my father, the imperial lineage, this empire, and Peppermint. It¡¯s almostughable how this mysterious author managed to paint my father as a tough-hearted but lovable dad who was incredibly supportive of his son pursuing true love with a low ranked noble while his vicious stepmother tried to tear them apart. On the Discord, fans had proimed their love for Emperor Helio, not at all unlike the throngs of citizens who are in love with him and bring his poprity to new heights.

    And yet, the true portrait of my father is far uglier and underhanded than his handsome, yet unapproachable visage would suggest. Perhaps the Holy Church, as corrupt and dishonest the institution may be, is right not to trust him.

    I only realize that I¡¯ve nodded off into my chaotic thoughts and slept through the night when the rumbling of the rations wagon bumps over the oft-treaded path to the military front.

    ¡°Oy, I¡¯ve got quite the crick in my back afterst night. I can ¡®ardly turn my head to the left,¡± someoneins outside the tarp, startling me fully back to life.

    ¡°Eheheh, John, are you certain it¡¯s not your age catchin¡¯ up with you? I could¡¯ve sworn I¡¯d seen a few graysst evening.¡±

    ¡°Grays? I¡¯ve scarcely touched 30, you jest too much!¡±

    My mouth feels like thousands of grains of sand are stuck in it and I¡¯m forced to drink a few tepid sips of ale to wash the taste and sensation from it. I¡¯ve been rejuvenated by a night of food and sleep, but it costs me the early wake-up n I had to sneak out of the military wagon and track it from a distance.

    I silently apud myself for once againing up with a detailed n only to mess it up on a minor detail.

    ¡°Hey! Manuel! We¡¯ve got the rations!¡± John, I suppose, bellows outside. He wacks at the tarp near my head and sends my soul right out of my body with shock.

    ¡°Finally! We¡¯ve been watering down the ale until it¡¯s practically undrinkable. Angry, sober men have been getting into rows left and right without any drink to keep them calm,¡± jokes the sentry at the mouth of the military camp.

    The sounds outside are what one would expect of a military camp. Horses whiny, weaponry ngs against one another as male voices dominate the air. I exhale, my heart pounding suddenly. If they had paused for a break, I¡¯d have had a chance to escape but of course with my bad luck, even without Peppermint¡¯s handiwork, I woke up toote to do anything.

    The wagon rolls to a stop way too soon. I scarcely have time to sit criss-cross apple sauce and don my cutest expression before the hooks tethering the tarp shut are undone and the cover is flung off. Lightes flooding in, causing my eyes to water slightly but there¡¯s no time to wipe them off. It¡¯s game time.

    ¡°H-How do you do, gentlemen?¡± I chirp with a bright smile as if I, an unknown, strange-looking child, wasn¡¯t caught in the most precious military supply during a war. I used spit to wipe the dirt off my face the best I could and the bedonna haspletely worn off by now. I know the power of my adorable appearance and max it out its rosy-cheeked fullest.

    This half-assed n works as well as one would assume it would.

    ¡°Hey, hey, hey! We can talk this out! Seriously! I¡¯m just... well technically, I¡¯m a princess but I know you guys won¡¯t believe me. But, I was chased here by assassins and hid in the wagonst night! I promise!¡± I yell as John keeps a tight hold on the scruff of my neck. Dark expressions surround me, practically dimming the sunlight with their intensity.

    ¡°Hmmm... she doesn¡¯t look like someone from Sarsaval,¡± someone muses, his helmet practically wedged on his chubby head.

    ¡°That¡¯s because they¡¯re thinking several moves ahead. A child who doesn¡¯t appear to be from the enemy country would be an effective weapon.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that sounds about right, John. Seems like that crick in your neck made you more clever than usual.¡±

    ¡°An enemy spy is on our territory. Now is not the time for humor!¡± John barks back.

    ¡°She¡¯s already in our clutches. What can she do now?¡±

    That¡¯s a question I¡¯d like to ask myself right now.

    John and his friend aren¡¯t speaking loudly, but nheless, it¡¯s an odd sight for the early morning that draws many onlookers.

    A fine tent of burnished red stands before us, a gold phoenix pole propping the spacious bedroom up from the center. Without a doubt, I can figure out whose tent I¡¯m about to enter, even before the chubby soldier reveals a pair of sturdy lungs and bellows,

    ¡°Sentry unit guard, Colson Bracken, reporting to his highness, Prince Augustus, about an enemy intruder!¡±

 Chapter 79

    Chapter 79: Ch. 79: Ultimatum

    I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever received a more poignant lesson of my current status in this world than right at this moment. John is holding me gently and the knight duo who are requesting Augustus¡¯ presence are moreedic than frightening, but it doesn¡¯t change the fact that I¡¯m about to be presented to my older brother like a schmuck.

    The deep red tent looks luxurious, only upstaged by a foreboding ck tent in the distance surrounded by heavily armed guards. The emperor. My sperm donor.

    The first time we had seen each other I¡¯d been full of hope. The Spring Ball had gone ording to n as I¡¯d upstaged Julia and shown my face to the upper echelons of the empire. Augustus was a distant, scowling figure I¡¯d hoped to win over with my cuteness the same way I had once won over the royal guard. If I were a main character, perhaps it would¡¯ve all gone ording to n and I would be living dolce vita having gotten my dad to divorce Empress Katya by Chapter 2 and charming every being with a heartbeat by Chapter 10.

    But this is not a fairy tale. Or if it is, it¡¯s the unfiltered, original versions full of blood and cruel lessons carved onto one¡¯s flesh.

    A knight steps out of the tent and our eyes simultaneously widen when they meet. It¡¯s Di- I mean, Robbie, Emma¡¯s swordsmanship instructor and one of the youngest royal guard members. I realize now that he and my oldest brother must be around the same age and yet he still looks like the same freckled brat I¡¯d gotten to know on the manure scented fields near the barracks. We both stare at each other in shock, but he recovers faster and quickly clears his throat.

    ¡°His highness bids you entrance,¡± he answers to the two knights ¡®escorting¡¯ me, throwing repeated nces over his shoulder as he holds open the vermillion curtain.

    The drapery snaps shut behind us, hiding away the early morning sun and leaving a shadowy, spacious interior. The tent is rtively bare, furnished solely by a thin cot, a deskden with papers, a standing iron mannequin holding his armor, and a trunk. Tufts of grass lie dead in the walking path between the mannequin and desk, with the grass by the cot nearly good as new.

    .....

    With his hand buried in his short mane of pitch-ck hair, Augustus is slumped over the desk furiously writing away on a scroll. We are forced to wait a full minute to the scritch scratch of his rough bristle brush on paper until he looks up and sees us. Augustus, a crown prince long tempered by our father, did not react as viscerally as Robbie, but a spark of surprise danced into his golden eyes.

    He turned to Robbie for an exnation, but the upstart just shrugged as well.

    ¡°What is this?¡± he asked carefully from bow-shaped lips, the only distinguishing feature that isn¡¯t from the emperor. This is the first time I¡¯ve heard my brother, the male lead, speak.

    Perhaps the two knights who escorted me in, Colson and John, can sense that the air is wrong for there is long hesitation as one clearly tries to bate the other into speaking. Augustus isn¡¯t particrly intimidating in my opinion. Little more than a scowling teenager, albeit an incredibly handsome scowling teenager, Augustuscks the gravitas of my father. He hasn¡¯t seen as much darkness and carries a certain idealism that hasn¡¯t been dashed against the rocks by life yet. It makes me want to pat his head, a little bit like he¡¯s a younger cousin.

    Of course, not having a presence that can literally kill people does tend to make one less frightening.

    Nheless, I can almost swear that chubby Colson¡¯s knees are knocking against one another as he and John drop into formal bows before repeating what he said outside the tent. I¡¯m firmly tucked under John¡¯s arm as Colson says, ¡°Greeting, your highness. We discovered this child spy from Sarsaval hidden in our military rations.¡±

    Augustus quirks up an eyebrow in confusion. Robbie squints and leans in closer to ensure he isn¡¯t mistaking my identity. If I could, I¡¯d smack the taste out of their mouth for not recognizing me. But honestly, I¡¯m not that mad. I thought I would immediately get tortured in ten different ways before I¡¯d be able to show my face in front of someone who¡¯d recognized me, but I¡¯ve lucked out and gotten an economy-ss ride under a foot soldier¡¯s sweaty armpit all the way to Augustus.

    ¡°...Just leave her be on the floor and exit,¡± Augustus eventually decides, his brows furrowed as he properly sets down his feather pen. ¡°Speak of this to no one.¡±

    ¡°But your highness-¡± Colson begins to protest, before John discreetly thumps him on the back. Without any preamble, I¡¯m dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes as the grass cushions my fall. Both foot soldiers rise simultaneously, the contrast between them and my brother like heaven and earth as they slowly shuffle out after bowing again.

    ¡°Obviously, the crown prince wishes to personally interrogate the war criminal, Colson,¡± John scolds quietly as they lift the curtain.

    ¡°How sharp you are! Before long, we will win this war and finally return home,¡± Colson chuckles. The curtain cuts off the rest of their conversation and leaves me behind.

    It is now that the damnable Dick bothers to speak. ¡°Your highness, she is-¡±

    A dark expression rolls over Augustus¡¯ face like a storm cloud. ¡°I know very well who she is,¡± he cuts off Robbie immediately. ¡°Help me don my armor.¡±

    ¡°Yes, your highness,¡±

    Like father, like son. If the re he just shot my way were a weapon, I¡¯d very well have been cut in half just now. Any rational individual would cower in the face of the boy who will one day inherit this massive empire, but there must¡¯ve been something inst night¡¯s paan because I find myself more annoyed than anyone else.

    I¡¯ve escaped from certain death in the imperial pce, had my patience tested by upstart child hooligans who may or may not be my new friends, been attacked by assassins who look like they¡¯ve jumped right out of an Assassin¡¯s Creed video game, and hiked through fields of corn for hours without a clue if I¡¯d live to see the night. And I don¡¯t even like corn!

    I¡¯ve just survived through the kind of trials the Greeks wrote famous novels about and after being battered and bruised within an inch of my life, I have more than a few choice words for my brother. In the webnovel, he was such a noble, charismatic fellow, albeit rather two-dimensional. I¡¯m not quite certain what got lost in trantion now that we¡¯ve met face to face.

    ¡°Are you not going to say anything?¡± I grind out through clenched teeth while standing to my feet. ¡°Augustus?¡±

    Gold eyes sh against gold, the displeasure within each heavy. But mine is much, much heavier.

    I pick off errant pieces of grass from my worn, stained skirt, attempting to maintain a sense of levity in my voice. ¡°I¡¯ve had a terribly long journey. Typically I¡¯d assume any well-raised gentleman would have the decency to check if his female rtive were in good health after such an asion, let alone a crown prince.¡±

    Augustus ignores me as Robbie assembles his armor, looping leather ties through silver buckles with a well-practiced speed. But I can see it, when his right hand tenses up suddenly into a fist before he releases it. It gives me all the encouragement I need to stroll through the tent like I own the ce, winding up conveniently at the desk he was bent over moments before. Maps are strewn all over the ce and the entire ce stinks of high-quality ink. Only the best for Crown Prince Augustus, even on the battlefront.

    ¡°Oh dear, to think you were pouring so diligently over war matters. But, however do you think you¡¯ll be able to protect a country when protecting one little girl proves to be such a difficult matter for you?¡± I tsk slightly, smiling inwardly as I outstretch my ws for the first of the obvious insecurities any prince in the line of session would have. ¡°Perhaps Julian would be better suited for such matters. As far as I can tell, he usually stays in the pce with Mother and I, yet Father brought him out to the campaign. It seems that sooner rather thanter, I shall enjoy the sight of someone new riding on Father¡¯s right-hand side.¡±

    During thest parade, Lord Wolfgang had been riding to Emperor Helio¡¯s left, while Augustus rode on the right as the sessor. There¡¯s a very sharp intake of breath and I don¡¯t have to look up from the dizzying array of maps to know what it is. I smile slightly to myself. To think riling up Augustus would this easy.

    There¡¯s a sharp nk of metal as Augustus yanks his newly armored arm free from Robbie and storms over to the desk. ¡°Why did youe here?¡± A metal hand ms onto the desk and causes all the papers on it to jump. I carefully tuck away all the pent-up, ugly emotions from the past few days into a little box, allowing a careless smile to dance across my face.

    It¡¯s my first time seeing my older brother up close. The air around us drops below zero as his chilly rage surrounds us like a brisk, autumn breeze.

    ¡°My name is not You, it¡¯s Winter silly,¡± I chuckle slightly, still standing on the chair of his desk so I can somewhat meet his eyes.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care. You will promptly return to the pce at once. I will send a knight to escort you.¡± Each wordes out harshly, without room for argument.

    ¡°A knight?¡± I giggle and put on a confused expression. ¡°You can¡¯t very well be referring to the royal guard who all curse my existence regrly for a crime I didn¡¯t evenmit?¡±

    Robbie, who¡¯s an unwitting spectator of all this, turns away shyly at my dig. Dick.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. I will arrange someone and you will leave promptly without allowing your presence to be known. You do not belong here.¡±

    ¡°It seems that I do not belong anywhere but in a coffin. For if I return to the pce, I will surely meet with misfortune by the hand of our mother.¡± I maintain the tone of levity as reveal a truth to Augustus, watching closely for his reaction. There isn¡¯t a single flicker in those gold discs, of shock nor of disdain.

    ¡°But you don¡¯t care, do you, Augustus? That I may die?¡± I casually nce over a pile of unopened letters and the borate letter opening knife sitting on top as a part of me still clinging to hope of a warm reunion crumbles to dust.

    Augustus lets out a loud huff of air, turning away from me.

    ¡°Sir Robbie, go arrange an escort for her immediately,¡± Augustus sharply orders, causing Robbie to scurry away. He doesn¡¯t know me yet he spits out the ¡®her¡¯ with such disgust. Something deep inside me snaps and in the box with my turbulent emotions, I slowly tuck away my heart as well.

    Back in the pce, Empress Katya had always quietly pondered in her post-beating musings about what my naive, little heart would look like on a tter still beating.

    ¡°You would feel much better without the burden of one,¡± she hadughed gayly, her gentle peals sending shivers down my spine. If she were to cut me open now, there would be nothing but a cold, empty cavern. And looking at the unapologetic, hateful teenager before me, I realize that in a way, Katya is right. I feel much better without any expectations of familial love or even friendship and civility between us.

    Take a good look Winter, I wish to say not to myself, but to the foolish crying past Winter who still cries in my dreams asionally.

    This is your family. The people who tore you away from your old home, but couldn¡¯t be bothered to make your strange new onefortable or even survivable. The ones who watched with the very same gold eyes you have, as your reputation was besmirched and your head was decapitated at the tender age of 16. They, who were supposed to cherish and love you most, but couldn¡¯t care less to investigate your death until the ditzy, lovable female lead decided to. You never asked to be a part of the imperial family, so why did they punish you for it?

    Robbie has run off with his tail between his legs and Augustus now puts on his armor himself, albeit rather angrily as he tugs aggressively at the straps. I grab the pretty letter opener knife, pleased to see that the tip is sharp enough to cut through flesh just like paper.

    Please watch Winter, as I take back everything this family owes us and then some. Watch, as I make them beg for our forgiveness, for our love. Watch as I make everyone who has ever wronged us pay the price.

    ¡°Oh Augustus,¡± I sing yfully. My brother flings a re over his shoulder and then freezes. Hesitation coats his body like ice and I smile maniacally as I hold the letter opener knife even closer to my carotid artery, close enough for each pulse to raise my skin to kiss the cold metal.

    This trick would never work on Emperor Helio. Prince Julian, who I know is an adult like me underneath his skin, would not be too phased either. But for Prince Augustus, a teenage boy yet to obtain the capability to handle such an unforeseen circumstance, his eyes fill with fear.

    ¡°Be a good brother and arrange for me a bath, a tent, a team of guards for that tent, and arge breakfast. Otherwise, the crown prince of the Erudian Empire will have to exin to everyone why he murdered his poor, defenseless, baby sister in a fit of mad rage within his tent for all to see.¡±

 Chapter 80

    Chapter 80: Ch. 80: Safe and Sound

    The look of shock on Augustus¡¯ face makes him look more childish as he finally appears to be a typical 16-year-old kid. It does much to assuage my spirit as I know that my ultimatum has no chance of failure.

    As I mentally praise myself, Augustus subtly, but not subtly enough, creeps towards me. The grass cloaks the sound of his feet, but I just shake my head. Does he think I¡¯m blind?

    ¡°Take another step forward and I¡¯ll start screaming,¡± I calmly tell Augustus. Watching the crown prince flounder reminds me of a car that has hit empty, the hunk of metal persisting in its journey on nothing but fumes until it truly can¡¯t move an inch further.

    ¡°I know you are quick, you¡¯ve been training with Father since you could walk. But will you be faster than this de?¡± I grin cheerfully. ¡°And in the off chance you are too slow, because I can see you considering the possibility already, do you really think you can get away with it?¡±

    I pause to let out a loud bellyugh, taking care to keep the knife on my artery. To think that a few days ago, I¡¯d been in paralyzing fear when Clever Jack had shoved his razor near my throat and now I¡¯m doing it of my own volition.

    ¡°You¡¯re so foolish, Augustus,¡± I sigh pitifully. ¡°You didn¡¯t even bother to ask why an imperial princess would show up at a dangerous military front with nary an escort or even a maid!¡±

    Emma¡¯s solemn face sweeps through my mind and I can no longer hold the terrible smile that¡¯s straining my cheeks. Anger clouds my senses, to the point I don¡¯t even bother to try to sound like a typical 8 year old. I¡¯ve yed that game long enough, and where has it gotten me? Has appealing to anyone¡¯s kind heart saved me any heartache?

    .....

    ¡°But never mind that. All you need to know is,¡± the knife thunks from my hand onto the table and Augustus swings his left hand in an almost blurry arc to grab it. But it¡¯s a typical childish taunt on my part as I twirl the de into my hands before he reaches it and hover it over a wrist. The petty tricks Emma taught me with a dagger areing in handy it seems.

    ¡°My life is in your hands now. You¡¯re the knife. Everyone saw me enter this tent. People will talk, spection will be abound. Should anything untoward happen to me during my time here, you can be certain the crime will be pinned on your head. And I¡¯m sure I won¡¯t need to remind you just who would benefit from making you carry the me.¡±

    Perhaps because he wasn¡¯t subject to the receiving end of Empress Katya¡¯s ¡®affection¡¯, in the webnovel it took Augustus a while to learn of Empress Katya¡¯s true colors. My arrival today could be said to be a boon for him, as he gets to learn a few years in advance what kind of woman his stepmother really is.

    He doesn¡¯t speak, but I can see the cogs turning in his head as he considers a thousand possibilities. I hop down from the chair as he finally says one thing and one thing only.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t do it though.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm?¡± I look up, curious to hear what my older brother has to say.

    ¡°Kill yourself. Just for a tent and the acknowledgment of your presence at the camp.¡± He¡¯s prying, testing the waters. But Augustus won¡¯t find any game in these murky depths.

    I cock up one corner of my mouth, toozy to properly grin at the overgrown brat. If only he knew how close I had been 2 years ago, but if I mentioned that, I know Augustus wouldn¡¯t care. ¡°But are you willing to bet your entire future on that?¡±

    I vocalize the question he has been wrestling with since I initially ced the de on my neck.

    ¡°If I cut deep enough into this wrist, amon military nurse most certainly wouldn¡¯t be enough to save me. Even if you managed to get one of the few imperial physicians you brought along to check on me, he might not manage to preserve my life. Shall we find out who is faster, death or the imperial physician¡¯s enchanted needle?¡±

    Augustus is thinking too slowly, so I make the choice for him, pressing the de down mercilessly onto my wrist from his perspective but harmlessly scraping my flesh in actuality.

    ¡°Stop!¡± he roars frantically, his prior poise a distant dream. All 6+ feet of him diving for me with a loud clunk of metal. Large fingers curl around the wrist I¡¯ve just ¡®cut¡¯, applying pressure to an invisible wound until he realizes there is no blooding out. I wink at him after his slow realization, the de now firmly resettled on my neck and definitely not poised to miss this time around.

    I¡¯ve won. He knows it, I know it. It¡¯s fascinating how I can old someone at knifepoint simply by pointing it at my own neck.

    ¡°Anyone!¡± he calls out sharply, annoyance poignant in his tone.

    Two guards standing out the mouth of the tent step in and kneel in unison with a fist over their chest. ¡°Sire!¡±

    Augustus huffs a sigh, his perplexed golden eyes meeting mine. If it were back in my world, Augustus and his dreamy looks which carry a softness my fathercks could easilynd him a modeling contract with any agent who had eyes.

    ¡°Announce the presence of Princess Winter and arrange private lodging for her to be guarded at all times.¡±

    I relish the look of shock not only on their faces but on all the foot soldiers¡¯ faces practicing outside when the announcement is made around camp. I stand between the two guards of my brother¡¯s tent, bruised and battered yet still victorious. One guard steps forward and thuds the bottom of his spear onto the ground loudly, his movement alerting all those milling around the field.

    ¡°Crown Prince Augustus wees the presence of Princess Winter to the Sarsaval-Belhelm military front. Previous mishandling of her royal person before her presence was revealed shall be pardoned. However, any undue contact with Her Highness from this point forward will be treated as a crime of the first order, resulting in a demotion or permanent termination from the army. Adjourn!¡±

    The two foot soldiers who ¡®escorted¡¯ me to the tent as well as those who had red menacingly suddenly look like they¡¯re about to piss their pants, everyone turning away to nervously cough or stare at the ground when I smile in their direction. Under the escort of the two guards, the field of sparring soldiers part like the Red Sea. If I said watching everyone move like the floor isva wasn¡¯t immensely satisfying, I¡¯d be a liar.

    The air is fresh, the sky is blue, and I can hear bird¡¯s songs over the resumed ng of practice fighting behind me. For my entire duration at the military camp, I¡¯ve just secured myself grade A security and the chance to finally kick back and rx as best as one can at an active warzone. With the cleverness of Katya, I¡¯m certain she would find a way to me Augustus if she manages to kill me, so Augustus should at least understand the delicacy of my current position. Frankly, I might even write a terrified secret letter to hide inside the tent so that if I do die due to Augustus¡¯ carelessness, he¡¯ll know I meant every word in the tent.

    I sit under the shade of a nearby tree as several of the lesser soldiers who serve as hands on deck as opposed to the ones waging actual battle pitch the tent. A grand pole with a phoenix affixed to the top is propped up, before pristine red fabric that weighs down several men is thrown overtop with loud grunts.

    ¡°Looks good! Looks great!¡± Praise rains from my lips easily as furniture is moved in and the ends of the tent are nailed down securely into the earth. A meek nurse¡¯s assistant is assigned as a temporary maid for my stay, since the military front isposed mostly of men save for the female nurses and the military ves in charge of serving food, cleaning blood off armor, and all the unsavory tasks thate with war. As for the duties they also have at night after supper, my lips press into a thin line at the thought.

    After all, Winter would note to exist without such a tryst between my father and mother.

    Due to pressing matters such as trying not to die, Winter¡¯s past, or should I say my own past, hasn¡¯t been of utmost concern to me in the past few years. I know the barebones of it from Bianca¡¯s drunk ramblings and the meager information supplied in the webnovel. My mother was a military ve during the time my father was conquering the desert kingdoms of old that once existed in the east, now absorbed into the Erudian Empire.

    They did the tango, she fell pregnant and made the wise decision that the man who may or may not have murdered his entire extended family in cold blood may not be the best father and moved to the capital with her sister for a new life. From there, as most women were and are prone to in this era, she passed away from inadequate postnatal care and left me behind to her blustering younger sister, who yells often to conceal how much she misses her only family.

    There many logistics that don¡¯t make sense. If my father has a killing aura, howe my mother didn¡¯t pass away since she doesn¡¯t have the immunity of his closest servants and stewards? And, a thought I even dread to think, was their engagement of her volition or by force? How did my mother and Bianca even wind up bing ves in the empire if their unique hair coloring suggests that their heritagees from the mysterious Old Continent?

    Dusk has fallen when I finally emerge from my thoughts, strands of my icy white locks floating beside me in the wood bathtub that was brought into my tent. The earlier excitement of the day has since faded away along with the warmth of the water, which grows colder by the moment.

    I¡¯ve been through a lot since I woke up here, more than your typical protagonist in any other transmigration story. I¡¯ve bled, cried, drowned in hopelessness, and been trapped in prisons both manmade and of my own making. And yet I¡¯m still here, alive and finally with a chance to reverse my odds.

    I take a look at the cards I¡¯m holding right now: I¡¯m the actual promised child, which will bring instant admiration and hope from all Holy Church followers the moment that informationes out. I¡¯ve invested in Lady Arabe¡¯s store, which should experience a meteoric rise in poprity soon when her gowns be the talk of high society during the post-war celebration parties. I have the chance to sway the royal guard back in my favor now that Empress Katya is no longer here to stir tensions between us. And finally, I¡¯m from the future.

    On second thought, I scrap thest card because all my future knowledge has done very little to help me so far. Something rustles the grass nearby and I smile, a burden I¡¯ve been carrying for the past day falling from my heart.

    ¡°Remind me to tell my brother to rece the guards around my tent tomorrow, Emma. It seems they do not take their job very seriously,¡± I sound stern, but the bright expression on my face says otherwise.

 Chapter 81

    Chapter 81: Ch. 81: Bombs Away

    ¡°Yes, your highness,¡± Emma parrots, her voiceing just a few steps behind me.

    ¡°Oh, you!¡± I gush, turning around to face my sister from another mister. ¡°Bring it in!¡±

    Being around me almost every day for the past 2 years has had many benefits, such as Emma finally being able to understand my more modern phrases. The stony-faced girl looks like she walked through a tornado, her hair in a bee¡¯s hive and her dress covered in filth. But my naked self tugs her in for a huge hug as she reluctantly holds her arms out. Emma stinks of freshly cut grass and corn.

    ¡°Your highness?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s going to cost 1000 gold coins.¡± My brokeness shatters the moment. I bead of sweat drips down my head, mixing with the water droplets still falling from me. At the moment, I already owe some kids a house and now I owe more money. Who¡¯d have thought that such young children would drive a hard bargain?

    ¡°Yes, yes of course,¡± I assure her, patting her shoulder over the cries of my empty wallet. They did risk their life for me though, so I¡¯m quite lucky in actuality that this is all they¡¯ve asked for. Perhaps an adult would be far more daring and ask for favors I can¡¯t dream of providing, things like a title or a castle or a month with the loveliest women in the finest Red House in Radovalsk.

    .....

    ¡°You stink,¡± I say, dramatically pinching my nose even though she truly doesn¡¯t smell bad at all. ¡°Get in and bathe with me.¡±

    ¡°Your highness, that is against the ru-¡°.

    ¡°For god¡¯s sakes, we just fled the imperial castle, got chased by assassins, and snuck into a military camp! Rules don¡¯t matter anymore!¡± I throw my arms up in the air, water flying everywhere along with my frustration. ¡°Besides, what has ying by the rules ever done for us? If rules really mattered, we wouldn¡¯t have had to make a run for it to begin with.¡±

    I¡¯m quick to enlighten Emma on my new philosophy as she slowly undresses and slips in. As any kid can agree, baths are much more fun when you can do it with someone else. I truly feel like a child for the first time in a while as we yfully ssh water upon one another and Emma rebraids my soaking wet locks in one of the few simple styles Marie has taught her. But I¡¯m not a real kid, in spirit nor in the way I¡¯m treated. My cheerful smile fades as we climb out of the tall tub and take turns drying off as we use our underclothes as pajamas.

    ¡°So, what happened to Jack and his crew?¡± I ask quietly as I slip on my breathable cotton underdress I¡¯ve worn for the entirety of our escape. It¡¯s far cleaner than my outer dress, but still reeks of sweat, blood, and grass. Ever since I¡¯vee to camp, I¡¯ve been drowning in the smell of grass.

    The hum of crickets from outside the tent, punctuating the silence between us as Emma looks away. Even in the tub and her usual stoicism, Emma has been quieter than usual and my attempts to paper over the mood have been for naught. My heart seizes as I fear the worst, only for Emma to open her mouth.

    ¡°He said he might as well find out if Belhelm was going to be easier to steal in than the capital with its round-the-clock protection from royal guards. He told me to tell you, ¡®Thanks for the fun, passenger. Don¡¯t forget the house.¡¯.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good, I suppose.¡± I roll my eyes at the brat¡¯s stupid nickname, but I can breathe easier hearing that Clever Jack doesn¡¯t seem too traumatized by our ordeals.

    ¡°And what about you? How are you feeling?¡±

    ¡°Fine, your highness,¡± she answers. But I can¡¯t shake the feeling of wrongness in her tone.

    I realize that I¡¯ve been treating Emma like a mule, her talents being extended from delivering secret letters to being my secret bodyguard. I hate the feeling of ¡®using¡¯ her, just because she doesn¡¯tin and is happy to do anything if it earns her some coin. And it has been disturbingly easy for me to me my dire need for resources and aid on her heavy workload and look the other way on the ethics of using a kid who hasn¡¯t even turned 10 years old to do my dirty work.

    Emma makes it easy because she is as diligent and clever as ever. As I stare guiltily at her, she peruses every corner of the tent from our used tub, to the thin cot they carried inst before the sun fell, from the small mirror that sits atop a single crude wood desk, and to the weighted edge of the round tent.

    ¡°It¡¯s safe enough,¡± I say when I can¡¯t stand it anymore. Emma doesn¡¯t turn away, her ck bob rhythmically bouncing as she tugs at the edge of the tent in small 2 inch increments.

    ¡°It is not, your highness. See, this is the section that I crawled under to get in. The weight was broken,¡± she points out in monotone.

    ¡°It would be too strange for me to die on my first night in camp, at least tonight I should be safe,¡± I quickly exin. ¡°But enough about me. I... you...¡±

    The words to properly exin myself escape me, buried under the exhaustion that has settled in from the past few days and enough anxiety to power a lightbulb. My thoughts are more tangled than a spider¡¯s web, but finally I dredge up the words I mean to say.

    My voice barelyes out above a whisper. ¡°Why are you so good to me, Emma? I¡¯m not worth all your efforts. I¡¯m a worthless princess and cash poor! You are probably much better of following someone that won¡¯t risk your life and wellbeing as much as I do,¡± Guilt lies heavy in my tone, the me for my actions sitting heavy on my shoulders. I know I¡¯m not mistaken, Emma has been upset ever since she entered the tent, most likely by my beyond reckless conduct since we fled the pce.

    ¡°Is that what you think, your highness?¡± Emma cuts in, a strange emotion discernable in her quiet voice.

    I look up and miraculously, Emma appears far more upset than she was before. I¡¯ve seen minuscule expressions of emotions from her. Irritation with Jack, her little mouth permanently curved downwards in that brat¡¯s presence. But this, sadness and displeasure, have carved the stoniness out of her face. Emma looks young and vulnerable, like a true kid.

    I shake my head. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re not mad about that?¡±

    The once closed book is fully open and I can see disappointment in Emma¡¯s dark eyes before she turns away andys on the ground. ¡°Let us sleep, your highness.¡± There is a finality to her tone and Iy down, my brow furrowed as I try to make sense of our friendship riff. She isn¡¯t mad about how I¡¯ve shamelessly used her over the years, but she¡¯s upset I asked. The contradiction between the two ideas keeps me up well into the night. But one thing is for certain when I wake up to faint light slipping between the curtain opening of the tent.

    A yawning divide has opened up between us.

    Emma still helps me button up my outer dress and redo my braids in the mornings but she has turned into a block of ice during our first few days at the military front.

    ¡°Emma, how did you sleep?¡±

    ¡°Well, your highness.¡±

    ¡°Gosh, it is bloody hot today! We should totally try to find out where my father¡¯s private ice is stored and steal a few pieces for ourselves.¡±

    ¡°Bad idea, your highness.¡±

    Short, curt one word answers without any boration or detail. Disconcertingly, I realize she speaks to me the everyone else does here. And I truly mean everyone.

    Days as a jobless princessat a military warzone are both jampacked and dull. I have no official tasks or duties, aside from simply flitting from one end to the other of the camp and staying out of everyone¡¯s way. Save for the exclusive wooded area where the royal guard have set camp, every day, day in day out, I am subject to the same:

    ¡°Greeting, your highness.¡±

    ¡°This is called n, your highness. It is used to make the paan.¡±

    There is respect in their voices when they speak, courtesy of Augustus announcing my presence from his tent and those at the battlefield not knowing of my typical treatment in the pce. Someone will push a wheelbarrow full of potatoes, pause to bow, and carry on. Then a battalion of soldiers ready to head into the field will take notice of me, bow in greeting, and march forth, their gold and silver Erudian Empire armor glistening under the sun magnificently. They battle deep within the Dredgen Woods separating the Erudian Empire and Sarsaval and a few kilometers away from the camp so it is easy to that a war is being waged.

    An alienated feeling has taken root in my chest, even more than when I was in the pce. I¡¯d usually giggle with Emma and tease her to pass my days, but now she stands at my side like a breathing cinder block unwilling to share her grievances and treating me just like everyone else.

    The novelty of being safe has long worn off, reced by the monotony of watching the mundane affairs of the soldiers and workers. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner all consist of paan, which has long lost its freshness from the first night I tried it hidden inside the military rations wagon. Watching people run around like busy worker bees and men valiantly spar with great confidence it¡¯s quite easy to forget the ugliness thates with war until it came right to my doorstep quite literally.

    There is a low underlying hum of noise constantly within the Belhelm military camp, much like living near a busy street within a lively city. Just from within my tent, I can always hear the crunch of grass underfoot, idle conversation about the weather, and of course, the thrum of arrows being shot and dull swords nging against another.

    But tonight it¡¯s different. The hum is louder and more restless, enough for Emma and I to look from where wey in curiosity. I can hear distant shouts and a creeping feeling crawls over my flesh.

    ¡°I shall go check, your highness,¡± Emma says as she rolls from the ground, speaking the most words she¡¯s said to me in the past two weeks.

    I sit up in my cot, drawing the sheets under my chin as Emma steps out for what feels like a minute before shees rushing back in.

    ¡°The first battle. It has been lost.¡±

    The words take a minute to register, but my eyes widen immediately afterwards.

    ¡°We lost?!¡± I remember the proud phoenix g I saw at the front of the march to the field, the impressive maneuvering I¡¯d witnessed on the training grounds, and struggle to reconcile what I¡¯ve seen with what I just heard. To lose a battle, that means that people died. Enough to force the proud Empire into retreat.

    I fling off the covers, wrapping a simple shawl around my shoulders as I pick up the small candle holder on the desk and go to peek outside the curtain of my tent.

    Two, tall shadowy figures stand guard outside as usual, but in the dark night I nearly jump at the sight.

    ¡°Your highness, it isn¡¯t safe,¡± one of them says in a deep voice, his eyes tracking fast movements before us. There is a frenzy in the camp that wasn¡¯t present before. The nurse unit, who had previously mostly worked on stocking bandages, sutures, and medicinal alcohol are now in action as the run around with blood sshed on the apron of their dresses. Torch light flickers in the distance and I can hear a long, soul crushing wolf-like howl that I eventually identify as human. Whoever that person is, they are severely wounded.

    Just before my tent, I can see two nurses help a limping man to the outdoor infirmary as the stench of blood that follows them nearly overpowers the constant manure I can smell. He shakes him head furiously as if the simple action could rid him of the things he¡¯s seen. His pant leg is knotted just below the knee and my heart stops as I realize that he is missing his entire foot. Dark liquid sshes from the sopping wet knot onto the grass below.

    He¡¯s mumbling and muttering, the summer evening wind carrying his words to our ears. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it. It was... It was ungodly,¡± he wheezes out each word and speaks with a slight slur as if he were drunk.

    ¡°There, there good sir. We will get you proper help so try not to talk alright?¡± a nurse calmly says, her red armband shing under the light of a nearby passing torch. She sounds like a saint.

    ¡°The earth... it rose suddenly to heights taller than a man and with such... deafening noise. It took... my leg... and my brother- my brother he...¡± Hisst, trembling words serve as a trigger as lucidity ws its way back to his eyes and sends newfound energy into his wiry limbs. He begins to writhe against the smaller nurse¡¯s grip.

    The situation for the nurses goes from 0 to 100 without a moment¡¯s notice. But I¡¯m frozen, not from the man¡¯s mad iling but from his words which sent rm bells running through me.

    ¡°Where is my brother?! Where?! WHERE?! Oh Helio, help! Akira hase for us all! My brother!¡± It is one frenzied man against two smaller woman so the nurses are quickly overpowered and tumble to the side. The man cannot walk on his own and soon falls down after. But he ws desperately at the grass and shoves away their helpful hands that seek to help him up.

    ¡°Sir, please stay calm! We are here to help you!¡± The nurses yell. If I wasn¡¯t already up, this dispute would have certainly awoken me. The man¡¯s eyes are wide as if he¡¯s seen something terrible and the war, which has always felt so far away, has never felt closer to me.

    ¡°My brother! You killed him! Oh Helio, he is dead! My good brother is dead!¡± The man wails loud enough to wake the dead. He doesn¡¯t look much older than I was when I died in my world and my heart thrums in pity. I was barely in my early twenties and technically an adult but that is far too young to start fighting for your country in my opinion.

    ¡°Are you just going to stand and watch? Go help them!¡± I sharply order the guards who stand like tall pirs at the entrance of my tent. It must¡¯ve been within their intentions too, for they surprisingly don¡¯t waste a second and rush forward to help the struggling nurses.

    Meanwhile, I don¡¯t wait around to watch and start hastily walking in a direction of camp that I haven¡¯t bothered to visit since I arrived.

    ¡°Your highness?¡± Emma inquires, rushing beside me as we speedwalk away before the guards notice.

    ¡°Who needs sleep?¡± I joke lightly to disguise the terrible hunch burning inside of me, a hunch about the most terrible ¡®what-if¡¯ situation possible regarding transmigrators and the future ideas they can bring.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go get some answers.¡±

 Chapter 82

    Chapter 82: Ch. 82: An Honest Conversation

    The mood is heavy from what we¡¯ve just seen.

    Emma and I hurry quickly before the guards take notice, a mild fear taking hold of me as the unlit path is barely illuminated by the small candle I hold.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know where Julian¡¯s tent is, do you?¡± I ask Emma after my tent has disappeared from view behind us. I feel like a naughty teenager who has just snuck out to hang out with my friends and wrap my earth-colored shawl around my shoulders tighter in the hopes it will make my white nightgown a little harder to see in the night.

    ¡°Yes, your highness,¡± Emma says with her infuriating one-word answers. Without a warning, she instantly starts marching ahead, leaving me scrambling to catch up.

    ¡°One of these days, you and I are going to have a nice, long chat about-,¡± I mutter under my breath at Emma, until she whips around and gives me a look that shuts me up as I smile innocently back.

    The nket of darkness is slightly less frightening with Emma leading the way. Scarcely two minutester, we arrive at a red tent simr to that of Augustus and I.

    Seeing the guards standing in front, I curb the instant frown that had cropped up and step forward to greet them with a smile.

    .....

    ¡°Excuse me, is my brother inside?¡± I request politely. I would¡¯ve dly ignored and avoided Julian for the rest of my involuntary vacation but circumstances no longer allow it. My foot taps away like a hummingbird with a flower, so intense is my impatience to chat with the only other transmigrator I know.

    ¡°Your highness, his highness departed for a meeting a half-hour ago,¡± One obediently responds after they both greet me.

    ¡°Spreading lies about me again?¡± Julian crosses his arms as he grins at me, Felix standing at his back with antern. In the flickering light, I can spy a little panic in his eyes, which further spurs my own fear.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± Both guards drop onto a knee and thump a fist on their chest in sync. I¡¯d marvel at their synchronous moves if it weren¡¯t for the fact that we may be dealing with a potential world war inducing problem.

    I roll my eyes, my little hands grabbing the cuff of his white undershirt and dragging him inside. ¡°You. Me. Talk. Now.¡±

    ¡°Emma, please make sure these men don¡¯t eavesdrop,¡± I throw over my shoulder before my older brother and I disappear into the tent.

    The leftover remnants of the afternoon¡¯s boiling weather lingers in the heavy tent, an oppressive warmth hanging in the air. I dump my shawl on his bed and plop myself down unceremoniously afterwards.

    ¡°So, what are the odds that the Sarsavalian army somehow got ahold of a transmigrator who knows how to make explosives?¡± I ask, the bead of sweat beginning to drip down my back most definitely not from the warm interior.

    Julian, doesn¡¯t have his sad puppy look nor his otherwise cocky expression, the uncanny seriousness tacking on years to his 12-year-old face.

    ¡°Very, disturbingly high right now,¡± he leans onto his desk, a little bit of panic manifesting between his furrowed brows.

    I purse my lips. ¡°How is this possible?¡±

    ¡°Same way you and I arriving here is possible,¡± Julian answers, as perplexed as I am.

    It¡¯s so rare, almost a one in a million chance, that someone could transmigrate into this antiquated world and not only know how to construct explosives, but also willingly use them in warfare after knowing our modern world¡¯s ugly history with bombs.

    I flick my eyes up at Julian and ask, ¡°Speaking of which, how did youe here anyways? Did you-¡±

    ¡°Did I die?¡± he finishes smoothly. Something shes through his eyes. ¡°Yes, I did.¡±

    ¡°How?¡± I skip the false condolences, since the same fate befell the both of us.

    ¡°How did you die?¡± he counters, turning it around on me.

    ¡°A stupid mistake ofbining alcohol with pills. Now you spill.¡±

    ¡°A stroke.¡± Julian bites out the words through clenched teeth, a deeper story hiding behind his tense figure.

    ¡°Seriously? But strokes don¡¯t usually... kill people, do they?¡± I was in college for political science, not biology.

    Julian smirks bitterly. ¡°They don¡¯t. But if you have a stroke and don¡¯t receive immediate emergency treatment, you can easily suffocate from a ck tongue or have a heart attack triggered by the stroke.¡±

    He hasn¡¯t given the whole story, but I can piece out a little bit of his past life behind his words.

    ¡°Gosh, that sucks. How old were you?¡± I ask, recalling he did not disagree when I called him middle-aged during our very first meeting.

    ¡°I would¡¯ve been 55 in a week.¡±

    ¡°Can I call you old man then? Alright, I will.¡± I answer my question myself, ignoring the irritation that flits across his face momentarily. ¡°For me, I was 21, finishing up my major and definitely came into this world without any useful skills other than baking and being my typical charming self.¡±

    Julian doesn¡¯t even crack a grin, delving straight into my past. ¡°What major? Where are you from?¡± He pauses for a second and then goes for his true question. ¡°And what do you get out of being the promised child, Winter?¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re so curious, you can start by telling me a little bit about yourself. What kind of life did you have that you could drop from a stroke without anyone noticing? ¡± Neither of us are willing to show our cards though, an awkward silence permeating the air after my charged question.

    ¡°Hmph. That¡¯s what I thought,¡± I roll my eyes and return to the most important subject at hand. There was never any trust between us anyways, just guilt and mutual interests.

    ¡°Now tell me about the other Travelers in this world you know. I think I deserve to know at this point since we may be blown to kingdome before I even get a taste of puberty. Hell, I won¡¯t even have the chance tough at your stupid voice cracking in a few years.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that easy and I told you the first time we met that I don¡¯t know much.¡±

    ¡°But you do know something, I can tell.¡±

    ¡°Look at the world we¡¯ve been reborn in, we could get burned at the stake or executed by the Holy Church if our existence got out. Even you and I being within the imperial family wouldn¡¯t be safe.¡±

    I snort in disbelief. ¡°I know I¡¯d be the first on the chopping block, but your mom is the empress, your granddad is the chancellor, and your uncle is one of the 4 bishops of the Holy Church. You will be just fine, I can assure you.¡±

    ¡°There is much you don¡¯t know, Winnie.¡±

    ¡°Convenient time for you to remember that stupid nickname.¡± I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve heard it in years. ¡°You are House Duvernay¡¯s only shot at ruling the empire. So pray tell, why do you think you wouldn¡¯t be granted immunity?¡±

    Julian feels rawer today, like an onion that has been peeled back ayer to reveal more of his character. His head tilts side to side, his cropped blonde locks swaying as he deliberates how much information he wishes to divulge. There is no showboat prince who could talk circles around me, nor the guilt-ridden one who doled out asional favors as rpense for looking the other way regarding his mother¡¯s actions. Somehow, this new person before me throws me for even more of a loop, the aura of desperation and unreadability hanging around him

    But one thing that stands for certain: there are many key secrets within House Duvernay. For the thousandth time, I curse the webnovel for being a love story that didn¡¯t focus on the politics of the world.

    ¡°Ugh, never mind. We¡¯re off-topic anyways,¡± I scoff, knowing I won¡¯t get any answers out of him tonight. He¡¯s given me enough information as it is today, and it secretly feels good to be the one who can read Julian like a book rather than him toying with me the way he did in the shrine two years ago.

    Quite frankly, it is Julian, not Augustus or Julia, who raises my hackles the most from my siblings. In the webnovel, he was wicked clever and hid his actions under schemes designed by others, so much so that you wouldn¡¯t realize you fell into his trap until it was toote. Quite frankly, I even believe that the main leads¡¯ halos wouldn¡¯t have withstood his attacks if it weren¡¯t for webnovel Julian¡¯s crush on ra. What a tired clich¨¦, am I right?

    ¡°The situation is grave,¡± Julian says, jumping right back into the topic at hand. ¡°I¡¯ve been in the strategy tent with Father and Augustus. Everyone is stumped. And as for me, I can¡¯te out and say I know about bombs, especially since I don¡¯t know how to detect and disarm them. The battle mages don¡¯t have a clue on how to detect-¡±

    ¡°Hold on. Battle mages?¡± I stare at Julian like he¡¯s speaking a foreignnguage.

    This time the you-are-so-ignorant look is absolutely unmistakable. ¡°You didn¡¯t just think that the Holy Church¡¯s power and influence simplyes from the religion, right? Anyone with magic in the empire, save for those who choose to go into medicine, is required to join the Holy Church. Narrow battles have been won simply because of their presence.¡±

    And just like that, another critical puzzle piece into the crazy game I¡¯ve been forced to y is acquired.

    ¡ª¡ª¡ª-

    Most people would feel awkward standing alone outside with three grown men in the middle of the night. But with one nce, one can easily tell that Emma is not ¡®most people¡¯.

    With her shoulders held firm and her back as straight as a board, Emma¡¯s standing position was reminiscent of theone beaten into new army recruits. Her short and skinny stature inparison to Felix and the two guards was easy to dismiss however, to Emma¡¯s advantage of course.

    In a world that did not pay enough attention to women, Emma¡¯s courtesan mother had long taught the little girl how to take advantage of it. But even without her mother¡¯s calming tutge and the street¡¯s brutal lessons once her mother passed away, spying unabashedly at the three men was an easy task.

    So easy, that when the tall, slimy-looking fellow who doggedly followed Prince Julian around slithered away around the corner of the tent, Emma trotted after him diligently.

    Emma acquainted most people with animals, a childish game she yed in her head though she would never admit it in a thousand years. Her mistress and sister was a parrot, who could talk for hours about mundane matters. Jake was a lion, as he had always led their crew with unmistakable authority despite being her age. And Julian¡¯s manservant, Felix, was a snake.

    Emma was not fond of people who reminded her of snakes. She¡¯d killed thest person who reminded her of one.

    Felix was light on his feet, but Emma was lighter. With hands sped behind her back, she watched as Felix slipped out of the guards¡¯ line of sight with a lousy excuse of searching for an outhouse. He looked both ways before falling to his knees and attempting to dislodge the tent¡¯s weighted edges so he could perhaps peek into or listen in on the conversation going on within.

    Emma would not have cared if Winter weren¡¯t inside the tent. Anyone raised within the West Bend adhered to a silent rule when it came to illegal actions: pretend you didn¡¯t see it as long as it doesn¡¯t affect you. It kept the smart ones alive and culled out the nosy do-gooders quickly.

    But Winter was in the tent. And even if Emma was temporarily annoyed with Winter, she was not about to sit back and watch a snake slither into her mistress¡¯ tent.

    Emma cleared her throat. Felix didn¡¯t budge, so devoted was he to freeing the edge of the crimson tent from the weight. Emma sighed, a cute little sound, but rather sinister to those who knew her. Inside her hidden pocket, she twirled her dagger around in a steady circle, ready to draw at a moment¡¯s notice.

    ¡°What are you doing, good sir?¡±

 Chapter 83

    Chapter 83: Ch. 83: Chasm

    Felix jumped like he¡¯d seen a ghost. In the span of a second, he straightened up and smoothed out his clothes before sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

    ¡°Hello, littledy,¡± he said to Emma, breaking out what was supposed to be a disarming grin.

    Emma did not often smile at others, especially someone as ugly as Felix, so she did not bother to answer, only staring intensely at him with her dark and steady gaze.

    ¡°What were you doing, sir?¡± Emma repeated. She hated engaging in excessive chatter, but Winter had told her that people would take her more seriously if she spoke more. As a result, she did try to talk more often now.

    ¡°I-¡± Felix cleared his throat nervously, then perhaps he realized that he was dealing with a child and leaned over the much shorter Emma. ¡°That is none of your business. This area is not safe for children. Please return to the entrance of the prince¡¯s tent.¡±

    It urred to Emma that if Winter were in her current position, she would have either burst outughing or dramatically rolled her eyes. But Emma was much more concise in showing her displeasure.

    Lashing out with her left foot, Emma swung her foot between his legs and knocked the toe of her boot against his Achille¡¯s tendon at an angle that Robbie had told her felt like someone had just set fire to your leg. It worked as promised.

    .....

    ¡°Hey, what are you- Oh! Ah! My leg! Helio have mercy! What did you do?!¡± Felix folded back down to the ground, the skinny newly adult man wailing on the ground like a little boy.

    He threw an usatory nce at Emma as he yelled loud enough to wake the dead, sending the guards running around the corner in seconds, followed by a bewildered Winter and Julian.

    Seeing his loyal servant on the ground, Julian adopted a look of concern and went over to look, kneeling on the soft grass next to Felix.

    ¡°What happened? What¡¯s the matter?¡±

    ¡°I- This girl she-¡± Felix sputtered, his finger wagging in Emma¡¯s direction.

    Emma was a quiet girl, but she had learned a few wily tricks from her mistress. Before Felix could finish talking she went to bow before Prince Julian and sternly said, ¡°Your highness, there was a snake that almost bit Felix. In preventing it from causing harm, I scared the beast away but identally kicked your manservant. Please punish me as you see fit.¡±

    ¡°No one is getting punished tonight! Right, Julian?¡± Winter quickly but in, pulling Emma behind her and throwing an irritated wink at her half-brother. Emma was faintly amused by how her younger and shorter friend wanted to ¡®protect¡¯ her, the feeling temporarily overwhelming the hurt she¡¯d been carrying around for the past few days.

    In fact, Julian wouldn¡¯t have done anything as he felt slight shame at the thought that his manservant, who was also partially trained in the art of battle, could be felled so easily by a kick from a child.

    Thus, he was quick to dismiss waving away Emma¡¯s apology. ¡°Nevermind that. At least the snake is gone. It¡¯s a bitte, you should head to bed, Winter.¡±

    Emma witnessed the withering re Emma tossed Julian¡¯s way, before she turned heel rapidly, forcing Emma to slightly trot to catch up.

    ¡°Why that little- I swear, just because he¡¯s a little older he thinks he can boss me around willy nilly. Well, I won¡¯t stand for it! Someday I¡¯ll give him a taste of what it¡¯s like being bossed around!¡± Winter eximed, her hands gesturing passionately with her words.

    ¡°Wait,¡± Winter paused, a thought urring to her. Her bright gold eyes were visible even in the night as she turned to look at Emma. ¡°Was there really a snake beside the tent? How did you both end up there?¡±

    ¡°There was, your highness.¡±

    ¡°Oh wow, two words for a change!¡± Winter fist-pumped the air. ¡°Will you tell me why you¡¯re mad at me soon?¡± Her earnest eyes bore into Emma¡¯s and Emma looked away at the ground.

    ¡°He was the snake,¡± she rified further, avoiding Winter¡¯s second question.

    ¡°Huh,¡± The brilliant smile faded, reced a look of contemtion that was beyond Winter¡¯s years. Emma did not speak often, but she was frank and her underlying meaning was easy to understand. Eventually, however, Winter just shrugged. ¡°Well... it¡¯s not our problem.¡±

    Emma nodded, d her friend wasn¡¯t a mindless do-gooder. She still remembered how the kind, old businessman who had taken his life savings to open a soup kitchen in the roughest suburbs of West Bend had been robbed blind and given ame leg as a thank you. Now he still wandered the streets with a withered staff, clinging to life desperately as he cursed everyone and everything that moved. But, he had never been bothered since the initial robbery.

    Emma sighed hourster as the quiet snores of Winter echoed above her. Sleep was impossible, all her senses on high alert as if something were about to leap out of the shadows. But there was nothing out there between herself and the guards that could get into the tent. However, erring on the side of caution was a lesson that Emma had been forced to learn painfully before she¡¯d even lost her first baby tooth. And this lesson had carved out all the happiness from her heart, until meeting Winter had started refilling that sister-shaped happiness she had once enjoyed long ago.

    ¡°Moira,¡± she whispered hesitantly, the darkness swallowing her words eagerly. Emma¡¯s chest clenched as if someone had grabbed it with great fierceness and she patted it tenderly until the feeling went away, but not fully. It had been a while since the sensation had bothered her.

    Emma looked up at Winter¡¯s sleeping face, the tendrils of distinct, icy whiteness falling onto her chubby cheek, and wondered how she could get the words in her heart into the open. She had never had a way with words. That was Clever Jack, and before Jack, there was Moira.

    But like a cork in a bottle, Emma said nothing once the sun rose and Winter began chattering again, before falling into one of the long, abnormal silences she was prone to on asion. There was no window for Winter to sit by, so she sat at the desk with her chin propped up on her fists for a few hours without a sound.

    Emma had seen that behavior from the destitute soldiers who returned from war penniless and scarred with wounds both visible and invisible. Sometimes, if she waved a hand in front of Winter¡¯s eyes, her friend wouldn¡¯t even react. Then Emma¡¯s heart would unavoidably soften and she would wish to talk with Winter the way they used to and understand the curious, wonderful enigma that her closestpanion was.

    Thoughts seemed to move rapidly in her friend¡¯s head, her eyes moving around the way they do when one has a thousand thoughts all firing at once, and others she was like a nk te for hours. Once in a while, Emma pondered what Winter thought about at those times as she practiced her swordwork, sharpened her de, or hacked away at the short pieces of grass underfoot. Did Winter think about their friendship? Because Emma found that recently, it was all she could think about.

    A princess and a former street urchin as friends? The words sounded foolish in Emma¡¯s head, let alone if she said it aloud. So she did nothing, her outstretched hand that had reached out to pat Winter¡¯s shoulder tucking itself back at her side.

    Day in, day out, the wall between the two friends grew taller as the morale in the camp sank further, weighed down by the anchor they now called ¡°eruptions¡± even though Winter had muttered more than once that they were actually ¡°explosives¡±. Despite the heavy July sun practically making the army¡¯s shiny armor melt into their flesh, a cloud hung over the military front as well as over Winter and Emma. Winter¡¯s ramblings slowly shortened and she pleaded with Emma less as Emma¡¯s guilt and doubt sent her sword flying quicker and quicker through the air.

    War, once a distant idea in Emma¡¯s mind, was turning out to be a bloody,wless thing. It made Emma feel like she was home in the slums again. When she ran around at night to clear her head, sometimes she would make it out as far as where the nurse camp was, a thick coppery scent hanging in the air the same way she could smell spun sugar and imported perfume when she and Winter sold flowers in the East Bend.

    The medical station, which had once been rather idle with only a few soldiers to treat every day, was now packed to the brim like a local pub on weekends. There were agonizing wails and prayer. Lots of prayers. Ironically, it was all the praying, not the screaming and blood, that sent Emma skittering away back into the darkness.

    The poor and destitute will always pray for a miracle, Jack had always told her in mockery of their plight. They don¡¯t yet realize that it isn¡¯t Helio who listens, but Akira. Otherwise, why would we get away with everythin¡¯ we do?

    From everything she¡¯d seen and done in her 10 years of life, Emma couldn¡¯t agree more. The bishop in charge of the battle mages, a looming, soulless looking man whose washed-out tinum locks nearly blended in with his white and blue garb, became the figurehead for those desperate with prayers about the ¡°eruptions¡±.

    ¡°Please aid your children, oh Helio. For even the earth rebels against us in this righteous battle against those who do not believe in your light. Help us Helio in...¡± Their voices drifted away into the night along with the prostrate bodies kneeling in prayer before the bishop, yet somehow looking as if they were bowing to him.

    There was no torchlight to light Emma¡¯s path through the crates of supplies, tents of slumbering soldiers, and night guards. However, since she could walk, matters of escaping the notice of others and being quick-footed had been her strong suit. It was why Clever Jack had found great use in her presence within his gang too.

    Walking back to the tent, Emma nodded to the two guards out front, who had seen her slip out almost an hour prior. She was breathing slightly heavily after jogging back and felt cleansed as if she¡¯d taken a rare bath, reminding her of when Winter had let her join in herrge, wooden bathtub. But the feeling washed away as Emma detected an rumpled bed with no Winter in it.

    ¡°Winter!¡± Emma hissed out, dropping the ¡®your highness¡¯ entirely as she scrambled to the bedside in a split second. Emma¡¯s dark skirt flew up in a tizzy as she dove over one side of the bed, then the other, just in case Winter had tumbled off it in her sleep. But there was no such luck. Winter was simply not there.

    The first threads of panic began to weave through the typically calm Emma. She rushed to the curtain entrance of the tent, ready to yell for guards, but something stayed her hand. Winter was a girl of many thoughts who surely could not be kidnapped so easily. So what if Winter, just like herself, had left?

    Without her?

    The chasm between the two grew wider in Emma¡¯s heart as she slowly flopped onto the bed, taking in Winter¡¯s familiar scent as something hot pricked her eyes. Her mother had always said that the most reliable thing in this world was money, and the most unreliable: people. The sisterhood between them, was that only wishful thinking on her behalf?

    Sometime in the endless night, before Winter returned, Emma nodded off on the bed surrounded by the scent of grass and Winter. When she woke, something warm was pressed against her side. Emma sat up in a sh and turned around to see Winterying by her side like a cat. Herrge eyes regarding Emmazily as if she had been at it for quite some time.

    ¡°Can we talk?¡±

 Chapter 84

    Chapter 84: Ch. 84: An Angry, Little Ko

    These days, Augustus and Julian are never in their tents. I know this, because whenever they are present, the number of guards around their tent doubles, andtely, the one or two guards who linger out front look awfully lonely.

    But that¡¯s probably just me projecting my feelings onto those guards. Being at the military front right now is like standing in the eye of the storm. All around me is chaos. But what strikes me most is that the small nuisances that bothered me when I first arrived, the constant smell of manure and noisy crickets, are no longer present. The army camp carries the bitter scent of metal, from therge cannons that have just arrived from the capital. The crickets have no doubt fled for safer pastures.

    And for me, this campsite of death is my safest pasture. The irony is not lost on me that the most dangerous location in the entire Erudian Empire is the safest ce for me to survive. However, if anything, my guard has gone up and I rarely leave without mute Emma tucked by my side. In times of chaos such as now, killing a princess could be easily swept under the rug as a ¡®malfunction of equipment¡¯ or ¡®the young princess was ying in the wrong ce at the wrong time¡¯.

    Emma isn¡¯t talking to me and there is no one to converse with me, much like life was in the Rose Pce. So I think. And I don¡¯t think like Maria, whose naivete has caused her to be attacked and harmed constantly. I think like Winter, a Winter who not only wants to live, but live very well.

    Just being alive is a privilege in its own way I see, when the minute Emma and I step out of my tent, two soldiers walk by with a shrouded stretcher between the two of them. A hand of the deceased flops out from underneath the white fabric and it is smooth and wrinkle-free, easily the hand of a young man.

    I do a short Helionic prayer for the deceased and both of the soldiers nod their respect before they carry off the body to where the rest of them are stored. I haven¡¯t been down to the area where the bodies are being cremated and buried. But with the boiling hot days upon us, asionally a ghastly scent will make its way to where I am. The scent of death, I have now realized.

    All this death has made us all vulnerable. I can see it in the desperate eyes of the soldiers in the mess hall, who chug their ale in shuddering gasps and are no longer in the mood for banter. I see it in the overwhelmed nurse quivering in a corner where she thinks no one can see her, whose blue medical dress is stained with blood and she clutches her white cap between her teeth to quiet the sound of her keening cries.

    .....

    The camp has moved back enough miles for the second most prosperous city in the empire, Belhelm, to begin to be evacuated. That is how dire this situation has be.

    And with this worsening situation, I hate to say it,es an opportunity.

    There¡¯s a reason why my marketing ss dedicated an entire unit to breaking down those sad or sentimental advertisements that tug at your heartstrings. Humans connect more intimately in times of pain, grief, and hopelessness. So now it¡¯s time for me to employ the most tried and true trick in the Transmigrated Kid¡¯s Guide to Survival handbook and hope it works.

    Is this war my father¡¯s fault? No. But as the emperor and suprememander of the army, the me falls on his shoulders alone. And how heavy it must feel to be the head bearing the crown, right now.

    If anything, the me falls on our ancestors who first took this province from Sarsaval. If there¡¯s another party who is to me, it would also be the runaway baron who escaped to Sarsaval and incentivized them to wage war against us. And finally, the me also falls on the deranged, rogue transmigrator who is using their dangerous knowledge to cause untold casualties and fear.

    I do not have the luxury of ying by the rules, this I fully understand. But I¡¯ll y them my way, rather than dance like a puppet to the whims of Empress Katya or Lord Bromley. So when I crawl out of bed in the middle of the night one day and Emma is not nearby in her familiar position, I¡¯m almost d that there is no one there to guilt trip me for the emotional ckmail I am about to do. Almost.

    I don¡¯t exit from the front, instead electing to painstakingly crawl underneath tug out one of the weighted edges of my tent and belly crawl out without ruining my nightgown. It¡¯s as tough as it sounds. But 20 or so minutester, I brush off the minuscule dirt that did get on my nightgown before heading in towards the ck tent I¡¯ve always regarded from a distance. The emperor¡¯s tent. My father¡¯s tent.

    I have seen neither hide nor hair of Emperor Helio since I arrived at this military camp, making him a terrible host and an even worse father. The only clue I ever have to ascertain his whereabouts is when his special guards stand menacingly outside the strategy tent and when the main division of his battalions are out in the warzone.

    I let out a breath, pat my chubby cheeks, and tug at my twin braids for luck. ¡°Winter, you got this.¡±

    It¡¯s time, time for me to use the all-too-unrealistic transmigration trope of winning over your icy dad with cuteness and hugs like we all live in a fucking Disney movie. Of course, my scars, trauma, and trust issues beg to differ.

    WE ARE INTERRUPTING YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING FOR AN INTERVIEW WITH FUTURE WINTER, 24 HOURS LATER.

    Producer: So Winter, what made you think that after years of your dad not acknowledging you, a midnight hug would have you both holding hands and singing kumbaya?

    Me: That¡¯s harsh, Dave. *cue siugh* With all due respect, I was low on options and more than a little desperate due to a literal war going on around me and nearly being assassinated more times in just as many weeks. Look, I¡¯m a kid technically! I just want to enjoy my childhood a little! So I decided to give this method a try. But unfortunately, there was no way for me to have seen into the near future right after that hug, otherwise best believe I wouldn¡¯t have bothered with that nonsense.

    BACK TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAM IN THE PRESENT.

    Even in the moment, I am doubting my actions. The guards were surprisingly lenient when I approached my father¡¯s pitch ck tent with my best impression of Bambi¡¯s eyes and a soft, sweet voice like I was about to burst into tears any second.

    But when the ck curtained entrance pped shut behind me and hid the little light that came from the stars, I feel as if I¡¯ve just dived into the deep end of a pool without being able to swim.

    As befitting his status, Emperor Helio¡¯s tent is about as cavernous as if you shoved both Prince Julian¡¯s and my tent together into one space. This is why the sudden darkness within it feels ominous, as one flickering candle that is about to run out of wax sits on his crowded desk of maps and papers.

    There is a man behind that desk, my father. But unlike the unshaken, imposing character who had dominated the entire throne room, his head was buried deep in his hands and my father did not move when I entered although I know he heard me. The malevolent, despondent energy writhing around his solitary figure is all but visible to my eyes. A sign taped to his forehead with the words ¡°FUCK OFF¡± written in bold letters would be redundant.

    This must be the fourth or fifth time I¡¯ve seen my dad since I woke up in this world and every time, this time included, is just as unpleasant as the first.

    But I still feel a modicum of sympathy. As the figurehead of the battle, all the spit and curses of disgruntled soldiers and citizensrgely fall on his head alone. I soon find myself at the foot of the desk, the trembling me illuminating the coiled muscles in his hand and the tendril of ink-ck hair that hang over it.

    ¡°F-Father?¡± I want to p myself after my voice unavoidably trembles, but the man before me has no reaction.

    ¡°Daddy?¡±

    With the bravery of a thousand knights, I tentatively step around the desk so there is no barrier between us and set a hand on my father¡¯s leg. Nothing happens.

    The man is so tall, I realize I¡¯ve also undertaken a rock climbing challenge as I swallow the embarrassment and scramble up Emperor Helio¡¯s leg before burying my burning face in his shirt and wrapping my arms around as much of him as I can.

    And that was how I found myself hugging the man almost single-handedly responsible for my misery because he couldn¡¯t keep it in his pants or take responsibility for my health and safety like a real dad, instead of snuggling under the soft nket in my tent. A bitter taste crawls up my throat as I cling to the emperor like an angry, little ko with abandonment issues. My eyes burn in a familiar way in my eye sockets, but I just lie to myself that I¡¯m just feeling the emotions of past Winter, who lived and died so terribly without any answers.

    Why did you bring me back to the imperial pce if you were just going to throw me to the wolves?

    Since you¡¯re also a bastard, don¡¯t you already know how hard it is to be the innocent child born out of wedlock in the imperial family?

    And am I hugging a statue or a person?

    Just as I¡¯m about to release his neck and go back, hat in hand, to my tent like a schmuck, I feel a pressure on my back. It¡¯s my father, his arms wrapping around mine and surrounding me with the intense warmth of his muchrger frame. I haven¡¯t had this kind of hug since... since ever.

    When I was Maria, I always longed for a father figure in my life. I wished more than anything to have what I saw my friends had: A harried, middle-aged man in a rumpled suit arriving home with enough hugs and kisses to go around. Someone to drag me along to go fishing, even if I ended up hating the activity, who would teach me how to shoot my first hoop and cheer at my ser games. This hug is a reminder of all the things I never enjoyed in my past life, or this one for the matter until this very moment.

    Something in my chest softens into mush, before I harden my heart once more into stone. After all, it¡¯s not like he sought me out in the first ce.

    Once I¡¯ve regained my bearings, I wrap my arms even tighter around the emperor and think to myself, ¡°How alone you must be, Emperor Helio. You don¡¯t even realize how much you¡¯ve isted yourself, do you? Use me to fill up the imperial bloodline you depleted. And I¡¯ll use you to live a better life as a princess.¡±

    This is but a minor, one-time transaction, so in the future, Emperor Helio may perhaps think of me once in a while and intercede a little bit sooner the next time I¡¯m thrown in the Tower when Empress Katya¡¯s insidious schemes trap me.

    It¡¯s the least the emperor could do for me, I reconcile with myself as I walk out a few minutester. But I¡¯m not sure whose emotions were more knotted up by that hug. Him, or me?

    With my feelings entangled in an impossible knot, I get to work undoing the first of myplicated rtionships. My friendship with Emma.

 Chapter 85

    Chapter 85: Ch. 85: It¡¯s a Miracle!

    ¡°We... do, your highness?¡± Emma groggily blinked at me, the haze of sleep slowly fading from her eyes.

    ¡°Yes. You and I, we¡¯re friends. We¡¯re part of a sisterhood, right? Buttely, you¡¯re mad about something, probably something I did or said with my track record, and we need to talk it out.¡±

    Our energies are on opposite ends of the spectrum, with Emma¡¯s sluggishness sharply contrasting my bright-eyed and bushy-tailed energy. Somehow, even after spending the entire night burning through the adrenaline rush generated from hugging my dad, I¡¯m feeling peppy enough to power through my high school cheer routine or run a mile.

    Emma squints at me as my words register in her head. ¡°What¡¯s a track record?¡±

    ¡°Erm... it¡¯s a recorded list of my past performance. But that¡¯s beside the point. Emma, what did I do? Tell me how we fix us.¡±

    Emma sat up, her bird¡¯s nest hair onlyplimented by the bird¡¯s song we can hear outside the tent. It seems like the pigeons and the crows are the only animals that haven¡¯t been frightened out of the Dredgen Woods and the military warfront.

    ¡°Your highness, there is no us. We are just master and servant.¡±

    .....

    The words feel like a physical blow and my newly found confidence in resolving my problems is decimated by half.

    ¡°Emma. Emma, please don¡¯t say that,¡± I plead.

    Emma¡¯s eyes turn red too, water glittering in them.

    ¡°But isn¡¯t that what you want, your highness?¡± Emma whimpers.

    ¡°Huh?¡± As a soul from a modern era, hierarchy and status are archaic ideas that, although still present, are far less prominent than they were in the past. Heck, I was poor in myst life and poor at the beginning of this one. Standing on higher ground and drawing a line in the sand is not something I would feelfortable doing.

    ¡°You left me behind in that town, your highness. You ran away and attracted the assassins away with you,¡± Emma exined slowly, her voice thick with tears.

    I stand from the bed bbergasted that my actions with good intentions could be so misinterpreted by Emma. ¡°I did that to protect you!¡±

    Emma shakes her head. ¡°But we are part of a sisterhood! You said that we would go through fat and thin-¡°.

    ¡°-thick and thin-¡± I automatically correct.

    ¡°-thick and thin together. But you left me behind! Doesn¡¯t that mean you see me as someone important? But I realize I overstepped my identity. T¡¯was foolish of me to think we could be friends,¡± Emma says with a disappointed resolution. She hides her face in my covers.

    ¡°Nope. No, no, no. This is not how our friendship is going to end. Emma, I-¡± I pause, struggling on how I can word my perspective to her and help her understand that from the beginning, I have only acted this way because I care for her.

    The difference between our eras and mentalities has never felt more prominent to me, even when I saw noblewoman gleefully talking about marriage and had to update my vocabry in regards to underwear with new words such as ¡°bloomers¡± and ¡°garters¡± and ¡°petticoats¡±.

    ¡°Emma, I- I¡¯m not from here!¡± I exim. ¡°I¡¯m... I... I, gosh how do I say this!¡±

    I grab my braids and spin around in frustration. Do I tell her that I¡¯m from the modern era and risk Emma thinking I¡¯m crazy or a witch? Or do I go for the lesser of two evils and just tell her where I was born and raised before I came to the pce?

    ¡°Emma,¡± I start quietly, my jumpiness deting like a popped balloon. ¡°I¡¯m from the slums. I was raised by my aunt, who met with clients every night. in beans were a delicacy I rarely enjoyed and I went to sleep every night in a bed made of hay. I may technically be a princess now, but I¡¯m just like you in a way.¡±

    My words rush out in one breath and just like that, my past is out in the open, kind of. The one assurance I have about Emma is that I know the truth I¡¯ve just divulged will never reach another¡¯s ears. And I¡¯ve read enough trashy romance novels to know that withholding relevant information only breeds more dumb misunderstandings that needlessly stretch the plot.

    ¡°My point is, Emma, you are the person I am closest to. You are the person I care the most about. And that¡¯s why I left you behind in the town. Not because you aren¡¯t important to me. But because you are so important that even if I were to be killed, I wouldn¡¯t want you to be harmed as well,¡± I look Emma dead in the eye as I tell her the truth in my heart.

    In the end, our mini cold war turned out to be a minor misunderstanding. But I smile warmly at Emma anyways. Emma is the one, true person whose been by my side by choice since I¡¯vee to the pce. Learning that Emma, who has the personality of a gray stone, really cares for me is sweeter than any cake I¡¯ve ever eaten.

    So the two of us hug it out and I realize what a truly loving hug feels like because the rush of emotion in my heart is infinitely stronger than the one I had with my father. In the hug with Emperor Helio, I felt the emotions of what could¡¯ve been. In my hug with Emma however, I feel the real love and friendship that we truly have.

    Like a dream slipping away once you awaken, thest vestiges of any nostalgia I had for a rtionship with Emperor Helio or any member of my family fly away from my soul and I breathe deeply for what feels like the first time since I got to the military camp. Even Emma seems to be sparkling in my eyes with this newfound, jolly mood.

    ¡°Emma, what have you been eatingtely. You look stunning!¡± I exim, patting her cheek.

    Emma looks slightly abashed, but she¡¯s entirely on brand with herself as she franky replies, ¡°Paan and jerky, your highness.¡±

    I still await the day I can hear a joke voluntarily leave her lips other than dry sarcasm.

    ¡°Shall we go enjoy some more paan and jerky and maybe sneak a little bit of ale while we¡¯re at it? I¡¯m starving!¡± All my senses have resumed in full force after Emma and I have sorted our differences and now I¡¯m in desperate need of a bath, food, and entertainment, although not necessarily in that order.

    We briefly ready ourselves to step out, which is far less time consuming than it is in the imperial pce and step out of the curtains. But Emma murmurs one thing to me just before we go.

    ¡°Please, don¡¯t go and die without me, your highness. Keep me as your de. I do not mind as long as I am by your side. As your friend. As your... sister.¡±

    ¡°Ya, I promise Emma.¡± I answer with a reassuring smile. But I know it¡¯s a promise I cannot keep.

    ¡°Let me see if your fingers are crossed then, your highness,¡± She and I both know that one does not need to cross their fingers to renege on their word, life has beaten that into us already. But I humor her and she humors herself as she inspects my fingers, tongue, and toes.

    ¡°Dammit, I shouldn¡¯t have told you about this!¡± I wail as Emma lifts my braids to see if I¡¯ve somehow managed to twist my ears.

    Outside of my tent, the military camp is infected by a nervous hustle and bustle. In the beginning, the camp was full of soldiers who hadn¡¯t yet been tested in the field of battle and nervous individuals who were excited to aid the always victorious Empire and earn a little glory for themselves. Then, it thinned out, to the point that I could only run into a few individuals in the main camp, all of them being cooks, aids, and nurses. But now, it looks like we have returned to the first, hopeful days of battle, before the explosives and losses of territory.

    ¡°What do you think is going on?¡± I ask Emma as we slowly meander towards the outdoor mess hall, the soft grass and pebbles crunching underfoot. Princess or not, I still eat with everyone else every day, although I¡¯ve been allotted my own table whenever I arrive.

    Emma is keen as usual, noticing discrepancies that I do not. ¡°Seems like something urred near the front of the military camp.

    I screw my forehead in concentration as I mentally sort through the vague map I have in my head. Through process of elimination, Ie to a startling conclusion.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that where are the military ves are?¡± I finally realize.

    ¡°Yes, your highness. Near the front of the camp and closest to the warzone.¡±

    ¡°Wow! That¡¯s so messed up!¡± I scoff,pletely pausing in my path. ¡°So if there were to be an ambush, they would be the first casualties?¡±

    Equal rights are but a joke in this era, as I¡¯ve long known and experienced. But I can¡¯t stop the frown on my face as I stare at themotion.

    ¡°So what do you think has happened? Were we ambushed and some people were harmed?¡± I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m still talking. The numerous stretchers being brought over by harried nurses and loud cries that can be heard all the way to where I am tell me the whole story. My appetite, along with my good mood, is slowly chipped away with each panicked nurse who runs by.

    ¡°I¡¯d imagine, your highness,¡± Emma answers dryly. She is unfazed by the thought of death for those who aren¡¯t us.

    ¡°More sted eruptions,¡± someone groans behind us.

    I look back to see two soldiers dragging an injuredrade behind them, the strips of white cloth wrapped around his midsection dyed a stark red. Emma and I quickly step out of their path and out of sight, content to let the trio pass us by.

    ¡°Pipe down, good fellow. You¡¯ll tear your wound open again.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not so badly hurt. Just leave me be. More people were hurt back there,¡± the injured man groans. With every word, more red dies the cloth, proving the lies in his words that he hides behind a brave smile. He looks quite familiar, like I¡¯ve seen him around here before.

    ¡°But you¡¯re a soldier. They¡¯re just-¡± One soldier scoffs in disgust, spitting on the floor to add further effect.

    ¡°-Just what?¡± I cut in from where we had inconspicuously stood, my arms crossed in an unfriendly manner.

    I don¡¯t block their path, as they are carrying an injuredrade, but my posture and expression properly disy my displeasure. I know from the webnovel that my birth isn¡¯tmon knowledge, but thinking of how my mother was a military ve keeps me from staying silent at the iing insult.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± They all stutter, ready to do the full salute.

    ¡°No need to bow,¡± I quickly order before the injured man is forced to move anymore. Surprisingly, the wounded soldier is the very same foot soldier who carried me to my brother¡¯s tent, John, his face simrly nching at the realization.

    Emma tugs at my arm, alerting me not to make a scene. ¡°Breakfast, your highness,¡± she reminds me.

    ¡°Ya, ya in a second,¡± I hastily assure her, so eager am I to give the trash-talking soldier a piece of my mind. But right when she lets go of me, we all hear a loud groan as John turns paler than Casper and copses to the ground.

    ¡°Oh my god!¡± I squeal like a valley girl despite my best attempts. John went from throwingforting his buddies to dropping like a dead man so quickly, it bewilders us all.

    ¡°John? John! What is happening?¡± Crimson spreads rmingly over the bandaids, to the point that anyone seeing them now would have difficultly believing they¡¯d originally been pure white. His buddies shake his frame, which doesn¡¯t look very helpful, and yell louder, drawing eyes to the scene.

    The one who¡¯d been speaking ill of military ves takes a chance to throw an angry re my way full of me, which baffles me slightly. I hadn¡¯t even begun speaking to the trio before John had folded like a deck of cards.

    A nurse drawn by themotion runs over, a flurry of blue skirts and carrying a cute, little crate that rattled with every step.

    ¡°Everyone step away!¡± shemands, taking control of the scene with ease. She rolls up her sleeves, revealing stocky arms that have seen somebor, and begins to cut away at John¡¯s shirt and bandaids with a pair of scissors.

    As a pale chest streaked with blood is revealed underneath, Emma moves in front of me to block my view but I wave her away. If only she knew I¡¯ve seen it all and more courtesy of midnight inte explorations from curious high school me in my past life.

    ¡°What happened, nurse?¡± The trash-talker asks, throwing another hateful look in my direction and confirming that the first one was most definitely intentional.

    ¡°Get me his nameter, Emma.¡± I mutter under my breath, not allowing my new beef with this fellow to cut into John¡¯s treatment.

    ¡°Aye, your highness.¡±

    The nurse takes her time in giving a response, fully inspecting the fallen John and toweling away at the blood that just won¡¯t stop falling. Her face is grave as she turns around and says one thing simply. ¡°Start saying your prayers. The blood loss caused his heart to start beating irregrly. Perhaps if you had an imperial physician... no. No, even then, I¡¯m afraid he can¡¯t be saved.¡±

    The nurse heaved a heavy sigh, taking on the burden of yet another death. ¡°Does he have a family?¡± she asked simply.

    ¡°A son,¡± one soldier croaks out, tears already falling down his face.

    I inhale sharply, my hand curling into a fist as I tame my burgeoning emotions. John¡¯s lips are practically blue, the same one that had been grinning chummily with his peers just a minute before. Despite hauling me around like a sack of potatoes, I can tell he had a good heart, which makes it so jarring to watch his life get snuffed out like a cheap,rd candle. All because a goddamn, crazy transmigrator thought bringing explosives to this world would be fun, or give him or her recognition, or some other dumb reason that could never be worth the life fading away before my eyes.

    Consequences.

    Before me, right this very moment, I learn about the consequences of being too reckless and callous. Because this world is real, so real. Not a fun game, like Sims, that I can just log out of afterward.

    ¡°W- We bring our hands together to send off one of our own...¡± the kneeling soldier warbles, those around him quickly joining in.

    The Helionic prayer of the deceased is as beautiful as it is sorrowful. When someone begins, no matter what, those who are near must join in. The rude soldier helps his cryingrade up and holds his hand before the nurse takes hold of the other one. A nearby porter drops his boxes and takes hold, then the two guards who were posted before my tente join. It grows like a me, a reminder of the me from which the phoenix, the Erudian Empire¡¯s crest animal, rises after death.

    Emma and I step forward to join in, my hand held by a servant who works in the mess hall. My hands feel ufortably warm in the servant¡¯s grip, initially leading me to believe that the servant was dealing with warm good before he came. But my other palm, held firmly by Emma, simrly burns as well. Have I fallen ill?

    I ignore the boiling difort, which to my dismay only further grows with the prayer. It¡¯s the worst possible time for me to break out in a strange illness. My breath begins to shudder out as the heat umtes in my center, right underneath my lungs as if someone were holding a lighter under them.

    I can¡¯t help it. A shudder runs through my arms from the sudden warmth circting inside me. The mess servant is polite enough not to react to my movement, but Emma throws a concerned nce my way when I squeeze her palm.

    ¡°Your highness?¡± she inquires in a voice so low even I struggle to hear it. I don¡¯t answer.

    The prayer is reaching its tail end and the circle begins to close around John¡¯s frame. I look at the dead man in the middle, my words barely mouthing the prayer at this point. And then I feel it. Instant relief. The moment I set eyes on John¡¯s figure, my insides are doused in cool water.

    .....

    I look away briefly when someone nearby steps on a stick as we properly encircle John and the fire returns even stronger. Thus, it bes immediately apparent that the solution to this awful burning sensation within me must lie in the newest member of Hades¡¯ underworld before me. Except... he¡¯s dead.

    I try to close my eyes and emte those around me who have their eyes closed respectfully. But the second they snap shut and John disappears, the fire resumes. I cannot escape it without John.

    The prayer ends. Everyone brings their hands together and bows towards John¡¯s body before somberly drifting away. Two of the servants meant to carry off the deceased approach and I¡¯m struck with a sense of crisis. They can¡¯t take John. I still need him to figure out why I am burning up inside.

    But if I want answers, I need him awake and alive. The nurse has pronounced John dead, she¡¯s in the midst of packing up her kit. However, the scalding heat in my fingers tips sends pulsations running through them, bringing me to bite my lip to keep from whimpering. To others, it just looks like I¡¯m immensely moved by John¡¯s sudden death and Emma pats my shoulder woodenly.

    I recall a little tidbit from my biology ss, that the brain can still function for 10 minutes after death. It¡¯s a desperate, stupid gamble, but what if I try to get John to talk in hisst minutes?

    So I decide to do my second stupid decision in thest 24 hours.

    ¡°John, wake up!¡± I yell right where I stand, my eyes red from sorrow and great pain.

    The entire vicinity freeze.

    ¡°Your highness, the man is dead,¡± Emma murmurs as she wraps an arm around my shoulder and tries to haul me away from making a scene. She looks calm but I¡¯d bet 1000 gold coins she¡¯s dying of embarrassment inside. But John is still on the ground and when Emma jerks me away, my eye contact breaks once more and causes searing agony that nearly brings me to my knees.

    Take two. I split from Emma, ignoring the way she calls my name, and dive to my knees in front of John. The closest soldier reflexively jumps to stop me, but both of my hands have already grabbed hold of John and shake his corpse for dear life.

    ¡°John, WAKE UP!¡± I bellow down at him with all my strength. But when I make contact with a bit of exposed skin on his wrist, all the pain goes away as if it were never there before.

    Oh ya. And he wakes up this time.

 Chapter 86

    Chapter 86: Ch. 86: The Walking Dead

    WE ARE INTERRUPTING YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING FOR ANOTHER INTERVIEW WITH FUTURE WINTER, 24 HOURS LATER.

    Producer: So... you brought the man back to life? Like Jesus or something?

    Winter: Yes! How crazy is that! I literally have healing powers, dude! That¡¯s why I said I would not have bothered with trying to win my dad¡¯s heart if I knew I had this kind of ace up my sleeve. Who needs an emperor¡¯s love if you have incredible powers to leverage to your benefit?

    Producer: ....Right. At least remember that with great poweres great responsibility.

    Winter: Is that doubt I¡¯m hearing from you? Cut your hand right now, I¡¯ll prove it to you!

    Producer: Thanks, but I¡¯ll pass.

    BACK TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING.

    .....

    Now, it wasn¡¯t as simple as just waking John up. In the split second that I made contact with him, a lot happened, although ording to Emma¡¯s witness testimony, my hands just, ¡°glowed bright gold for a moment¡±.

    However, my experience was much more than a sh of bright light. I had been baptized in a geyser of golden light that burned so bright I could see it even behind my closed eyelids. The pain building up inside me found an outlet, flowing from my scorching flesh into John¡¯s significantly cooler body. His skin turned immediately warm to touch, his whole body back as new as we stared at one another with wide eyes.

    bbergasted. A word that is funny to say but could not be more urate to the moment. Everyone is bbergasted.

    Magic has always been a part of this world and is nothing new to the people of the Erudian Empire. You see, magic is just a tool or a conduit, as opposed to an all-powerful force of nature. For imperial physicians, those blessed with magic but don¡¯t wish to go into the Holy Church, magic can help identify injuries, iste poisons, and rid the body of impurities. For battle mages of the Holy Church, magic can turn ordinary stones into deadly projectiles and set bodies aze with a single nce.

    True feats of power, such as causing massive explosions and saving people on the brink of death, have always been impossible. Until now.

    ¡°Uh.... hello John?¡± I say in a desperate attempt to ease tension. The man who was dying on the ground minutes before stares back at me like a deer in headlights. But I can see when reality catches up with him as he scrambles to his feet and bows to my seated figure.

    ¡°Y-Your highness!¡± He salutes.

    Everyone gathered around gapes at John as he moves like a man who was never grievously wounded. And they¡¯re not alone, for no one can be more surprised than me the very person who did it.

    I stare down at my hands as if they are on fire and stare at John in absolute surprise. The man is simrly patting himself down, unfurling his bandages frantically to reveal unblemished flesh. Very audible gasps sound before me.

    ¡°By Helio¡¯s light...¡±

    ¡°Holy Akira!¡±

    ¡°My eyes... they do not deceive me? John, you... you live once more?¡± John¡¯s close buddy who had been crying minutes before is the first to approach the reanimated John, his entire body shaking as he sets a tentative hand on John¡¯s shoulder.

    Colson, the chubby, mouthy soldieres running in as fast as he can at this moment, his eyes frantic until they settle on the bewildered John.

    ¡°John! John? I-I heard that...¡± Colson¡¯s voice cracks as his eyes turn red, ¡°I heard that something had happened.¡±

    The sun is cooking away at the military camp overhead, leaving me feeling like this is all a fever dream. A wave of dizziness passes through me and my body wavers like a weak flower subject to the weather¡¯s follies. I¡¯m not particrly surprised, as it is logical that healing someone would take my energy and I haven¡¯t even eaten anything today.

    Emma, as always, is the first to notice. Quickly kneeling beside me and propping me up. ¡°Your highness,¡± she murmurs, grabbing my arm and helping me stand. I¡¯m in no danger of fainting, but my body feels like it¡¯s been run over by a bus, then reversed over again by said bus.

    To be frank, I feel like shit. But my weariness cannot overpower my joy and awe at my newly realized power, the power of a promised child.

    ¡°Help escort the princess back to her tent,¡± Emma swiftlymands the two guards who, true to their rigorous training, recover from their shock as if nothing had happened. Standing around Emma and I like a wall between the murmuring gossip, we stumble away for me to take a much-needed nap.

    ¡°It was the princess, she saved him.¡± People are muttering to one another behind me.

    ¡°But how?¡± The nurse asks, her kit dropping out of her hands as she watches John speak with his good friends.

    ¡°Was it a charm by chance? A special relic of the royal family?¡±

    ¡°Fool. Do you see anything in her hands? She did it herself. It was the princess, she saved this soldier.¡± The mess servant blurts out, his face turning red at his sharp words. But deep down, his words are what was in everyone¡¯s heart.

    A general consensus is reached by those gathered around, soon reaching the ears of everyone in camp before spreading its wings and spreading across the empire swifter than a brush fire: the newest imperial princess is the promised child.

    I wake up with a gasp in a pool of sweat, the feeling of nausea making me dry heave for a few breaths. There¡¯s nothing in my stomach, so nothinges out, but the wretching noises send Emma rushing in to pat my back.

    ¡°You know I didn¡¯t n that, right?¡± I say between gasps of air as I slowly sip the cup of water she handed me.

    ¡°Yes, your highness,¡± she answers promptly.

    The high is gone. And in its ce, a mild panic has set in. ¡°Shit. This power is an absolute boon but-¡°. My words trail off, but when I look at Emma, her dark eyes hold the same name within them.

    Katya.

    My nominal mother is going to wish to kill me even more now.

    ¡°I¡¯ve appointed more guards to the tent,¡± Emma reports.

    ¡°Smart! But will it be enough?¡± I rub my head, feeling ready to fall back asleep and escape my newfound problem.

    Emma doesn¡¯t answer, which in its own way, is an answer. She too knows that my odds as an unprotected princess are quite poor.

    I sigh longingly. ¡°I came all the way out here to escape, and now it seems like it might not even be enough.¡±

    The light filtering in from under the gap in the curtains is gray. But I¡¯m not sure as to whether that is because I slept most of the day away or from the residual clouds of dust and smoke from the explosives deployed on the battlefield.

    I grit my teeth, frustrated with my current thoughts. ¡°Why am I so afraid of her anyways? Get a hold of yourself, Winter!¡± I mutter, whacking the side of my head in punishment. The blows are ineffective though because I¡¯m coincidentally using my right hand which Empress Katya permanently crippled. If it weren¡¯t for the limited range of motion it still has, I would be down one hand.

    But most of all, my hand reminds me that I have every reason to be afraid of my ¡®mother¡¯.

    Emma slightly clears her throat. ¡°What?¡± I ask, before drool nearly spills out of my mouth at the warm piece of paan in her hands.

    ¡°Oh my god, I love you,¡± I moan. Emma¡¯s right. Food first, potentially deadly problems second.

    ¡°You say that often, your highness.¡±

    ¡°Well, this time I mean it more than ever!¡± I answer, with my mouth stuffed.

    I wash it down with sour ale, the only beverage that is left since the shipment of tea with the rest of the military rations is dyed due to Sarsaval infiltrators attempting to sabotage the delivery.

    I lick my fingers, a move that would significantly raise the ire of my old etiquette teacher Mrs. Laroche if she were to ever see me. I have a feeling that with all my current problems, that would be the least of my offenses.

    ¡°Do you have any injuries, Emma?¡± I grab her hand, anxious to do something other than reminisce in the past and dread the future.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m fine, your highness.¡± She tugs vigorously to free herself, but I¡¯ve grabbed her with my left hand and don¡¯t want to let her go so fast.

    ¡°Your highness, do not tire yourself,¡± Emma urges, ¡°I shall heal naturally.¡±

    I smirk at my closestpanion. ¡°What makes you think I¡¯m doing it for you,¡± I chuckle lightly. ¡°Just pretend I¡¯m doing this to test my new abilities.¡±

    I squeeze my eyes shut and clutch Emma¡¯s hand like a lifeline.... but nothing happens.

    ¡°What the-? Do my powers not work anymore?¡± My cheeks feel warm and I¡¯m sure they reflect the effort I¡¯ve just put into trying to heal Emma.

    ¡°Wait, let me see where your injuries are,¡± I instruct. Emma rolls up her sleeve to reveal a shallow nick from an arrow, a healing souvenir from our run-in with the assassins.

    ¡°Goddamnit. Ok, let me try this one... more... time...¡± I squeeze my eyes shut. Heal Emma. Heal Emma. Heal Emma. The words go through my head over and over again but nothing happens. The pain that had been relentlessly burning away at my insides earlier today is nowhere to be found, nor the shower of gold.

    I drop Emma¡¯s hand, discouraged. If this healing power will only ur once in a blue moon, then it¡¯s more of a hindrance than a life-saving grace.

    ¡°The best defense is offense,¡± Emma murmurs in the middle of my funk.

    I rub my eyes, too busy wallowing in self-pity to hear her properly. ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°Robbie told me that the best defense is offense. Attack first.¡± She stands from the chair and swings her arm in a swift arc as if holding a sword. Her arm moves so swiftly that the short baby hairs around my face flutter with the breeze.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. No more running away.¡± Iugh slightly, but my eyes are still on the ground. ¡°I keep telling myself that I¡¯ll pick myself up and fight. Fight for myself. Fight for my future. But instead, all I want to do is run at the first sign of trouble. So pathetic.¡±

    Emma looks conflicted as she visibly searches her mind for something tofort me, like an NPC that has been given an impossiblemand. ¡°Your hi-¡± she tentatively begins before I cut her off with excitement.

    ¡°Emma, quick. Give me your hand!¡± A familiar burn has begun to fill my hand.

    So is that my trigger? Strong emotions? Itch onto Emma¡¯s palm right when the mes begin to climb up my insides and the pain releases into Emma, the gold light covering my entire vision as if I¡¯ve just entered the pearly gates of heaven. The light dissipates like bubbles in a champagne ss and I look at Emma expectantly, barely noticing that the mes weren¡¯t nearly as hot and painful as it was the first time.

    ¡°Your arm! Let¡¯s see!¡± She hastily rolls up her sleeve. Nothing. I help Emma pull her sleeve higher just in case we missed the wound, but from shoulder to wrist, no injury mars Emma¡¯s flesh.

    I even pat Emma down like a TSA agent to check for pain, but she simply says she feels, ¡°Fine, your highness.¡± But Emma is simrly surprised by her healed arm, her mouth opening in a cute little O that is almost more surprising than what I¡¯ve actually done.

    As luck would have it, my trigger seems to be strong emotions. I was naturally moved to see a young man like John die so young, which influenced the first time I healed him. This time, I thought of the many injustices I¡¯d faced from Empress Katya. I grin, Emma mistaking my smile for joy at replicating my abilities once more.

    With the life I have lived so far, manufacturing strong emotions will be little more than a walk in the park. I have to do little more than try to use my right hand out of the habit of being a right-handed person, or feel the small ridges on the back of my calf, or think of my time in the filthy dungeon to feel ¡®strong emotions¡¯.

    Can I call them a gift? For Empress Katya, by her own hand, has delivered to me a never-ending fuel source to be the promised child she tried so hard to bury.

    ¡°His Majesty¡¯s courtier, requesting entry!¡± A muffled voice calls from outside the curtain. Emma and I stiffen, instantly vignt.

    I clear my throat. ¡°You may enter,¡± I reply in the most imperious tone I can muster.

    The curtain parts, a courtier in my father¡¯s livery bows and says the words I¡¯ve been expecting ever since John woke up from near death.

    ¡°His Majesty, Emperor Helio, summons your presence, Princess Winter.¡±

 Chapter 87

    Chapter 87: Ch. 87: A Suppression of Conscience

    As Emma and I follow the manservant to my father, who Itently recognize the courtier in front of me as my father¡¯s loyal running dog, Harold. He¡¯s an innocuous-looking fellow and doesn¡¯t have the airs of someone of noble lineage, which isn¡¯t surprising as those with the constitution to be resistant to my father¡¯s killing aura are spread randomly across the empire.

    ording to what I read in the webnovel, my father can dim his aura, pulling it close to his figure so that others can stand right by him. However, based on his personality, such a considerate thing must happen as often as a blue moon. Thus, when Harold delivers me surprisingly before the strategy tent I¡¯ve always seen from a distance as opposed to the ck tent I was inst night, Emma is forced to wait outside.

    None of the surrounding attendants or guards change up their grim expressions and the summer sky is overcast above me. It seems even the universe doesn¡¯t have high hopes for the meeting.

    I push my way into the white tent and am instantly greeted with massive tables depicting the battleground. The table map is peppered in gs, but I can distinguish a fewndmarks such as the Dredgen Woods and the open expanse where soldiers are constantly losing their lives, even right this minute.

    The grass underfoot is well trampled by the sea of men who have been in and out strategizing and I step in a massive footprint nearly 4 times the size of my tiny foot. I shiver slightly, my memory calling back to the mountainous Sir Berrick and the horrifying way he¡¯d dragged me back into my sister¡¯s dwellings.

    A gaze has been following me since I¡¯ve entered the tent, one I¡¯ve been well aware of as my eyes leisurely dance across the interior of the strategy tent. It pierces me like aser beam and I¡¯m grateful that I¡¯d given the hug in the cover of night as opposed to during the daytime.

    Having made my way around therger map table, I curtsey, my height briefly eclipsed by the nearby chair, before I straighten again.

    .....

    ¡°Greetings, Your Majesty,¡± I say perfunctorily, not opting to refer to my sperm donor as ¡®Father¡¯. I look up at Emperor Helio, who looks as dashing and impressive as a youthful emperor should in his golden armor. His inky ck hair has grown longer, I realize. It spills nearly halfway down his back would be considered a fashionable length for a woman¡¯s hair back in my world. But with his prominent stature and reputation, only someone looking forward to an appointment with death would dream of saying that to his face.

    The father, if I can even call him that, that held me in a hug until I couldn¡¯t breathe does not sit before me today. He is the Lord of Seven Lands, the Conqueror of Kings, and the Emperor of the Erudian Empire and he has sought little, old me out for the first time since my royal blood was confirmed.

    ¡°You can heal,¡± my father says without preamble, his head propped up on one palm in an intentional image ofziness.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    I wonder how it must feel to be an emperor at odds with the Holy Church, but then have a daughter whose abilities tie her firmly with said Holy Church. Will he discard me? Or will he use me to bring the opposition to heel and cut off one branch of House Duvernay¡¯s power?

    But I¡¯m thinking too far into the future, for now.

    ¡°How far dead can they be, before they cannot be revived? How many at once?¡± The emperor¡¯s questions are asked in an even, almost pleasant tone. But I pause, vexed on how to answer.

    ¡°I¡¯m not quite sure for both questions,¡± I answer, allowing confusion to color my voice. I¡¯m sure he could easily inquire what state John was in before I healed him and infer the answer himself. And yet, he asks me.

    I can feel Emperor Helio¡¯s eyes on me and they are as ufortable as when he¡¯d first looked at me in the throne room. Back when I thought I could melt the insurmountable ice wall of his persona like a proper transmigrated individual. But now, between the two of us lies a pit of disappointments that continues to grow with every second.

    There was no greeting on his part. No inquiry into my wellbeing. No questions into how I managed to arrive at the warfront which leads me to a sick conclusion.

    Either Emperor Helio, the man who single-handedly managed to seize the throne and expand the empire in ways his ancestors hadn¡¯t done centuries, doesn¡¯t know that I was chased by assassins on my way here to escape Empress Katya. Or more likely....

    He knows and he just doesn¡¯t care.

    I¡¯m just a warm body full of imperial blood, one that he would¡¯ve otherwise discarded if he hadn¡¯t wiped out most of the bloodline and left a void of power that the nobility have taken great advantage of.

    I smile wanly at my father for the first time since I entered the tent. ¡°It was my first time healing someone so the extent of my abilities is unknown,¡± I further rify.

    ¡°Hmmm.¡± He doesn¡¯t properly answer, but he finally lifts his head from his hand. ¡°Harold. Bring them in.¡±

    The white curtain parts and in walks Harold, leading 3 men in with sacks over their head and their wrists tied to one another. They¡¯ve been stripped of their armor, but I can still tell from the colors of their underclothes that these are not men of our Empire. These are Sarsavalian prisoners of war. The enemy.

    Harold leaves the men in the furthest corner from my father, which confuses me until one man who stands closest to my father¡¯s direction chokes underneath his hood and keels over, causing the other two prisoners of war to stumble.

    Harold immediately bows. ¡°Apologies, Your Majesty. I shall go fetch another one.¡±

    ¡°No need,¡± my father answers. He must have pulled his aura in, for the man who was in the midst of the throughs of death shakily moves to stand beside his peers. The fabric around the crotch of his rough pants is noticeably a darker shade presumably from his piss. The three prisoners of war quickly have their sacks torn from their heads, revealing their terror through the shiver of their shoulders and gritted teeth.

    They are not alone in their fear. For now, I understand why my father brought them here.

    ¡°You will show me, Winter, how effective your healing is.¡± He does not ask. I didn¡¯t expect him to.

    Emperor Helio stands from the chair in a fluid motion, easily reaching his 6¡¯4¡å height and looking down at the shorter soldiers. My father is not a man of hesitation. He walks to the first man who is still recovering from the killing aura and wraps a gold ted hand around his throat easily.

    ¡°And if it is!?¡± I suddenly interrupt. The armored hand strangling the Sarsavalian prisoner of war loosens and my father turns to calmly look at me. My palms are sweaty, but I don¡¯t allow my fear to manifest on my face.

    ¡°You will heal the army¡¯s injured,¡± he says matter-of-factly. Daughter or not, I am a tool for him to turn the tides of war in his favor.

    ¡°Why?¡± The one-syble word cuts harshly between us.

    In my heart is the same reckless feeling that overtook me when I¡¯d held the letter opener to my neck in front of Augustus. The overpowering desire to leave myself a chance of survival, even if I have to put myself in harm¡¯s way to get it. Isn¡¯t that what Lord Bromely told me, that in order to receive treatment befitting of an imperial princess I would need to sacrifice something?

    Fine. But instead of my future, I¡¯ll just sacrifice my present. My newfound abilities.

    I can feel Emperor Helio¡¯s eyes boring into mine, but I don¡¯t back down. He naturally knows what I mean, as a royal bastard who was once discarded and had to fight tooth and nail for a foothold in the murky depths of the imperial pce.

    Give me the same royal treatment Princess Julia has enjoyed since she was born and I¡¯ll heal all the soldiers you want.

    ¡°It¡¯s your duty, as a member of the imperial family, to aid in the war effort in any way possible,¡± my father answers.

    He holds onto the prisoner of war¡¯s neck as if the fully grown man weighs less than a sack of potatoes, his eyes never leaving mine as he makes the wild im that we are a family. A family. Us. There are veiled words underneath his speech, a test perhaps? I rise to his challenge.

    ¡°Naturally,¡± I acquiesce, barely biting back a sneer. ¡°But ah... my wrist still hurts from when I healed that poor soldier earlier today!¡± I pause, making a show of rubbing my itty bitty wrists.

    ¡°I was just taking a nap before you called me,¡± I continue in a sharine sweet tone. ¡°However, circumstances wouldn¡¯t allow me to properly recuperate. As for how many of these soldiers I can manage to heal in my condition, I¡¯m afraid the number will not be too great. ¡±

    The soft, innocent pout that culminates my answer gracefully throws the ball back in my father¡¯s court. This game of speaking in a veiled manner feels odd, but my father seems to understand my terms of negotiation well enough. I¡¯m not sure if my eyes are deceiving me when the corner of his mouth flicks upward, but just as quickly as I see it, it falls back into an unfriendly line.

    Without turning back to face the prisoners before him, my father clenches his hand, the muscles beneath his skin jumping as a sickening crunch sounds throughout the room. I barely stifle the flinch that runs through me, my entire body tense like a bow that had been strung. Emperor Helio opens his hand and the man¡¯s body tumbles to the floor in a heap.

    ¡°He will die within the next minute, your highness¡± Harold adds unhelpfully after my father quite literally broke the man¡¯s neck.

    But there is no time for me to gape or scream the roof off the tent. Almost on auto pilot, I rush around the table to the fallen body, the other two prisoners of war shaking so bad I can feel the vibrations through the rope when I first make contact with the body.

    My emotions are already high, the familiar burn rising in my chest as I hold the man¡¯s wrist. Ites instantaneously and isn¡¯t nearly as agonizing as it felt the first time. The golden light that only I can see envelops my vision and channels its way into the prisoner of war. There is a clicking from his neck, his bones reknitting themselves together.

    Half of my newly regained energy from my nap and meal drains away, leaving me with the same sensation of pounding out a ss heavy day at university.

    The man taps his neck in awe, patting down his body and jumping up with shock.

    ¡°I¡¯m- I¡¯m alive?¡± he marvels out loud.

    But there isn¡¯t much time to admire my handiwork. The man beside him chokes on air and a small red flower blooms on the front of his shirt. There is the slick, disgusting sound of a de exiting flesh and Harold steps back, wiping the blood from his de.

    It¡¯s obviously a fatal wound, the next man instantly in the same dire straits hisrade was in a minute before. On the downtrodden grass, blood flow unperturbed, making small rivulets that begin to soak through the skirt of my dress onto my knees.

    The third man understands what is going on perfectly, a hoarse scream exiting his mouth as he tries to run. But Harold restrains him, his shorter, wiry frame surprisingly holding the final prisoner of war in ce.

    I look down at the second man, biting my lips in frustration. It takes even longer to heal him, but I smile to myself as the second prisoner stands up bewildered and only a marginal amount of energy leaks out of me. I¡¯m beginning to learn how to fune my ability, pinpointing the golden light only to the small chest area where he was wounded rather than enveloping his entire body in healing magic.

    30 minutester, when I exit the strategy tent with a winded but pleased expression, Emma rushes to support me. However, I motion for her not to and we walk side by side back to my tent. We don¡¯t need to talk when we are together, the silence between us more like a cozy sweater than a straightjacket. Considering how Emma was right outside the tent, I¡¯m sure she was able to gather what happened inside with the prisoners of war who were led in and the screams.

    ¡°Perhaps...,¡± I finally muse out loud, ¡°I should¡¯ve said no. Does that make me as bad as the emperor?¡±

    A better person would¡¯ve argued against harming the prisoners in the first ce, but all I thought about was what personal benefits I can get out of helping to heal as many soldiers as I can.

    But before Emma says anything, I answer myself, somehow assuaging the guilt in my heart as easily as I¡¯d regrown the third prisoner¡¯s amputated left arm.

    ¡°I only did what I had to do to survive.¡±

    The blood drying on the knees of my skirt disagrees, but the steeliness underneath my soft words leaves little to discuss. As I walk back to my tent unshaken in my resolve to live and thrive, I am quietly aware of the slippery slope I stand on. The same slope my father once stood on many years ago, before falling down and bing the very thing he¡¯d always feared.

 Chapter 88

    Chapter 88: Ch. 88: Jesus Take the Wheel

    I feel nothing when I wake up in the early hours right after the has risen, my hazy eyes blinking up at the crimson red tent. I don¡¯t want to get up. But I have to because I made a promise.

    ¡°Your highness?¡± Emma calls five minutester. I rustle under the bedsheets, my way of letting her know I¡¯m awake without having to talk.

    I can hear Emma step into the tent, but get jarred from under my covers when I hear multiple people follow in behind her. Sitting up on my bed with a frown, I see a row of 5 girls, teenagers, for the most part, lined up behind Emma.

    ¡°This is-¡± I say, my voice thick with sleep.

    ¡°Greetings, your highness. My name is Nina. We are all the attendants who have been assigned to take the utmost care of you. We shall attend to your daily necessities and should you find yourself in need of something, do inform us and we willplete it to the best of our abilities,¡± the oldest looking girl says, her hair wrapped in the court ordained bun that all maids back in the pce wore.

    They are the utter picture of subservience, eyes pointed towards the ground and clean hands sped in front of their dark maid skirts. I¡¯d gawk at them, but I¡¯ve seen such obedience before.

    Just never for me.

    .....

    The corner of my mouth curls into a cynical smirk. ¡°Emma, acquaint them with my likes and dislikes. If any of them are disobedient, just fire them. No need to report to me.¡±

    ¡°Yes, your highness.¡±

    Deft hands braid my icy white locks into braids more intricate than the simple french braid I¡¯ve been wearing every day. A bowl of warm water and a cloth is brought in, the soft fabric wiping away dirt from my face and hands with great care. The new dress that I¡¯mced into, while still simple, is a fern green color with a few flowers embroidered around the edge. It makes my dark, woolen dress I¡¯ve been sweating in for weeks look like rags inparison.

    Looking into the mirror one of them has brought in for me to admire and adjust my appearance to my liking, my feelings are conflicted. I know that out here at the military front where grandeur takes a backseat to functionality, this new, royal treatment is only a fraction of what it would be like back at the imperial pce.

    But I don¡¯t feel any better. On the contrary, I feel worse.

    I almost think I might be sick and pat my chest rhythmically as matching jewelry for my humble, but revamped appearance is slid into my ears. I wince inwardly as it has been so long since I¡¯ve worn earrings that the holes were beginning to close up.

    Over a hearty porridge and eggs, which have be rare due to shortages caused by the war, I can finally pinpoint what my turbulent feelings are.

    Rage.

    Pure, burning rage. Almost as hot as the fire that burned within me when I healed John.

    ¡°How goes your meal, your highness,¡± Nina asks gently, ignorant of my current feelings.

    ¡°Fine.¡± My appetite takes a hike despite still having half a bowl of porridge left and I stand abruptly from my chair. ¡°I¡¯ve had enough. Take me to the injured.¡±

    Emma is beside me, her presence calming me from saying more unnecessary words to the new attendants. I follow my best friend, trusting her to lead me to where the nurses and injured are, as a procession follows me. My presence at camp had already drawn looks, but now it feels like everyone with a pair of eyes is staring at me. The choruses of ¡°Your highness!¡± are louder than before as people greet me on my path.

    I nod politely at each person as I go on my way. There¡¯s a subtle reverence when people¡¯s eyesnd on me, word has gotten around. At the nurse¡¯s station, a lot of the weary-looking women throw curious nces my way, although they¡¯re professionals and don¡¯t seem fazed for long by my presence.

    A nurse approaches me, the same one who tried to heal John yesterday. Yesterday. It feels like a lifetime has passed since John¡¯s startled eyes had made eye contact with mine.

    ¡°Greetings, your highness,¡± she says, curtseying politely. ¡°Allow me to lead you to where the injured are.¡±

    The groans and cries of agony interrupt her twice as she speaks and I can see bags under her eyes. She has worked hard and I tell her so, to her tired delight.

    An abandoned apothecary has been turned into the headquarters for the nurse station, nurses rushing in and out at random to fetch supplies and herbs. Through the back doors in the back, one of which is broken. A sea of bup tents await. This is the only section of the military camp full of women aside from the mess hall, female army volunteers who wished to help with the war effort.

    ¡°The tents with the severely injured have a red sash tied to the top of their tent. The imperial physicians work on them,¡± she says, pointing at one tent where crying can be heard. All the tents are low and long, with just enough room for those lying on the ground and a person kneeling on one side. A full-grown adult would have to bend in order to enter it.

    I nod, in a better mood due to my attendants being requested to wait for me within the abandoned apothecary, but slightly apprehensive as I smell the blood and death around me.

    ¡°The pink is for those who are somewhat wounded but not fatally. You may leave them to us nurses, your highness.¡±

    ¡°And the ck?¡± I ask, pointing at a few of the dark sashes hung ominously on top of tents.

    The nurse sighs, her next words heavy on the soul. ¡°The ones without any hope of recovery. We tie the g so that one of the Holy Church¡¯s battle mages or if they¡¯re lucky, Bishop Duvernay, can say a quick Helionic prayer before they die.¡±

    I nod, determination flowing through my veins as I look at the ck tents that spot the field too often forfort.

    ¡°Take me to one. I¡¯ll do as many as I can,¡± I say as reassuringly as possible. The nurse looks a little doubtful, but her eyes fall on my small hands and it goes away.

    ¡°Follow me,¡± she tells Emma and I, leading us to the nearest tent with a ck sash. Leaking out from within the closed tent and sting out in full force when the nurse opens it, the scent of medicine and rot causes me to nearly wretch. The man¡¯s leg is bandaged heavily, but the flesh that is visible is ck from gangrene. He is unconscious, a small blessing for him.

    The nurse sees my expression of difort and exins, ¡°The Sarsavalians have started adding presents to their eruptions. Bits of ss, metal, whatever they manage to find it seems. They are difficult to take out and cause affected areas to rot.¡±

    My chest burns, but with the same precision I mastered yesterday in the strategy tent, I go over the man¡¯s most serious injury, leaving his cuts and bruising alone. A relieved sigh escapes the man¡¯s lips as his foot and leg return back to normal.

    ¡°Wow... I....¡± the nurse gasps, rapidly peeling away the disgusting ribbons of bandages to reveal and smooth and surprisingly hairless leg.

    ¡°Oops! I forgot to grow the hair back,¡± I giggle, trying to lightening the mood.

    But my words seem to have the opposite effect, tears misting in the nurse¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry! That was a joke! Not a very good one, I suppose...¡± I blubber, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly.

    ¡°No. No, your highness,¡± she says, gazing up at my short form with such a fervor I have to look away. ¡°You are the hope we needed.¡±

    And I do my best to live up to her words.

    For the next two weeks, I work hard to save as many soldiers as I can. Lost limbs, mutted eyes, bowels spilling out like ramen noodles. I see the worst. But when I patch them back up, it¡¯s like those injuries never existed to begin with, other than lingering in my memories.

    Twice, Emma was forced to pull me away from patients as my nose begins to bleed and dark spots dance in my vision. I eat half my weight every day, although my small frame doesn¡¯t show for it, as Ipensate for the sheer amount of energy that goes into pulling lives free from the jaws of death.

    But the payoff is massive, for my father and for me.

    The front of our military camp is no longer in danger of being ambushed, which means that the military ves no longer have to fear for their deaths being used as warning bells for the rest of the Erudian army. Despite still suffering blows from the explosives on the battlefield, the battle mages have begun to construct a rudimentary system that senses the presence of ¡°eruptions¡± that are within 5 feet around you. It needs fine-tuning before it canbat all the buriedndmines in the field, but it has minimized the number of serious injuries I encounter in the nursing station.

    Side by side with the slow and steady reinvigoration of the Erudian spirit came the favorability surrounding my name. The dedicated, illegitimate princess, who was only discovered a few years ago is doing more for the people than most of the imperial family. Effigies with my likeness were erected in public spaces and amulets iming to have a lock of my white hair sold like hotcakes. I know the significance of my presence and I use it to the fullest, scarcely leaving a minute to myself as I repair my father¡¯s army one man at a time.

    For the people, Helio walks among them once more and I¡¯m a Jesus-like figure in their eyes. For my father¡¯s denouncers, in an indirect way, my abilities are Helio¡¯s approval of my father¡¯s reign. The factions who spoke out against his coup of the throne lose ground to stand on, swaying the bnce of powers within the aristocratic factions. For the most part, almost everyone in the kingdom is happy with my unofficial reveal as the promised child. Save for a few, of course.

    Within Sunrise Pce, another fine porcin teacup smashes against the imported carpet, the softness of the carpet¡¯s fabric preserving the cup but not its contents. Every maid within the outdoor parlor was silent, even their trembling didn¡¯t dare ruffle the fabric of their ck and white dresses. As for Empress Katya, the obvious indicators of rage weren¡¯t present on her face, which was even more frightening. In a sweetvender day dress with the corner of her lips raised, the contrast between the empress of the Erudian Empire and the tense atmosphere was like day and night.

    ¡°Another.¡± Even her voice didn¡¯t sound angry.

    ¡°Y-Your highness, I-¡± the maid holding a tray of exquisite teacups stammered.

    ¡°I said, another.¡±

    ¡°All of you, leave,¡± an imposing male voice ordered from behind them all. With his hands sped behind his back in amanding manner, Chancellor Duvernay, head of House Duvernay, and Empress Katya¡¯s father walked into the outdoor parlor. The maids, who were all House Duvernay¡¯s people, scurrying out without another word.

    There were two chairs on the outdoor parlor overlooking a splendid garden, one of many within the imperial pce. Empress Katya gracefully settled into one and gestured for Chancellor Duvernay to take a seat. The older man did not oblige.

    ¡°You failed to give us a promised child. But not only did you fail that, you also gave our enemies the perfect weapon against us,¡± Chancellor Duvernay began without preamble or a greeting worthy of the empress.

    ¡°They were your assassins, Father,¡± Empress Katya replied tly.

    ¡°Don¡¯t talk back to me!¡± Chancellor Duvernay thundered, his figure looming over Empress Katya. ¡°If you had worked faster to take care of the emperor¡¯s bastard while she was still in the pce, we wouldn¡¯t have this problem.¡±

    Empress Katya grit her teeth at her father¡¯s disrespect, although she had long been ustomed to it since she was a girl still living at home.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t easy. The emperor acts like he doesn¡¯t care for her, but the holy priests hidden among my staff revealed that there are numerous secret safeguards around her pce and people. I could barely catch her once and then you saw what happened. Duchess Taylor sank her ws into the pce and I¡¯m still weeding out all the people she¡¯s left here,¡± Empress Katya answered.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t send you to the pce because it was easy. I sent you because it was hard and you promised to do the hard work it took to get all the major forces within the Empire under our House. But if I knew you would be this disappointing, I would¡¯ve sent your sister in all those years ago.¡±

    ¡°Is that a threat, Father?¡± The empresszily countered. Her expression was just as pleasant as ever, but it was deceptive, like a viper poised to strike.

    ¡°It¡¯s an old man¡¯s regret. And one I could rectify if I must,¡± Chancellor Duvernay said in an unforgiving manner. Calling himself an old man was ironic, as he was in his mid-forties and had a figure of someone who had spent many years on the battlefield.

    ¡°Rectify?¡± Empress Katya repeated.

    Chancellor Duvernay looked down at his oldest daughter. ¡°Don¡¯t make me send the emperor another woman,¡± he said frankly.

    Empress Katya snorted, ¡°Yes because we know how well that wentst time.¡±

    ¡°I told you that we needed a barren woman of higher breeding, a woman of obedience. You¡¯re the one who chose us a foreign military ve with a penchant for running away. And look at what good that has done for us all,¡± Chancellor Duvernay said with disgust.

    ¡°Father, I still-¡± Empress Katya said, sore from the chancellor¡¯s verbal p.

    Chancellor Duvernay cut Empress Katya off with a wave. ¡°Now I must send a letter to Edwin. See if he can do what you could not. How many times shall your Bishop brother have to clean up after your mistakes?¡± He walked out as suddenly as he¡¯d appeared,manding so much presence one would almost think he was the one who owned the pce.

    For the remainder of the day, until sundown, Empress Katya sat outside by herself without a soul privy to her thoughts. When the time for supper hade, the empress sent out a quiet summons to the manor of Lady Vernice, her oldestdy-in-waiting.

 Chapter 89

    Chapter 89: Ch. 89: Jack Skeleton

    Byte summer, I¡¯ve managed to create a somewhat consistent routine: wake up around dawn, get ready and gorge myself on food, heal soldiers all day long with an asional bite in between, return back to my tent and gorge myself once more.

    I¡¯m washing down my third boiled egg with the tea that has finally made its way to the military camp when Nina enters the tent to inform me that there has been a change in my schedule.

    ¡°A change? From my father?¡± I inquire.

    ¡°No, um-¡± Nina hesitates more than usual and I plow forward.

    ¡°Then it must be my brothers. Which one?¡±

    ¡°Actually, neither your highness.¡±

    Nina looks ufortable and I have a bad feeling that forces me to set down my cup and look at the attendant who has followed me around like a shadow since I¡¯ve arrived.

    .....

    And Nina doesn¡¯t disappoint. ¡°Ahem,¡± she awkwardly clears her throat, her typicalposure lost. ¡°Bishop Duvernay wishes to speak with you.¡±

    I raise an eyebrow but say nothing, my face doing all the talking. I don¡¯t need to look to see that Emma is doing the same. Perhaps the pressure of two little kids staring intensely at her gets to Nina, because her overly obedient exterior cracks a second time.

    ¡°Your highness, I-¡± Nina stammers.

    ¡°Nina, who do you work for again? Because I¡¯m quite certain,st time I checked anyways, that you are one of the people Emperor Helio sent me. Not someone House Duvernay sent,¡± There is a quiet steeliness within my soft voice, my obvious irritation peeking through.

    After all, I¡¯ve just gotten rid of one Duvernay on my ass and another one already wishes to take over. I can¡¯t even look at roses the same any more thanks to this family.

    Nina shivers as if its winter, but she didn¡¯t try to refute anything I said.

    ¡°I wonder what they must be holding over your head, to obtain such a favor from one of the closest people to the princess who has been vetted by the emperor¡¯s people,¡± I passively muse.

    ¡°Your highness! I have sinned, forgive me!¡± Nina falls to her knees, a few tears falling down her face. At some point I hadn¡¯t noticed, Emma moved to stand by the tent entrance to prevent anyone from entering. It is just us three in the room.

    ¡°So you do you know did something wrong,¡± I stir the cup of tea and admire the silver spoon in the weak light, which is free from the dark tarnishing indicative of poisoning. ¡°You could¡¯ve killed me. And then, it wouldn¡¯t just be you and me dying, but also your entire family, your friends, oh and whichever nobles my father wishes to get rid of.¡±

    Loud sniffles filled the room. The dignity that seems etched into the bones of every royal attendant or maid is long gone. There is no Nina who walks in unison with the other attendants or has been trained to maintain a pleasing expression at all times. Just a sad girl who cries like she¡¯s going through her first breakup.

    ¡°I-I shall leave your service, your highness. I do... I do not deserve to serve you as an attendant. But my task was only to inform you that B-Bishop Duvernay wishes to speak with you,¡± Nina says in between loud sniffles and wiping her leaky faucet of a nose on the sleeve of her uniform dress.

    ¡°Oh, no. No, no, no,¡± I chuckle softly, recalling what happened thest time one of my maids was relieved of her services. ¡°Whatever will the other attendants do without your guidance? You will not ¡®take your leave¡¯. I have yet to dismiss you from your services.¡±

    Nina blinked up at me, her reddened eyes shing with my gold ones. ¡°Your highness,¡± her voice warring between hope and doubt, ¡°You mean... I can stay? But I just-¡±

    ¡°Just betrayed me. Yes, you did. But I understand, after all, I wasn¡¯t always royal. I know how taking care of others can put us in apromising position,¡± I murmur, my mind cutting to Bianca, her sour disposition, and how weary she was from ¡®working¡¯ every single day.

    ¡°Thank you, your highness! I will never betray you again,¡± Nina stands and bows fully towards me, her sincerity making her do it with excess force.

    ¡°Enough, enough. I¡¯m sure the other attendants need tending to. If someone from the medical area asks for my whereabouts, simply tell them that I am feeling a little ill this morning and wille inter.¡±

    ¡°Your highness, you will go?¡± Emma approaches me quietly after Nina hurries out of the tent.

    I shrug, the casual motion disguising my inner determination. ¡°I need to know if this man is as terrible of a foe as Katya, or worse.¡±

    My mind flits back to the way the desperate soldiers had congregated around Bishop Duvernay as if his words alone could turn the battle around in the Empire¡¯s favor. The sight had left a bad taste in my mouth, reminding too much of the religious cults who hold great sway and power over their followers. If Bishop Duvernay is of that ilk, considering how my powers are affiliated with the Holy Church, I may be in greater danger than ever.

    The scenic outdoors beyond my shadowy tent contrast sharply with my mood. We approach the section of the military camp where the battle mages preside, their dark cloaks emzoned with a golden sun covering their faces and adding an unnecessarily mysterious aura to them. They almost visually appear to be holy priests, but the tanned leather arm guards and staffs they carry allude to violence and impossible feats.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t this remind you of that time we went to see that crazy wizard dude?¡± I tell Emma as we approach the small clearing where Bishop Duvernay had practiced. I seem to have a knack for meeting characters out of storybooks. That time it was Gandalf. Today, it is Jack Skeleton.

    As opposed to being filled with soldiers seeking out a battle mage to aid them with prayer, today it is entirely empty, presumably for our meeting.

    Emma¡¯s forehead is lined with confusion. ¡°Dude, your highness?¡±

    ¡°Ahem. Ugh, guy. No, actually dude means ¡®man¡¯,¡± I quickly rify.

    ¡°A man,¡± Emma seems skeptical, my strange vocabry stumping her once more.

    ¡°Hehe, yes. Really!¡± I insist as she throws me a side-eye.

    An oak tree marks the end of the prayer¡¯s clearing, its wide branches offering much-needed shade in the sticky heat of thete summer. But a man stands beneath it, only visible once Emma and I fully enter the clearing. I¡¯d scarcely paid him any mind when I first saw him weeks and weeks ago as a runaway kid finally catching a break. However, the vacation ended when my abilities showed themselves.

    In between sessions of healing grateful soldiers and stuffing my face, I¡¯ve had Emma sneak around camp and gather information on those who are in camp. And Emma, as I¡¯vee to fully realize, was very good at her job, leaving me with several, secret and not so secret people for me to pay attention to. She had done so well in fact, that if I were still my green, overly optimistic self from two and a half years ago, I perhaps might have foolishly been frightened instead of pleased.

    Trepidation slows my steps as the manes into view, but underneath it lies the same, foolhardy pleasure of tricking Augustus into granting me a ce to stay at camp. Because you see, among the many people Emma brought to my attention, Nina and her strange midnight visits to the battle mage¡¯s section of the camp was the first.

    ¡°Bishop Duvernay,¡± I utter in greeting, dropping into a slightly, sloppy curtsey as if I¡¯m just a clueless child. Emma follows suit, dropping into an incorrect curtsey as well.

    ¡°Your highness...¡± Bishop Duvernay is tall and thin, like a pale piece of taffy that has been stretched to its limits. Even so, his face is hauntingly beautiful, a gothic caricature, the thin smile and knowing glint in his eyes sending chills down my spine.

    ¡°...I would presume that my sister has taught you better etiquette than that,¡± the bishop speaks slowly in a low tone, one that people could easily mistake as soothing.

    Quite honestly, I don¡¯t understand how people can findfort in this man. Despite his pleasant white and blue robes and ever-present gloom, he sends out major creep vibes.

    I pout slightly, the mildly daft expression on my face one I have practiced hundreds, if not thousands of times in front of a mirror. ¡°I have been out of the pce for so long that I am a little out of practice. You¡¯ll forgive me won¡¯t you, Your Excellency?¡±

    ¡°Forgiveness is what the Holy Church teaches as one of its main ts,¡± Bishop Duvernay replies, dropping a few religious pearls of wisdom like a true priest. ¡°Forgiving others allows us to embrace Helio¡¯s light more fully.¡±

    I inwardly roll my eyes at his words, but earnestly look up at the bishop. ¡°Did you call me here to talk about forgiveness?¡±

    ¡°Of course not. I called you here to speak of a death. Your death.¡±

    I suck in air as if I was punched in the gut, my only reaction to the bishop¡¯s jarring words. Emma stands out of earshot, but from my reaction, she casts a suspicious nce at Bishop Duvernay.

    ¡°Are you referring to how my mother sent asssassins after me when I ran away?¡± I help the bishop fully tear away the veil of politeness between us. ¡°I can¡¯t lie, I was a touch hurt by that. I¡¯ve always learned that the Holy Church advocates for parents to cherish their children the way Helio cherishes his people.¡±

    ¡°Yes, that was indeed a shame. Especially since you truly are the promised child of the Empire.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡±

    Bishop Duvernay speaks clearly and sinctly. ¡°House Duvernay wishes you dead. But the Holy Church does not. As a member of both, this puts me in quite the conundrum.¡±

    ¡°I would imagine,¡± I nod understandingly as if we are talking about something other than my life. However, his words give me a lot to ponder about. Despite being from the Duvernay family, his wordsmunicate that he too has interests outside of his family¡¯s goals. Interests that I can perhaps align myself with.

    He peers at me, piercing blue eyes that are so different yet so simr to his sister¡¯s hazel ones.

    ¡°You are not afraid, little princess?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m terrified,¡± I answer honestly. ¡°I¡¯ve simply learned how to carry on with my life in spite of the fear. Hiding away in the Rose Pce, after all, only made my life harder.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps we cane to an understanding today, then,¡± Bishop Duvernay says after contemting what I¡¯ve said.

    I purse my lips, not ready to answer him fully. He interlocks his fingers in front of his person as he says those words and it reminds me of a spider¡¯s web wrapping around its prey. Even if I can align with his interests today, there is no guarantee on how long the intersection couldst.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± I bite and take the bait. The bishop¡¯s thin lips peel back into a pleasant smile and I can hear the warning bells ringing inside my head.

    ¡°I want you to be a member of the Holy Church.¡±

 Chapter 90

    Chapter 90: Ch. 90: There Are No Strings On Me

    I hear out Bishop Duvernay¡¯s proposal with a neutral expression, but one thing bes exceedingly clear as he finishes speaking.

    I would not be a member. I would be a puppet.

    And the puppet masters? Naturally, the ones who already have strings buried deep within the nobility and every level of the government. Religion. A quiet, yet unsurmountable force when wielded in the wrong hands.

    I blink slowly and count off my fingers to ensure I haven¡¯t missed any ludicrous promises. ¡°So, you wish for me to attend all masses at the Grand Temple in Radovalsk, heal ¡®important¡¯ practitioners, perform certain rituals, and heal believers all over the Empire. Does the Holy Priestess not fulfill this kind of role adequately enough for you?¡±

    Thinking back to good-natured Aria, the first hint of displeasure colors my tone.

    ¡°You must also take Empress Katya as yourwful mother. And in exchange, House Duvernay would not only no longer seek your death, we would also support you fully into bing an official part of the imperial lineage,¡± Bishop Duvernay adds, tossing in an attractive future I¡¯ve only dreamt of.

    But the word ¡®death¡¯ing so freely from the mouth of a holy man, even a hardened soldier would be frightened let alone myself.

    .....

    Regardless, I can overlook it, letting out a small snort like a baby pig snorting at the very first sentence. ¡°Isn¡¯t she already my ¡®mother¡¯? I call her such, pay her visits often, and take lessons from her. What more is there for me to do?¡±

    I¡¯m talking too much, an inner part of me begging for me to shut up and quit oversharing. But Empress Katya, needless to say, is a touchy subject for me.

    Bishop Duvernay¡¯s thin lips curl into another smile, reading all the emotions on my face like a book.

    ¡°Are you afraid of her? That won¡¯t do you any good,¡± hements dryly, a faint thread of pleasure at my fear and anger bubbling out.

    Of course, Empress Katya¡¯s transgressions wouldn¡¯t be a secret to her family members, but the all too knowing glint in his eyes nearly unseats me. So I strike back with the first sentence that can get the heat off my back.

    ¡°Actually,¡± I say, surprising myself and the bishop, ¡°I admire her. More than I¡¯d care to admit.¡±

    A brief shock travels through his eyes, but as the son of the chancellor and the second highest-ranking figure within the Holy Church, there was no shocking information he hadn¡¯t heard before.

    ¡°So do you agree to the terms?¡±

    Hell to the no, I want to yell. Instead, I purse my lips gently. ¡°The terms you¡¯ve described ovep very much with that of the Holy Priestess. Wouldn¡¯t people be angry if I try to perform her duties for her?¡±

    I know I¡¯ve discovered the metaphorical ¡®eruption¡¯ underneath this dream he is trying to sell me, although Bishop Duvernay makes no reaction to confirm my suspicions. It¡¯s a tried and true trick that has happened in history, making someone the figurehead of public displeasure the way Marie Antote and Louis XVI were sacrificed despite not being the main cause of the people¡¯s problems.

    I¡¯d wager my meager savings that if I took Bishop Duvernay up on these terms as is, after he¡¯s taken full advantage of my abilities and promised child status, I would be tossed aside to burn and forced to shoulder any ¡®crimes¡¯ they¡¯d wish to put on my head. The people would only spit on my decapitated body and curse me for taking advantage of my promised child status in order to overstep my bounds within the Holy Church and harm themon people.

    Sound familiar yet?

    Yes, this sounds almost exactly like how I died within the webnovel, except I would additionally have even more notoriety and public hatred. I mentally pat myself on the back for my ability to reason that out in a few seconds. Sure enough, facing death more than a few times really helps to put things in perspective.

    ¡°Also, what kind of important members does the Holy Church have? Aren¡¯t we all equal under Helio¡¯s eyes?¡± I add, gently nudging another problem area in the proposal.

    ¡°Naturally the donors of the Holy Church, who keep the doors of even our smallest locations open and free of charge to civilians.¡±

    I smother a loud bellyugh in its cradle, a small chortleing out. ¡°But I remember that the Holy Church is exempt from taxes so that they can afford to cover any other maintenance and housing fees.¡±

    Bishop Duvernay, to his credit, looks unfazed by my not-so-innocent prodding. ¡°Indeed. But housing our priests and nuns, spreading Helio¡¯s good word across the Empire, and training battle mages have a great cost for our humble church.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm ok!¡± I reply cheerfully to the extended terms, ¡°But I want to change some.¡±

    ¡°Which?¡± The bishop asks in a curt manner.

    All, I¡¯m extremely tempted to yell. But instead, I say, ¡°I won¡¯t heal important practitioners, that isn¡¯t fair to themon people and as a member of the imperial family I am meant to help all people, not a few.¡±

    I smirk inwardly as I regurgitate the argument my father had brought up when he wanted me to heal the soldiers.

    ¡°Secondly, I will not attend every mass at the Holy Church. Pick a few important days out of the year. My etiquette teacher taught me that the imperial family must maintain some distance from the Holy Church. And finally, I will not take the empress as mywful mother.¡±

    Bishop Duvernay¡¯s lip presses into a thin line, the only indicator to his mood.

    ¡°Your highness, what makes you think House Duvernay shall agree to these terms?¡± he asks icily.

    It¡¯s a good question. One I already have an answer to.

    ¡°Because,¡± my lips spreading into the sweetest smile I can muster. ¡°There is someone very important you desperately need me to heal, don¡¯t you? So if you agree to my amended terms, I will agree to heal not one, not two, but three people of your choice. And I will not have the right to refuse, even if you dragged Akira the Devourer himself before me.¡±

    There is a sharp intake of breath. Bishop Duvernay¡¯s eyes are sharper than flint, turning the calming white-robed bishop into a cier. But I don¡¯t back down, looking back at him without a care as if he isn¡¯t plotting a thousand different ways to get rid of me before the information gets out.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I mutter, waving away the murderous air around the bishop like a bothersome fly. ¡°I don¡¯t have any spies, nor did I learn this from my father. I simply guessed and it seems that my guess was correct.¡±

    That is a lie. But I can¡¯t very well tell Bishop Duvernay that I read in the webnovel that during the long Sarsavalian War, the mysterious patriarch of House Duvernay, an old, powerful figure with webs across the entire Empire and beyond, passed away from the flux, can I?

    It seems that rewriting as much of the entire webnovel I could remember, even the minute details, was one of the few smart decisions I made during my early, optimistic days as Winter.

    The bishop heaves out a breath, the murder in his eyes abating back to his gloomy, tranquil state.

    ¡°Three. No less,¡± Bishop Duvernay says sternly.

    ¡°No less,¡± I agree with a nod. As long as they don¡¯t ask me to heal Empress Katya, I can swallow down my pride and save anyone they bring to me.

    ¡°Good day, Your Highness.¡± The bishop boys his head, his cap staying firmly on.

    I curtsey back at him. ¡°Good day, Your Excellency. May Helio¡¯s light follow you.¡±

    ¡°And you too, Your Highness.¡±

    With our pleasantries, one would not know we had just negotiated for my life.

    I turn away from the bishop, my hands quivering as I sp them in my front. Emma approaches me and I let out a loud breath, pounding at my chest with a small fist.

    ¡°Your highness?¡± Emma pats me on the back.

    ¡°Whew! Wow! That was so scary, oh my god!¡± I gasp out. ¡°Even if you didn¡¯t tell me, I would have realized that he and Empress Katya are rted. What are they feeding the kids at House Duvernay?¡±

    ¡°Presumably better than what we ate in the pce,¡± Emma murmurs seriously.

    I pause in my steps, the early morning breeze doing little to suppress the boggy heat that has settled over the military encampment. I turn to Emma.

    ¡°A joke? It must be Christmas!¡± I wrap my arms around a stony Emma.

    A day off is in order to destress and celebrate, but the adrenaline high fades off byte afternoon. A deck of hand-painted ying cards is strewn across the bed and grassy floor, remnants of Emma attempting to teach me how to y some traditional Erudian card games all day. I braid and unbraid my left braid over and over, turning over this morning¡¯s decision in my head.

    ¡°Hey, Emma? Hypothetically speaking of course, would you, I don¡¯t know, agree to save your mortal enemy¡¯s powerful rtive in exchange for your life?¡± I ask as nonchntly as possible, my back turned so I can¡¯t see her face.

    All I know is that this powerful figure dying caused ripples throughout the Empire, ripples that were still felt yearster when the actual webnovel takes ce 8 years from now. I look down at my palms, slightly pink from tugging at my hair for the better part of an hour. From the moment John woke up, I knew that these hands, these abilities, would change a lot for me and inadvertently the world around me. But call me nerdy, I can¡¯t help but worry about the long-term consequences of keeping this mysterious leader of House Duvernay alive and well.

    Emma thinks for a second. ¡°Yes, your highness.¡±

    ¡°Huh? Why?¡± I ask, almost expecting her to say no.

    ¡°Because he might pay me afterward.¡±

    I nearly choke on my spit, turning around to see that Emma was not being sarcastic at all.

    ¡°Fair enough. But Emma, what if he wasn¡¯t rich? Then what?¡± I add on.

    ¡°Is this about your discussion with Bishop Duvernay, your highness?¡± True to her style, Emma cuts to the heart of the matter.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I acquiesce.

    She looks up from the dagger she is polishing. ¡°You already made a deal with him?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Can you take it back?¡± Emma throws the dagger in the air expertly, the faint light catching on the glistening de.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then why are you regretting it?¡±

    This time I really do choke on the spit, my face turning beet red with embarrassment.

    ¡°Blunt as ever,¡± Iment dryly, fanning my face to cool my burning cheeks.

    But right when I¡¯m about to ask Emma if she could get apologetic Nina to scrounge up some rare ice, I hear the sound of tearing fabric and heavy footsteps pound behind me.

    Emma¡¯s eyes widen and I subconsciously duck from the explosion of sound. She catches the dagger she had been yfully throwing in her hand, before flinging it so close to me the air tickles my cheek.

    ¡°BEHIND YOU, YOUR HIGHNESS!¡±

 Chapter 91

    Chapter 91: Ch. 91: Lol, You Thought

    Just as a hefty hand grabs at one of my braids, the assant behind me grunts and falls to the ground. I rush to Emma¡¯s side like she¡¯s thest grocery store sample on disy, quaking behind her as she raises both fists in an imposing image. Well, as imposing as a 10-year-old can be.

    My doubt-filled, somewhat peaceful afternoon hase to a screeching halt.

    ¡°Wow! Emma, well done. Up top!¡± I raise a high five towards her above my head.

    ¡°Down low!¡±

    ¡°Too slo- Hey, at least pretend that you¡¯re too slow once in a while!¡± Emma fast reflexes have never lost to me.

    The two guards posted out front rush in so fast, I don¡¯t even have a chance to see the man Emma just dropped. One holds a sword to the downed man¡¯s neck while the other does a formal bow in my direction.

    ¡°Forgive me, your highness. It was our negligence that caused this!¡±

    .....

    On the floor, a loud gurgle sounds, followed by the supervising guard¡¯s low curse.

    ¡°sted heavens, he¡¯s managed to ingest poison.¡± The guard tries to pry open the man¡¯s mouth, but I make it to his side in record time and ce my already warm hands on his chest.

    When he gasps again, it isn¡¯t in the throes of death but with renewed vitality.

    ¡°What? What the...? Witch, you dare use your cursed abilities on me? How I¨C¡± the man boldly swears. An obvious ent colors his voice, one I¡¯ve heard before. A Sarsavalian one.

    However, I flinch at the word ¡®witch¡¯. My mood, which had already been going up and down like a roller coaster, takes a sharp nosedive. Outside my tent, people wail like chickens with their heads cut off.

    ¡°An assassin has run into the princess¡¯ tent! Quick, send for help!¡±

    I already have a headache, the subsequent shock of the attack having made me use too much juice to heal the assassin. I put a hand to my head and take a seat on my cot.

    ¡°Well, let¡¯s get this sorted, shall we?¡± I say in the most chipper tone I can manage.

    Turns out my newfound status carries some weight. For scarcely half an hourter, I am seated beside my father within the strategy tent, everymander, captain, and notable figure within the military camp assembled in a makeshift court. The prosecutor? My father. The defendant? A sniveling man ring daggers at me while mouthing ¡®witch¡¯ under his breath.

    Before an assortment of decorated and knighted warriors, long cultivated into the ruthless fighting force that has been the scourge of neighboringnds, my would-be assassin looks weak and frightened. He is an average warrior powered by little more than hate and fear, but now the question is, how did he manage to get in? I tap my finger on the armrest of the chair, the faintest of smiles on my face. Without a single doubt in my mind, someone within this tent has helped the assassin enter the military camp. And to alleviate my bad mood and discover whether the Bishop Duvernay has gone back on his word, I look forward to digging up who it is.

    With the heavy chains on the assassin¡¯s arms as a musical apaniment, I slowly look over every figure within the tent, the pirs of the impressive Erudian Army. In the navy and gold uniform of the royal guard, Sir Gregory is stand furthest to the left, his dark eyes unreadable when they meet mine. I don¡¯t let my gaze skitter away, although I¡¯m tempted to as I look at the man who, in addition to his mother, was responsible for the biggest hup I ever encountered as a princess.

    Something always told me he knew more about what happened when he met with Janice and her mysterious poison, but he¡¯s never breathed a word about it. Even now, there is no hostility in his eyes, as he knows well it wasn¡¯t my fault. But what good is that if the real power behind him, the Duke and Duchess of Mulworth, hate my guts?

    My eyes stray to themander of the royal guard, Lord Amarelius, or just Sir Wolfgang to those in the army. He winks yfully. Next, there are a fewmanders of the auxiliary battalions of the army: the Phoenix army and the imperial battalions. I can see a shock of bright yellow hair from the back, Sir Finn perhaps due to his being the heir of the very dukedom we stand in. My brothers are here too, but I don¡¯t even bother sparing those overgrown brats a nce.

    Whether these men¡¯s allegiances lie with my father or with one of the various aristocratic factions that have grown with the depletion of the imperial bloodline, one thing is certain: they are not happy that I, or more urately my healing abilities, were nearly snuffed out.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± a man in the livery of the Phoenix army steps forward and bows to the emperor. ¡°If you would allow me the honor, I shall hunt down the perpetrators of the incident for them to face justice.¡±

    His words are high sounding, the earnestness in his gaze making it easy to see how he is able to inspire his soldiers. But the Mad Dog snorts, his expression and mussed hair only making him look even more unruly than usual.

    ¡°Last I checked, aren¡¯t you the one in charge of general security of the military camp? Are you suggesting that we may interrogate you as we please, Captain-General Vernice?¡± he slyly replies.

    I raise my brows. Vernice. One of Empress Katya¡¯sdies-in-waiting carries this name. My father must know this too, although he says nothing. So I do the same.

    ¡°Take care not to use me of treason without grounds, my lord,¡± the captain-general says through gritted teeth.

    ¡°I¡¯m simply saying what we all see,¡± Sir Wolfgang shrugged, his cavalier attitude contrasting sharply with the many medallions pinned upon his chest.

    I start to get a sense of the dynamic between my father and the Mad Dog, particrly the reason why Sir Wolfgang has remained in his confidence for many years. He serves as my father¡¯s mouthpiece amongst the nobility, with a known reputation that allows him to get away with saying just about anything.

    ¡°The bottom line,¡± an unknown general pipes up, ¡°Is that we were breached by the enemy. What¡¯s to stop an enemy soldier sneaks in and nts an eruption in our midst tomorrow?¡±

    Everyone¡¯s faces go dark with the thought, even Sir Wolfgang¡¯s. It¡¯s one thing for the food supply to be sabotaged, but if even the fortified grounds are breached, a war is guaranteed to be lost and everyone in the tent knows this.

    Emperor Helio finally takes the chance to speak, his simple military suit as opposed to full armored regalia just as imposing as ever. ¡°Regardless of the oue, some of you shall die today for such apse in security. Whether the number is few or great depends on how much truth is uncovered today.¡±

    Even the personalities before me tempered by steel and blood panic. Although no one shouts or yells in fear, the air within the strategy tent changes. I look at the captain-general again, but he looks calm. A little too calm.

    Sir Gregory steps forward. ¡°Your Majesty, if you would allow us, the royal guard are willing to interrogate the prisoner for answers.¡±

    The imprisoned assassin kneeling on the floor shivers at the strange nkness of Sir Gregory¡¯s tone.

    ¡°What? You would condemn me for ridding you of a witch. Her abilities are cursed! A sphemy! A scourge upon the world!¡± the assassin yells at Sir Gregory. He makes a pathetic attempt to crawl away but with his heavy chains, he just struggles uselessly.

    ¡°Then what would that make your sted eruptions that tear people apart limb from limb?¡± Prince Julian mutters, his words deliberately carrying across the tent and striking a chord within the assembled people¡¯s hearts.

    ¡°The prince is right. This bloody soldier before us is responsible for the pain and death of many of my good soldiers, all of them bright, able-bodiedds eager to fight for their empire,¡± His eyes seemed to grow red as his voice choked up a little. ¡°We should do away with this Sarsavalian filth first, and then the rest we have captured.¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡±

    ¡°I second that.¡±

    All the generals nod, bloodlust thick in the air. It helps me understand why my father appointed them to their roles, for I have never met a group of people so eager to shed blood.

    All the way at the back of the white tent, the curtains p as someone enters. ¡°To spill enemy blood within our home would invite trouble in the empire,¡± a gloomy voice says.

    My hand grips the armrest firmly as all the generals turn around and nod with respect. ¡°Your Excellency.¡±

    Bishop Duvernay epts their greeting. He steps to my father and nods with respect to him, the princes, and myself.

    ¡°Your Majesties. Your Highnesses.¡±

    It is strange. Bishop Duvernay does not seem to sweat, despite his heavy white and blue robes that drag slightly on the grassy ground. It makes him seem less than human, a being difficult to quantify. His presence here brings many things into question, leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

    ¡°What are you doing here, Bishop?¡± My father inquires with a hard face.

    ¡°Your Majesty, I am simply here to bring light to the situation.¡±

    My father does not beat around the bush. ¡°You know who the culprit is?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, Your Majesty,¡± The bishop says calmly.

    Behind him, the captain-general¡¯s face changes like the seasons, from his previous spring-like calm to the bug-eyed frozen terror of winter.

    Bishop Duvernay motions to the shorter, cloaked figure beside him, an inconspicious battle mage.

    ¡°This is Mio. He is young, but he is our most talented magicked interrogator. He shall extract the answer from the enemy promptly.¡±

    Mio¡¯s face and body is covered, but from his stature I can tell he must be around Prince Julian¡¯s age. He could be considered to be disrespectful, as he didn¡¯t greet anyone in this tent, only following Bishop Duvernay in like a shadow. But within moments of his hooded face staring down at the assassin, the disrespect can be forgotten as he performs a feat even I am amazed by.

    The assassin shook on the floor, his eyes so wide that I can clearly distinguish the whites above and below his pupils like a cartoon character. ¡°No! No, I shan¡¯t speak. You can¡¯t make me! You can¡¯t-¡±

    The assassin¡¯s face went ck. All life drained from his limbs as his back simultaneously went ramrod straight. It was an eerie effect, as if the assassin had be a doll for Mio to y with. The generals, who had been grumbling at Bishop Duvernay¡¯s intrusion, went silent with mild difort. As honest men of the sword, the disagreements between the military and the Holy Church had been around ever since battle mages had begun their military assistance.

    ¡°My name is Juareg Testunio. I am a member of the Sarsavalian army, the western phnx under General Scovos. On Monday¡¯s eve, I was instructed in a private meeting with the general to meet with a foot soldier under the leadership of Captain-General Vernice-¡±

    ¡°Lies! All lies!¡± Captain-General Vernice cried. His face was so red, if you pinched it it might bleed blood. With a look of incredulity, he turned to Bishop Duvernay.

    ¡°Tell your boy to stop coercing the assassin to lie!¡± He shoved a finger in Mio¡¯s face, who to his credit, did not flinch at a grown man¡¯s fury. What kind of dignified captain-general was this? His behavior has devolved to nothing less than the old drunkard who used to lurk by the corner of Bianca¡¯s shanty and wail until 6 am.

    His anger is understandable though. He is watching as House Duvernay forcibly cuts ties with his family and condemns him to death. A lesser reaction would worry me more.

    ¡°Shall I continue, Your Excellency?¡± Mio asks as Captain-General Vernice begins to run out of steam. His t voicepetes with Emma in terms of who can act like they¡¯re dead inside the best.

    ¡°Yes, Mio.¡±

    ¡°-Under the leadership of Captain-General Vernice.¡± The puppet assassin eerily carries on where he left off. ¡°The captain-general redirected the cavalry guarding the Dredgen Woods, allowing a two-minute window for me to enter with this foot soldier. I was then directed to wait until thete afternoon when I was to kill the witch.¡±

    Life flows back into the chained man¡¯s eyes and he writhes against his bondage.

    ¡°You can¡¯t make me speak! On pain of death will I confess!¡± But there was no time to marvel at how the assassin seemingly did not recollect his forced confession. The faint music that I hear whenever magic is used around me fades away, but I hardly have a chance to notice.

    The captain-general stands defeated, throwing a bitter look at Bishop Duvernay, who stands calmly in the corner with his hands hidden in his robes. His bluster is popped like a balloon, quickly thinking of the big picture like any other trained battle technician.

    ¡°I... I worked alone,¡± Captain-General Vernice confesses with his eyes to the ground. ¡°The Vernice family had nothing to do with my decision. I shall absolve myself of my sin with death.¡±

    ¡°No, wait!¡± The Mad Dog lurches across the tent, disying his impressive athleticism as he lunges for something that I only realize is a de when it¡¯s halfway out of its sheath.

    ¡°Stop him!¡± My father roars. So many questions remain. How did the captain-general get in contact with a Sarsavalian general? How long has he been in contact with them and are there any other key figures within the Erudian Empire who are in cahoots as well?

    But Captain-General Vernice was a well-trained general, the thin de shing across his neck and leaving a thin red line in its wake.

 Chapter 92

    Chapter 92: Ch. 92: Sinking Ship

    If the Erudian Empire were a ship, albeit a ratherrge and impressive warship, it would have sprung a leak in its hull at the moment.

    The boiling rage within my father does not erupt, but the chained prisoner on the ground before us begins to choke and hack up clots of ck blood until Harold drags him further back near where the generals andmanders stand.

    ¡°Save him!¡± yells, not my father but the Mad Dog. Sir Wolfgang puts pressure on the bleeding wound with his hand and turns to look at me.

    And it¡¯s not just him, everyone turns to stare, some eyes begging, some curious, some wishing to see a miracle for themselves. And they do, in a way.

    Right as I stand from my chair, I see my father¡¯s arm extend towards me from the periphery. It moves faster than a whip, his hand before my face before I can so much as flinch. Clenched between his fingers is a de as slender as a piece of paper.

    I let out a mix between a sigh and a gasp, flopping back into my chair as the evidence that I almost died still hasn¡¯t stopped quivering between my father¡¯s fingers.

    ¡°Wolfgang, you¡¯ve lost your edge,¡± Emperor Helio murmurs in the now dead-silent room.

    .....

    Themander of the royal guards does not say anything, his hand still pressed firmly against the burbling neck of the captain-general. But his lips press into a firm line when his vision narrows on the de that Captain-General Vernice had thrown with the veryst of his strength.

    Meanwhile, the captain-general who had considered more counter-measures than anyone had thought choked out hisst blood-filled breath and died in Sir Wolfgang¡¯s arms. The cut to his neck was so deep that his head was only held to his neck by a few sinews of flesh. Without my intervention, evensting longer than a minute with that kind of wound would be impossible.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± the Mad Dog mutters with his head down in shame, ¡°The captain-general has expired. Please permit me leave to investigate his dealings with the Sarsavalians.¡±

    My father doesn¡¯t answer immediately, instead twirling the de that almost killed me around in his hand like a cigarette before crushing it to dust. It doesn¡¯t take a mad scientist to figure out who the culprit may have been behind my assassination attempt, despite the messy methods employed to hide it.

    ¡°Granted.¡±

    Captain-General Vernice is thete husband of Lady Vernice, one of Empress Katya¡¯sdies-in-waiting. While Empress Katya has maintained the image of a loving mother to all of Emperor Helio¡¯s children, a rare few insiders, including my father, know of her hatred for me. This incident is covered in the fingerprints of not only Empress Katya, but also House Duvernay. However, the bishop¡¯s aid, a deliberate move on his part, has thrown the clear verdict into the mud.

    Considering how the Bishop¡¯s man had been the one to unearth Captain-General Vernice¡¯s underhanded doings, tying House Duvernay into the crime would cause people to criticize the imperial family as one that couldn¡¯t distinguish between rewards and punishments for honest nobles. Not to mention, Bishop Duvernay had also made a silent proposition to my father by bringing the mysterious Mio out to y with an ability that had never been seen before.

    ¡°Divine power, it manifests in such funny ways,¡± I muse to myself and Emma in the evening. The nights out in Belhelm are warm and stuffy, however, due to the events earlier in the day, I¡¯m wrapped up in a heavy cloak and drinking some tea forfort.

    ¡°It can take your vision and make you be the holy priestess. It can be used to attack during battle. It can heal scrapes, cuts, and broken bones to varying degrees.¡±

    ¡°Or heal someone back to new, your highness,¡± Emma adds, pointing to her smooth arm that I had fixed up.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I reply, thinking of the night and day difference in ability between myself and the imperial physicians. ¡°And today, I learned it can extract the truth from even the most unwilling of mouths. How useful is that? It¡¯s no wonder only the Vernice family will take the fall.¡±

    I don¡¯t feel any disappointment at the thought that my father would rather preserve House Duvernay so he can have ess to these newly revealed interrogation tactics. Feeling disappointment implies that I had any hope for another oue, which I didn¡¯t. It¡¯s all about benefits in the upper echelons of society, morals be damned.

    Emma fluffs up my bed and motions for me to get in.

    ¡°That Mio, he reminded me of you. So stoic and quiet. Perhaps he can be your paramour?¡± I giggle. Emma¡¯s face blushes red at the implication.

    ¡°I do not wish to find love. I wish to stay by your side, your highness,¡± Only the slightest bit of embarrassment colors her tone. It¡¯s moments like this that remind me of her young age and technically, my age as well.

    For the new, hypervignt guards posted outside, muffled giggles are audible long into the night. Ourughter is like a bandage over a stab wound, a temporary solution to the underlying problem. But I look forward to the day I can sew the wound shut with my own hands.

    ¡ª¡ª¡ª

    As a still-growing teenager, the hangover hit Prince Julian like a truck.

    Inside his dim tent, the fraction of light peeking through the curtained entrance burned his eyes. He covered his face as if he were a vampire and called for his closest subordinate.

    ¡°Felix. Felix!¡± he croaked from his bed. Drinking had been his vice in his past life, one that doggedly followed to this one. But due to the constraints of youth as well as poor tolerance, he could not imbibe as much as he wanted to.

    The manservant quickly shuffled in, carrying a cup of water and a bowl of light porridge. Without any preamble, Julian finished the two within a few minutes, feeling revived as he spooned thest of the porridge into his mouth.

    ¡°Today¡¯s schedule?¡± Julian requested, wiping off his face and hands in a neat, uniform manner.

    ¡°There is a meeting at the strategy tent at 7:30, after which Sir Gregory requested your presence for a meeting amongst the higher-ups of the royal guard.¡±

    Julian frowned. ¡°Did he say what for?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s rted to the eruptions, your highness.¡±

    ¡°Got it. Carry on,¡± he said in a brusque manner. A short servant boy entered and began dressing Julian as Felix went through the day¡¯s events. As leather pads were tied around his arms and his daggers ¨C both visible and hidden ¨C were inserted into their sheaths, Felix finally listed off all the day¡¯s events.

    Julian strolled out of his tent abruptly, the early morning light sweltering under the manyyers he had to wear. But as a prince, he was not exempt from fighting and found himself on the battlefield many times since he¡¯d arrived. Like his hangover, Prince Julian¡¯s early qualms for blood and arrows piercing the chinks in his armor had long faded. He felt clear-headed and driven in all matters except for one, the matters pertaining to his youngest sister.

    ¡°What is Winter doing today?¡± Prince Julian asked without turning his head.

    ¡°The princess? Today I heard that she took the day off from healing.¡±

    ¡°The day off? Is she ill?¡± Prince Julian nearly stopped walking, but on his face wasn¡¯t a look of concern, but curiosity. The Princess Winter he was still getting to know was not one to be deterred by a mere illness. In fact, she would most likely take advantage of it to brush up her image ¡°for PR¡±.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m not sure, sire,¡± Felix stammered.

    ¡°Then find out and report to me after this meeting.¡± Prince Julian disappeared into the strategy tent, rubbing his head at what he knew would be another frustrating day of trying to figure out what to do about the eruptions.

    Several hourster, a headache had taken full bloom in Julian¡¯s head. He rubbed at his short gold curls, his golden eyes shing in irritation.

    ¡°I¡¯ve already told you, a surveince operation into the Sarsavalian camp will not work. We have absolutely no intelligence on the appearance of the weaponsmith constructing the eruptions, whether there are any traps, and whether the weaponsmith is truly the only individual with the knowledge of how to construct an eruption. It would simply be a waste of manpower!¡± Julian thundered out.

    Prince Augustus, the brother who reminded him of his nephew in his past life, nodded in affirmation of Julian¡¯s words. Emperor Helio, with his head leaned against his hand, said nothing. But Prince Julian truly did not expect him to.

    Being the secondborn prince with a powerful mother, Prince Julian had understood many things about this new world ever since he woke up with one of his many royal nannies waving a mother of pearl rattle in his face:

    His new father hated his new mother. His new brother was the only sibling who his father would ever not dislike, as he wasn¡¯t sure if Emperor Helio could love anything other than his throne. And that Emperor Helio would kill him if he ever dared to covet Prince Augustus¡¯ crown prince position.

    So when Emperor Helio didn¡¯t praise or acknowledge him, Prince Julian was actually relieved. He too had once wed his way to the very top in his past life and all he¡¯d found there was solitude and misery. Thus, Prince Julian had been more than happy to spend his entire life pretending to go along with his mother¡¯s goals of him bing the next emperor while actually enjoying his life for a change. However, if things were so simple and easy, Julian would not have found himself in a war tent discussing how tobat bombs with swords and magic tricks.

    As yet another general began to propose another way to infiltrate the Sarsavalians, this time to assassinate the irritating, runaway baron who had started the entire war affair, Prince Julian noticed his father¡¯s closest steward enter the tent. The man walked up to Emperor Helio and murmured a few words in his father¡¯s ear, to which Emperor Helio nodded and waved him away.

    ¡°This topic is adjourned. We shall now hold trial for an attempted assassination,¡± Emperor Helio said in a tone that brokered no argument.

    It was as if a bomb had gone off in the tent. All the generals widened their eyes, quickly doing the math on who could¡¯ve been assassinated. Since the princes and the emperor were all within the tent, then there was only one remaining figure who could be at risk. Prince Julian jumped out of his chair with shock as he reached the same name in everyone else¡¯s mind.

    In a rare moment of fluster for the teenaged prince, he blurted out, ¡°Is Winter alright?¡±

    Emperor Helio threw a careless nce in Julian¡¯s direction, while Harold informed the room that, ¡°The assassin was revived and shall be brought in shortly.¡±

    And indeed in a few short minutes, Princess Winter walked in along with a struggling Sarsavalian fighting futilely against the guards who hauled him in. Winter was petite, even for an 8-year-old, her ghostly white hair pleated into two braids. Her eyes were red-rimmed as if she had cried, but she put on a brave face as if she was determined to appear strong before the generals.

    Without needing to look at the response, Julian could tell that the army¡¯s impression of Princess Winter, which had already risen dramatically due to her healing abilities, just went up a few more points. It seemed that within a couple of years, his little sister had funed her strengths from a blunt sword to a fine rapier.

    When she sat down in her chair after greeting their father with a cheerful face and dead eyes, Winter carefully looked over the assembled group. Meanwhile, Prince Julian looked at Winter and saw... nothing. No fear, no anguish, no irritation. Even when the paper-thin dagger had been inches from cutting her little throat. Or if those emotions were present, they were buried so deeply that even the most skilled eye could not pick it out.

    It reminded Julian an awful lot of the emperor. But whether that was good or bad, only time would tell.

 Chapter 93

    Chapter 93: Ch. 93: We Are The Champions

    In thete afternoon of the following day, Prince Julian found himself kicking tufts of grass in front of Winter¡¯s tent in impatience. The sun would soon fall below the western horizon, bathing the entire camp in gold and marking how long he had stood outside waiting for Winter to return from healing soldiers.

    ¡°Are you sure she didn¡¯t mention how long she would be?¡± he asked the guards in front again.

    ¡°Harassing my guards, are you?¡± Light footsteps crunched in the grass behind Julian.

    The young man whirled around to see a frowning white-haired girl, the attendants following behind her denoting her newfound status within the camp.

    ¡°My dearest Winnie,¡± Julian said with a charming grin.

    Winter rolled her eyes hard enough for him to see the whites. But he could see her fatigue, her golden eyes dull and not as lively as they usually were.

    ¡°Move. I need to eat,¡± Winter grumbled, shoving past Julian.

    .....

    ¡°Of course, of course,¡± he answered generously, taking the chance to follow her into the tent.

    Winter treated his presence like air as she settled down onto a chair with a loud sigh. The attendants rushed back and forth from the tent, quickly producing a steaming lunch to Winter began to eat with gusto.

    ¡°I presume you did not juste to watch me eat,¡± Winter said between rapid bites.

    Julian nodded. ¡°That is true. I came to talk about the deal made between yourself and my uncle yesterday,¡± Julian said, showing his cards instantly.

    Without needing a look from Winter, the stoic little servant girl who followed his sister around began to usher all the attendants out of the room, including herself.

    ¡°Don¡¯t stick your nose into business that doesn¡¯t concern you,¡± Winter warned. ¡°When did you hear about it? Last night? This morning? Did your mom tell you to figure out the deal between us and report back to her?¡±

    Winter¡¯s words struck Julian like a dull sword during sword practice, blunt and painful.

    ¡°I don¡¯t report to the empress,¡± Julian bit out.

    ¡°Well, someone around you definitely does,¡± Winter grinned at him after her dig, but it was not friendly in the slightest.

    Before he knew it, Julian was already shaking his head. Although his new mother in this world always seemed to have his best interests in mind, he¡¯d spent years cultivating his own people inside and outside the pce. The few by his side who worked for his mother had long been relegated to unimportant tasks.

    Winter snorted at his doubt, sparking a little annoyance. ¡°You were rich in yourst life, huh?¡±

    Julian sat down on Winter¡¯s neatly made bed, raising a careless brow to disguise his difort.

    ¡°And what makes you think that?¡± he scoffed.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got an air about you,¡± Winter waved her hand around as she viciously tore into some dried meat. ¡°Like you¡¯re so lofty you don¡¯t have a moment to notice the ¡®little people¡¯ under you. I saw tons of your kind in my high school and university. Girls who could tell you exactly whose dick Ellie sucked at the partyst week, but couldn¡¯t tell you the name of their live-in maid even if you held a gun to their head.¡±

    ¡°Crass.¡±

    Winter nodded. ¡°Yup. Until the maid reported her father for tax evasion, sending the girl from her luxury downtown penthouse to the smallest school dorm.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe it.¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯d better. The maid cleaned his study regrly and apparently that¡¯s where she found out. You remind me of the dad. Unless someone or something directly concerns you and your interests, you won¡¯t pay it any mind. I can¡¯t wait for the day it bites you in the butt,¡± Winter sighed.

    Julian felt ufortable at Winter¡¯s inquiries into her persona. ¡°But one can also argue that all people think and act that way.¡±

    Winter pped at Julian¡¯s response. ¡°You know, I just knew you¡¯d say that. True, all people do operate that way to some extent. But for those with wealth and power, this is their mindset 24/7, for work and for family. Look at our imperial family. Who actually loves anyone in that freaking pce?¡±

    Love. Julian thought about the way Empress Katya had looked at him since he was young, her green gaze that had been the first thing he¡¯d seen when he woke up as a baby. Was that love? She had diligently overseen his first sword lessons, brought in the wisest tutors from thend, and showered him with the finest presents. Was that love?

    Winter seemed to sense the question in his mind as she carried on speaking.

    ¡°Would your mom treat you so well if you weren¡¯t smart and capable enough to potentially be the crown prince? It¡¯s all about benefits. I can guarantee you that if you lost a leg during the war or got whacked hard enough in the head to be an idiot, she would fall pregnant within the next year,¡± she finished with a smirk.

    There was a kernel of truth within what Winter said that scratched at Julian¡¯s underlying doubts.

    ¡°It almost makes me feel bad for you. At least someone loved me in myst world,¡± Winter¡¯s face warmed as she wistfully reflected on a past Julian would never know. ¡°How many people do you think sincerely cried for you at your funeral?¡±

    Words from a past Julian had long tried to bury roared back to life: ¡°I hate you, Dad! I would rather have never been born than to have a shitty father like you!¡±

    ¡°How dare you? My children would most certainly-¡±

    ¡°Your highness, your presence has been requested in the strategy tent,¡± the harried steward said, his breath huffing from running from the tent to their location.

    Winter eagerly shooed Julian¡¯s figure away. ¡°Run along, Julian,¡± she mocked in a high-pitched tone.

    ¡°Actually... your highness, Princess Winter,¡± the steward added for further rity. ¡°Your presence was requested as well.¡±

    Julian and Winter shared a look, thetter¡¯s face losing its mocking edge. For the two of them to be summoned, especially Winter, it was naturally rted to the explosive matter of the assassin from the previous day. Julian watched his younger sister stand from her chair, her figure wobbling from dizziness. Before he even knew what he was doing, he¡¯d rushed to her side, but Winter waved him away.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she bit out, ring at Julian before she stormed out of the tent. Julian stared at his empty hands before rushing out to follow.

    ¡°You realize you¡¯re technically ¡®rich¡¯ now too, right?¡± Julian muttered darkly as the two siblings followed the steward to the strategy tent.

    ¡°I could¡¯ve forgotten if you hadn¡¯t reminded me. Do you know how much allowance I get? Not even 300 silver coins. Silver, mind you, not gold. I make more money selling flowers from the pce than that,¡± Winter pointedly reminded him even though he¡¯d heard her clearly.

    Julian looked away sheepishly, not even sure what his personal allowance was since Felix took care of it. All he knew was that thousands of gold coins were at his disposal for him to spend at his folly.

    ¡°But if you¡¯re talking about my privilege, then yes I am ¡®rich¡¯,¡± Winter continued with air quotes. ¡°I don¡¯t go hungry, I¡¯m clothed and I have a few servants. That¡¯s the beauty of wealth without any power. On paper, I¡¯m living very well, but between the two of us, I think we know whether or not my life is a fairytale dreame true. Can¡¯t believe children actually dream about being a princess. It¡¯s been more of a nightmare than anything else I could¡¯ve been put through.¡±

    ¡°No need to rub it in,¡± Julian didn¡¯t want to care. He¡¯d never wanted to care and had done a darn good job at it until a pint-sized upstart he¡¯d been too curious to ignore waltzed into his life and began to slowly, but surely hammer away at the walls that had been fortified for over two lifetimes.

    ¡°Oh my bad, Prince Charming. Is your mild guilt making it hard for you to listen?¡± Winter rolled her eyes hard. Julian wanted toin about how often she seemed to do it to him, but he feared that if he brought it up she might start calling him a boomer.

    During the following lull in conversation, the two could immediately sense that there was something different about the military camp. Two nurses were whispering to each other with generous smiles, another soldier sat near his tent crying and thanking Helio.

    ¡°What the fuck?¡± Prince Julian heard Winter mutter as she saw a few foot soldiers kissing the ground in tears.

    ¡°Language.¡±

    ¡°Shut up, boomer.¡± The word stabbed into his gut.

    ¡°Why you-!¡± But Prince Julian was forced to cut himself off as they arrived at the tent, the excited chatter of the highest-rankingmanders and captains already audible.

    The throngs of decorated men within the room parted like the Red Sea after Winter and Julian were announced. Julian realized he hadn¡¯t been mistaken, everyone within the strategy tent was indeed excited by some good news he was yet to hear. Settling down in his chair in the front, the expectation within Julian was not minimal as the strategy tent fell to a hush. Emperor Helio had arrived.

    Prince Julian regarded the emperor, who¡¯d taken the name of a god upon his ascension, with the wariness of a minister to his lord rather than the affection between father and son. The generals in the room had made way for Emperor Helio with great haste, lest they sumb to death by standing too close. A mixture of fear and awe-filled the eyes of those who respected the strength of the emperor, the mighty Erudian army collectively making up the main stronghold of Emperor Helio¡¯s forces.

    And at the end of the day, he who had the manpower had the true power of the Empire.

    Out on campaign, the grand throne within the dazzling throne room was exchanged for a tall, oak carved throne, one that Emperor Helio settled into with great ease as if he¡¯d been born for that chair.

    ¡°Men,¡± he began without prelude, ¡°As some of you have heard, we have seeded in capturing the original weaponsmith behind the eruptions. The artillery forces of the battle mages move to wipe out their main camps as we speak. Victory shall be ours by the time the sun is down.¡±

 Chapter 94

    Chapter 94: Ch. 94: Insomnia

    The message was curt and impactful, but the reaction was not.

    Respect glitters in the eyes of the generals and the trust that had nearly bled away when the Erudian army was on the losing side was replenished in full. Already, heralds from within the tent have gone out to officially announce the news to every soul within the camp, turning the hopeful rumors into a blessed reality. After all, save for the overpowered weapon of the eruptions, the Sarsavalians were never the Erudian Empire¡¯s opponents in the slightest. The map tables have been swept clean of gs, revealing the terrain of the Erudian-Sarsavalian border that shall soon cease to exist.

    ¡°Long live the Erudian Empire! Long live Emperor Helio!¡± I can hear shouts and praises ringing from outside. Ironically, the fanatic cries echoing into the strategy tent remind me a little too much of the fervent prayer sessions with Bishop Duvernay.

    Even I, with all the trials and shocks I¡¯ve ovee, have to shake my head in disbelief at the words my father has uttered. The war, always referred to within the webnovel as a terrible event with devastating, longsting consequences for the Erudian Empire, is already finished in one summer?

    The incredible suffering and loss of life that has already urred is not lost on me. As the individual who quite literally pulls people out of the jaws of death, the coppery scent of blood is permanently lodged in my nose. There have been soldiers I was toote to save, who died while I was saving another. And then there are those whose bodies I have repaired, but their minds are forever damaged. Foam leaks out of their mouths, their zed eyes forever reliving a carnage unlike any other.

    But still, as I reflect on famously long wars from my history textbooks like the Hundred Year¡¯s War and the Germanic wars, this is barely a drop in the bucket. An impressive feat for the time period, to say the least.

    For these generals, victory is something they have long grown ustomed to, especially as a part of the Erudian army which hasn¡¯t lost a war, let alone a battle, in decades. Their cheer dies down, and my father leans forward as he is not finished speaking yet.

    .....

    ¡°Lord Wolfgang has managed to capture the weaponsmith alive,¡± he continues with a cheerless grin that resembles a wolf baring its teeth. My heart skips a beat, ice pouring into my veins. When I look at Julian, he can¡¯t help but jolt in his seat before making eye contact with me.

    ¡°We have learned much. About our enemies, both known and unknown. As it would turn out, this weaponsmith is not Sarsavalian. Nor is he from any kingdom we have conquered, nor from across the Moor in the Old Continent. He ims to be from another world. And with the evidence we found in his workshop and from his own mouth, I am inclined to believe him.¡±

    The hubbub that had just calmed down was reignited.

    ¡°Your Majesty, he must be defrauding you!¡±

    ¡°But to think that such a strange weapon the world had never seen was inflicted in battle, I¡¯m afraid I am inclined to believe this.¡±

    The reactions were mixed, leaning more in my father¡¯s favor rather than against. My grip tightens on the arm of my chair as I struggle to maintain my poker face. Unfortunately, my father isn¡¯t quite finished speaking.

    ¡°Most concerning of all, he said that there are more of his kind. People who wear our faces, yet their soulse from a realm beyond our own. Such a danger to our empire is unfathomable,¡± Emperor Helio proimed. For such a solemn man, my father reveals a gift of gab, his few words already riling up the spirits of the decorated generals within the tent.

    But it makes sense. As a warmongering emperor famed for his military might and conquest, there must always be an enemy. Otherwise, how can he galvanize the army that serves as his cornerstone of power? It just such a shame that it must quite literally ur at my expense. And I can¡¯t evenin or speak against it as a member of the imperial family.

    I wipe my mmy hands on my dress and fear I may fall ill.

    ¡°Your highness?¡± I can¡¯t help it. I jump in my seat, nearly leaping out of it until I see it¡¯s just Harold standing at my shoulder.

    He has an honest-looking, nondescript face, the kind that would make the perfect John Doe. It¡¯s eerily polite and practically unreadable, making him the most suitable person to be privy to the emperor¡¯s many secrets.

    ¡°My apologies for frightening you. Are you alright?¡± he apologizes swiftly.

    I wave the apology away. ¡°I fear healing soldiers today took more out of me than I realized. I shall retire for the evening,¡± I reply, patting my chest and heaving out a breath as if I¡¯ve just run a mile.

    Harold nods. ¡°I shall inform His Majesty of your departure.¡±

    ¡°No, don¡¯t bother. He is busy enough as is,¡± I murmur, falling into the unfamiliar role of the dutiful daughter.

    It has been strange, to say the least. In my first five years of life, I never met the emperor. Then for a few years, I barely saw him a handful of times and we never spoke. Now, I¡¯ve progressed to seeing my father several times over the past few weeks. As my father, intentionally or not, ces a knife against my neck, I realize unironically that the more I encounter Emperor Helio the more danger I entangle myself in.

    ¡°Can¡¯t sleep, your highness?¡± Emma¡¯s voice cuts through the silence that has apanied me in my insomnia.

    ¡°Nah, I¡¯m just thinking,¡± I answer. Thinking about my dire future.

    My body is exhausted, bone-tired, and I¡¯ll have to get up in a few hours to heal more soldiers. But I can¡¯t help but stress over my future. Transmigrators will be public enemy #1. A witch hunt may arise. And I already fulfill the criteria that got me killed within the webnovel.

    I don¡¯t know if Peppermint can still interfere in this world but I throw up a silent middle finger for the author nheless. In every webnovel I¡¯ve read, transmigrators are never exposed! Or if they are, they¡¯re exposed privately after their love interest has fallen in love with them and doesn¡¯t care in the slightest. But this, this is new! And this is bad! I might as well wash my neck clean for someone to settle a de on it, that someone being my very own sperm donor.

    ¡°You must rest, your highness. The sun will rise very soon,¡± Emma says. I don¡¯t doubt her as both she and everyone born in this era seem to have an internal clock regarding the time.

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I acquiesce. But it proves to be a sleepless night for me and I feel absolutely stered as I mechanically shovel breakfast into my mouth.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± Nina exims when she sees the dark circles under my eyes.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t sleep from the excitement of the war nearly being over,¡± I mutter my chosen excuse, although my lifeless demeanor contradicts it.

    I nod off twice, once when healing an amputee and the next right into my lunch. Emma diligently wipes the crumbs from my face as I p my cheeks in an effort to revive myself.

    ¡°Why is there no coffee in this godforsaken world!¡± My voice is muffled as I bury my face into my hands.

    ¡°Good question.¡± My head shoots up as Julian strolls over to where I¡¯ve been shoving down my meal as quickly as I can.

    ¡°You, again,¡± I groan.

    To add further to my irritation, Julian ignores my snidements and looks to my attendants.

    ¡°Has she been like this all day?¡± he asks them.

    They all nod except for Emma. Traitors.

    Julian puts a hand on his chin and studies me the way a psychiatrist would a patient. After an entire minute of silence, I can¡¯t sit around any longer.

    ¡°What?¡± I eventually snort, subtly checking if there are still any crumbs on my face.

    ¡°Yes, yes, I see,¡± Prince Julian makes a show of rubbing his chin and evaluating me. ¡°If anyone asks, just tell them that the princess is indisposed and cannot see to any patients today.¡±

    And then my caricature of an older brother has the audacity to swoop down and pick up my significantly smaller figure like a sack of potatoes. My body bes weightless as Julian lifts me with incredible ease. Without so much as a by your leave, he strolls away towards where our tents are located regardless of what I say.

    ¡°No, these people need me! Put me down!¡± I order, wacking my small fists on his buttoned shirt.

    ¡°No one needs you when you¡¯re like this,¡± Julian hisses under his breath, quelling my fists in their path of fruitless destruction.

    ¡°Easy for you to say. If you¡¯re ever exposed, House Duvernay has your back,¡± I counter.

    ¡°Will you stop?¡± Prince Julian¡¯s voice is slightly raised and he stops walking for a second. ¡°Look, with the way the current atmosphere is and all the terror the eruptions have created, House Duvernay would just cut their losses and sacrifice me. Then, in your words, my mother would simply be pregnant again within the span of a year.¡±

    I shut up, my fists falling back to my sides with a sigh.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. Can you put me down now?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Julian is firm as he continues the walk back to my tent.

    ¡°Asshole.¡±

    It isn¡¯t until we are close to the tent that I can speak again.

    ¡°So what are the odds you can have a conversation with that weaponsmith? Figure out where he came from, why he introduced bombs to this world, all the works,¡± I whisper. If someone heard my words, it could be misconstrued as treason.

    ¡°Probably as hard as it is to assassinate our father,¡± he answers with an apt analogy.

    This time, we both sigh in unison. The number of assassination attempts that have been leveled against our father probably numbers in the hundreds. Some mistakenly thought that my father¡¯s aura diminishes when he sleeps and tried to sneak in at night only to keel over once they enter his window. Others tried a beauty trick, sending in a beautiful female assassin to bed our father and kill him in the throes of passion. But as someone who wed his way onto a throne that was never his, how could Emperor Helio allow his sovereignty to slip through his fingers so easily?

    Poison? He¡¯s developed an immunity to most, although his enemies circte rumors that my father used ck magic to attain his aura and poison immunity. Either way, he is so impervious to being killed that calling my father a god wouldn¡¯t be a huge reach. Perhaps this is why he gave himself the name, Helio.

    ¡°We need to talk to this guy,¡± I insist.

    ¡°And find out what exactly?¡± Julian says as he sets me on my bed. Thefy covers beneath me sends a wave of tiredness flowing through my body. Since I¡¯m a little kid, I cannot weather all-nighters as well as I did as a college student.

    ¡°Well for starters, figure out why he was stupid enough to bring powerful, modern weapons into this world. Maybe wring his neck a little for ruining it for the rest of us Travelers,¡± I pantomime strangling the air and elicit a chuckle from Julian. ¡°And of course, we need to find out if he left any blueprints behind and destroy them. Imagine what could happen if someone got ahold of them and figured out how to make his bombs even more destructive and powerful. We could be dealing with a World War before we know it and a witch hunt that would make Salem¡¯s look like child¡¯s y.¡±

    Julian¡¯s face is serious, the shadows inside my tent painting the gravity of the situation onto his skin. He¡¯s older than me and is definitely better acquainted with the aftereffects of the two World Wars than I would be.

    ¡°There¡¯s absolutely no way for me to sneak in and talk to him while we¡¯re at camp,¡± Julian repeats after thinking for a bit. I shake my head in disappointment.

    ¡°But,¡± he continues dramatically. A light shines in his eye, the sparkle of a crazy idea. ¡°what if we got him on the road?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I stare at Julian like he¡¯s speaking anothernguage.

    ¡°What I mean is, instead of trying to sneak in now while security is at its tightest, we find a way to crack this weaponsmith while he¡¯s being transported back to Radovalsk. The guards will rotate more often and because we would be traveling, it is inevitable that there will be somepses in security. Look, there¡¯s a reason why many heists ur when valuable goods are being transported. If we y our cards right, we could find our chance then,¡± Julian says excitedly.

    ¡°Shit,¡± I mutter as my lids grow heavy. ¡°That¡¯s a good idea. Kind of crazy, but we don¡¯t have any other shot.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. I¡¯ll make arrangements,¡± Julian ispletely taken with his idea, already rising from his chair.

    ¡°Wait!¡± I cry. I grab hold of his clothes before he leaves, my eyes fighting a losing battle.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell anyone yet, even your closest servants,¡± I say, remembering how Emma had warned me about the manservant Julian drags around everywhere.

    Julian treats my suggestion like air. ¡°I know, I know. Don¡¯t worry I¡¯ve cultivated my own people.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± I answer sternly. ¡°Our existence is a secret that is dangerous enough to get both of us killed. So please, let¡¯s just keep this between us for now.¡±

    Julian looks torn as I hold onto his sleeve for dear life.

 Chapter 95

    Chapter 95: Ch. 95: A Warm Wee

    The difference between my return to Radovalsk and my unexpected departure is more drastic than the difference between first-ss and economy ss on a ne.

    I alone ride in a carriage, a discreet but luxurious vehicle with supple seats I can¡¯t stop bouncing on. My father, my brothers, the royal guard, and all high-ranking generals within the army ride horses, the fine stallions setting them head and shoulders above everyone else.

    But even so, I cannot fully enjoy the return due to many factors: the empress waiting for me in the pce, Julian¡¯s iffy response regarding telling his subordinates, and our impending break-in to the most heavily guarded individual in the Erudian Empire.

    The past few days have been more stressful than applying to college, which should not be possible.

    ¡°Your highness, we¡¯ve arrived,¡± Emma informs me quietly, tugging me out of my daydream of little versions of me running around as everything is on fire.

    I look out the window to see Belfort Castle, the ancestral home of the Duchy of Avernall and Finn¡¯s future dwellings. Thinking of the fox-like knight who¡¯s always shown me a kindness that no one else seems capable of, my heart unavoidably softens.

    ¡°Do you think we can see Sir Finn soon?¡± I ask Emma with excitement as I teeter down the carriage steps made for people much taller than myself.

    .....

    But she doesn¡¯t need to answer that question at all. Within the opening reception hall of the stone castle, one that fits easily into the natural woods and greenery of the duchy, a shock of tinum on a familiar royal guard greets me.

    ¡°Finn! Sir Finn!¡± I wave like a fanatic, nearly jumping up and down if it isn¡¯t for Emma mping down on my hand.

    The familiar knight turns around and I rush in for a hug. The man obliges, picking me up and twirling me around.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± he exims, catching me for a quick spin before he sets me down and bows.

    The steward who had sucked in a breath to announce my presence gets cut off with a hand gesture from Finn.

    ¡°How are you? How is your family?¡± I inquire, peppering my favorite guard with questions.

    Finn¡¯s handsome face tightens and it is indeed as events ured in the book, his father is ill and he will soon take over the duchy. Which means I can kiss goodbye to the good old days of Finn¡¯s clever tongue and warm presence around the Rose Pce.

    Another part of me whispers that I can say hello to having the soon-to-be Duke of Avernall as an ally and friend, but I smother that voice the best I can.

    ¡°My father has taken ill... that is why I am here to greet the imperial delegation. My younger sister, Victoria, she is right around your age! Perhaps you two can meet,¡± Finn tells me.

    It is at this moment that I notice that Finn is indeed not wearing his royal guard uniform, swapping the imposing navy and gold military suit for a charming, old-fashioned 3-piece gray suit that is fit for meeting the king. The back of the suit jacket falls to his knees, his blonde hair coiffed into a stiff, side swept hairdo.

    I give Finn a thumbs up, a hand gesture that everyone I¡¯m acquainted with know about.

    ¡°I would very much enjoy meeting your family. Perhaps, if you don¡¯t mind, I can visit your father and heal him.¡± Thest bit I say at little more than a whisper as I don¡¯t wish for anyone to overhear. Even after I say it, some part of me wishes to smack the side of my head.

    The faster Sir Finn bes the duke, the faster I can have someone in power who is 100% in my corner. But Finn¡¯s warm smile has a tinge of sorrow I¡¯ve never seen, softening my heart that I thought had turned to stone.

    My father and brothers, who had arrivedter after properly securing the transmigrator weaponsmith, arrive at this time in the hall.

    ¡°Weing His Majesty Emperor Helio and His Royal Highnesses Crown Prince Augustus and Imperial Prince Julian!¡± The steward cries finally, his face turning nearly as red as his livery denoting his service within the duchy.

    When the emperor arrives in a duchy, it¡¯s kind of a big deal, even if we only remain for one night before we venture onward. Especially when its within a duchy that was just saved from being annexed into Sarsaval. Vassals from within the duchy are present, essentially all the counts, viscounts, barons, and decorated knights who serve under the Duke of Avernall.

    Gathering around the aged reception hall, banners of old hanging from the towering walls, I feel a sense of gravitas as my father strolls in to greet his kneeling vassals. Even with all the nobility within the capital, even the ones out here in the fringe are subjects under my father. In the duchy of Mulworth as well, all the nobility with all their fortunes and power must bow to my father.

    Heads are bowed, people smile eagerly at my father hoping to attain his favor. To be a king, let alone an emperor, I can almost understand why one would kill their brother for such undisputed power and honor.

    Sir Finn switches to business mode, stepping forward, but not too close, to bow and personally greet my father on behalf of the ill duke. My father just nods, neither impressed nor disdainful of the performance. You would almost think he¡¯d been born for this kind of treatment.

    ¡°We shall be holding a banquet tonight to celebrate the Erudian Empire¡¯s sessful victory and apprehension of the prisoner. It would be our greatest honor if you could attend, Your Majesty,¡± Finn reported.

    As a member of the royal guard, he has worked closely with my father before and understands some parts of his temperament well enough. Thus, while Sir Finn speaks in a ttering manner, he does not kiss my father¡¯s ass or do any unnecessary grand gestures. As such, my father obliges, nodding once before Harold leads him to the room within the sprawling castle where he shall rest.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± Nina says frantically after Emma lets her into the guest bedroom I¡¯m residing in for the evening. ¡°We have no dresses worthy of a banquet for you to wear! Forgive us!¡±

    I was sitting by the window and thinking, a past time of mine that I haven¡¯t been able to do for weeks, before her loud cries cut into the false tranquility I¡¯ve lulled myself into.

    ¡°It¡¯s no matter,¡± I shrug, sliding off the narrow window ledge overlooking the well maintained grounds of Belfort Castle. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to.¡±

    Nina pauses mid-tears, not expecting me to say that. She wrings her hands apologetically and sniffles.

    ¡°Then shall I make you a dress, your highness? I-I¡¯m actually not a bad hand at sewing,¡± Nina stammers out.

    I chuckle, looking at the maid who¡¯d been under House Duvernay¡¯s thumb and still very well could be.

    ¡°I recognize your efforts, but that won¡¯t be needed. Doesn¡¯t Sir Finn have a sister? I shall borrow a dress from her,¡± I tell Nina.

    Indeed this is what proper etiquette would suggest, so I am not overreaching in any way. Not to mention, I¡¯m very curious what Finn¡¯s younger sister and most importantly, the future BFF of the main character, ra, is like.

    And I¡¯m not disappointed.

    The little girl before me in a darling, pastel blue dress, wide innocent eyes of an actual 8 year old is exactly how I expected Victoria Rensley, sole daughter of the Duke of Avernall, to be. She¡¯s a doll of a child, pampered to the extremes but still carrying an easy going personality. And most importantly, despite being a great beauty in her own right, she doesn¡¯t stand out too much. Her blonde hair isn¡¯t quite as xen gold as Julia¡¯s nor the shimmering white blonde of Finn. She has lovable and slightly in features, nothing that could outshine a hotheaded redhead female lead.

    Victoria drops into a curtsey, holding a stuffed animal under her arm.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± she squeaks. It¡¯s so cute I¡¯m frozen for a second before I smile widely and greet her in return.

    ¡°Pleasure to meet you, Lady Rensley.¡±

    ¡°Just call me Victoria, all my friends do!¡± she says in return. And in this way, I make the acquaintance of the official ¡°best girl friend¡± in the novel.

    Victoria has a very agreeable and jovial personality, the innocence of an actual child shining through her. It makes me wonder why Finn thinks I remind him of her. A bundle of pureness that one wishes to protect, I most certainly am not.

    However, in the puffy, pink gown that she loans me, I somewhat look like one.

    ¡°It¡¯s very...¡± I start as Victoria¡¯s sweet little eyes stare at me with hope, ¡°cute!¡±

    ¡°That one is my favorite, your highness!¡± she informs me cheerfully.

    I swallow down my actual opinion. The dress is not bad at all, but in these few weeks of simpler dresses with lessyering, I feel unustomed to the pomp and volume of a properdy¡¯s dress. Not to mention, this one has a few too many frills and bows for my liking, and I can¡¯t very well take a pair of scissors to it like I would my dresses in the pce.

    Deciding to strike while the iron is hot, I smile as sweetly as possible to Victoria.

    ¡°You are so kind to loan me your dress. I wish for us to be friends. Shall we be pen pals?¡± I feel like I¡¯m reading off a script, my ability to interact with children seemingly waning in this moment. I get along just fine with Emma and Lord Wolfe, but my charm doesn¡¯t seem to work on Victoria.

    ¡°Is there something in your eye?¡± she asks me innocently as I try my best to blink endearingly towards her.

    I resist the urge to face palm myself. ¡°Oh yes, there was something in my eye just now. I¡¯m just blinking it out.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± Victoria squeals so loudly I jump. ¡°Let me help! Let me help! My nanny always blows on my eye to get something out of it and I¡¯m good at it too!¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°No, no I¡¯m quite alright.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay! I¡¯m really good! I promise!¡± Victoria advances on me and suddenly I realize that she¡¯s got a good few inches on me. I cast a frantic look at Emma but she¡¯s in the midst of doing one of her rock impersonations and pays me no mind.

    As a result, I enter the banquet with horribly dry eyes that I have to keep blinking to moisturize. But at least, now I¡¯ve got my link to the future main character for whom this whole world was created.

    ¡°Something in your eye, your highness?¡± Sir Finn asks me.

    We are all seated on the longest table I¡¯ve ever seen, the banners of all the vassals of the duchy lining the walls until they reached the Erudian g at the center. The men feast jubntly. They are a good deal less formal than the capital, cracking jokes with one another as if my father isn¡¯t there. My father, to his credit, looks less like he has a stick up his ass, although he solely speaks to Lord Wolfgang, who sits on his left, and Augustus, who sits on his right. I am a good few seats down, which I¡¯m grateful for as I can go practically unnoticed.

    ¡°No! No! No!¡± I hastily say just in case this habit of blowing other people¡¯s eyes runs in the family.

    Finn chuckles at my response, but unfortunately, I don¡¯t have the chance to carry on in light-hearted conversation with my favorite royal guard. I make eye contact with Julian and we nod to one another as he holds an idle conversation with an honored knight who¡¯s missing his arm.

    Tonight, as the banquet goes on within the castle, we shall speak with the prisoner.

 Chapter 96

    Chapter 96: Ch. 96: Ocean¡¯s Two

    A heist, not to break out a prisoner, but simply to break in and speak to one. I think Julian and I will deserve a medal after all of this.

    I smile on asion from where I sit, stir my cold soup with a spoon, and people watch as Julian and I await our chance. The n is a simple heist in reverse, meant to take ce in the early morning hours when the staff prepare for us to hit the road. They wake before the rest of us, feed the horses, ready the saddles and carriages, and most importantly, the staff bring the transmigrated weaponsmith back out from the Belfort Castle dungeon to his personal cell with wheels.

    However, when the staff bring the weaponsmith back from the dungeon, we will break into his cell and have a short ¡°conversation¡± with him. The guards, courtesy of Julian¡¯s arrangements, have received conflicting schedules, allowing for a 5-minutepse where there won¡¯t be a soul guarding the wooden contraption. And that is when we will strike.

    By the time the wee morning hours have crept around and few people have just passed out on the table or begun to singmon tavern songs, I flick a look at a waiting attendant, who rushes to pull out my chair from behind me. My eyes burn from forcing this childish body of mine to stay awake for so many hours, but my voice doesn¡¯t waver.

    ¡°Please apany me to go freshen myself,¡± I tell her, sending a signal to the nearby Julian.

    My father gives me a passing nce, saying nothing as he drinks once more from his goblet of sour-smelling wine. In addition, to poison immunity and a killing aura, my father also seems impervious to getting drunk.

    ¡°Of course, your highness,¡± she answers, following me as we step out of the noisy banquet hall.

    .....

    I heave out a breath of relief, free of the curious stares and boisterous conversation. I know how the vassals think, as the inheritance within their families is far more straightforward than ours.

    The first son gets the title, the second son gets somend and a pat on the back. Daughters are meant to be debuted in high society in Radovalsk and sold to the highest bidder while bastards, like me, are mistakes meant to be hidden in the dark or traded for favors. Only the imperial family extends leeway to this tradition, because when there is a throne at stake, sometimes the second son or bastard will step out of the shadows and fight for their birthright.

    However, there will be no repeat of my father¡¯s generation: as my father lives and breathes he will not allow Julian to gather true power of his own and rival Augustus. Prince Julian shall be Archduke Julian and be granted his own dukedom that is neither too far nor too close away from the capital¡¯s eyes. As for me? I don¡¯t even dare wonder what will be of me.

    The clip clop of the heavy, leather boots that are popr among nobles in the capital echoes behind and has me hurriedly sending my attendant away after informing her I wish to speak to my brother in privacy.

    ¡°You ready?¡± Julian asks in lieu of a greeting, appearing from around the corner. His face glows red as if he¡¯s had a bit too much to drink, but his eyes and voice are clear. From under my generous skirt which has finallye into use for once, I pull out dark outer robes for both him and I to wear, along with ck masks that obscure one¡¯s entire face save for their eyes.

    ¡°Smells like sweat,¡± he jokes while he dresses, prompting a dark re from myself.

    ¡°Very funny,¡± I mutter dryly. ¡°Just get dressed so we can get this done with. How¡¯s our time?¡±

    Julian flicks out a pretty, gold pocket watch, the borate design studded with yellow diamonds instead of numbers on its face. A birthday present I vaguely recall hearing about through the pce gossip that had finally begun to enter my ears before I ran away.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got a good 4 minutes to get to the ce where the prison cage is stored and get into it. I¡¯ve got a skeleton key of the actual cage so we cane back out just as easily after our conversation.¡± Julian is theplete opposite of me, the confidence practically oozing from his pores.

    ¡°This feels risky,¡± I mutter, wiping sweat from my palms onto the ck robe. I¡¯ve felt this before, this uneasiness that burrows all the way down to my bones. Thest time I ignored it, it nearly killed me.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine! He won¡¯t know our identities with these disguises. As long as we string him along and pretend we¡¯ll break him out, he¡¯ll practically sing where he hid the blueprints for the bombs are and we will have done this world a very big favor when we find them and burn them,¡± Julian reassured me.

    ¡°Right, right,¡± I nod tentatively. I have to think big picture, not just worry about myself. ¡°And don¡¯t forget to ask what he knows about transmigrators. You know, whether he knows the details about ¡°Travelers¡± and if he¡¯s as in the know as you are.¡±

    Julian¡¯s mouth presses into a t line, probably from holding back all the secrets about Travelers that he has never bothered to tell me.

    ¡°And if he knows?¡± Julian says, his voice trailing off. There is no former CEO behind his eyes, only a prince who has long known the taste of blood. The way his thoughts turned to violence so quickly leaves a bad taste in my mouth, even though I know this is normal for the times. I suppose I just don¡¯t want to admit how much this world has changed me, changed us.

    For a second, the transmigrated weaponsmith¡¯s life hangs in a bnce between us, as I feel the weight of deciding the fate of another human¡¯s life. It¡¯s a familiar burden, just like when I choose to save a life, but in reverse. I would still be ying god, but the vengeful kind. And I¡¯m no killer. Not yet anyways.

    But Julian never gets an official answer from me to his question.

    A benefit to staying in this old castle that I have quickly realized in a few short hours is that you can easily identify the people you hear moving through the halls. Servants¡¯ steps are like the p of a bird¡¯s wings, barely discernible as they¡¯ve been trained to keep their presence from being noticed. The greater your status, the louder you move through the halls. Augustus lives on the floor below me, and whenever he and his entourage leave his chambers, the floor beneath my bed rumbles as if it ising alive.

    As for my father, the emperor. The harsh stato of his bodyguards marching alone denote his presence. And that is what Julian and I hear right now in the halls where we stand like pigs waiting to be ughtered.

    ¡°Distract him!¡± Julian whispers at me harshly, the panic making his voice harsh and reedy.

    ¡°How the hell would I do that?¡± I mouth back with my mask already half off, but the brat has already peeled ahead of me and left me in the dust. I won¡¯t hear the answers I¡¯ve been dying to hear from the weaponsmith. I don¡¯t know if Julian will kill him tonight.

    My father¡¯s heavy footsteps are echoing down the arched hallway, he will soon reach my solitary form lurking suspiciously in the halls with no good reason. A thought that leaves a bad taste in my mouth urs to me: perhaps Julian never intended to question the prisoner with me. Maybe he thought I would be too much of a burden or make too much noise. Either way, I have literal seconds to strip off the mask and robe before the emperor strolls around the corner, his eyes vignt.

    It must be his honed senses that have never failed him that alerted him to something suspicious, for Emperor Helio does not look at me first in this dark castle hallway, but the surroundings. His eyes are narrowed as if he¡¯s looking for something... or someone. The killing aura must be in full force, for his elite protection guards who follow him anytime he leaves the pce have given the Emperor a wide berth.

    ¡°Greetings, father,¡± I call from where I stand, stepping in front of the robes and mask I dropped so they aren¡¯t noticeable.

    After sweeping the corridor with his oppressive gaze, my father¡¯s t starends on me and he nods. I gulp nervously, the gentle smile I have on my face in danger of copsing into nothing.

    ¡°You linger in the halls rather than return to the banquet,¡± my father said. The words were incriminating, but the tone was not.

    ¡°It stunk,¡± I lie through my teeth, ¡°of wine. It made me feel ill.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm.¡±

    To my dismay, he crosses his arms and settles on his heels as if he wishes to remain here with me for a while. It feels like when your teacher breaks the 4th wall and starts a conversation with you that doesn¡¯t concern school.

    Any hopes of apanying Julian have been dashed. So now, do I continue to be a good sister and keep my father from knowing about the n or let Julian be exposed?

    The choice will be taken from me soon enough.

    He is tall and gloomy, his presence taking up much of the hall. Just by standing before my tiny self, the oppressive atmosphere seems to increase tenfold.

    ¡°You healed many soldiers,¡± Emperor Helio grumbles in his deep voice.

    ¡°I did,¡± I answer curtly. I take the chance to tuck an errant strand of icy hair behind my ear and break eye contact.

    ¡°Do you wish for a reward for your work?¡± He looks down at me, gauging my reaction intently.

    Yes. I would like you to punish Empress Katya for trying to kill me multiple times and disabling my right hand. I would also like to leave the imperial family and live a long, peaceful life with Emma and lots of money for emotionalpensation.

    ¡°I wish for nothing but the Empire¡¯s continued longevity,¡± I tell my father with the most earnest look I can muster.

    ¡°Hmmm,¡± he hums again while looking at me.

    Perhaps he can smell my disingenuity.

    ¡°You shall receive what you deserve when we return,¡± my father eventually says.

    ¡°Thank you, father,¡± I reply, wishing for nothing more than to end this painfully awkward conversation.

    All those nights I stayed up as a little girl in my past life wishing for a dashing father to take my mother and I away from our troubles, this man before me has to be the exact opposite of everything I¡¯ve ever wanted. But the heavens, or perhaps Peppermint just creating more problems, I truly have no way to know, see fit to intervene in our touching father daughter moment.

    ¡°I have urgent news for His Majesty, where may I find him? It is regarding the prisoner and his highness, Prince Julian!¡± I hear someone yell from the banquet hall we just ditched.

    My stomach drops to the lowest pits of hell as my mouth dries.

    It¡¯s over. It¡¯s all over. This is it.

    It¡¯s inevitable that the messenger is directed to the hall my father just disappeared down, only to receive the fright of his life to find my father and his imposing guards ring down at him.

    ¡°What news?¡± Emperor Helio asks. The curiosity of a cat messing around with a mouse is crushed beneath the weight of the monarchy.

    The messenger, a low ranked knight of the royal guard, does the traditional bow and drops to his knees.

    ¡°Your Majesty, the weaponsmith has been wounded grievously and Prince Julian was also found unresponsive nearby!¡± he reports with a slight stammer.

    ¡°Wounded?¡± My father begins marching towards the dungeon, heavy steps that spell misfortune for Julian and I.

    ¡°No Sire, the prince is alive and apparently unwounded, but he is unconscious and cannot awaken,¡± the messenger answers, scurrying to keep up with his pace.

    I shake my head at Julian¡¯s stupidity for managing to get caught at the crime scene unconscious. Maybe the weaponsmith got a lucky hit on him and knocked his idiot butt out cold.

    ¡°The weaponsmith,¡± my father rifies, his dark gaze sending more shivers into the poor messenger.

    I¡¯dugh if the situation weren¡¯t so precarious. Of course my father is more concerned about the live trophy he¡¯s brought back from war.

    ¡°S-Sire,¡± the messenger barely manages to say. ¡°The weaponsmith¡¯s fingers were cut off and his tongue pulled out. The imperial physicians are working to stabilize him, but a strange spell has been cast on the weaponsmith¡¯s person, nothing can heal his wounds. He may bleed out before the sun rises!¡±

 Chapter 97

    Chapter 97: Ch. 97: Inception

    Courtesy of many weeks tending to the ugliest wounds the human body can contain, I list off the injuries in my head and reach a few very quick conclusions; someone only wishes to silence the weaponsmith, not kill him. And that someone is not Julian.

    It was a heist within the heist, that final climactic moment in the film when a teammate betrays the crew and attempts to take the booty for themselves. Only in this film, we have no clue who that second party is. All I know is that this is no coincidence. I¡¯d stake my life on it.

    An itty bitty cloud of pink trailing after a group of grown men, I draw a few, strange nces as I apany them to the dungeon of Belfort Castle. It is disturbingly close to the banquet hall, where everyone was eating and making merry moments before. A few turns down a dark corridor lit by torches and descending a set of stone stairs that give me intense ¡®hell naw¡¯ vibes, delivers us to the Belfort dungeon.

    It is surprisingly clean, I would know from experience. The tiles are worn with age, but they aren¡¯t caked in blood and human waste. The smell only makes me want to vomit a little bit and the hay within the prisoner¡¯s cells doesn¡¯t seem like it¡¯s been sitting there since the founding of the Erudian Empire. But the cleanliness is disturbed by a shock of blood that has sshed out of the damning cell into the pathway we all stand in.

    My excuse for apanying the men down lies in a heap a few feet from the cell. One or two imperial physicians check his temperature and straighten out his body while the rest swarm the blood-stained cell. I take a deep breath, opening my eyes wide enough for a few tears to form.

    ¡°Julian!¡± I wail like I give a damn about the two-faced, unconscious brat before me. ¡°Wake up!¡±

    I fall to my knees and grab his face, rocking back and forth. I¡¯m giving it my all.

    .....

    Please wake up, so I can beat you ck and blue for ditching me. If things had gone as Julian had hoped, he would¡¯ve been the traitorous teammate from my film analogy who walked away with the information he needed. But his cockiness got the best of him as he got yed by this secret individual who knocked him out and left him to take the fall for the crime.

    He totally deserves it.

    Seeing his face peacefully at rest, I don¡¯t want to heal him and just let him enjoy nursing a lump on his head for the next few days. The two imperial physicians kneel beside me, looking at me with a hopeful expression.

    ¡°Will you heal the prince, your highness?¡± One bravely asks.

    I chuckle inwardly and extend a look of understanding towards them. ¡°Oh, you were in the middle of healing him weren¡¯t you? I shall leave you both to it then.¡±

    I toss Julian back to them like a hot potato and settle in my corner to see what has be of the weaponsmith I should¡¯ve been questioning at the moment.

    From the open cell, a mangled body is dragged out. I¡¯d almost mistake it for a corpse, but the body twitches in the strong grasp of the knights of the royal guard. The wounds are indeed as the messenger reported. The hands are stumps from the palm up, the cuts jagged and uneven as if his fingers were swiftly removed without a care. Blood and saliva pours from a mouth whose soft moans are drowned under the heavy boots moving around the scene.

    The messenger was also mistaken, however. In addition to the fingers and tongue having been removed, both eyes have also been destroyed. I shake my head at the scene, although my stomach has long been hardened against such sights. Whoever did this was truly trying to ensure that not a word would leave the weaponsmith¡¯s lips. The wounds won¡¯t kill him though, hence perhaps why no one has called me forth yet.

    However, in such a manner, under the emperor and the ailing duke¡¯s nose, this is more of a humiliation. A taunt. And although my father¡¯s face is motionless as he looks down at the transmigrated weaponsmith¡¯s twitching corpse, he must be incensed.

    As the representative of Belfort Castle, Sir Finn immediately falls under me.

    He steps out, hisplexion ashen under the flickering torchlight that barely illuminates the dungeon. But his face is brave as he looks my father in the eye, a good distance away from the killing aura, of course. I bite my lip, feeling slight anxiety at the sight of one of the few people I care about in trouble.

    ¡°Your Majesty, such a crime urred under my watch. Please punish me for my transgressions.¡± Finn is quick to admit to what he¡¯s done wrong. It is now only a question of whether my father will approve.

    ¡°So you know you¡¯ve done something wrong,¡± Emperor Helio says imposingly over the kneeling Sir Finn.

    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty. In leaving the guard thin so that we could catch any outliers seeking to have a conversation with the prisoner, I should¡¯ve left some people who wouldn¡¯t be so easily felled by the enemy. I should¡¯ve personally overseen the operation myself, Sire,¡± Finn says.

    I have to swallow down a gasp, my blood running cold. A trap? Our heist was simply a trap?

    I can piece together what happened quickly from Sir Finn¡¯s and my father¡¯s words. The weak defense of the dungeon was a ruse meant to reveal which spies were within the army, seeking to use the weaponsmith¡¯s knowledge for themselves. However, perhaps at the same time Julian went down to the dungeon to interrogate the transmigrator, another far more skilled individual tagged along, killed all the guards, knocked out Julian, and left the weaponsmith looking like a kid¡¯s mangled doll.

    Thinking of how close my neck was to being on the chopping block, I can hardly draw breath as I listen to their conversation.

    ¡°Were there any eyes on the perpetrator?¡± My father is all business, not asking after Julian. But the conversation gets steered to the second prince anyways.

    Sir Finn shakes his head. ¡°All the guards we had ced, both visible and hidden, were in with a swift cut to the neck. It seems the only hope for a witness is his highness, Prince Julian.

    Everyone in the stuffy dungeon looks to my brother, who still lies on the ground, out cold. The two imperial physicians quake in their uniforms under my father¡¯s burning gaze.

    ¡°W-We cannot awaken the second prince for some reason. May we request her highness, Princess Winter, to aid us in healing the prince?¡± One stutters out.

    I raise a brow in interest. Simple wounds like a bumped head are a piece of cake to imperial physicians. Although their healing ability isn¡¯t as effortless and overpowered as mine is, not to brag, I¡¯ve seen up close and personal how their work is over the past few weeks. They study magic, same as the battle mages, in institutions and are trained in traditional and magical medicine. However rather than killing the Empire¡¯s enemies, they heal the sick and if they are especially good they cane work in the capital as an imperial physician in the pce. Even if they have difficulty healing me for some reason, a simple, bumped head should be a piece of cake.

    Now, everyone¡¯s eyes swivel to me and I get a taste of the ufortable weight the poor physicians were burdened under. I instantly regain my weepy appearance, wiping at my perfectly dry eyes and casting an eager nce at Prince Julian as if I actually want to heal him.

    ¡°It would be my pleasure,¡± I even add, getting on my knees to touch Julian¡¯s exposed wrist.

    My hands don¡¯t get warm. In fact, they have felt ice cold ever since we entered the dungeon, which is strange since I¡¯m in the presence of the wounded. By now, I should be burning up in invisible mes.

    There¡¯s no golden shower. No sleeping beauty moment as Julian opens his eyes. After a few seconds pass, it begins to get a little embarrassing. No one says anything, but I can feel their judging stares on my back.

    I clear my throat. ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem to work on Julian,¡± I say sheepishly to my father, who stands in front of them all with his arms crossed.

    He doesn¡¯t ask any questions, thank goodness.

    ¡°Then heal him,¡± he orders in a curt manner. He jerks his head towards the forgotten transmigrator who is still bleeding out all over the floor.

    I nod, more than happy to redeem my fail. But inside, I pump my fist that I couldn¡¯t heal Julian. Does my healing perhaps not work on family members? I can live with that.

    I squat next to the transmigrator¡¯s body, clothed in a torn, Sarsavalian uniform. He has in features, from what I can tell under the blood he¡¯s coated in. Short, spiky brown hair and tanned skin since it¡¯s summer. Iy my hand on his chilly wrist and the same phenomenon urs.

    I cannot heal him either. But this time, I can feel the wrongness crawling under his flesh like a parasite. When I close my eyes, I can see a sh of purple energy that is so averse to my being I can¡¯t help but release the transmigrator¡¯s wrist and dry gag a few times beside his body.

    I don¡¯t hold the truth back from my father. ¡°Something is wrong with his injuries,¡± I tell my father honestly.

    I can practically smell the skepticism in the air. Most people have not seen my healing abilities for themselves as I spent most of my time in the nursing station. Aside from my father and Harold, none of the gathered members of the royal guard have seen me heal. I see a few judgemental smirks and I can almost read the words they don¡¯t dare say.

    ¡°You lied once to gain our goodwill and poison ourmander, now you lie to the emperor?¡±

    They bristle like porcupines that have been provoked, spearing me with their eyes. I don¡¯t pay them any mind though. Any grown men who believe that a five year old child could have poisoned him are not people I would¡¯ve wanted to know anyways. I solely staring at my father with an imploring gaze, begging for him to believe me.

    My father unsheaths a short de from his waist, totally invisible until he slides it from his sheath.

    ¡°Father, I-¡± I blurt out, thinking he¡¯s going to strike at me.

    But he slides the de through the hand of a royal guard member whose sneer was particrly insidious.

    ¡°Heal him.¡± The ailing royal guard knight falls to his knees, too proud to make a sound but drowning in agony.

    And I do, the bones and flesh regrowing before the bewildered eyes of the former nonbelievers. I don¡¯t have a chance to feel smug about it though, as my mind is still taken with whatever force or energy prevents me from healing my brother and the weaponsmith. When I was close to the transmigrator, his bleeding mouth kept making the same sound over and over again between moans of agony. Was he saying the name of the person who did this to him?

    I have too much on my mind, especially with the reassuring confirmation that my healing abilities are not broken. My father simrly does not react to the confirmation.

    He turns to the imperial physicians who were doing their best impressions of wallflowers and says to them, ¡°Patch him up. If he breathes hisst tonight, then so shall you.¡±

    And with that, my father stalks out of the dungeon, his elite guards following as the royal guard take up the rear. I just shake my head at whatever has prevented me from using my healing ability, which has previously worked unencumbered on any patient.

    I suppose I have gotten so used to working miracles with my hands, that I have not bothered to question what would happen if I can¡¯t some day. And the thought of falling back to that kind of life, to put it frankly, scares the absolute shit out of me.

    I look down at my tiny hands, my salvation, and interestingly, my burden as well. My wellbeing, my stalemate with House Duvernay, the people¡¯s love, it all depends on these healing abilities that I suddenly have. I cannot afford to lose them, under any circumstances. So I must learn more about it. It¡¯s not an option to remain ignorant of these powers.

    ¡°Princess,¡± a voice murmurs coldly.

    I startle, as even though I recognize the voice, I have never been spoken to by Finn in the manner.

    Sir Finn stands in the shadows far from the torchlight, somehow appearing more overwhelming in his young lord¡¯s polished outfit than his royal guard uniform. He is not pleased, even a blind man could see that.

    His handsome face is as still as a mask and his lips are pressed in a thin line. With his pale hair and sudden gloominess, he almost reminds me of Bishop Duvernay, but the Bishop¡¯s eyes are dead with no waves of emotion. In Finn¡¯s, a quiet anger burns in them.

    ¡°You forget I know you been around you longer than anyone else in this castle.¡± Finn says, quietly enough that the shaking imperial physicians working to patch up the weaponsmith can¡¯t hear, although his words slither into my ears and conscience. ¡°I saw you every day for over two years. And I can tell when you¡¯re up to something. Now Princess Winter, what did you do?¡±

    And the fox shows his teeth.

 Chapter 98

    Chapter 98: Ch. 98: Poetic Justice

    To be fair, I¡¯ve always known that Sir Finn was wicked smart. As a bright-eyed teenager, he was the one who found me what feels like eons ago in Bianca¡¯s shack. He¡¯s smart enough not to align with the royal guard¡¯s strange bias towards me and empathetic enough to get to know me despite my obviousck of favor. Despite being the heir to a powerful dukedom and not needing to prove himself, Sir Finn still joined the ranks of the royal guard and gained a name as a handsome knight with words and moves sharper than a dagger.

    He¡¯s the whole package, literally. And unfortunately.

    Now that he stands before me with such an unfamiliar expression, I know what others feel when they see him. Because the person who stands before me is not Finn, the ally I¡¯ve dreamt of.

    But I don¡¯t cower or quake. Because like him, I¡¯ve also been tested in the capital and alsoe out, mostly, in one piece.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± I answer slyly, checking my nails as if this is not as serious of a conversation as it truly is.

    ¡°You were off all night. Casting nces towards the sole path to the dungeon. You disappeared, 10 minutes before the rm was raised of the maimed prisoner. Do you still wish to tell me you weren¡¯t involved?¡± Finn lists out all the stats in a methodical manner and I realize my sole error from tonight. In my assumption that no one would pay attention to a little, unfavored princess like me, Ipletely forgot about Sir Finn, whose job has been to look after me ever since I came to the imperial pce.

    ¡°And if I was?¡± I ask slowly.

    .....

    ¡°I¡¯d be disappointed,¡± Sir Finn says.

    I let out a sigh of relief that he wouldn¡¯t go tell my father, but I can feel the alienation between us. He no longer views me as an innocent child, which I never was. But the illusion is gone and leaves behind only truth and facts, which aren¡¯t as pretty as the lie.

    I suck in a breath, wondering how much I can tell Finn. Although he is close to me and I trust him with my life, revealing my identity as a Traveler is another ballgame. He is not just a knight of the royal guard, he¡¯s also a future Duke. Do I want someone with that much power to know my true identity?

    It¡¯s a tough question and not one I would¡¯ve been willing to ask for many more years. Sir Finn sees my hesitation and heughs dryly to himself with no humor.

    ¡°So you can¡¯t tell me,¡± Sir Finn suddenly gets down on one knee so as to look me in the eye. ¡°You won¡¯t tell me.¡±

    ¡°For this, I cannot. I¡¯m sorry,¡± I admit. No one says anything and for a while, all you can hear is our breaths. I feel as if I¡¯ve let down my older brother or cousin.

    ¡°You¡¯ve changed.¡± The statement cuts deeper than I thought it would, I skip a breath when it hits.

    ¡°You should understand better than anyone else why I had to,¡± I answer, my lip curling downwards with negative emotions. ¡°I tried, Finn. I tried to be a good, obedient child. I really did. And you saw how that turned out for me.¡±

    ¡°Where did the healing affinitye from?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Your guess is as good as mine. It just came out one day when I was around an injured soldier. And ever since then, I¡¯ve been trying to help others the best I can.¡±

    Finn doesn¡¯t say anything for a while. ¡°A lot has changed in these past few months for you, hasn¡¯t it?¡±

    Thinking of my ndestine escape from the pce, running away from assassins, discovering my abilities, and my hair-raising conversation with Bishop Duvernay, I find myself nodding before I know it. I hadin low for the past two years, being the quiet, wordless puppet for Empress Katya to toy with when she was bored. In contrast to this summer, I feel an entire lifetime has passed since those dark days. Dark days I¡¯m about to return to.

    ¡°It¡¯s been scary,¡± I admit. My eyes start to burn and embarrassingly a tear rolls down my cheek.

    ¡°It is,¡± Finn agrees, sounding a bit more gentle this time. He tilts his head towards the unconscious Julian who is still forgotten in the corner. ¡°Are you sure he is the best person to trust?¡±

    I let out a wet snort, wiping at the itchy tear on my cheek. ¡°No. Heck no. It is a temporary partnership.¡±

    ¡°So you couldn¡¯t heal the prisoner from another world,¡± Finn says, casting a look of utter disgust at the imperial physicians tying tourniquets around his arm and staunching the blood flow from his horribly empty eyes.

    I shake my head, feeling slight difort at Sir Finn¡¯s obvious disgust and disdain for the weaponsmith due to his transmigrator status.

    ¡°You... think it¡¯s weird that he¡¯s from another world? It¡¯s only his soul, really. It¡¯s almost like he was just born again, basically reincarnation if you think about it,¡± I find myself mounting a faint defense for the weaponsmith¡¯s status as a Traveler. I don¡¯t know why. Maybe I just want to hear from Finn that not originally being from this world isn¡¯t a bad thing? Or more likely, I just want to find out if I can tell him the one secret I¡¯ve held to my chest since I was literally reborn.

    ¡°It¡¯s not just weird. It¡¯s unholy, and I don¡¯t even believe half the drivel the Holy Church says. It¡¯s practically ck magic, the sorcery and weapons in his mind. They should all be killed to protect the Empire from internal threats,¡± Finn replies solemnly.

    He thinks like a soldier or a lord. Focused on driving out threats no matter the cost.

    ¡°Even if that soul went into a child?¡± I add,ying the true gambit on the table unbeknownst to the future Duke of Avernall.

    Sir Finn scoffs. ¡°Is a child still a child if they have the soul of an adult inside them? Children, if it¡¯s even possible to inhabit their souls, would be even more dangerous than adults. They have time to embed themselves in critical government positions, they can maneuver through politics from an even younger age than the most skilled tactician. This would be a grave threat,¡± Sir Finn finishes, most taken with what he¡¯s saying.

    I swallow hard, fighting with every ounce of my being to keep my face measured and still.

    ¡°Imagine if one tried to be friends with you with nefarious intentions. You must be careful of those you keep around you, Princess. Sometimes, it is those who smile the sweetest who have the most dangerous intentions underneath,¡± Sir Finn warns, shaking his head at the thought.

    I smile bitterly to myself, the feeling of being exposed making it hard to find a proper response. Sir Finn has summed up my existence for the past few years, calling it a ¡®grave threat¡¯. But only I know that these machinations that he fears are what I must do to keep me alive. It is what every other Traveler without a doubt also thinks of. Except for the doofus bombmaker who ruined it for everyone.

    ¡°Right, right,¡± I mutter listlessly. It¡¯s past 1 am and I¡¯ve tasted nothing but disappointment and surprises this evening. I want nothing more but to leave this stinking dungeon and sleep.

    ¡°But His Majesty-¡± Sir Finn says suddenly, a thought striking him.

    I raise my brow, leaving my sleepy pity party for a brief second at the mention of my father.

    ¡°What about him?¡± I ask before he loses his nerve to tell me.

    ¡°I could see that he knew something.¡± Finn rubbed his chin, the lightbulb above his head all but visible.

    ¡°Huh?¡± I understand immediately, but I y dumb in the face of such a revtion.

    ¡°When you said there was something stopping you from healing the prisoner, there was a sh of recognition in his eye. So takefort, your highness. You shan¡¯t be med for not fixing the prisoner. He didn¡¯t deserve to be healed by you anyways.¡±

    But funnily enough, I can tell that just like my father, there is something more that Sir Finn knows as well. A wariness that never existed before in his carefree persona shines behind his eyes as he guides me back to my chambers.

    With such an eventful evening behind me, I get back on the road to Radovalsk with more questions than answers, the sole path before me paved in uncertainty... and blood. We leave for the capital with two carriages instead of one, the second carrying an unconscious Julian.

    ¡°We were yed, Emma,¡± I bemoan softly a few dayster. We are the only people within thefy carriage, allowing me to speak freely. ¡°yed for fools. I just wish I could know how they managed to figure out our n. When I get my hands on that overgrown brat...¡±

    ¡°Hmmmm.¡± Emma is feeling talkative today. The road sickness that has gued me since we took off on the bumpy shortcut to Radovalsk, the same shortcut we coincidentally took to make it to Belhelm, has clearly avoided her.

    ¡°And I was talking to Sir Finn. He... he said I changed. Do you think I¡¯ve changed too, Emma?¡± Changed for the worse, I want to truly ask.

    Emma doesn¡¯t even think before she answers. ¡°Survival above all else, your highness. That is the first lesson we learn on the streets,¡± Emma, whether it was intentional or not, sidesteps the question. Her face is as still as ever, unmoved by the things that have happened around her.

    When I think about it, the only times I¡¯ve seen her express extra emotion are around me, making me feel like a special snowke. To Emma¡¯s surprise, I pull her in, the edge of my bo making the hug a little awkward.

    ¡°As long as you, me, and Mariee out of all this intact and in good health, I think I can live with whatever I have to do,¡± I promise her. And I mean it.

    Finn¡¯s warm grin and funny quips from my darker days in the pce surface in my mind, as if to sway me from my decisive statement. But as much as they helped in those times, I brush them out of my memory now. Whether he agrees or not, this new me who actually has a few wins under her belt is here to stay. I¡¯ll just have to make sure I grow on him too.

    ¡°Hugging your servant isn¡¯t proper, your highness,¡± Emma mutters. But she blushes and I see a faint smile twitching at the edge of her lip. The stony face has finally cracked.

    ¡°It¡¯s proper if I say it¡¯s proper!¡± I childishly insist.

    ¡°But then I can¡¯t give you the letters I received with news from the capital,¡± Emma tells me.

    I lean back, staring at her face to see if she¡¯s joking, but remember that Emma is not really big on kidding around.

    ¡°When did you-¡± I stammer out. Although Emma and I (but mostly Emma) had managed to begin to cultivate a grassroots information system within the pce and capital, I assumed that with our sudden departure from Radovalsk we would be forced to remain out of the loop about capital news and gossip until we came back.

    ¡°I had Clever Jack send correspondence to one of the inns we passed on our way here,¡± Emma exins. ¡°Last night when we passed the inn again, I was able to procure all the correspondence he sent to us.

    Right now, we have a few low-ranked informants within Marie¡¯s oldundry department, some gardeners, several hungry street urchins, and our biggest catch, a butler working near Augustus¡¯ courtyards. Through letters that are sent in and out secretly with the manure brought in and weeds tossed outside the pce by the gardeners, I¡¯ve been able to keep to start keeping a weak pulse on the happenings in Radovalsk over the past two years. However, I¡¯d anticipated the poorly constructedwork would fall apart without oversight and force me to bribe new informants with my meager funds for any news. A thick stack of papers from several sources is precisely what I didn¡¯t expect!

    ¡°Jack? That little upstart?¡± I snort, looking over the letters in disbelief.

    They¡¯ve been sent over a period of time, the dates ranging from a few days after we ran away to two days ago. I read through each carefully, the joy on my face bing harder and harder to wipe away with each one. When I read a certain one dating back just two weeks ago, I directlyugh out loud. The smile that stretches across my face is so wide it puts the Cheshire Cat¡¯s infamous grin to shame.

    ¡°Good. Good! Haha! Take that, bitch!¡± I pump the air with a fist, a distinctly modern gesture that causes Emma to side eye me a little.

    This particr letter is from an embroidery maid, one of the many sewing women who help to decorate the clothes the imperial family wears on special asions like balls, state dinners, and religious ceremonies such as the Blessing Day. Her handwriting is rough, but the pen is light, having glided across the paper with a delicate touch only an embroiderer would have.

    It details the fall from grace of Lady Vernice, now Empress Katya¡¯s formerdy-in-waiting. Chosen by the empress on the eve of her wedding to my father,dies-in-waiting are a reflection of her. As a result, all of them had been well chosen:dies of high breeding, but not too high. Clever with words and harboring good reputations in society. They had tactical marriages to allies of the Duvernay family and helped Empress Katyamunicate with many members of high society as well as maintain her generous image.

    Large donations made by thedies-in-waiting to orphanages or whatever war the Empire was involved in were always revealed to have been ¡®secret¡¯ donations from the empress under their names. Patronages to famous and well-loved artists, dancers, and opera singers would identally reveal that it was not Lady Bryce or Lady Vernice who set them up on their path to greatness, but the oh so humble Empress who did not wish for the public to know.

    With such innovative PR and willing minions spreading her good name, Empress Katya¡¯s image is permanently tied to those of herdies-in-waiting. And for the first time, this has hurt her. Very badly.

    The following letter is a dictation from one of the street kids that was handwritten by Jack, as he kindly informs me in bold letters across the top. He confirms the embroidery maid¡¯s information and adds to it something new: a hole in Empress Katya¡¯s previously unblemished and saintly reputation. And that¡¯s all you need to begin to rip away at a facade. One, itty bitty tear.

    Lady Vernice and her family were showily arrested from the Vernice mansion in the affluent suburbs of East Bend and tossed into the dungeons. People cursed and spat at her for trying to harm me, the promised child who had saved their sons and fathers from injuries attained on a ruthless battlefield. And by connection, people cursed the empress for instructing Lady Vernice to harm me simply because she can¡¯t stand the emperor¡¯s bastard. They began to whisper once more of the time I was condemned in the pce for what may have been a false, trumped-up crime.

    If that isn¡¯t poetic justice, I don¡¯t know what is!

    ¡°Knowledge truly is power,¡± I murmur. If I were a video game character, I definitely just won a new badge called Level 1 Spymaster.

    As soon as I get back to the pce, I think it¡¯s time for me to do a little research. On my abilities. On the god Helio, who may have given them to me. And most importantly about the unsettling magic I encountered in the Belfort Castle dungeon. I have a sinking feeling that I¡¯ll be seeing it again before long.

    A quiet change in power is sweeping through the empire, from the unseating of a cornerstone in Empress Katya¡¯s power and reputation to the mysterious yer who singlehandedly rendered the weaponsmith a dumb mute. Whether I am on the right side of that change, depends on my crucial next days within the imperial pce. And I¡¯m more than ready to y and level up.

 Chapter 99

    Chapter 99: Ch. 99: Home Sweet Home?

    I let out a sigh when when I see the familiar grandeur of Winfred za from my carriage window. Today the poprndmark is inundated with citizens, all excited to see the procession of the imperial army. They cheer and wave with excitement, reminding me of the first time I saw my father and brother¡¯s grand return to the pce. It feels quite nice being on the opposite side of it.

    I push my face close to the ss, waving at themon people outside. Their clothes are made from simply linen and muslin, the colors far more drab and simple than anything I¡¯ve seen in the pce. But in terms of happiness, one family of 6 probably experience more joy within a week than the entire imperial family does in a year. I envy them greatly for that.

    ¡°They cheer for you, your highness,¡± Emma whispered from the side, not wishing to intrude in the moment.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it,¡± I mutter in a stunned voice, my hand waving on autopilot. Thest I¡¯d heard of capital gossip, I¡¯d been painted as a brat ungrateful for Empress Katya¡¯s kind treatment.

    My wrist feels broken by the time we enter the manned zone before the imperial pce and when we finally peel into the ck iron gates that has gotten thousands killed for the glory. But it¡¯s 100% worth it.

    Guards stand at attention as we pull in, the red uniform of the lower ranked guards a sight I haven¡¯t seen in what feels like eons. We¡¯ve long separated from the main army, who have headed to the barracks located in the acres of fields to the west of the imperial pce. It¡¯s so... quiet. No hubbub of foot soldiers chattering, nor the stato tempo of boots striking earth. I already miss the noise.

    We roll into the royal stables, the carriage jerking to a stop. The amusement ride hase to an end. Time toe back down to reality. A rush of heat flows into the carriage as a footman opens the door, I feel my dress stick my skin no slick with sweat. Eager to exit, I take Emma¡¯s hand and step down the stairs while holding my skirt up so I don¡¯t trip over it. But s, as Murphy¡¯s Law states, anything that can go wrong will go wrong.

    .....

    Thece trim at the bottom of the dress hooks the bottom of the practical boot I have on, managing to tangle itself to the point I find myself teetering forward without anything to brace myself.

    Emma has a strong grasp of my hand, but the same way nothing could stop the Titanic from sinking into the Antic, even her childish strength cannot stop the iing impact into the smooth, immactely paved road that ismon in the pce.

    ¡°Ah!¡± A small soundes from my mouth and I squeeze my eyes shut. But the impact neveres.

    Two steady hands catch me under my armpits and pull me back to standing. My feet touch the ground so softly it feels like I¡¯vended on a cloud. I pat my chest, letting out a breath at escaping a nasty bruise on my cheek.

    ¡°Thanks, Sir Fi-¡± I start to say out of habit, as he¡¯s the one who¡¯s always caught my falls and tumbles when I¡¯m in the pce before telling me I have two left feet.

    A sweeping red cape is the first thing I see, my eyes moving up a pair of legs and torso that have be familiar over the summer. The wave of revulsion that sweeps over me is not small.

    My voice breaks when I settle on Emperor Helio¡¯s face, my father standing closer to me than I would like.

    ¡°Emma!¡± The first thing thates to mind is my loyal friend and I gasp, turning away from my sperm donor to check on her. But although shecks in conversation, she makes up for it in smarts and physical ability. She¡¯s all but lunged back into the carriage, putting a fair enough distance between my father and herself. But I can¡¯t let out a sigh of relief, not when he¡¯s still standing here.

    I take a step back from my father, allowing my shock and annoyance to melt away under the practiced mask that feels like second skin.

    ¡°Thank you... Father,¡± I tell him with a curtsey so stiff you¡¯d think it was my first time. He says nothing as I hurry away to where Marie stands, her face nearly bringing tears out of my eyes. I throw a couple looks over my shoulder as I go, but he leaves just as quickly, walking in the direction of the main pce apartments he lives in that I am quite unfamiliar with.

    I shake off the weird experience, showing Marie a smile brighter than the sun.

    ¡°Marie!¡± I yell, she leans down and I wrap my arms around her neck.

    She smells just asforting as I remember, a scent that I can only call home. The hug alone wipes out thest vestiges of irritation at my father helping me up. In all honesty, I would¡¯ve rather fallen and hurt my face rather than receive get touched by his blood soaked hands. Hands that mine have begun to mirror.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± she murmurs, her voice a wave of emotion that wipes away all of my other thoughts. ¡°You made it back. And people speak of you everywhere within the pce, the promised child the Empire has long awaited.¡±

    I don¡¯t realize it when we¡¯re back in the Rose Pce, my face having been buried in Marie¡¯s shoulder as she carried me back. I can also hear Emma¡¯s small steps not far away and I smile to myself. The attendants that my father gave me trail us far away enough that they don¡¯t intrude on the moment.

    The white arched entrance to the stunning rose garden of my pce is an ufortable homing, like getting a fishbone stuck in your throat while drinking a hearty bowl of soup.

    ¡°Everything is the same,¡± I say. My tone is not nostalgic, but Marie mistakes it as so.

    ¡°I made sure those maids maintained the pce while you were gone. I always knew you¡¯d make it back, your highness,¡± Marie tells me pleasantly. Deep down, I wouldn¡¯t have minded if the entire ce just burnt down to the ground while I was gone.

    ¡°I had toe back,¡± I simply say in response. There was no way I was going to let Empress Katya get thestugh over me.

    I feel a hand caress my back. ¡°Once news of your healing abilities entered the capital, the maids who struggled to clean all of a sudden found their vigor. I¡¯ve never seen the windows and door knobs sparkle so much!¡± Marie chuckles. I can feel the vibrations of herughter through my body.

    The pink walls were repainted, I immediately notice. The pretty, hand painted frescoes that decorate many of the walls of the pce have found their way into the Rose Pce, breathing new life into the ce. The furniture has been reced with a more current set, and the maids quickly rush to the side and lower their heads when I pass. It¡¯s like I¡¯ve entered the Twilight Zone or something.

    Marie carries me all the way to my room, dropping me off at my bed.

    ¡°Are you alright, your highness? Have you been injured?¡± She loosens the tight bo under my chin and checks my hands for injuries.

    ¡°No. No, I¡¯m quite alright,¡± I tell Marie. My heart grows warm at her tender care. Nina and another attendant carry in a single trunk, the contents consisting of all the clothes I wore during my unexpected vacation. For a noble girl, a single trunk would be considered an embarrassment to be seen vacationing in.

    I scratch my head, realizing that with my newfound presence in the public eye, I¡¯ll have to be more mindful of conducting myself as someone worthy of the imperial family so I don¡¯t be the butt of every joke in high society. But with my pitiful funds and Empress Katya¡¯s webs tightly woven around the pce coffers, it¡¯ll be a cold day in hell before I get any money out of the treasury.

    I make a mental note to sneak out of the pce whenever Julian wakes up and see how Arabe¡¯s is doing. ording to the novel, it began to profit after a notable nobledy wore her dress to the celebration ball. The very celebration ball that shall happen in two weeks to celebrate the end to the war.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Marie¡¯s fingers brush my neck, right where Jack nicked me with a sharp razor while my head hung off the edge of our wagon. One of many fond memories I shall treasure from my trip.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± I mutter, thinking up another topic to distract her. ¡°How is your nephew?¡±

    Marie¡¯s face broke into a wide smile, pushing her chubby cheeks up.

    ¡°Oh he¡¯s wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. Thank you for asking, your highness. I so loved to hear about how my family is doing. My sister, Helio bless her, raised him well.¡±

    We chat a little bit about Leif, idle chatter until my dress bes too ufortable to keep on.

    ¡°A job?¡± I ask.

    Marie wringing her hands together sheepishly. ¡°Leif¡¯s young and able, quick with his words and he can read his letters. But finding work has been hard.¡±

    I nod idly. Marie has done a lot for me these past few years. Trying to find her nephew a decent job is the least I could do. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡±

    The words overjoy Marie, I can see she cares about her nephew a lot. Despite my protests, she gets on her knees and bows to me.

    ¡°Thank you! Thank you so much, your highness. I can never repay this great favor!¡± Marie pledges to me, ignoring my attempts to help her stand up.

    ¡°Actually there¡¯s something you can do right now. Can you please prepare a bath and some food? I feel disgusting.¡± My shy blush is impossible to hide.

    ¡°Right away, your highness,¡± Marie responds, poorly smothering the smile that spread across her face. It¡¯s like old times, almost.

    A tter of steps rushing up the stairs breaks up the harmonious moment. Despite never treating me with respect, the maids had been properly trained when they entered the pce and walked in uniform, soft steps. Hearing the sudden tter was as difficult to fathom as a bolt of lightning on a cloudless day. Marie and I involuntarily look at one another, our thoughts flowing in the same direction just as a maid¡¯s frantic head pops through my door.

    She drops into a flustered curtsey, her cap having nearly fallen off her head during her run. It parallels the day when a maid informed me that the empress had arrived, only for my hand to be permanently disabled. I tense up without realizing it, only for another name toe out of the maid¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°A decree from the emperor has arrived!¡±

 Chapter 100

    Chapter 100: Ch. 100: 50 Gold Coins

    I rush down the stairs in a flurry of skirts, the sweat on my skin quickly turning into ice. In the reflection of the gold enameled banister, I can see my mouth set in a straight line that I work to curve into a polite smile.

    I can hear Marie¡¯s heavy breathing behind me and a bead of sweat snakes down the maid¡¯s neck into the cor of her dress. Hearing the emperor¡¯s decree in other eras may have once been a good thing, but with my father on the throne, such expectations have naturally faded away. It has gone to the point that if the person in question who receives my father¡¯s decree is condemned alone without their entire family taken away for interrogation and torture, they praise the emperor for his benevolence.

    In the sitting room that the entrance to the Rose Pce opens up to, my father¡¯s loyal man, Harold, stands with a scroll in his hand. Upon seeing my presence, he wastes no time in unrolling it reading.

    ¡°His Majesty, Emperor Helio decrees that Her Highness, Imperial Princess Winter, is to move her residence from the Rose Pce to the main pce while the day is still young.¡±

    ¡°Today?¡±

    ¡°Yes, your highness. Right now, actually. I have brought men to take any personal effects you¡¯d like to bring along with you.¡±

    And just like that, among the many changes that hade with my new abilities came another: a new residence.

    .....

    There was very little that I wished to bring with me to the central pce. It was actually Marie who insisted on a few things she deemed sentimental. A particr dress here and there. A few of the hair ribbons she enjoyed tying into my hair. A stuffed animal that she insisted was my favorite when I was younger.

    The Rose Pce was built for a beloved woman, anyone could tell that at first nce. ording to what I¡¯ve heard, whenever my father was off on his battles and wars, the first empress hadined that therge pce was far too lonely to stay in alone. As such, the Rose Pce, whose gentle pinks and rose garden softened the stiff, imperialistic style the pce was known for. She always had remained in the Rose Pce when the emperor was away, even on the night she¡¯d died in the fire. But after that night, the official west wing of the crown prince¡¯ste mother had been sealed shut permanently until today.

    I watch as thest manservants under Harold¡¯s direction unload thest of my items with an expressionless face, the only sign of my displeasure.

    First thete empress¡¯ private pce, now thete empress¡¯ official residence. The west wing of the central pce was where empresses of the Erudian Empire historically resided. It was considered a slight to Empress Katya and the Duvernay family when my father never bequeathed that location to her after their marriage. She had been forced to stay in the dowager empress¡¯ apartments in the east wing before eventually erecting her own Sunrise Pce to bear and give birth to Prince Julian.

    These apartments are truly fit for an empress, let alone a princess. While the Rose Pce had a slightly more cozy feelpared to the rest of the pce, the west wing showcases the full mour worthy of the wife to the most powerful man in the empire. Everything under my eye sparkles in gold: the chandelier, the paneling on the wall, the intricate artwork decorating the ceiling, the chamber pot.

    I let out a low whistle once Harold and the servants say their goodbyes. Only Marie lingers in the room, although I can tell she is holding back to gauge my reaction.

    ¡°Are you... displeased with the room, your highness? I can call Harold back in to see if there are any adjustments that can be made,¡± Marie asks me in a tentative manner.

    I turn from the window I¡¯m looking out of, the tall trees of the Eastern province within my view. They are a memento of my father¡¯s past, but I realize I don¡¯t have anything I¡¯m truly fond of in this world. Only people.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Emma? Did they bring my people from the Rose Pce?¡± I reply to Marie with a question instead.

    ¡°I shall go see to it that she is either here or brought in,¡± Marie tells me. She hasn¡¯t stopped wringing her hands nervously since we arrived at the west wing.

    I can hardly me her. This move from my father has effectively put the entire capital¡¯s eyes on me. Whether it was intentional or not, I assume it¡¯s the former while staring at the shiny walls around me. However, not all that glitters is gold. I can only begin to guess how many empresses and imperial family members have suffered quietly in this opulent dream.

    From neglected princess to the promised child who helped turn the tide in the recent war, only a fool wouldn¡¯t be curious about the sudden elevation in status.

    But with this elevated status solely urring on paper as opposed to within my father¡¯s heart, I might be in more danger. House Duvernay has promised a stalemate in return for working with the Holy Church, however, I can sense that the empress in Sunrise Pce might not let me go so easily.

    I¡¯ve escaped from her grasp one too many times. I¡¯m the direct cause of her losing one of herdies-in-waiting and soiling her spotless reputation. And now, I am quite literally living in the traditional residence of the empress consort and figuratively spitting in her face.

    I don¡¯t believe that my father didn¡¯t know what he was doing when he put me here. Is he trying to piss his wife off to death or get some sort of revenge on her? Either way, I¡¯m the punching bag who is going to be taking all the hits.

    A half grin tugs at my lips, the same madness that drove me to hold a letter opener to my neck filling me suddenly. This isn¡¯t a setback. This just means I have to make it hurt too much for either of them to consider taking a swing.

    I eventually get my bath and meal, the maids perplexed and perhaps a little frightened at the asional chuckles I emitted within the bubbly steamy space. The bathing quarters are a definite upgrade, a room full of roman pirs and a perfumed bath the size of a small pool set into the floor. I run around a bit too once Ie out, causing frenzied attendants and maids to chase after my naked self with plushy towels.

    ¡°Tell me, Marie,¡± I drawl slowly on the beauty lounge I¡¯ve been seated on for the better part of the evening. ¡°How does my brother Julian fare?¡±

    Marie, who stood quietly in the corner, perks up at my voice. ¡°The prince is still asleep, but his body is in good condition. The empress has been by his side ever since he returned.¡±

    ¡°Has she?¡± I muse in the half darkness. The many candles in the room have run low long ago, but I told Marie not to replenish them. ¡°Then shall I pay a visit?¡±

    ¡°Your highness?¡± Marie startles. I understand her shock. A voluntary visit to somewhere the empress is known to prowl is the exact opposite of what I would have done before I ran away.

    I put on a pout and turn to Marie. ¡°My poor brother, who knows when he shall wake? I must visit and see with my own eyes how he is doing.¡±

    It¡¯s too bad sharpies don¡¯t exist in this world otherwise I would definitely draw a mustache on his unconscious face. I¡¯m barely worried about that little twerp anyways. With the kind of blessed life Prince Julian has lived so far, I¡¯m almost certain that he will be waking up sooner rather thanter.

    Marie¡¯s eyes turn red and I see her covertly turn away to wipe away a tear or two. ¡°You are so kind, your highness,¡± she warbles out.

    ¡°I¡¯m kind to those who deserve it,¡± I murmur out a quiet truth of mine. ¡°Prince Julian helped take such good care of me when I was away at the military front. It would be a crime if I did not go see him while he is unwell.¡±

    Marie nods firmly in agreement. ¡°Back in my vige, we had an old tale about a trapper who saved a wolf from his trap out of pity, only for the wolf¡¯s pack to massacre his entire family while he was away. Being kind to those who don¡¯t deserve it does not always end well.¡±

    ¡°No, I suppose it doesn¡¯t,¡± In my mind¡¯s eye, the wolf is not Empress Katya, but Janice instead.

    Thinking back to my old maid who set the final nail in my coffin regarding the poisoning case, I truly don¡¯t care if she¡¯s begging on the streets or dead in a ditch. I suppose I was technically never kind to Janice to begin with, but something about the unabashed ambition in her eye had made my younger, untested self react sharply during the situation. However, if I were to encounter another maid like her again, the jaws of the trap would not miss their target.

    ¡°My stipend!¡± I exim, a thought urring to me suddenly. ¡°Has it changed any? Call in Nina so I can ask her.¡±

    The (former?) spy who now sitsfortably in grasp for me to toy with at will, Nina enters with her eyes cast low and none of the former bravado of former days. The head attendant is under constant observation by Emma and a few other maids who I¡¯ve managed to turn to my side. I still treat her with all the courtesy of a head attendant. The running of my wing is in her hands and she hasmand over all the servants other than Emma and Marie. She even seems truly repentant about her actions from before.

    All I have to do is confirm whether the story Nina told me back in my tent was true and hope someone will take the tantalizing bait she represents. Because if I continue to y my cards right, Nina will be the fake mole I can use to feed false information and catch other real moles with.

    I smile brightly at Nina and her eyes redden with sorrow and guilt. She must be feeling true fear right now, perhaps assuming that now that I¡¯ve returned to the pce I will punish her.

    ¡°Fret not, Nina. I am not calling you here to punish you now that we have returned to the pce. I simply have a question.¡±

    ¡°A... question, your highness?¡± she asks dumbly.

    ¡°Yes. My stipend. My allowance. How much is it?¡± I rub my hands together in anticipation, certain that the number has greatly multiplied alongside my new living situation.

    Nina¡¯s head ducks lower into her chest and I generously beckon, hoping my inviting appearance will get her to spit out an answer.

    ¡°Come now, just say it! It must be at least 200 gold. No, no. I¡¯m thinking too small. 500 gold?¡± My nightgown pools at my knees as I get into a sitting position on the beauty lounge.

    ¡°50,¡± Nina whispers. I can barely hear her voice.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to be a bit louder, I¡¯m afraid. Although I heard an f, just now. Did you say 500?¡± I squeal. I can barely keep myself from pping my hands in glee.

    After years of paying all my stipend to Emma and making chump change selling flowers, I can finally kick back and enjoy the proper wealth of a real princess. The dreams of a future with all the funds I need to bribe servants, pay Emma, and buy a house for Clever Jack finally seem within reach.

    Nina clears her throat and shuffles her feet. ¡°The stipend is 50 gold coins, your highness,¡± she says a little louder, shattering all my dreams into itty bitty pieces.

 Chapter 101

    Chapter 101: Ch. 101: Winter¡¯s Gambit

    ¡°Emma, can we- can I have a word with you?¡± I stutter over my words after a sleepless evening back at the pce.

    ¡°Yes, your highness,¡± Emma answers.

    Mourning the loss of a decent stipend has made for a long, trying night. I have bags under my eyes and sluggishly prop my head up as I stare at Emma with some guilt.

    ¡°You¡¯re my official ymate, you remember that right? We¡¯ve been through thick and thin, and weathered many storms and assassinations together. I feel as if we have 100 years of history behind us,¡± I begin warmly, hoping to ease into the topic at hand.

    It wasn¡¯t as if I thought I would be getting Julia¡¯s 10,000 gold coin stipend, but even a fraction of that would have done wonders for me.

    ¡°Since Duchess Taylor is still in charge of paying out the royal stipend you have no money to give me.¡± Emma ended the conversation rather quickly, my sheepish look her answer.

    ¡°Maybe we can pawn off the stuff in this room?¡± I say, offering a way to make a quick buck. I nce over the gold items sparkling under the morning light peeping through the curtains.

    .....

    Emma shakes her head. ¡°Your highness, the items used in the pce are kept on a registry and checked regrly. They would notice when they go missing, unlike the flowers.¡±

    There is a dead, awkward silence.

    ¡°You know what¡¯s worth more than money? Friendship. You can¡¯t put a price on friendship,¡± I eventually say as I sweat to death under my covers. I sound like a con artist, the shame resting heavily on my shoulders.

    I tug them off right as Emma responds, ¡°You can have until the end of the year, your highness.¡±

    An idea suddenly urs to me, the devious smile on my face that sends Emma hurtling back a few steps.

    ¡°Give me half that time and you¡¯ll have your 1000 coins. Heck, even Jack will get his stupid house. I just have one, little request. One itty, bitty thing I want you to pretend to do,¡± I tell Emma as convincingly as I can.

    Emma appears faintly uneasy. ¡°I shall, of course.¡± She replies nheless.

    ¡ª¡ª¡ª

    ¡°Emma?¡± Empress Katya looked away from the peaceful face of her only son towards Lte.

    Her loyal maid curtseyed in greeting. ¡°Greetings, Your Majesty.¡±

    ¡°No, no. Repeat what you said. The child who apanied Winter to the war front and helped fight off the assassins was a little girl named Emma?¡± Despite her best attempts, there was a faint scoff in her tone.

    All her careful, multyered nning was foiled by a wee child who hadn¡¯t even begun to bleed yet. It was soughable, a smile struck the corner of her mouth. When Lte spotted the smile, her heart trembled in her chest even though she hadn¡¯t done anything wrong.

    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty. You have actually encountered her before. When you wished to cut off a thieving maid¡¯s hand and Princess Winter took her spot for a beating, the maid in question had been Emma,¡± Lte reported.

    Suspicion caused the empress to sharply ask, ¡°How did you learn this?¡±

    ¡°A cleaner within the west wing saw Emma privately cleaning her muddy boots and dress while the other maids were asleep,¡± Lte said.

    ¡°That proves nothing.¡±

    ¡°The boots were worn and had incurred a lot of damage. ording to the cleaner, the shoes were barely held together by medical bandages, the special ones issued to the army. She also hides a fine dagger under her mattress, one that has been well used,¡± Lte answered proudly. From the reports the assassins had given, a strange, knife-wielding child had unexpectedly been talented with the weapon, staving them off so they couldn¡¯t give chase to the little princess.

    Empress Katya had an impable memory, honed from the tutors hailing from every corner of the empire who had embedded within her the skills to be the best empress the Erudian Empire could ask for. She naturally recalled the innocuous, ck-haired girl who had been given Winter¡¯s stipend perhaps as a favor.

    ¡°I remember that she likes money,¡± The shrewd empress concluded. She stopped stroking Julian¡¯s hair and straightened to reveal her regal aura that intimidated and inspired the noble women of Radovalsk.

    ¡°The maid loves it, Your Majesty,¡± Lte agreed immediately. ¡°From what I¡¯ve learned recently, the princess often gives her stipend to the girl in exchange for her loyalty. Quite crass.¡±

    ¡°Has she learned nothing from me?¡± Katya mused quietly. ¡°Well, it is to no surprise. She is a lowborn thing anyhow to choose a servant girl as her ymate. These kinds of embarrassing affairs happen when someone unworthy is in charge of the running of the pce.¡±

    A vein of anger ran through the empress¡¯st sentence as she stillcked full control of the pce, although time had put a few avenues back into her hands. Empress Katya had sown her roots deep enough over the past few years that even with the Duchess of Mulworth¡¯s dedication in tearing them out, many still remained.

    ¡°Fear not, Your Majesty,¡± Lte simpered to Empress Katya, taking the chance to step behind her mistress and begin to massage her shoulders. ¡°The duchess still hates Princess Winter very much. Even though she was moved from the Rose Pce to the west wing, She gave the princess a stipend of 100 gold coins. I was able to talk to our people within the royal treasury to lower the delivered amount to 50 gold coins.¡±

    Lte smiled where she stood, thinking that her punishment to Princess Winter would make the moody empress a little happier. But Katya rubbed her forehead, the simple mention of her rightful pce causing a headache.

    ¡°Kneel.¡±

    Empress Katya¡¯s tone was one of someone who hadmanded since birth, Lte¡¯s knees buckling at the one syble.

    Lte rushed around to face Empress Katya¡¯s still face, the most elegant artwork a paleparison to the empress¡¯ beauty. Both her hands were sped in thep of her full skirt, a picture of etiquette at all times.

    ¡°Your Majesty...¡± Lte began to say with a dry throat. The blood in her veins turned to ice.

    ¡°You do too much without my agreement,¡± Katya said without preamble.

    ¡°My apologies, Your Majesty,¡± Lte replied, her eyes not daring to look up at her mistress¡¯ face.

    ¡°The bastard girl¡¯s situation has improved, she must be happy, no?¡± Katya suddenly said, a thoughtful look upon her face.

    Lte was startled by the sudden misdirection of conversation but had been with the empress long enough not to get stumped by the matter.

    ¡°Indeed, Your Majesty. The finery in the west wing is second only to your own pce,¡± Lte hastily replied, unknowingly sinking another hidden barb into her mistress¡¯ skin.

    ¡°Let her be happy for a time then. Let her think she has won a few battles. She has been to the warfront. She should be able to tell the difference between a battle and a war by now. Stand up, Lte. I shall not punish you today,¡± Empress Katya told her, cing an extra emphasis on the word ¡®I¡¯.

    ¡°T-Thank you, Your Majesty. Your graciousness is second to none.¡± Lte shakily rose, perplexed and confused by Empress Katya¡¯s magnanimous response.

    She clearly remembered the rage that had filled the empress when somehow the bastard princess had anticipated Katya¡¯s intentions and absconded from the pce right as she was being brought to Sunrise Pce. The maid who¡¯d been fooled by the princess¡¯ bloody flux trick had been yed to death, but even the rousing sight hadn¡¯t calmed down Empress Katya. The thick gloom that had hung over Sunrise Pce and the entire imperial pce had everyone, even Lte and Kora, walking on thin ice.

    Empress Katya could naturally see the confusion on the face of the maid who¡¯d been trained to serve by her side since before she could even speak. She enjoyed Lte¡¯s confusion, preferring the brash Lte to focus on doling out punishment and fear amongst those who served under her. If she needed someone with true wit by her side, Kora¡¯s cunning for politics and maniption was second only to her own. But such intelligence, even if it was disyed in her own minion, was notfortable to keep too close.

    ¡°Shall I bring that servant girl, Emma, to your side, Your Majesty? Since she likes the money the princess gives her, as long as more is offered she may switch sides,¡± Lte asked, politely asking if she should resort to bribery to get eyes close to Princess Winter¡¯s side.

    But Lte¡¯s hurried statement to please Empress Katya reminded her once more why she needed Kora¡¯s talent.

    ¡°No. No, no, no.¡± Katya rose from her chair. ¡°Just keep her under observation. See who she speaks to. Who she gets along with. What she does when she¡¯s not with the princess. Tell me of everyone she associates with.¡±

    Lte¡¯s brows rose in surprise.

    ¡°Have you forgotten how the princess took a beating for that servant? Such... acts can inspire loyalty in those of lower status. You should understand this,¡± Empress Katya told Lte with faint disappointment.

    Lte was a good guard dog, but it seemed that even after the many years in the pce, that was where the personal maid¡¯s abilities stopped.

    ¡°From the news I¡¯ve heard, she frequently associates with the nursemaid, Marie. Other than that, no one-¡±

    ¡°We already have eyes on the nursemaid. Remember that hole the princess and maid crawled out of? It had been used more than once, which means there are people within this very capital that the princess is in contact with. Otherwise, it wouldn¡¯t have been so easy for her to escape the Radovalsk. You must find out who they are, immediately!¡± The sh of irritation bloomed into a rage and Empress Katya¡¯s voice rose into a shout that quailed Lte¡¯s pleasing tongue.

    Empress Katya rubbed her head, annoyed that she had let her mood get away from her. But she had taken a few, unprecedented losses in the recent months. Her most usefuldy-in-waiting had been done away with along with her unblemished reputation as the mother of the empire. The false prophecy she had worked so hard to construct for her daughter had not only turned out to be real, but hadnded in Princess Winter¡¯sp.

    And her father, who had just begun to stop meddling in her life and gave her more power within the Duvernay family, had stepped back in without hesitation. Every time she weeded out one of Chancellor Duvernay¡¯s moles, another one would crop up like a weed.

    With practiced ease, Katya reigned her emotions back in while smoothing down a nonexistent cowlick in her intricate updo. In fact, the recent events had forced the empress to admit something to herself: that she had grownzy andcent. Empress Katya had grown up working against the odds and managed to eliminate the emperor¡¯s beloved wife and take the coveted role of empress for herself through sheer cunning. She had be the most powerful woman in the entire Empire and thought the game was over.

    But it wasn¡¯t. It never had. And it never would be as long as she drew breath.

    Katya had many secrets, enough to line the perimeter of the imperial pce three times over. She¡¯d killed and enjoyed it. She¡¯d broken bread with noblemen and then burnt their corpses with thick tongues sticking out before dawn arose.

    A man had once asked her, in the early days when she¡¯d first married into the eastern wing and felt nothing but coldness on the other side of her bed, what she would be willing to give up for power.

    ¡°Your youth?¡± Purple eyes had glinted in the dark chambers, mirth glittering within them.

    ¡°Your beauty?¡± The heady, 18-year-old Katya did not even need to shake her head, the man could see her answer within her stubborn gaze.

    ¡°No, of course not. You need those to maintain your power. How about your family? Your children?¡± His voice came out in a teasing manner, but the implication under them was anything but.

    ¡°I came to you to have children! Why would I give them up?¡± In her youth, Katya had held more of a temper. That was one part of herself she saw in the young Winter. A temper that could not be put out.

    ¡°And children you shall have. But you can have more, with my help,¡± the man said easily, offering a tantalizing temptation few could resist.

    The young Katya had understood the implication of his words. After all, her father had only intended for her to be a ceholder wife until the current dynasty could be removed and reced. Even if she was his daughter, he would have killed her if he knew that she had intentionally gotten pregnant with the emperor¡¯s children.

    The newly enthroned empress had long realized that in her father¡¯s ns, she would have been discarded after use. And Katya had learned too much to be happy with the fate of a deposed empress to be stepped on by anyone or locked away in a tower to ¡°protect her chastity¡±. But what the man before her suggested was too much. To usurp the throne, not for the Duvernay family, not for her children, but for herself.

    ¡°I-I couldn¡¯t.¡± In the Empire, there has never been an empress regnant of any sort. She could only wield power the way she¡¯d been taught, soft power through others. She would mold the perfect prince, one obedient to her every word. Wouldn¡¯t that be the same as ruling herself?

    There had been no more offers after that. Little more was said as the precious medicine to change her fate was slid into her palm, her heart aching at what it had cost her. As she¡¯d hurried out, the man whose appearance she couldn¡¯t recall despite her impressive ability to remember any face she saw had only told her one thing.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be back. Because as you defy your father, your children shall one day defy you too. I wonder if you will regret your choice then?¡±

    After he said that, his echoingughter had chased her out of the crumbling temple. Lte had wrapped a cloak around her shivering form, despite that year¡¯s warm spring having chased the chill out of the air. A few monthster, her stomach was swollen with a boy child and she¡¯d gotten permission to construct her own pce, one even lovelier than the famed west wing of the central pce. Her father¡¯s ns had changed from rebellion to ensuring a prince of Duvernay blood took control of the empire. She had gotten everything she wanted.

    But now, that prince she had cultivated for greatnessy unconscious and her ns in disarray.

    A maid rushed into the luxurious courtyards and pavilions Katya had arranged for her son once he had begun to read and write so that he could be trained in privacy andfort.

    ¡°Princess Winter has arrived. She said that she is here to visit her brother who is in ill health and try to heal him once again,¡± the maid gasped out.

    Katya stopped thinking of the past, knowing that her current priorities were to save her son and curtail Princess Winter¡¯s growing poprity once and for all.

    ¡°She hase to visit her brother?¡± The faintest surprise danced through Empress Katya¡¯s eyes, which were so simr to Bishop Duvernay¡¯s in the sense that very little swayed her emotions. ¡°Bold girl. Let here in so I can see what she¡¯s learned in her time away from here.¡±

 Chapter 102

    Chapter 102: Ch. 102: The Sleeping Prince

    I suck in a deep breath. ¡°Ahhhh. Do you smell that? No manure.¡±

    Only the delicate perfume of the exotic flowers stains the air. Walking through the pce feels weird today, the way it feels odd when you start your second year of university in another dorm building. The pathways feel somewhat unfamiliar, although I march across them with a confidence that I don¡¯t feel inside.

    ¡°There was no need to ruin your boots. We could have brainstormed another way to bait the empress,¡± I say to Emma when the silence bes too much.

    ¡°Brainstorm?¡± Emma asks.

    ¡°Erm, we could have thought of another way,¡± I quickly correct.

    Emma shakes her head. ¡°Not on such short notice, your highness.¡±

    She¡¯s right, but I don¡¯t want to admit it. We continue to walk in silence, the matching footsteps of the six attendants who follow me everywhere echoing in tandem.

    .....

    Attendants are nothing new for me, but it is quiteughable to see them take their job seriously for the first time. This morning I was treated like, I hate to say it, a princess. Shortly after Emma and I¡¯s initial conversation, they had ushered in a grand breakfast that I¡¯d enjoyed only a few times in the early days before Empress Katya and Duchess Taylor cut down my budget and number of servants.

    A boiled egg had sat in one of those fancy egg holders I¡¯ve only seen wealthy people use and the porridge was made with high-quality grains and drizzled in golden honey. Fresh fruits, a luxury I didn¡¯t appreciate when I was Maria, were stacked tall on a china dish.

    The hospitality hadn¡¯t stopped there either.

    Fine silk that ran across my skin like water has reced thefortable cotton undergarments I¡¯ve be ustomed to. Today¡¯s sky blue dress features loads of embroideries and frills that tickled my nose as it was put on. After the matching ribbons that Marie ties into my hair every day were attached, I was offered small pearl jewelry that apanies my icy white locks beautifully.

    So I¡¯m now eating like a princess and dressing like a princess. Now all that¡¯s left is to spend like one.

    The cost of this elevated treatment has not been forgotten by me. In my wandering thoughts and dreams, I can still see the faces of those suffering unimaginable agony from their wounds and hear their wails. To live in such finery, I must never forget the price it has cost not only myself, but those around me as well.

    The familiar gardens before Sunrise Pce appear and my stomach slowly flops within my belly. I take a deep breath, but my nerves refuse to settle. I walk past it, as I am headed to where my brother lives, yet another area of the pce I have never visited. One could live in the imperial pce their entire life and still never see every corner of the ce they call home. If the pce is even worthy of being a home.

    The apartments where Julian resides areposed of several, lowrise buildings in the style of the entire pce, opening like a luxurious greek pavilion to a set of courtyards connected by covered walkways. A maid waits in fronts, dallying away her time until wee into sight. It might have been amusing under other circumstances the way she jumped into alertness and ran inside without even greeting me.

    Clearly, even with my elevated status, the empress¡¯ servants still don¡¯t see the need to show me courtesy or respect.

    The maid returns soon enough to myself and the waiting entourage, as she curtseys.

    ¡°Greetings, your highness. Her Majesty, the Empress and the Second Prince await you inside,¡± she says in an even, speaking manner that the higher-ranked maids are trained to do so they sound pleasing to the ear.

    She turns without waiting for my okay and begins to navigate the halls, a peaceful rush of water in the background revealing itself to be a small fountain before what must be the main apartment where Julian rests. Maids who scurry about have more tact than the empress¡¯ maid, pausing and curtseying to me before carrying on their way. Julian has clearly been living the high life, if I were him I wouldn¡¯t bother fighting for a throne too if it meant I could livefortably until I die.

    With a simple hand gesture, I leave Emma and my attendants at the door and step inside. I¡¯m greeted immediately with cool air, giving me a slight reprieve from the heat which while ufortable, is nowhere near as bad as the western weather in Belhelm. The style of Julian¡¯s apartments can only be described as quiet luxury with a masculine edge.

    The light blue wallpaper is a perfect touch for the summer weather and there are miniature, detailed renderings of ships and telescopes in the sitting room we quickly pass by. But the entire ce is swamped in a mncholy mood, the maids inside jumpier than any I¡¯ve met before. Iter learned it was because the empress had secretly flogged a maid to death the other day for gazing at Julian¡¯s sleeping form a few seconds too long.

    ¡°Her Majesty is inside,¡± the maid says with a curtsey.

    I nod my thanks and wipe off two sweaty palms onto the fabric of my skirt before gathering my courage and taking the first steps inside. My body perks up instantly, remembering even better than I do the courtesy I must conduct myself with. My back straightens and my steps soften and shorten in stride. I have a gentle, practiced smile on my face as I sp both hands to my front. Thest time I forgot to sp my hands, I¡¯d been beaten with a reed. But today, the empress does not look like she is in the mood to beat me.

    ¡°Good morning, Royal Mother,¡± I greet softly. Repeating the ts of womanhood Katya quite literally beat into me, I drop into a curtsey that would have brought tears to Ms. Laroche¡¯s eyes.

    The empress is alone in the room as she strokes Prince Julian¡¯s hair from the chair that has been pulled to his bedside without saying anything. She appears a tad weary, but I know better than most how appearances can be an illusion and don¡¯t drop my guard. I¡¯ve ¡®overstepped¡¯ my ce as a bastard and taken the role she had designated for her daughter. She had even wanted to do away with me before Emma and I cut a hasty escape. In my eyes, Empress Katya¡¯sck of anger is far more frightening than the mild irritation and annoyance she is known to show from time to time.

    ¡°Winter.¡± She does not look up at me as I hear the voice that has asionally appeared in my nightmares.

    The long silences disarm me far more than her yelling or beating me could have, alerting me to the fact that this is yet another tactic of hers to unsettle me. First, she leads me into a setting that only she¡¯s familiar with, next she ensures I feel ufortable and insignificant within the setting. Such power yse naturally to the woman who wed her way into the imperial family.

    ¡°I came to visit my brother,¡± I say cheerfully with the childish charm I can now draw upon naturally. Without waiting for her say so, I walk around the other side of the huge bed to Julian¡¯s side. It is when I set a hand on his arm that I see a crack in the facade. A flinch. Perhaps the only sign of her deep, underlying hatred for me.

    ¡°It is a pity I am unable to heal my brother,¡± I continue chattering to fill the silence. ¡°Have the imperial physicians any notion of what ails him?¡±

    ¡°I am sure you tried your best, Winter. Your aptitude and talent are nothing less than immeasurable,¡± she reassures me while reminding me at the same time of how much of myself I hid from her.

    I smile towards the weary mother. ¡°As long as it serves the greater good of the empire, I will not be shy with my talent.¡±

    A subtle reminder that with the benefits of my abilities to my father, I will no longer be a wallflower to the rest of the imperial family.

    Julian, the unwilling prop in our verbal tug of war, lies unconscious in white pajamas. His face looks innocent and free of the deviousness that has annoyed me to no end. But I realize that perhaps I am a little, only a tad, worried for my mouthy transmigrator buddy. He may have been a two-faced liar, but he¡¯s also the only person who knows where Ie from.

    ¡°Some tea?¡± Empress Katya asks. But the question is redundant as scarcely before I¡¯m able to agree or decline she has already rung a delicate bell on the nightstand and sent a maid hurtling into the room.

    She orders tea for two and smiles gracefully at me afterward, stifling any chance of turning the opportunity down. I smile back the best that I can as one fact bes absolutely clear to me: The city walls of Radovalsk may not have enough room for the two of us.

    The question now is whether or not I am capable enough to oust her from her well-cemented position. But it¡¯s been done once, when my father handed over the responsibilities of the pce to the duchess. So if I want to do it myself, I may need the help of the sperm donor who doesn¡¯t give a crap about me.

    Wonderful.

    Service is speedy when you¡¯re the empress, making me wonder if perhaps a boiling pot is waiting at all hours in case Empress Katya calls for tea. Scarcely five minutester, a silver cart is pushed in, followed by a maid carrying a tea table. The assemble the food and drinks in record time, every action practiced and pleasing to the eye. When they bow at the end and leave, I feel as if I¡¯ve just witnessed a stage performance.

    ¡°How was your time at the western border?¡± Empress Katya asks with fake concern, she begins spreading jam on a scone in practiced motions.

    I look down at the tea cup and spoon before me, which bear great resemnce to the utensils that had been used when the empress tried to poison me.

    ¡°It was eventful,¡± I respond vaguely. Running away from assassins and sneaking into a warcamp somehow ended up being the least shocking things that happened to me this summer.

    ¡°I would imagine. The warfront is no ce for a little girl,¡± she shakes her head as if she can¡¯t bear the thought. ¡°It must have been difficult to adjust to.¡±

    ¡°No, not at all,¡± I reassure her. I was already more than ustomed to being overlooked and ignored at the pce, at least at the military camp I didn¡¯t have to worry about being watched like a hawk.

    ¡°But you only had one servant did you not?¡± She looks up from the scone she was thering generously, piercing green eyes meeting my own.

    My guard goes up, although I too begin to nibble at a pastry on my te. Has she taken the bait Emma and I painstakingly left for her?

    ¡°I did, yes. Butter, Father assigned a few attendants to me.¡±

    ¡°As a princess, it is crucial that you maintain a contingent of maids around you at all times,¡± the empress continues, veering into a direction I hadn¡¯t expected. ¡°They reflect your status as an imperial princess from the noblest of bloodlines. But s, there has been far too much neglect from those ced by your side.¡±

    I barely resist the urge to roll my eyes. Naturally, the neglect Empress Katyains of was greatly facilitated on her end. It¡¯s the equivalent of oversalting your food and thenining to the chef that the meal tasted bad.

    A bell that I hadn¡¯t even noticed sits at the edge of the table until slender fingers reach out and ring it.

    ¡°Bring me Lte,¡± the empress tells the maid who rushes in. She still hasn¡¯t looked away from me yet, finally biting into her scone with all the poise one would expect from the mother of the empire. I faintly recollect the loud-mouthed personal maid of the empress who was always gleeful in administering punishment.

    Short, hurried steps are muffled by carpeting, Lte has arrived. She curtseys and then stands with her head bowed, awaiting instruction.

    ¡°Winter, you have not yet learned how to discipline your servants. So today, I must teach you,¡± Katya instructs softly.

    ¡°Pardon?¡± I scoff, unsure if I heard her right. She speaks casually but her words are unusual.

    A reed stick, the same kind that has left bloody kisses along the back of my calves that stung for days, is tossed to the ground beside me.

    ¡°Beat her. Beat Lte for me,¡± Empress Katya tells, no orders me.

 Chapter 103

    Chapter 103: Ch. 103: Beating a Dead Horse

    I can practically hear a record screech after Empress Katya speaks.

    My eyes flit down to Lte, who looks up at me at the same time then stares at the ground. She looks wounded, a thousand thoughts going through her head. Lte looks whiter than a ghost, a vein of shock difficult to conceal shing through her eye. My gaze narrows on the familiar stick on the floor, but I manage to keep myself from uttering a word.

    But it¡¯s obvious when the reason clicks in her head: her body lowering itself closer to the carpet in defeat. Of course, there was no battle to begin with. As a servant, she did not have any grounds toin.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that would be appropriate, Mother,¡± I say lightly, forcing myself to take another bite of the pastry. It tastes like sawdust in my mouth now. The abominable reed stick taunts me on the ground, begging me to throw caution to the wind and strike Katya across the face with it.

    Would the empress¡¯ mask break, revealing the horrid thing underneath it? Or even more frighteningly, would Empress Katya be unfazed as she had already predicted the possibility of it happening?

    Either way, the thought disappeared as quickly as it hade, leaving me behind with my ¡®mother¡¯ whose smile was sending chills down my spine.

    ¡°But with who else would it be more appropriate than your own mother?¡± the empress muses. I recall that in the past, she was always ufortable when being referred to as my mother, but now she openly embraces the word. ¡°It is good to be a generous mistress to those beneath you, but I¡¯m afraid that your kindness has been taken advantage of.¡±

    .....

    I try another angle. ¡°But Lte did not do anything to deserve punishment. If I am to... discipline... a servant, it should at least be one who has done something worthy of it.¡±

    Katya throws a knowing look at the kneeling maidservant. ¡°Oh, she has,¡± she says, Lte¡¯s head bowing further in shame as if to confirm the empress¡¯ words. ¡°But I¡¯ve already told her I shall not be beating her today. So you must.¡±

    Her eyes flick up at me, almost taunting me to see if I would dare disobey. I have half the mind to storm out and return to my pce, but there¡¯s something in Empress Katya¡¯s emerald green gaze that tells me the consequences could be heavier if I shirk this order. I¡¯m stuck between a rock and a hard ce, sweat beginning to pool on my forehead and under my arms. It¡¯s almost a familiar sensation at the point, the panic stirring in my belly like a writhing beast.

    Violence is moremonce in this era than it was in my modern world. Thieves lose their hands for stealing, criminals are branding with hot irons on their faces so all can see. To ask me to raise a hand against a maidservant who I admittedly do not like at all but still don¡¯t hate enough to hurt, ispletely averse to my morals. Katya knows this and now she is pressing me on the matter.

    But whether I will give in this quickly is another question.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to,¡± I say simply, setting the tasteless pastry back on my te with a bang. ¡°So I won¡¯t.¡±

    Katya smiles as if she knows something I don¡¯t and takes a sip of her tea. Lte quakes beside us, awaiting her fate.

    ¡°But Winter dear, what if I insist?¡± she asks after thoroughly wetting her throat.

    ¡°Then I¡¯m afraid I must respectfully decline nheless,¡± I push my chair back and stand defiantly, my short stature barely setting my shoulders above the table.

    The empress looks upon my disrespectful etiquette with faint humor,cking her typical rigor for when I break etiquette. ¡°You¡¯re a member of the imperial family. You hold the lives of many in your hands.

    ¡°All the more reason to treat them with respect. I would not like to hear rumors tomorrow about how I mistreat those who serve in the pce and suffer a loss to my reputation.¡± I nudge at Empress Katya¡¯s fresh wounds, the loss of ady-in-waiting and her squeaky clean reputation.

    Katya shes a wounded smile, sniffing her perfumed handkerchief. I see that it is the very one that I embroidered a few months ago, the Duvernay rose mocking me upon the fine silk it is set in. Is this a warning to me? Or simply a reminder?

    Bishop Duvernay¡¯s conditions from the military front sh through my mind, especially the one that I had refused: to take Empress Katya as my legal mother. Is she using the handkerchief as a signifier that she too knows of the agreement her brother and I hade to?

    My eyes sh to my unconscious half-brother, snoring away without a care as I have a polite showdown with his mom. I had agreed to heal three people, yet could not revive Julian no matter how hard I tried due to the strange energy within him.

    However, I never received any notes or requests from House Duvernay. Even the empress seems somewhat indifferent to the fact that I was unable to heal her son. Which begs the question: which three people, aside from the mysterious patriarch, would the illustrious house deem worthy of me to save? And why isn¡¯t one of them the prince who carries their bloodline?

    This meeting with Katya tosses more questions onto an already full te, revealing small kernels of fascinating information for me to digestter.

    ¡°You¡¯ve grown, Winter,¡± the empress says almost affectionately, interrupting my thoughts.

    ¡°I¡¯ve passed just as many summers as Julia,¡± I reply with a faint shrug.

    Is it a dig at Julia, who is immature, whiny, and inherited some of her mother¡¯s sadism? Yes. Do I care? Not in the current circumstances. I¡¯m just trying to say anything to distract the empress from the matter at hand.

    But how could Empress Katya fall for that? Her lips press into a thin smile that shows more displeasure than pleasure before she looked at the stick on the floor.

    ¡°Pick it up.¡±

    A maid subtly moves to stand before the door, a quiet signal that I won¡¯t be released until Iply

    So, I move to pick up the reed with my right hand, only for it to slip from my weakened fingers. I brush it off as a change in ns, fiddling with the sturdy buckle of my shoe so the empress doesn¡¯t catch the weakness.

    ¡°Pick it up,¡± the empress urges again.

    The fatigue from a few minutes ago is gone, she is simply rejuvenated watching my emotional turmoil. I nod wanly in response and pick it up with my left hand. The smile that emerges on Katya¡¯s face is like the sun rising atop the horizon, showering golden light on everything it touches. It is so infectious that I feel half tempted to return one.

    Lte kneels before me, her back open and waiting. The obedience that I struggled to adapt to during my first few years is ingrained in her bones. She does not tremble or shiver,pletely ustomed to this type of discipline. I think of how outspoken the maid is and the fearsome reputation she bears within the entire pce as one of the empress¡¯ closest maids. Peeking under the mask to see the tamed girl underneath, will this result in more underhanded slights from her minions in the pce after witnessing her embarrassment?

    I tap the stick once on Lte¡¯s shoulder. ¡°There. Done,¡± I say.

    The personal maid jumps slightly until she realizes the touch was soft. The smile fades from Empress Katya¡¯s face. It is clear she doesn¡¯t take kindly to being mocked.

    ¡°Winter,¡± she begins slowly, my skin crawling after hearing her lips utter my name. ¡°That won¡¯t do. That won¡¯t do at all.¡±

    She shakes her head, the familiar disappointment in her eyes. It¡¯s the same one I¡¯ve always seen before she asks me to lift my skirts to receive the rod. I raise a brow in defiance, determined to drag this out as long as I can. In actuality, now I¡¯m rather intrigued by another matter.

    When my father promised to give me better treatment if I healed soldiers day in day out, did that include protection from Katya? Today I shall determine once and for all, even with all of my newfound ¡®usefulness¡¯, how much a promise from the emperor is worth.

    And I find out the answer before long. That it isn¡¯t worth a damn.

    ¡°Prince Julian! Your Majesty, he has risen!¡± a maid cries as if the seconding of Jesus is upon us as I hold the reed in my hand high above Lte.

    I pause before the third strike of the reed stick against Lte¡¯s back, the recoil of each strike hurting me nearly as much as it hurts Lte. When I drop the stick to the floor and back away, my chest heaving with a malevolent fury that causes a hitch in every breath, my palm is bright red.

    Even as I see Julian stare confusedly at his bed and his mother, the anger does not abate. But the change in emotion is good, being angry will serve me more than being sad and hopeless.

    In the confusion that naturally arises when the prince that was left for dead suddenly awakens, I know no one will ensure I continue my lesson in discipline. But lest I be knocked for poor etiquette, I curtsey in the empress¡¯ direction and slip out the door after swiftly healing Lte¡¯s injuries, yet another snub to Empress Katya.

    Emma and my attendants stand outside, curious expressions on all their faces at the sudden hubbub inside.

    ¡°Your highness?¡± Emma asks me quietly as I bask under the sunlight with my eyes closed.

    ¡°Emma, the n? I don¡¯t just want to burn Katya. I want to rope Julian into this somehow,¡± I say slowly, the ideaing to me gradually.

    The empress had beenposed, but I could see that losing a key pawn to her ns had been troublesome. Although she could theoretically try to have another child as she is just in her 30s, raising another obedient prince topete with the already beloved crown prince would be a difficult gamble to pull of. Not to mention, House Duvernay may not even agree to let her bear another child for my father if they care this little for Julian¡¯s life.

    ¡°You wish for me to harm the prince?¡± Emma asks, cracking her knuckles as if she¡¯s ready to go in on Julian.

    I look down at the bright red mark on my hand. ¡°No. I just want him to learn how worthless he is in not only House Duvernay¡¯s eyes, but his mother¡¯s eyes too. He seems to treat this world as a vacation, he has no stakes in the game. I will show him how much he has to lose and how in actuality, his position is no different from mine.¡±

    ¡°And then?¡± Emma asks. I think of how the empress had thoroughly enjoyed the show I¡¯d put on for her entertainment today. I rub my red hand on my dress, but it can¡¯t take away the violence that they¡¯vemitted.

    ¡°And then set him on the empress.¡±

    To see an obedient animal snap at its owner¡¯s hands should be just as interesting as it was for Empress Katya to watch me betray my morals and beat Lte. It might be so entertaining, I might be able to forget the most frightening thing I realized when I struck Lte¡¯s back twice with the reed.

    Despite the moral high ground I¡¯ve prided myself for standing on since I arrived here, I felt nothing the actual reed struck Lte.

    No guilt. No sadness. My previous emotions at having to inflict violence upon another person disappeared like smoke once I swung. All that remained was overwhelming fury at being forced to do something against my will.

 Chapter 104

    Chapter 104: [Bonus chapter]Ch. 104: Bloody Venison

    ¡°I¡¯m turning into a terrible person,¡± I whisper under my breath as I walk back to my quarters.

    ¡°Pardon, your highness?¡± Emma steps closer, her long legs making short work of the distance between us.

    I put a hand on my chest, feeling my heart pound beneath it. I¡¯ve never felt more distant from my past as Maria as I do now. Because I know for a fact that if I was still the college student of my past life, I would have fought tooth and nail not to extend violence on another person after seeing bad boyfriends raise their hand on my mom.

    ¡°I said, I¡¯m turning into a terrible person,¡± I repeat a little louder, causing Emma to double-take at my sudden words. ¡°And... it doesn¡¯t bother me as much as it should.¡±

    ¡°Your highness...¡± Emma murmurs slowly, ustomed to my asional outbursts. But I¡¯m not finished talking yet.

    ¡°She made me hit someone, Emma. I used the reed stick, the one that she always hits me with. I didn¡¯t want to. I probably could have resisted more. But the end result would have been the same, you know? I suppose I was a little curious whether the emperor would step in. It took about 10 minutes to walk to Julian¡¯s courtyards. That¡¯s a 20 minute round trip. If an informant ran from there to the central pce and brought my father back with them, he could make it in that time, no?¡± The words flow out of me like a torrential downpour, sweeping over Emma¡¯s head as she blinks at me in surprise.

    ¡°...¡± Emma blinks.

    .....

    ¡°But he didn¡¯te. I mean, I didn¡¯t expect him to, don¡¯t worry. But I gave him time, just in case. Just so I can know in my heart that I gave my father onest chance to, I don¡¯t know, man up and be my dad. So I gave it 25 minutes, I was being generous with that extra 5 because I thought Katya would just pick up the damn stick and hit me. And no one came. So I had to hit her, you know? I mean I didn¡¯t want to, but what if the empress decided to beat me too? So I just did it. And once I did it, I didn¡¯t even feel bad. Not the least bit. I was just so furious that after everything I¡¯ve been through, I¡¯m still a puppet she can toy with.¡± My words are rambly, at some points, my voice even warbles like I¡¯m going to cry, but I don¡¯t. I just say everything I want to say to the only pair of ears that would listen.

    ¡°...¡± Emma keeps blinking, a deer in headlights.

    The attendants trail back a healthy distance so they can¡¯t listen in, but they still watch my animated hand gestures nheless.

    ¡°This is totally how people join the dark side, isn¡¯t it? Like it starts with baby steps, right? One minute you¡¯re hitting a maid and then next you¡¯remitting arson to be the empress of an empire. I am no longer a side character. I am the main character of a viin origin story. Holy shit, that¡¯s even worse! I¡¯m totally going to hell, Emma!¡±

    ¡°...¡± Emma carries on with her blinking.

    ¡°And you heard thatmotion. That little, snotnosed boomer finally woke up from his beauty sleep. Really good timing too, by the way, I¡¯ll give him credit for that. I¡¯d already hit Lte twice and I think I would have rather shoved that stick up the empress¡¯ ass than hit her again. I was so mad, I thought I would pass out from the anger. And then Julian just gasped and sat up in bed. It was like magic!¡±

    ¡°...¡± Emma stares at me as if I¡¯ve sprouted a second head on my shoulders.

    ¡°And-¡± I ready to continue my rant, but Emma has other ns.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± Emma yells. It¡¯s a rare thing for Emma to raise her voice and I am stunned into silence.

    ¡°Please, just breathe. In, out, in, out,¡± she coaches me through each breath and I realize I hadn¡¯t breathed for the better part of two minutes due to my speed talking.

    ¡°Sorry, that was excessive. I kind of had a lot on my chest,¡± I mutter sheepishly.

    Emma looks like she¡¯s still reeling from my word vomit, but she nods anyway.

    I smirk to myself as we enter the central pce, a self-deprecating grin. I just keep going in circles, reaching the same conclusion over and over again, but failing to internalize it. If I were reading my own story, I¡¯d wager I would have thrown my phone across the room in anger by now or jotted down some chastisingments:

    ¡°You dumbass, just beat Katya over the head with that stick already! Girl power!¡±

    ¡°Girl, istg I¡¯m gonna drop this book if you don¡¯t stop getting into these dumb situations. Put that mean empress in her ce!¡±

    But reading a story and living it are two very, very different things. Take it from me, a veteran webnovel lover. I don¡¯t have any convenient plot armor, a loving family willing to shield me from the world, or an exorbitant fortune. I¡¯ve only got some healing powers and my own modern-day knowledge that is terribly suited for this day and age, not to mention the permanent ball and chain of my bastard identity. I¡¯ve gotten rid of Peppermint¡¯s influence, but this world was never written favorably for Winter Royberg de Erudian. This pce was meant to be her grave, the empress her executioner, the world her unsympathetic jury.

    Quite frankly, I think if any other person had been transmigrated into Winter¡¯s life, the grass on their unmarked grave would be as tall as I am by now. Expecting everyone to y fair is a modern concept and even then, one that wasn¡¯t true to begin with in my world. There is a hierarchy in this world and I¡¯ve long epted that I was not born at the top of it. I¡¯m a daughter and not even a legitimate one. Theoretically, I should know my ce and be more than grateful that I¡¯m even allowed to draw breath.

    Except I¡¯m not. I want much more.

    That pesky desire for equality and fairness ingrained in my bones from when I was Maria has long reared its head and the empress has taken notice. Can I technically fault her for wanting her husband¡¯s affair child not to outshine her own children? No. Can I fault myself for not sumbing to Empress Katya¡¯s diabolical machinations and suffering or dying in silence? No.

    And thus I find myself at the center of an emotional and philosophical conundrum that I never would have even considered before I transmigrated into this world. This is not a fairy tale where I¡¯m guaranteed a happy ending. This is Game of Thrones, but it¡¯s the more brutal version from the books rather than the slightly tamer TV show.

    ¡°Shall I go eat some lunch?¡± I ask, my empty stomach making itself known as my thoughts begin to short circuit from hunger.

    But Emma shakes her head. ¡°You have a fitting for the Celebration Ball.¡±

    ¡°Ah, right! The ball,¡± I say listlessly.

    I don¡¯t feel like there is much to celebrate on my end after today. But this is my chance to reannounce my presence to the nobility of the capital, the wild card that my father has yet to fully control. With the outpouring of news about how I singlehandedly turned the war effort around, I¡¯d wager more than a few families will be taking a second look at me. I should pick and choose which family¡¯s daughters I wish to affiliate with in the future.

    ¡°Only go forward, never look back nor regret,¡± I tell myself firmly, paraphrasing the words Emma has told me many times.

    The words are still echoing in my head as I¡¯m escorted to the sizable dressing room that hase with my wing of the pce. A few seamstresses holding measuring tapes and pins rush into a straight line and bow in unison.

    ¡°Greetings, your highness. We are here to make a dress ording to your taste and pce standards for the Celebration Ball,¡± one says with the utmost respect.

    But their ster performance feels like a mockery following my affairs at Julian¡¯s apartments. I don¡¯t bother with small talk or pretending to be a sweet child, immediately standing on the tform and holding out my arms.

    The measurements proceed for just short of an hour, finished off with the choices in fabric and material. My fingers rush across bolts of silk that are so finely made they feel like water under my fingers. A color a few shades darker than forest green is eventually chosen because the experts believe it will best suit my skin tone, but all it makes me think of is Katya¡¯s mocking gaze as she ordered me to beat her maidservant.

    Ate lunch is arranged for me in the garden and I chew the medium-rare venison slowly as I stare retrospectively at the fauna imported halfway across the empire. I¡¯ve won on paper. Fine dining. Luxurious clothes. Attentive servants. Rooms that put the Pce of Versailles to shame.

    I viciously cut into the poor meat again, which is too tasty to put up with such unwarranted abuse. ¡°Damn, they weren¡¯t lying. Money does not buy you happiness. I always thought they just said that to keep poor people in their ce.¡±

    ¡°Did you say something, your highness?¡± Nina calls nervously from where she and the attendants stand a few feet away.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say sweetly, before throwing my te on the floor and sttering the white marble with half bloody venison. ¡°I said FUCK THIS SHIT, I QUIT!¡±

    Don¡¯t worry, thatst bit only happened in my head. After all, the only way for me to quit is for me to die, and why would I do something that would put a genuine smile on my mother¡¯s face?

 Chapter 105

    Chapter 105: Ch. 105: Celebration Ball Pt.

    The dress I¡¯m wearing may have very welle from my head, the faint gasps around me easily concurring. The fabric is dazzling andmands attention even without the silver-gold embroidery on the edges and rubies twinkling in ce of buttons.

    ¡°How much do you think this could go for, Emma?¡± I ask, petting the generous overskirt that is cut down the center to reveal gold ruffles.

    Emma analyzes the dress critically, her eyes tracing appreciatively over the excess fabric gathered around the exposed shoulders.

    ¡°This bit seems to shimmer more than the others, your highness. Is it-¡± she cuts herself off, but I already know the answer.

    ¡°Is it gold dust? Yes,¡± I reply proudly.

    ¡°Then just that bolt of silk on your shoulders alone could go for 1,000 gold. And these rubies, even cuts, yes, those will fetch a decent sum as well. As long as you don¡¯t ruin the embroidery, the gold thread could buy you a house. Not a nice house, but it would be a house,¡± Emma analyzes with great speed and precision. Her eyes carry the familiar twinkle they get when she¡¯s near money.

    I feel tears prick my eyes at the thought of wearing an outfit worth over 10,000 gold coins. The life of a poor, rich kid is not an easy one.

    .....

    ¡°It¡¯s a shame,¡± I murmur, baring allowing myself to touch the evening dress lest my sweaty fingers ruined it with one touch. ¡°What are the odds of, you know...¡±

    I give Emma a knowing look in reference to the time I sold the ugly dresses the empress had sent me for the Spring Ball and made a pretty penny for my troubles. Someone in the room coughed ufortably, alerting me to the fact that the dressmaker and her associates were still within my oversized dressing room.

    ¡°Ah,¡± I say, barely managing to hide my embarrassment. ¡°You have all truly outdone yourselves. This is a masterpiece, a very expensive masterpiece. I shall cherish it well. You have my thanks.¡±

    ¡°You look splendid, your highness. Like a precious doll,¡± Marie sings praises that feel sweet to my ears, unlike the ones my attendants asionally say to win the favor of a princess.

    I spin from the mirror beaming. ¡°Thanks, Marie. Can you do my hair?¡±

    I was assigned a hairstylist, but I still prefer it when Marie is the one who touches my hair. She smiles warmly in return and can see that she is touched. I¡¯m a simple girl, I appreciate those who are sincere to me. Taking Marie¡¯s hand like the child I technically am, I allow her to lead me to a chair where she slowly works her personal brand of magic on my head.

    Ribbons upon ribbons of dark green are woven into my hair, which has been pleated into a crown braid. But I don¡¯t revile the look as often as I do. Does this mean I¡¯m going to start ying with the dolls Marie still not so discreetly leaves on my bed and windowsill? No.

    A knock sounds on the door. Emma lets them in, revealing a very familiar-looking courtier carrying a blood-red pillow. But this time, he¡¯s brought friends, 10 other courtiers trailing in after him. A maid gives a quick introduction, but I haven¡¯t forgotten about royal treasury quite so soon.

    The past insolence and disdain are gone as if they were never there, their faces are nothing but respectful as they introduce the imperial jewels I now have permission to wear. The dinky circlet I was once offered can¡¯t hold a candle to the bejeweled confections resting on the pillows. Tiaras glisten brighter than the afternoon sun, a pair of earrings shaped like teardrops have been fashioned out of pearls the size of my big toe.

    Yet somehow, I manage to tear my eyes away and look to those who brought the goods here.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I ask politely, looking him in the eye.

    I¡¯ve learned a little more about how the pce works and although he wears a discreet uniform, those in charge of the royal treasury are all nobility. With a weasel-like face and dark brows that hang heavy over his eyes, I doubt he is a high-ranking one. But within the pce, connections are everything.

    He clears his throat eagerly. ¡°Phillip, your highness. Phillip Laroche.¡±

    My eyes nearly fall out of my face, so wide have they opened. He¡¯s Ms. Laroche¡¯s half-brother? Thinking of the stern woman¡¯s constant frown and bullet-like pointers, I cannot see any resemnce between the two of them.

    ¡°Mrs. Laroche! You are her kin?¡± I ask with false excitement.

    Phillip looks nervous but he nods, pleased as can be that there may be a connection between us. It is clear that whatever inbred genes and ignorance gue him passed over my etiquette teacher. But he has seen and heard what the rest of Radovalsk¡¯s elite have. The ravaging of the once-proud Vernice family. The mysterious ability that both the emperor and the Holy Church have high opinions of. And the sudden move from the supposedly cursed Rose Pce to the west wing where the empress traditionally resided.

    ¡°Yes, your highness! She is my younger sister. Half-sister,¡± he adds, testing the waters by initially separating their rtionship a little.

    I let my smile widen. ¡°Oh! She was my governess in the past. I remember her quite fondly. Do pass on to her my greetings.¡±

    ¡°Of course, your highness. It would be my absolute honor! She has spoken fondly of her days in the pce, I¡¯m certain she misses you very much,¡± the baron says, fabricating lies with his oily mouth.

    I smirk inwardly, but I do want Mrs. Laroche back. She will serve as a good shield to Empress Katya¡¯s ¡°etiquette lessons¡± and many noble girls by my age have a permanent governess by their side to teach them how to maneuver through high society. Of course, typically their parents would arrange one for them, but I¡¯m ustomed to doing such things for myself.

    ¡°It would bring me great happiness to meet with her once more. I am young and have much to learn,¡± I reply in a humble manner.

    The pearl earrings draw my eyes once more and I nod towards the silent servant carrying them. Marie takes the delicate jewelry and waits for me to finish my indirect invitation for Mrs. Laroche to return to the imperial pce.

    All the while, the baron chuckles foolishly and grins as if he¡¯s just won the lottery. In a way, we¡¯ve both won. He gets a foot in the door in terms of making a connection with me and I get a potential insider within the royal treasury. Now I have to wait and see if he is useful enough to get his sister back in employment.

    If he is, then perhaps there is more sense lying under his daft face than there appears to be. I suppose that would make him just like this gorgeous capital of Radovalsk. Underneath its dizzying wealth and the marvelous wonders told throughout the empire hides an ugliness the romance webnovel barely scraped the surface of. An ugliness I¡¯ve only just begun to dip my toes into.

    I don¡¯t marvel at the scenery as I¡¯m escorted to the ball nor do I scoff at the differences between my first ball and second ball. Rather than wandering in as I did for the Spring Ball, I¡¯m being personally led to the designated area where the imperial family members may rest and watch the ball from afar.

    Loudughter first greets my ears within the dim yet sumptuous hallway I¡¯m being led down. I don¡¯t hold Marie¡¯s hand this time, but she walks near me, her presenceforting a part of me that I didn¡¯t realize neededforting.

    The ball is aswing when we arrive into the light-filled balcony above the ball, where we can look at those below and they too can look up at us. Julian slouches in his chair, looking bored as ever in a crisp military suit disying all his honors. Augustus sits at the center of the balcony beside Emperor Helio. Their heads are bowed together, but I am not sure if they are speaking with one another. Both Empress Katya¡¯s and Julia¡¯s chairs are empty. However, by the time I arrive at the chair clearly designated for me a little further to the side, I can see the entire floor below and the missing persons below on it.

    ¡°Greetings, Father,¡± I say demurely, curtseying before him. His cold golden gaze I¡¯ve inherited meets mine for a few seconds before he nods in response.

    Augustus has a cryptic look in his eyes and I wink at him subtly before turning to go to my seat. I can see that my actions in his tent still stick with Augustus to this day. I¡¯ve scarcely sat in my seat before I see Julian scooch his chair over to where I am.

    ¡°How do you do, dear sister?¡± he asks nonchntly, ignoring the stink eye I throw his way.

    ¡°Hello, Julian. Or should I call you by a better name, Traitor?¡± I ask in return, calmly overlooking the dance floor of swishing ballgowns and overflowing champagne sses. Eager nces from tittering youngdies are continuously thrown towards the box we reside in, but I¡¯m not silly enough to assume their attention is directed towards me.

    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not-¡± Julian says, taking offense to my new nickname for him.

    ¡°Not what?¡± I interrupt sharply. Taking a deep breath, I lower my voice. ¡°You entered the dungeon without me.¡±

    I can see in his eyes he isn¡¯t too apologetic and Julian confirms that. ¡°I had to take the chance. We were about to be caught. Would you prefer if we hadn¡¯t even had the opportunity to determine what the Traveler knew?¡±

    ¡°We?¡± I scoff. ¡°You mean, you. And it sounds like your opportunity was a sessful one.¡±

    Julian nods happily, more pleased than a cat that got the cream. ¡°Naturally.¡±

    Hearing confirmation that he got to speak with the Traveler leaves an even worse taste in my mouth. His brush with death does not seem to have frightened him. If anything, my princely brother looks even cockier than before. I feel as if I¡¯m looking at a stranger, his face not carrying any of the prior concern we had over whether the transmigrated weaponsmith had any blueprints or revealed any other key secrets.

    Did he not find out anything useful? Or more concerningly, did he find out and now wishes to keep the information to himself?

    ¡°Tell me, what or who did you meet down there other than the Traveler? Who put you in aa?¡± I veer away from my verbal beat down, the shift to a calmer tone visibly startling Julian.

    A shivering servant refills Julian¡¯s ss of wine, sweat dripping down their head due to their proximity to the emperor. They were practically running as they hurried away from the balcony.

    ¡°If I knew, I would be rallying some strong men to get revenge.¡± His mood darkens but Julian answers right away, seemingly eager to put the argument away behind us. ¡°Why? Did you try to heal me?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the thing, I did try. But I couldn¡¯t, no matter how much energy I used it just rebounded back and made me throw up. That¡¯s why I need to know what happened in the dungeon,¡± I say gently, framing my inquiry from another angle.

    ¡°Winnie,¡± Julian says suddenly, a sh of several emotions running through his eyes. He knows something. But the same shiftiness that allows him to overlook his mother¡¯s transgressions fills his aura. ¡°You know I won¡¯t tell you.¡±

    He may be 14 years old physically, but I can see every bit of the cunning of a middle-aged adult within him. And now that I see it, I don¡¯t know how I ever viewed his appearance as innocent when he was knocked out in aa. The window to his emotions in his eyes shut off, I can see nothing but coldness and my own unsmiling reflection in Julian¡¯s gaze.

    He sees this world as a game. And I now I suppose whatever weak conscious allowed him to get along with me initially has finally worn out. In a way, I¡¯m grateful, because any inkling of doubt or guilt at what I will do to Julian go out the window. So I y the first move of my intricate game.

    ¡°Julian, everyone thought you were going to die. Everyone,¡± I tell him tly like I¡¯m reporting the weather. ¡°The staff in the pce were beginning to prepare your funeral rights.¡±

    The impact of my words pierces Julian¡¯s cool demeanor.

    ¡°N-Nonsense! I heard that my odds of waking up were quite good. The imperial doctors were the ones who cured me,¡± he sputters, before quickly regaining control of himself.

    From his end, it must have seemed so, since he just took a nap and woke up in his bed. However the Duvernay family¡¯s willingness to let him die, I want him to dig it up himself. So I leave just that little seed of doubt and rise from my chair, weary of the disappointing conversation. I was an only child and my only insight into what having a sibling was like were Saturday morning sis and my friends whining about theirs. But I think in a way I was beginning to see Julian as a sibling.

    The words I told Julian not so long ago about how in wealthy families rtionships are superficial havee back to p me in the face. But looking at Augustus who keeps throwing sheepish nces in Julian and I¡¯s direction, I know that all hope isn¡¯t lost. Don¡¯t I still have another brother to work with, one who¡¯s supposed to be the male lead of this world?

    ¡°If you say so,¡± I sing tauntingly in the face of Julian¡¯s mild outburst. I shrug at him, allowing a knowing glint to shine in my eye.

    My vague words are all I leave behind as I retreat from the upstairs balcony without another word, the threads of Julian and I¡¯s tentative friendship unraveling with each step and rewinding into a noose around Empress Katya¡¯s neck. I don¡¯t bother to say goodbye to the emperor as I make a speedy exit to the ballroom floor where unbeknownst to me, the real evening entertainment shall soon begin.

 Chapter 106

    Chapter 106: Ch. 106: Celebration Ball Pt.

    Around the empress¡¯ neck tonight, was not a noose but strands upon strands of fat diamonds and rubies. Her maroon dress set against the evening lights looks stunning and is worthy of being the creation of my best investment yet. But what is even more stunning to me is how she does not falter despite the recent fault in her reputation.

    Katya is surrounded bydies still wishing to please her, a recently wed viscountess, and a few of the debutantes from this season. This evening may be grating on her as she knows that behind thepliments thrown her way is faint scorn for her recent scandal. But looking at the empress¡¯ smiling face, even the best FBI profiler would be able to get a read on any negative emotions.

    Seeing Lady Arabe¡¯s work disyed on my stepmother¡¯s body brings forth a wave of joy powerful enough to dislodge the few remaining bad feelings in my chest. For once, I don¡¯t have a problem with the world following the original plot after all I¡¯m going to benefit from the windfall business that will establish Lady Arabe as a mainstay in fashion for decades toe.

    Has the grand ballroom always been so splendid? How did the kitchen manage to capture the tartness of a ckberry in this bitesize delight? I slowly amble my way to the empress in a decent mood, exchanging short pleasantries with a few young girls who are pushed my way by their parents. ttering praise and seemingly kind smiles are avoided as I duck behind Marie¡¯s leg, who follows me closely as my nursemaid.

    If I must be honest, I felt more at ease in a random tavern on the road to Belhelm rather than the most exclusive party in the entire Erudian Empire. Empress Katya notices me and beckons me to approach with a billowing sleeve as the expressions of those around her grow subdued as if they are about to see a joke. The heavy exotic perfumes in the air spoil my food, just before I see something that does away with my appetite altogether.

    It¡¯s a familiar face, one of the few that doesn¡¯t leave a bad taste in my mouth. But seated in a wheelchair almost on the opposite side of the cavernous room, my heart twists in my chest as I see an expression I never thought I would see on Elias Wolfe¡¯s face. Relief, betrayal, and hurt each take turns showcasing themselves on his little face. And then I¡¯m left with nothing but his back as the young boy I¡¯vee to view as a good friend turns heel and wheels himself out of the ballroom as a grand finale.

    This is the Celebration Ball, but suddenly my past victory does not feel worth celebrating anymore. I didn¡¯t feel this way with Julian¡¯s letdown, another sign that deep down I always knew he was not a brother worth trusting. But for innocent Elias whom I befriended at my lowest, I cannot bear to be the one disappointing others.

    .....

    I promised myself long ago not to lose myself in my bid for survival and while I now know I cannot fully abide by that promise, this is one thing I most certainly can still do: be honest and good to those who are true to me.

    ¡°She is still young. Pay her no mind,¡± I can hear Katya say from behind me as I suddenly run outside instead of greeting her like I was about to. An astonished Marie is left to pick up the pieces of my horrendously bad decorum in my wake. But what time do I have for pretty manners and yet another verbal crossing of swords when I just saw the heartbroken face of a close friend?

    ¡°Elias! Wait! Young Lord Wolfe!¡± I practically leave skid marks as I rush out of the stuffy ballroom into the balmy outdoors. I hear a few titters behind me, but they are far too easy to ignore with therger matter at hand.

    Using the sound of wheels on stone, I track down Elias who hasn¡¯t gotten very far on his own. I don¡¯t know where his butler, Chester, is, but perhaps additional servants were not allowed in due to the security risk. He creates a pitiful image in the half-illuminated darkness, causing me to hesitate.

    ¡°...Elias,¡± I call weakly to his back. We stand on the outdoor balcony of the ballroom, overlooking the pce gardens and grounds below.

    He must be feeling betrayed, seeing someone who he mistook as a flower seller turn out to be an illegitimate princess. Suddenly thevish gown and intricate hairdo feel tryhard and disingenuous.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± he says stiffly with his back still turned to me. It is good that he can¡¯t see me when he utters those words, because I wince as if I¡¯ve been physically struck. As a member of the imperial family, I understand that my identity will forever create a wall between myself and others. But this wall has always been easy to ignore or circumvent, especially with how I¡¯ve always been ignored and mistreated until recently. Now it feels as if I¡¯ve walked headfirst into it.

    ¡°Don¡¯t say that. Just call me what you¡¯ve always called me,¡± I hastily tell him. I wish to approach, but his shoulders are so stiff I fear he might shake off any touch.

    ¡°...¡±

    ¡°Elias... look. I¡¯m sorry I lied to you. But surely you must understand why? Here, just think of me like Pandora¡¯s box. You opened it up, but instead of releasing death and disease you found out I¡¯m actually a princess with golden eyes. Well, half a princess,¡± I coax gently.

    There is a faint giggle on the other end, I¡¯m getting through.

    ¡°What princess have you seen have to sell flowers by the road to make ends meet? What princess have you seen try to make business deals on her own? I¡¯m not like other princesses so please don¡¯t treat me like one. Just treat me like your friend.¡±

    I realizetently that I just pulled a cringey ¡°I¡¯m not like other girls¡± and want to smack my forehead at my own idiocy but myst statement was the straw that broke the camel¡¯s back.

    Elias turns around with tears glittering in those unique amethyst eyes that I could drown in. I can see my good friend clearly, his formal wear appearing absolutely charming on his petite figure.

    ¡°I¡¯m not mad at you, your highness-¡± he starts.

    ¡°-Winter-¡± I interrupt with a fake cough.

    ¡°I¡¯m not mad at you, Winter. I was worried!¡± he exims to my surprise.

    ¡°Uh, worried? About me?¡± I point a finger at my chest incredulously.

    His head bounced up and down, two rather pitiful nods with the essence of a kicked puppy.

    ¡°I hadn¡¯t seen you in so long! I thought- I thought- My servants said that you might be-¡± he stammers, his cheeks growing red as he fought the urge to shed more tears.

    ¡°Dead?¡± I finish what he means to say. His servants were almost proven right.

    He pouts, ufortable by the word. I can¡¯t help it, I reach over and ruffle his soft hair.

    ¡°Well I¡¯m very much alive,¡± I assure Elias, trying to erase the skeptical expression from his face. ¡°Besides, isn¡¯t this all a good thing? We can see each other more often than before!¡±

    ¡°Are you well? You look thinner,¡± Elias says, concern dripping from his gaze instead of tears.

    He is the first person, other than Marie, to ask me that since I came back from the military warzone. There were dozens of ttering words within the ballroom beseeching me to invite their daughter to tea or congratting me for winning glory for the empire, none inquired about my mental health and wellbeing, which have admittedly not been the best.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± I tell him instead of bursting into embarrassing tears at the rush of emotion I feel in my chest.

    ¡°Maybe should go back in? We¡¯ve been outside for a while.¡± I jerk a thumb over my shoulder, taking the chance to wipe away a sneaky bastard that leaked out of my eye. Marie may be close to having a heart attack considering how long I¡¯ve been missing.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s beautiful?¡± Elias says instead, a nostalgic twinge in his voice.

    ¡°Huh?¡± It takes me a moment to realize he is speaking of the mini forest that sits in the heart of the imperial pce. ¡°Oh yes! Quite nice! A little odd in terms of its cement, but it¡¯s been growing on me.¡±

    The wind rustles in agreement, flowing past my exposed shoulders to ruffle the leaves on the very trees we currently admire.

    ¡°I heard my father had them imported all the way from the east. They are part of his fond childhood memories supposedly.¡± My mouth feels weird speaking of my father in a favorable light and I frown after I speak.

    ¡°Is that so?¡± Elias asks as he pensively stares out at the trees.

    ¡°Um... it is so,¡± I answer awkwardly. The old-fashioned way of speaking still trips me up on asion.

    ¡°Forgive me for saying this, now that I know that His Majesty is your father. But I¡¯m quite surprised to hear that even he has something that he is fond of. The emperor does not seem like someone who cherishes many things,¡± Elias says offhandedly.

    But the words get gears turning in my head, like another puzzle piece clicking into ce. In fact, Elias is not wrong. My father was said to love his first wife very much, but he had little problem throwing his bastard child into her beloved pce. He had no problem killing his father and older brother for the throne. Knowing all this about him, the idea that Emperor Helio brought a small grove of towering Eastern trees just for the memories breeds nothing but skepticism within me.

    ¡°...You¡¯re right,¡± I say listlessly. Once the words are out in the open, my resolve strengthens and I repeat it once more. ¡°You are totally right!¡±

    I want to dramatically p a table at my eureka moment, but have to settle for pping my thigh through mountains of fabric.

    ¡°Forgive me for speaking out of turn, your highness. Perhaps my honest thoughts unsettle you,¡± Elias says, the sad look from earlier creeping back onto his face.

    ¡°Oh, stop with that! It¡¯s Winter. Just Winter. If you call me your highness one more time, I¡¯ll- I¡¯ll-¡± I struggle to find a proper threat, as threatening violence against a disabled kid, even as a joke, is a tad bit much for me.

    ¡°You¡¯ll what?¡± The cocky kid crosses his arms and gives me a smug look.

    Right when I am about to throw caution to the wind and choose violence, a figure steps out of the shadows and scares 2 years off my already short predicted lifespan. I recognize the dark colored suit and deepset frown of Elias¡¯ butler, but my hummingbird heartbeat has not caught on quite yet.

    ¡°Oh my god!¡± I yell, grabbing my chest at the somber butler¡¯s sudden appearance. ¡°Sorry, you scared the shi- ahem, you frightened me.¡±

    ¡°Chester. Apologize.¡± Elias orders seriously. The childishness on his youthful face melts into nothingness, his eyes sharp enough to cut through steel. I wave the situation away, not intending to make a big deal of things and ruin their seemingly harmonious rtionship.

    ¡°My sincere apologies, your highness.¡± Chester takes a deep bow to show his sincerity.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. me it on me being unobservant,¡± I say quickly.

    Chester begins to push Elias¡¯ wheelchair and I follow. We don¡¯t speak on our way back to the ballroom, but the air between us is amicable. This is something I miss from my old life. Just... I don¡¯t know... existing peacefully with those you care about. This bed of snakes I¡¯ve been living in has made this quietfort difficult to attain, even when I sit alone and unbothered.

    ¡°Hey, Winter?¡± I look over my shoulder at the smiling young lord, pausing in my return to where the most poisonous snakes lie waiting to sink their fangs into me.

    ¡°Your real eyes are lovelier than the sun and stars,¡± Elias says shyly, looking away from me. I think his ears even turn a little red.

    These gold eyes that have been more of a curse than a blessing in this life. At best, I¡¯ve alwayspared them to gold coins which, just like the imperial family¡¯s power, can easily raise a person to the greatest heights or condemn them to the most miserly existence. The stars twinkle overhead, impartial witnesses to the follies of men. They make a far more satisfactoryparison to my eyes than money.

    I look back at Elias and the two of us share a smile. Elias needs to go to my original world and teach my trash ex-fiance how to give a girlpliments.

 Chapter 107

    Chapter 107: Ch. 107: Celebration Ball Pt.

    When we rejoin the ballroom, the entire room is silent and facing one direction: the balcony. My father has just stood up with my brothers, Julia, and the empress. Marie, who has been wringing new wrinkles into her hands on the side catches sight of me and moves faster than I¡¯ve ever seen her go. She picks me right up, sticking to the wall for less traffic, and hands me off to a waiting manservant who takes me upstairs before I can so much as say goodbye to Elias.

    I vaguely recall this kind of scene happening at the Spring Ball, except I was amongst the crowd gazing in awe at the stupidly beautiful people whose blood somehow made them worthy of ruling the Erudian Empire. But today, I stand on top with them and look down below. It makes me wonder just how many people down there dream of one day doing the same.

    Someday Julian and Augustus¡¯s voices deepen, they¡¯ll grow some embarrassing mustaches, and begin to talk of marriage. And the two luckydies they will choose are most likely already standing in the aristocratic throng below. Could it be Leana Bryce, the daughter of one of Empress Katya¡¯sdies-in-waiting? She has a sweet look with dark-colored locks and lips pulled into a permanent, sweet smile, but her brows have an arrogant set in them as she curtseys with impable prowess.

    Or will they branch out and seek new allies from noble families in the further reaches of the empire? I can see the daughter of Marquis Mullgard who had been throwing me dirty looks during the Spring Ball in the crowd, although her head is bowed so I cannot see her face from above. As the sole daughter of the most prominent Southern noble and raised mostly in the capital, it is clear that Emilia is meant to be a candidate for the princes¡¯ consorts. It¡¯s too bad she doesn¡¯t know that it will fall to the daughter of an insignificant, slightly impoverished noble family that has yet to even make its way out of the countryside province they reside in.

    The St. ire family are long-time descendants of the saintess who blessed thends with water and freed the empire from drought a few centuries ago. As such low ranked nobility, even being able to see the imperial family from a distance would be a blessing to cherish, let alone the main character ra somehow managing to get Augustus to fall head over heels in love with her and marry her.

    Augustus is my older brother, so it¡¯s weird to try to see him through romantic lenses, but with my father paving the road for him and his treasured status amongst the people and nobility, whoever shacks up with him will be set to live a lifeparable to none. Once again, I curse my poor luck at being reborn as an insignificant character who dies young rather than the well-loved female lead character with more luck in her pinky finger than I¡¯ve had since I was reborn.

    But this still leaves room for me to worry about who Julian will one day marry, especially considering how in a few years tensions between him and Augustus may reach a boiling point even as Julian ims not to be interested in the throne. Sharing the pce with the Empress and steering clear of Julia has been enough of a task for me already. The thought of now having to deal with a haughty sister-inw who could one day supersede me in rank only further leaves a bad taste in my mouth. However, it breeds an early idea in my mind to see if I can somehow influence whoever the Duvernay family choose to wed Julian.

    .....

    Lost in my thoughts of using my meager power to influence the political decisions of those far more clever and more powerful than myself, I miss the dark re being flung my way from the depths of the crowd below the balcony.

    ¡ª¡ª¨C

    The widowed count¡¯s plump hand was wrapped around Janice¡¯s wrist more tightly than the diamond bracelet he had gifted her early that evening. But Janice could not lower her head in the imperial pce she¡¯d been forced to act subservient in ever since she arrived.

    Please the older maids. Please the stewards. Please the servants who worked in the prominent pces. She had never been good at it because she was not meant for it. Janice was meant for greatness. It was the reason Akira had sought her out and blessed her with the beauty and charm she was always meant to have. To reach the highest pinnacle any woman could attain. The wife of the emperor.

    She hated the empress, who had reneged on her promise to put her in a Red House and thrown her into the dingiest, lowliest brothel in all of Radovalsk. But even more so, she hated the little princess she had once served. Half of that girl¡¯s origins were supposedly even lower than Janice¡¯s own, yet somehow the emperor had brought her into the imperial pce. The smug look in the girl¡¯s eyes as she had booted Janice out of the pce had been returned twofold when Janice had acted a scene with the empress to get rid of Princess Winter.

    Yet somehow the ipetent Empress Katya who once looked so impressive sitting in the finery of her pce hadn¡¯t managed to get rid of the pest. It was a personal affront to Janice¡¯s eyes to see the brat living well and even looking down on her from above. But her time would soone. No man had ever been able to resist the delectable appearance gifted to her by Akira, she didn¡¯t believe that Emperor Helio would be the first to do so. And once she sank her ws into the emperor, Princess Winter¡¯s time woulde to an end as she would be thrown back into the squalor she belonged in.

    The count beside her had been more than willing to take care of his own wife just from a few soft whispers under the gauzy sheets of her special quarters within the Red House she had recently left. Count Koberg was the biggest fish she had ever caught and as such he had the distinct honor of not being used as a source of energy. Instead, she just drained the vitality of the many male servants at his estate and asionally ate the female servants who threw dirty looks her way.

    Just thinking about food made the void of hunger in Janice¡¯s belly wail as the emperor gave his victory speech and she squirmed in the silvery ballgown she wore that made the numerous pieces of diamond jewelry she wore pop. Perhaps she would have to take a short respite to thedy¡¯s room to search for any random manservant or gentleman to sink her teeth into. And they would be more than willing, of that Janice was certain. Seeing the protective way nobledies clutched their husband¡¯s arms when Janice¡¯s figure caught their wandering eyes only made her evening sweeter.

    Empress Janice, Empress Consort of the Erudian Empire. She could practically already hear the stewards announcing her name to the throngs she currently stood among. The emperor, her future husband, finished his speech and began toe down from the balcony to the ground-level sitting area reserved for members of the imperial family.

    Janice already had a n in mind. She would first hook the emperor with her beauty, standing from afar so they could not speak, only look upon each other. Then while he was watching she would steal away to a quiet corridor with a fewsting nces over her shoulder on the way to lure him over. After that, it would be a wrap.

    ¡°My love. My sun. Are you well?¡± The count asked, mistaking Janice¡¯s wandering eyes for her not feeling well.

    Janice looked into a pair of hooded eyes full of nothing but devotion for herself and smirked inwardly. But outwardly, she just pouted a little bit.

    ¡°I think that new princess was ring at me from the balcony. Say, do you think she looks down on me because I¡¯m not of noble birth like the rest of you?¡± she whined, wrapping her hands around a chunky bicep and batting hershes.

    Count Koberg was immediately incensed. ¡°She dares? When her birth mother is unknown, but most likely is some peasant woman the emperor graced during his campaigns? I¡¯ll speak to my people in the pce to sort her into her ce.¡±

    Janice wished to roll her eyes at his uninventive thinking. She had been a maid once and understood better than most the subtleties of one¡¯s hierarchical importance. Princess Winter seemed just as unliked by the other members of the imperial family as before. However, she could see the newfound deference servants treated her with, any hint of displeasure or emotion invisible on their faces. This meant one thing, that Princess Winter¡¯s healing ability had made her a far more crucial member of the imperial family.

    What could one or two spy servants in unimportant positions do to the well-protected princess? At best, it would just draw the emperor¡¯s darker attention to the count and to herself by extension.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s alright. I¡¯m used to it,¡± Janice heaved a long, pained sigh. ¡°As long as I can be with you, my love, I can bear anything.¡±

    It seemed that speaking forth her dislike for the princess with the count was pointless, which suddenly made her bored. At first, Janice had been dazzled by the treasures and benefits that Count Koberg had showered upon her. He had killed his wife, moved her from the Red House to his mansions, given her several servants, and gifted her with rare jewels and money. Janice had so many gold coins she could fill thevish bathing pool the count had built for their ¡®ytime¡¯ and swim in it.

    But now... she could see that he was not the most powerful man in the capital which made him lose what little appeal he had. Count Koberg was not even the most powerful or wealthiest nobleman in the capital. Although he had attained a decent fortune from good investments, he did not have the power other noblemen did. Unfortunately, the more powerful men did not grace Red Houses, so the count was the best she could get given the circumstances.

    Unwillingly, her eyes danced to the emperor, who had settled in his seat at the front of the ballroom with the crown prince beside him. Emperor Helio was far better looking than the older count, wealthier, and more powerful. Who else couldpare?

    In fact, Janice had always been this way. When she was in her vige, the chief¡¯s son had been what she wanted most. Then she came to work in the pce and tried to catch a knight of the royal guard. Nothing was ever enough for her. But to Janice, this was a good thing because she deserved anything and everything good in the world. And she was more than willing to make a few sacrifices to attain them.

    ¡°I must go freshen myself, my love. You wait right here for me. I will return before you can blink,¡± Janice said in a lovey-dovey voice as she booped the count¡¯s hooked nose.

    He smiled wide. ¡°I already miss you, my dear Jan.¡±

    Janice finally rolled her eyes as she quickly crossed the famous pearl embossed dance floor the maids used to whisper about and headed in the direction of thedy¡¯s room. She had always hated the nickname, Jan.

    On the way, she ran into a young steward who had practically gone cross-eyed when he¡¯d looked at her. When Janice had finished with him, he took a nap in the quiet hallway she¡¯d found him with a faint bite mark at the base of his neck near the cor. She had learned a lot since she¡¯d first fed on Sir Gregory and knew how to measure the amount of vitality she took from men so they would wake up quickly and think they only fainted from dehydration.

    Janice looked at her poreless skin in the wide mirrors with a grin. As long as there were men in the world for her to feed on, she would never grow old and ugly. And as long as she never grew old and ugly, Janice¡¯s gobsmacking beauty would always ensure she lived well.

    ¡°Janice,¡± an unfamiliar voice called from behind her.

    Janice was half a predator now, her instincts had racketed up several levels beyond that of normal people. Yet somehow she had not been able to sense the speaker until they were already in her presence.

    She turned around with rage in her eyes, annoyed someone had managed to sneak past her defenses. Before her was just a boy in a wheelchair, who looked as adorable as he was pitiful.

    But once she saw his eyes and felt his presence, Janice dropped into a position of deep subservience, all but falling onto her knees as her head bowed.

    ¡°Sire,¡± she said as respectfully as she could to the one who had given her the greatest gift of all as his violet eyes looked on in indifference.

 Chapter 108

    Chapter 108: Ch. 108: Celebration Ball Pt.

    The stare from Akira felt like a brand on Janice¡¯s flesh, pressing her into the ground to the point that her knees were starting to hurt through theyers of fabric. She was but an ant running around under his eyes, his calm yet deadly demeanor emanating from such a small body.

    Akira blinked slowly where he sat. ¡°You have had your fun?¡± he asked almost like a parent to a child, instead of their true master-servant rtionship.

    ¡°Y-Yes, I have, Sire. Thank you,¡± Janice said breathlessly. Ever since she had experienced the full capabilities of the gifts she¡¯d been given, her respect and fear for Akira had risen exponentially. All it had taken was a few generous draws of the blood coursing through his veins for Janice topletely transform her life.

    ¡°I know your thoughts, Janice,¡± Akira said as he peered at her.

    A butler suddenly appeared behind Akira from the shadows and pushed him closer so that she could see how the light reflected off every piece of sandy-colored hair. Janice¡¯s flesh went cold although that particr summer evening wasfortably warm like a cozy sweater.

    ¡°What thoughts, Sire?¡± Janice asked, fixing her eyes on the tiled ground as she scrounged rapidly through her past ideas and ns for what may have offended the Devourer.

    ¡°Do you wish to y dumb with me, Janice? Do you take me so lightly?¡± Akira leaned against his armrest, a yful glint in his eye that practically cut Janice to the bone. The same instinct that made humans back away from fire and precarious ledges red inside of her. If she could have picked herself off the ground to run, she would. The keyword being if she ¡®could¡¯ve¡¯. Now her decision to stare at the floor worked against her as her entire body became locked in position while every muscle in her body refused to work.

    .....

    And one of those muscles included her heart, the most necessary of organs decreasing from its hummingbird tempo to a nonexistent one. Janice¡¯s chest grew tight with intense pain, tears ring in her eyes due to her low pain tolerance. But she fought through it, her head being freed from the lockdown so she could speak.

    ¡°No! No! I wouldn¡¯t dare!¡± Janice gasped out, her body beginning to tremble as every part of her body begged for blood to resume pumping through it.

    It felt icy cold, then burning hot all at the same time, the increasing numbness only increasing the pain in her knees. Without Akira¡¯s blood flowing through Janice, the curse that took hold when she didn¡¯t feed began to run its course. Age spots floated on the back of her palm, her knees ached so bad it was as if someone had nailed spikes into them. One of the locks that had floated free from her borate updo grew dull and dry, like the straw that used to make up the roofs of the vige she¡¯d once lived in.

    ¡°I gave you a gift, but you have not fulfilled your end of the bargain,¡± Akira said casually as if Janice were not about to keel over before him. ¡°One day very soon, you shall see what bes of those who do not properly hold up their end of a deal with me. Unless you¡¯d prefer to find out for yourself?¡±

    ¡°No, I would not, Sire. Please forgive me! What thoughts have I had that I shouldn¡¯t? I won¡¯t dare think of it again!¡± Janice begged. The desperation was visible on her reddened face. She grasped the back of her hand in horror, hiding her face from the reflective tiles as she could not bear to see her reflection.

    Janice prayed with all her heart for another soul to enter thedy¡¯s room, which had somehow be empty since Akira had appeared, but the door handle did not so much as tremble.

    ¡°The emperor,¡± Akira said simply. ¡°Banish him from your thoughts.¡±

    ¡°Sire?!¡± Janice half-yelled before she could help herself. Dreams of ballgowns even more stunning than the empress¡¯, gaining the affectionate gaze of the empire¡¯s most powerful man, and perhaps even sampling the bratty bastard princess before expelling her from the pce were shattered in an instant. Luckily for her, Akira did not seem to care, a nostalgic look overtaking his half-formed features.

    ¡°He is... one of mine.¡± The fondness in Akira¡¯s eyes did not seem fake, but with even the shallow understanding Janice had of the Devourer, acquiring his fondness was not a good thing. In the haze of whatever fond memories he was reliving, the hold on Janice¡¯s body and heart released, and Janice gasped for air dramatically as blood began to circte her veins once more. The ugliness faded away and the beauty she now loved more than anything replenished itself.

    ¡°Yes, Sire,¡± Janice said, still a little out of breath. She patted her now wrinkle-free cheek and thought about Akira¡¯s orders. Her heart was unwilling, but she understood very well that crossing Akira would mean a fate worse than death.

    ¡°As I expected, you have found yourself a way to enter the pce. Do so on a more regr basis. Be the empress¡¯dy-in-waiting. Keep a close eye on the interactions between the imperial family and the newest princess,¡± Akira instructed her.

    ¡°What? Her?¡± Janice growled. It was indeed a growl, a deep inhuman sound hinting at her abnormality.

    But scarcely had she spoken before her throat seized up as if someone grabbed it. Janice fought the invisible assant, but she could not feel anything holding her neck. It was as if her body was strangling itself. Janice tried to cough but nothing but a few drops of saliva made it free from her silenced mouth.

    Watching wordlessly as she pounded on her chest hard enough to break an average man¡¯s bones, Akira said, ¡°Even if I were to ask you to slit your throat in front of me, I expect you do it without any questions. On this matter, I will not repeat myself.¡±

    Janice nodded rapidly, a chicken pecking at rice. But even her agreement did not make Akira release her as easily as before.

    ¡°Besides, on this matter, I was thinking of you,¡± Akira continued kindly. ¡°I simply wish for you to watch, and if you must, intervene in improving the rtionship between that princess and Helio.¡±

    He said the emperor¡¯s name casually without any title, further disying his godly status.

    ¡°And once you see that they have great affection for one another, to the point that Winter can be said to be the one the emperor loves the most, you have my permission to kill her.¡±

    Janice froze on the floor. ¡°To kill... that girl? I can kill Winter?¡± Her throat had been freed and she rubbed at it gently as a feverish light filled her eyes.

    A fox did not dare sh its teeth at a wolf, instead preying on smaller animals. Janice was of the same mindset. It was Akira who had denied her the chance to realize the dream of bing the empress consort. But in her mind, it was because she had to babysit Winter that she could not pursue Emperor Helio. As such, the thought of killing Winter had her salivating.

    ¡°Only once you are absolutely certain that the Emperor loves her more than all else. A tall task, considering the favor the crown prince currently enjoys. If you fail to do so, I shall take away your gift and perhaps more. My pets are often hungry for the souls of the damned.¡± Akira cautioned.

    It felt as if Janice had been doused in cold water by his words, but she was undeterred.

    ¡°I will do what I must to make sure Emperor Helio loves the princess more than life itself,¡± Janice promised immediately, her mind whirring with ns to make the emperor grow some affection for his daughter.

    It truly rankled her heart, Akira¡¯s orders. To help the one she hated most would prove to be a unique kind of torture. But oh, for the sweet, sweet prize that awaited her at the end of it, Janice was more than willing.

    ¡°I am only helping him finish his end of the deal. You lot can be quite forgetful about paying once receiving my gift,¡± Akira mused. ¡°But it is always my pleasure to remind you.¡±

    He was done, just like that. With business finished, the frighteningly somber butler began to push Akira towards the doors to leave.

    ¡°And what of my price?¡± Janice called out to his retreating back. ¡°You said you would tell me the next time we met, Sire,¡± she pleaded in a far more respectful tone.

    ¡°That? You have already to pay it,¡± Akira told her cryptically, a faint smile hanging from his lips. The door mmed shut behind him.

    In the midst of thought, Janice somehow managed to pick up her crumpled form from the ground and stumble into the dark hallway adjacent to thedy¡¯s room. Her back mmed against the wall, sliding down until she sat on the carpeted floor.

    To have a taste of her dream by seeing Emperor Helio across the room, only to then have that taste snatched from her mouth and stomped into the ground was cruel agony.

    The feeling was akin to being a child, oddly enough. You¡¯vee to realize that beyond you is an entire world to enjoy and explore, but your parents keep you from it by telling you to feed the horses and stay at home. But instead of the anticipation of growing and seeing the world, she was shut away from it forever.

    Janice already didn¡¯t put Count Koberg in her eyes, having seen a few far nobler and wealthierdies in attendance that evening. So not only could she never reach the pinnacle, she hadn¡¯t even managed to reach the next closest branch to the top. Devastation and fury went to war in Janice¡¯s turbulent heart, so much so that she almost missed the sound of advancing footsteps down the hall towards tody¡¯s room. Many footsteps.

    Fortunately for her, the path from the ballroom floor to thedy¡¯s room did not cross the dark hallway Janice had stumbled into. Tugging the fluffy girth of her now crumpled silver dresspletely out of sight, Janice was utterly shocked to hear the emperor¡¯s voice.

    ¡°Clear any women in thedy¡¯s room right now,¡± Emperor Helio coldly ordered, Janice¡¯s ears easily picking up his words.

    A few people marched ahead of him into thedy¡¯s room, senior female maidservants, but they too found that thedy¡¯s room was empty and opened the doors for the emperor to enter.

    ¡°Is something the matter, Your Majesty?¡± A nervous attendant who¡¯d been off somewhere else asked as she rushed back to her post. Somehow, Akira¡¯s magic had made all the people in the vicinity leave when he was present.

    ¡°Who has been in here?¡± The emperor thundered out. The natural authority in his voice was tangible, like a falcon among sparrows.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry, Your Majesty. I had just left to go to the bathroom, a-and I thought since it would be quick it would be alright. Hence, I am n-not certain about who has been in here,¡± the attendant immediately confessed her guilt.

    The pleasing, honeyed tones all pce people learned to speak with could not withstand the might of the emperor¡¯s anger and faded in and out of her speech as tears poured out.

    ¡°Get her out. And then all of you get out too save for the captain,¡± the emperor said dully.

    There was a faint scuffing sound that Janice attributed to the girl being dragged out of the room. But once she got over the amusement of the emperor entering thedy¡¯s room, the realization that took ahold of her shook theughter right out of her.

    He knew. He could sense him.

    When Janice had stood before Akira, his presence and gaze had let her knew who she stood before. So it was no coincidence that almost moments, barely even a few minutes actually, after she and Akira had spoken in thedy¡¯s room, Emperor Helio had arrived.

    What was it that Akira had said? That the emperor was one of his own?

    Thinking of the killing aura the emperor had and his legendary status on the battlefield, Janice connected the puzzle pieces together. Just like her, the emperor could sense Akira¡¯s presence. Just like her, the emperor had drank Akira¡¯s blood and obtained abilities. He just had not yet paid for the gift and now Akira was setting a game in motion that would bring the greatest pain from Emperor Helio in return. Janice stood up, her unnatural grace showing itself as she managed not to make a single noise as she rose. She had to leave, lest Emperor Helio somehow managed to sense her as well.

    But just before she left, she heard a piece of hushed intel between the emperor and Captain Wolfgang of the Royal Guard.

    ¡°Your Majesty, there is urgent news from the north. The Lord Protector¡¯s men have found traces of Bromely although it is unknown what matters he has so far from the capital. The Lord Protector sent a message requesting a meeting as soon as possible to discuss countermeasures.¡±

    Bromely? It was a name Janice was unfamiliar with but would be sure to ask the count she was now tied to once she returned. It was the least that overweight widower could do for her since she could potentially be stuck with him for a good while longer than she had hoped.

    Janice advanced down the halls, opting not to take the most direct path to the raucous dance floor where more and more people were getting drunk by the minute so that she didn¡¯t get caught by the emperor. She could tell from his gaze alone that the man was sharp. Even if she used all her new talents, she could still be caught by him.

    ¡°Janice!¡± a surprised gasp echoed before her during her escape through thebyrinth of the pce hallways. Thinking it was a guard, Janice pretended to be a lost and tipsy guest until the voice registered in her memory.

    But unlike the previous time her name had been called, a sense of faint euphoria and smugness filled Janice although she had learned to hide it better in the past few years.

    ¡°Felix! My truestpanion!¡± she squealed. Janice looked up at the pimply freak who seemed to love her more than life itself, betraying his fake and real master just for her. Her pride, which had been dampened in the face of Akira, reared its head at the utter infatuation that hung in Felix¡¯s eyes.

    He looked like just as much of a fool as when they met which was good for Janice because it meant his heart had not been swayed by anyone else since she had tearfully convinced him to return to the pce so she could pursue wealthy men in peace.

    Even now, Janice managed to squeeze out a few tears as if she were truly moved to see Felix.

    ¡°Tell me, how have you been? Are the other servants treating you rudely?¡± She bombarded him with questions, patting his cheeks and shoulders quite modestly but overwhelming Felix with her closeness.

    Felix¡¯s eyes danced over her cleavage, but he was honest enough to drag them away after a peek. But his cheeks grew red and he stammered out a response Janice couldn¡¯t quite make out. Stifling a sigh of annoyance, Janice said, ¡°What was that you said?¡±

    She fully expected an asinine response, but instead Felix threw another question at her after seeing her for the first time in 8 months and sending her countless letters of general pce news.

    ¡°You are with the Count now?¡± he asked timidly, a pathetic expression overtaking his face. Janice vaguely recalled their professions of love and the kisses she had bestowed upon him when she had needed him to do things for her when she was nothing.

    But now, Janice could not help looking down on the stupid manservant who thought he could obtain her affections. This time, she couldn¡¯t hide the curl of her lip and she pulled out a handkerchief to hide the expression until it disappeared.

    Above the handkerchief, her eyes fluttered until they could produce a few tears. ¡°You doubt me so easily? I am but a poor girl with a pretty face, my fate was meant to be tragic. How could I resist when such a boorish nobleman came to the Red House and said he would take me back with him? I fought him! I did! But that man-¡±

    Janice paused as if she were too emotional to speak. Just as she was cursing Felix for making her eyes potentially turn red from all the fake crying, he began to fulfill the role she hadid out for him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t cry, my love. Please, it hurts me so. What did that man dare do to you?¡± Felix asked angrily.

    Janice smiled under the hanky. ¡°He killed his wife! What kind of awful soul is he? Just to bring me to his home. A perfectly good woman, dead just like that. And now... now he wishes for me to marry him before the month is over!¡±

    ¡°That man!¡± Felix clenched his fist tight. ¡°I have learned some skills while in the empress¡¯ employ. Fear not, Janice, I shall poison him tonight and free you.¡±

    ¡°No, don¡¯t!¡± Janice hastily yelled. Seeing his foolish confusion, she continued, ¡°How could I let such a crime fall on your head? If a count dies at the Celebration Ball, they will waste no effort finding the culprit. What shall I do without you alive in this world? If you are killed.... then I shall follow you to the underworld! Just let me suffer with the count and keep writing me your sweet letters.¡±

    Felix looked genuinely moved by her profession, patting her hand over and over again as if it were the most precious treasure. ¡°I understand. You suffer for me and for our love. No soul in the empire canpare to yours.¡±

    He looked like he had moved past it, prompting Janice to implement the first steps of Akira¡¯s orders.

    ¡°Very well then,¡± Janice said swiftly, sweeping the matter under the rug to get to what she really wished to know. ¡°You still report to the empress, don¡¯t you? Find out what kind of candidates she is looking for concerning her recementdy-in-waiting and let me know everything. After all,¡± Janice dangled a carrot in front of the man who was stupider than the vige idiot. ¡°If I can be herdy-in-waiting I cane to see you more often in the pce, Felix. Wouldn¡¯t you like that?¡±

 Chapter 109

    Chapter 109: Ch. 109: Infidelity

    ¡°Janice?¡± I mumble out, unsure if my eyes have mistaken me from the high perch I stand on.

    I don¡¯t have a chance to properly confirm as my father finishes his speech and the crowd disperses to dance and make merry. In the fray, one dark-haired girl takes the ce of another. A demure debutante stuck to her mother¡¯s side raises her head and reveals that she is not Janice. The woman in question has disappeared like a mirage.

    But lucky for me, I am not a stupid horror movie protagonist.

    If I think I saw Janice, I¡¯m going to assume that my ex-maid is indeed here and act ordingly instead of dismissing it as a hallucination. Out of sheer habit, I begin to call for Emma¡¯s name for her to check, but a nce by my side reminds me that the only maid who was allowed toe was my official nursemaid, Marie. I heave out a sigh and throw onest anxious look into the crowd, but there is indeed no Janice to be found anywhere.

    Old foes stand beside me, while newer ones begin to roost amongst the nobility. I can do the math in my head, and with Janice¡¯s surprisingly pretty face and decent lying ability, hooking a decently-monied noble shouldn¡¯t be too much trouble. I don¡¯t remember her being beautiful enough topare with Empress Katya, but the arrogant tilt of her brow as if everyone is beneath her is a telltale giveaway. I saw it when she thought no one was looking after she¡¯d made up lies about me being a murderer. And I know I saw it once more just now.

    Once bitten, twice shy. Rather than sit around and wait for the snake in the grass to inevitably bite me I¡¯d rather root out that vindictive bitch myself and figure out what her purpose is in returning to the imperial pce. I storm down the stairs of the balcony with purpose, ready to immerse myself into the crowd and receive 100% confirmation with my own eyes.

    However, at thest step, a handnds on my shoulder. I look back to see Marie casting an apologetic look at me.

    .....

    ¡°Apologies, your highness. I was instructed that you return to bed,¡± Marie tells me softly.

    I narrow my eyes as Augustus and Julian leave the stairway and begin intermingling with the up-anding noble youths of the capital.

    ¡°By who? One of them?¡± I ask. Inside, I feel annoyed at the thought of my older brothers trying to boss around my own maid.

    ¡°No,¡± Marie says, surprising me. ¡°I heard it from one of His Majesty¡¯s men.¡±

    ¡°My father?¡± I exim, patting my chubby cheeks in surprise.

    A few seconds earlier I had seen him suddenly rush down the stairs like a man possessed, the servants barely clearing his path in time as he and a few men disappeared into one of the halls close to thedy¡¯s room. But indeed, a sheepish-looking royal guard member stands not far from where Marie had been.

    ¡°Sir Humphrey,¡± I say, somehow managing to remember his name despite not properly interacting with the royal guard for a few years. Despite all being nobles, the rigors of the military training had humbled and tempered the young men, making them all goodpany when I was able to spend time with them. But with Sir Gregory¡¯s influential position as vice-captain and myself being on the Taylor family¡¯s cklist, there is no way to rectify the spilled ss of burgeoning friendship.

    ¡°Your highness, I was instructed by the captain, Lord Wolfgang to lead you to your quarters in ordance with His Majesty¡¯s will. Your activities for the evening shalle to an end.¡± His quiet voice is difficult to hear over the din of the ballroom.

    ¡°Leave? I just got here!¡± I scoff. I know resisting is futile, but I can¡¯t help but react. I¡¯d hoped to confirm my suspicions, share a fewughs with Elias, and establish tentative rtions with some noble girls while they¡¯re all still young and easy to befriend.

    Sir Humphrey looks flustered, his thin shoulders slightly quivering as if he were afraid. Despite his weaker, birdlike appearance, he is the most powerful archer in the entire division, a single shot of his easily reaching over 100 yards. They call him Humphrey the Eagle-eyed, as his incredible vision and keen senses have also made him a trusted scout.

    ¡°This is what I have been instructed to tell you, your highness,¡± he stammers out.

    I heave a sigh, my lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°I understand. Lead the way.¡±

    But I do not understand at all. Not one bit. I could see Julia still clinging to her mother¡¯s side with her ignorant gaze staring at Augustus with rapture. Julian and Augustus appeared as if their evening was just starting. Despite being the youngest, I just don¡¯t understand why my father would send me away so suddenly with such a bs excuse, considering how I practically stayed up until dawn at the Belfort Castle banquet.

    Did he suddenly grow a conscience and wish to y dad? I¡¯d sooner believe that pigs fly and the sun rises from the west before that. Something stinks, and it¡¯s definitely not the gardens of the imperial pce. I¡¯ve seen for myself howrge gatherings of nobility make the perfect setting for plots to take ce at Belfort Castle. So with that experience under my belt, I¡¯m all the more certain that there have been not one, but several schemes taking ce in conjunction right under my nose.

    I run through a mental roster of any potential people I have who may be able to investigate tonight¡¯s urrences without drawing suspicion to themselves, the thoughts following me through Marie¡¯s aid in undressing me before dispersing into fragments of my dreams. I see my father carrying his sword and ring at someone hidden in the darkness, I hear peopleughing and dancing to the pulse of my heart, and through it all, a pair of amethyst eyes stare down at me from above like a god overseeing its creations.

    The morning forces me to greet a reality I did not wish to facest night, I have no one under my service in the position to get the information I need. The best I have are a few cleaning staff who have permission to clean the ballroom, but whatever scraps they might find won¡¯t give me the answers I need. I need more people, more power. But for that, I need money.

    I instruct the attendant who peeks her head in due to my movements to summon Emma if she was awake, only to hear that Emma has been practicing with her sword for the past hour.

    Shees in without looking as if she¡¯s even broken a sweat, her apron that is tied on hastily confirming what the attendant said. We exchange brief pleasantries, but Emma has never been fond of useless conversation and cuts straight to the chase.

    ¡°Did you summon me for something, your highness?¡± she asks in a tone blunter than her haircut.

    ¡°Ah, yes. Yes, I did,¡± I admit, quickly signaling for the maid who was opening my curtains to exit the bedroom and close the door. Taking a long sip from the ss of water on my nightstand I open my mouth to speak on Emma¡¯s favorite topic.

    ¡°Money. You need it. I need it. I also owe someone a house. What do you say we sneak out of the pce and go over to Lady Arabe¡¯s atelier?¡± I suggest yfully, offering something Emma can¡¯t resist.

    ¡°Yes, your highness. I will ready the disguises,¡± Emma replies like a robot. But there is a spark in her eyes that can¡¯t be hidden. With her fervent love for money, the only man who would ever be able to coax a smile out of stoic Emma is King Midas and he¡¯s just a myth.

    ¡°Oh, and one more thing. I think I saw Janicest night at the ball. Can you speak with our people outside the pce and see if you can find out where she has taken roost?¡± I ask, my voice unconsciously lowering to a whisper. Somehow, I manage not topletely burst outughing at calling the growingwork of street kids ¡°our people¡± like I¡¯m a bigshot mob boss.

    ¡°Janice?¡± Emma disys a rare moment of visible concern, her creasing brows leaving an ill feeling in my chest.

    ¡°What is it?¡± I ask seriously, my yful spirit melting away into nothing.

    Emma looks away ufortably, her shyness only making me more worried.

    ¡°What is it?¡± I repeat.

    ¡°Janice spoke a lot when she was a maid, your highness. She had... high aspirations,¡± Emma admits timidly.

    My golden eyes sh as I read between the lines in an instant. ¡°How high?¡±

    I recall Janice¡¯s cockiness greatly. Although my time at the Rose Pce was littered with many maids who openly and covertly disrespected me, none were as brazen as Janice. It was because they knew, despite then being a powerless and unimportant princess, I still had enough power to do something as simple as fire a maid should they do something worth firing them over.

    There is the saying, a skinny camel is better than a horse.

    It was the only reason why the piranhas dressed as maids swarming around me didn¡¯t dare take a pound of flesh, at least where I could catch them for it. But Janice, in what at the time I had considered dumb foolishness, did not seem to care for the hidden line these maids toed perfectly. She¡¯d arrogantly stomped all over it and got herself fired in specr fashion, only to be weaponized against meter.

    ¡°As high as any woman can go. She flirted with the royal guards who manned the pce. Janice would... slip them notes,¡± Emma¡¯s face was beet red, which was quite adorable despite the circumstances. ¡°She would slip away when she was meant to be working and wander the gardens of the Rose Pce to try to identally run into a knight of the royal guard.¡±

    ¡°How despicable,¡± I mutter under my breath.

    ¡°But when she was drunk e night, I heard her telling a friend how more than anything she wished to marry the emperor one day. She said she dreamt of... peeling the emperor¡¯s shirt off... and... l-licking him up and down like a-¡±

    ¡°I get it! I get it! That¡¯s enough!¡± I wipe away sweat from my forehead, the silence growing more awkward with every second I try to block out what Emma told me. Whether it was in my past life or this life, hearing about your parents as sexual beings still messes with me.

    ¡°So her end goal is my dad, huh?¡± I mutter to myself once the embarrassment has died down and I can process Emma¡¯s words fully.

    I almost want to dismiss Janice¡¯s thoughts as nonsense, but considering how beautiful she is and how my whole existence is literal proof that my father is happy to stray from his loveless marriage, it would be a dumb move on my part. The icy, forced interactions between my father and Empress Katya upon the balcony couldn¡¯t be broken with the strongest ice pick. You can smell the bad blood between them from a mile away. Although it befuddled me in the past why my father still persisted in his miserable marriage with a woman he obviously hates, time and experience have shown me that there is little my father isn¡¯t willing to do for his end goals.

    In order to take advantage of and keep a leash on the Duvernay family, my father was even willing to abandon the memory of his so-called true love and wed Katya Duvernay before a year had closed on the first empress¡¯ funeral.

    A few hourster bring forth the answer I had suspected.

    ¡°The count¡¯s wife died recently?¡± I scoff. Emma exins that it was illness that took out the former Countess Koberg, but considering Janice was secretly moved in days after her passing I doubt that. Having ¡°my people¡± on the streets had its uses in finding out when Janice moved in.

    Months ago, several rich artisans had been summoned to the Koberg residence to create memorabilia to honor his dead wife. However, one of the youths under my employ delivers the paper to a high-end jeweler on the East Bend and he had seen that several of the blueprints for the recently finished designs all had the letter J inscribed on them. He had thought nothing of it however, until Emma had asked if there was any evidence of a woman named Janice living in the Koberg residence.

    Pendants in the shape of the letter J. A ted gold ne with a letter J hanging from the middle. And yet the former Countess Koberg¡¯s name was Meredith.

    I feel nothing but disgust for such a man who would happily take his first wife out of the picture in order to make room for a second. I vaguely recall hearing news about Lady Arabe crafting designs for thete Countess Koberg¡¯s funeral march and at the time had even been impressed by her widowed husband¡¯s dedication. But in the midst of my disgust, a wild thought takes hold of me.

    ¡°The first empress...¡± I muse slowly. ¡°Is there any record as to how she passed?¡±

    ¡°It was a fire, your highness. The Rose Pce you resided in was not the original,¡± Emma states. She doesn¡¯t need to say much else for me to already see the ¡®DUH¡¯ radiating from her eyes, which is fair considering the woman¡¯s death ismon knowledge and a key part of why Augustus¡¯ heart was hard as a rock before he met his beloved ra in the webnovel.

    ¡°No, no, I know that. But was there a written transcript of the events that transpired? I just feel like the timing was weird and convenient,¡± I exin.

    We sit by the babbling pond constructed in a garden meant to pay homage to the wetter marsnds of the east. It also conveniently doubles as a prevention method to any ears trying to listen in on when Emma and I speak about private matters.

    But Emma shakes her head and ruins any hope of learning more of matters in the past whileying the first of many seeds of doubt.

    ¡°All records of the first empress have been destroyed.¡±

    ¡°Destroyed?¡± I gasp out. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°It is said that in his grief the emperor instructed people of the pce to remove all information and evidence about the first empress. He burnt her portraits, banned her poems, forbade servants from speaking her name, and fired all her closest maids. The Rose Pce and the crown prince are all that is left of her,¡± Emma says.

    She shoves a stick in the water and scares away a fish that had been nkly staring at us in anticipation of a feeding that would nevere.

    I snort loudly. ¡°And then he marries another girl in less than a year? Men are trash.¡±

    Emma flicks water off her hands and turns to look at me. ¡°Your highness, do you think he-¡± she whispers before cutting herself off.

    She doesn¡¯t even dare verbalize the thoughts that, if heard by the wrong party, could get her tortured and beheaded before tomorrow¡¯s sunrise. As for me, if I weren¡¯t fortunate enough to escape death due to my aid during the war against the Sarsavalians, I would be disappeared somewhere, never to be seen or heard from anyone again. All records of me would be expunged like the first empress and the pce would release news that I had died of the flux.

    I look away from her as I don¡¯t want the doubt flickering in my golden eyes to be visible. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Emma. I don¡¯t know.¡±

 Chapter 110

    Chapter 110: Ch. 110: No More ygrounds

    As usual, life does not give me the opportunity to roll with the punches. The pretty sunset coloring the ck iron gates and bushes in a dusty gold also serves as a spotlight on the royal guard member standing smack dab in front of the dog hole Emma and I crawled out of to escape the pce.

    The young knight does not look surprised to see us, I¡¯d even wager a guess that he expected to see us. And if he expected to see us, then that means that his presence was my father¡¯s interference. Nheless, I try to y off our sudden meeting casually.

    ¡°Greetings,¡± I say, discreetly handing my bag off to Emma. I pat down the skirt of the rough dress I have on as he answers in a curt manner.

    ¡°Your highness.¡±

    ¡°Are you on duty today, Sir...¡± I ask, fishing for a name.

    ¡°Sir Remboldt.¡± He is tall and foreboding, a man who cannot be reasoned with.

    But his presence in one singr spot, a keen difference from the usual rotation of the guards has me on high alert even as I continue to speak calmly.

    .....

    ¡°Are you on duty today, Sir Remboldt?¡±

    ¡°Yes. As I shall be every day from now on,¡± The knight says, his underlying message clear. No more sneaking out of the pce for me. Not today. Not ever.

    ¡°Oh.¡± I have nothing else to say in response.

    ¡°His Majesty has a word for you, princess.¡± Sir Remboldt says, stern eyes looking down at me from above. It¡¯s almost as if my father is speaking through him as he continues, ¡°To leave the imperial pce without supervision is very dangerous and unwise. Please go through the proper channels in the future should you wish to leave the premises.¡±

    He sets a heavy hand on his sword, the unfriendliness in his tone and bodynguage crystal clear.

    In my ears, his words, and by extension my father¡¯s words, sounds like a threat. My mouth presses into a thin line and I¡¯m no longer in the mood to exchange false pleasantries, turning my back to Sir Remboldt as I stalk back to the central pce.

    We only make a short pitstop to change back into our clothes, however for all of Emma¡¯s talents, hair is not one of them so the hairstyle Marie did for me is reced with a simple braid.

    ¡°That asshole really wants to put me under house arrest, huh? Little old me.¡± I scoff angrily under my breath, the braid bouncing furiously in tune with every heavy step.

    ¡°Do you hear that, Emma?¡± I ask as we round the familiar bend I just passed eagerly a few minutes ago, ready to finally capitalize on a key investment.

    ¡°Hear what, your highness?¡± Emma replies readily.

    ¡°A key turning in the lock. I¡¯m being locked inside a cage. A pretty one, but it¡¯s a cage anyhow,¡± I tell her. My anger rushes out of me like a flood. I¡¯m not quite sure what I feel anymore. It¡¯s not fury. It¡¯s not sorrow. But whatever it is, all I know is that it is nothing good.

    Do you know the feeling of not knowing you had something until it¡¯s lost? I poignantly remember a time in myte high school years, right around when I was applying to colleges. As I started filling out the many forms for schrships, financial aid, and all the tiresome minutiae that apanies the American college experience, I had suddenly thought about ygrounds.

    When was thest time I had gone to one? Was it sometime in middle school, before all of us had collectively thought being tweens made us too cool to y on them? I¡¯d felt at a loss right there at my desk, the looming future of adulthood making me keenly miss the yground I¡¯d once taken for granted. Now that the small window I had taken great advantage of to sneak out of the pce is gone, I feel stifled, locked in the life of a true princess. This is what I¡¯d wanted. To be treated like and seen as a princess. But I already know I¡¯m going to miss the feeling of wandering the streets

    ¡°Ah!¡± I yelp, tripping over a loose stone andnding hard on my hands. I feel mes burst in my palm, but it¡¯s not a break. Blood peeks through the shallowly torn flesh, small beads that swell in size before gravity pulls them towards the ground. I stare at it silently, the pain barely registering. I¡¯ve felt much worse before.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± Emma yells. She helps me stand up and before I can dissuade her from it, tears a generous swath of her underskirt to wrap around my palm.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be alright,¡± she says, looking me in my eye. I know she isn¡¯t just talking about my injury, but I just nod obediently.

    Emma takes charge right away, transforming from a follower to a leader. She barks at the footmen who wait outside the entrance to the central pce, then bullies a maid into rushing to the imperial physician department. By the time I¡¯ve arrived at my apartments, a few maids holding bowls of water and clean rags are waiting patiently beside Nina.

    Nina, who is in charge of the logistics of my care, immediately orders a maid to start wiping away blood and pebbles from my hand so that the wound doesn¡¯t get infected. The imperial physician is rushed in during this time, carrying a kit and taking over the scene.

    ¡°Help her highness lean back on the bed, I shall heal her,¡± he orders after bowing respectfully to me. Someone takes off my shoes and I¡¯m reclined on top of my covers as the physician rolls up the sleeve of my dress to take a good look at my injury.

    ¡°It¡¯s just the skin, thankfully. This shall go by quickly,¡± the physician says, setting a practiced hand on top of mine and closing his eyes.

    I think of thest time an imperial physician tried to heal me, their magic seeming mostly ineffective on my person. This is experience starts of rtively the same. There is a calming green light and faint music. Over the years, I¡¯vee toprehend that I also have the talent to see all kinds of magic as long as it bears some rtion to the god, Helio.

    This time, the results are even more dismal than the first time. The imperial physician¡¯s forehead first screws up in concentration, creating even more lines on his wrinkled forehead. Then I can even see beads of sweat begin to form at his temple. He capittes in the 7th minute with an apologetic look.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m dreadfully sorry, your highness. I can go get my colleague to give your wound a try.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no need,¡± I say, waving away his idea. ¡°Just bandage it as you would any wound. You do receive training for that, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course. We cannot heal every injury, especially the more serious ones. But the smaller ones such as yours tend to go smoothly,¡± he says, his forehead once again bing more lined than notebook paper.

    I look away, a thousand thoughts going through my head. For their magic to be even more ineffective against me, I can only assume the recent awakening of my abilities is the root cause. It¡¯s like using a lighter to try and put out a fire, utterly pointless. There is great irony in how I can heal any injury, no matter how severe, save for my own. However, the gravity of the potential situations isn¡¯t lost upon me. Should any attempt be made on my life, I will be 100% screwed. But hey, that¡¯s nothing new at this point.

    ¡°Want to sign it?¡± I ask Emma yfully as I wave my bandaged hand in her face.

    She gives me her typical stony stare and says nothing as she is fond of doing when I make modern references she doesn¡¯t understand.

    ¡°Thankfully, it¡¯s just my useless hand that was injured. Emma, do bring me some pen and paper. I¡¯m going to invite Lady Arabe to the pce,¡± I tell Emma as I head to my writing desk.

    And at the bottom of the letter, I sign it not with my name, but with Pandora.

 Chapter 111

    Chapter 111: Ch. 111: One House for Sale

    [PLS READ AUTHOR¡¯S NOTE FOR CLARIFICATION ON HOW NAMES WILL WORK FROM NOW ON]

    Lady Arabe Westmont Berrick arrives at the imperial pce at half past noon. She is dressed smart, but subdued. A muted gray skirt with a starched white blouse, and only a yellow brooch at her neck. It reminds me of Ms. Laroche, which feels wrong for a young woman in the zenith of her youth.

    It feels weird to observe Lady Westmont. Physically, she is far older than me at her 21 yearspared to my 8. But on the inside, I¡¯m only a year away from a very jaded 30 years of age. She brings one assistant who carries a briefcase, her eyes shining as she takes in the finery of the central pce. But even the light in her eyes cannot wipe away the sadness that hides deep within them. The poor girl¡¯s marriage must be taking its toll on her.

    For first-time onlookers, the central pce truly is splendid. It is very easy to forget. But when I look at the world through Lady Westmont¡¯s eyes before her assistant nudges her to curtsey, everything truly is fit for a princess.

    ¡°Y-Your Highness,¡± she squeaks out, before looking up and gasping. ¡°It really is you!¡±

    I give Emma a look and she shoos out everyone else in the sitting room except for Arabe and I.

    I crack a weak smile and say, ¡°Pandora, at your service.¡±

    .....

    Lady Arabe connects the dots very quickly. ¡°It was you who invested in me back then so I could open my shop. I- thank you!¡± she says in a flustered manner. ¡°We¡¯ve already received over 100 orders just this morning alone. The amount sheer amount of fabric we shall order will keep the workers at the mill well-fed through the winter.¡±

    ¡°Your wee. But I¡¯d halve the orders if I were you, Lady Westmont. Maybe even just do a quarter of them,¡± I tell Arabe, remembering to address her by her maiden name rather than her hated marriedst name.

    ¡°Pardon, your highness?¡± Lady Westmont blinks rapidly, her hands rubbing together as she must fear she has done something.

    ¡°You just designed the dress of the empress. If you were to now make the dress of every woman in this town with a bit of coin and fashion sense wouldn¡¯t that cheapen your brand in the long run?¡±

    My point has merit and Lady Arabe nods slowly.

    ¡°Oh! I never thought of it that way. As always, your business insight has been most helpful. If I could repay you by crafting some dresses for you to wear, it would be my greatest honor, your highness,¡± Lady Arabe says with a shy smile.

    I wave her gratitude away. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me just yet. Perhaps I should apologize to you instead.¡±

    Arabe looks shocked, shaking her head so quickly her chocte updo threatens toe undone. ¡°Never! Without your valuable aid these past years, I may have lost my family home or be trapped at my... husband¡¯s residence.¡± Her cheeks turn splotchy and her voice carries heavy emotions as she presumably recalls how I witnessed her breakdown in the shop. ¡°You are the only soul who has shown me any care since I was orphaned. If- If there is anything you require of me, I would be happy to fulfill it. I have even brought a gift, which my assistant currently carries, to show you my sincerity.¡±

    Lady Arabe¡¯s words are valiant, I can see a hint of her father¡¯s famed loyalty shining within her. We are not so different, Arabe and I. We both have impressive fathers, hers going frommoner to one of the most famous knights to exist while mine went from bastard son to the ruler of the empire. But while in other¡¯s eyes we are living blessed lives, only we truly know how much we struggle to stay afloat.

    ¡°By inviting you here, I¡¯ve brought the empress¡¯ scrutiny upon you. It may invite more... trouble... to your marriage,¡± I exin further, waiting to see how she will process the information.

    Perhaps the only progressive thing about this era is how free women are allowed to work alongside men, although as a status symbol wealthier women and noblewomen do not. A husband could be taken to court for preventing his wife from earning her own keep outside, provided it was awful upation, so Sir Jasper Berrick technically can¡¯t stop Lady Westmont from conducting her now sessful business.

    But like all rules andws, there are loopholes if you look hard enough, not to mention Arabe currently lives at the Berrick estate within the capital now that she has wed him. He doesn¡¯t need to stop her from going to work if he can impregnate her. Thew has a stiption that if a husband didn¡¯t want his wife to work because she was pregnant with his child, he could keep her at home. Or on a more sinister note, if Sir Jasper poisoned Lady Westmont so she was too weak to leave his family residence, he could prevent her from working in this way.

    Ever since I acquired my abilities and have risen in importance, I have understood that any who interact with me would be under scrutiny. This scrutiny wouldn¡¯t be daunting for the noble daughters whose powerful families were never in line with the Empress or the Duvernay family, but for an orphaned newlywed, such scrutiny could take off ayer of skin.

    I knew this perfectly well when I wrote a letter to Lady Westmont, but I sent it to her anyway, knowing that the name Pandora would draw her here like a fish to bait. Was it selfish? Yes. So now, I give her the choice to see what she will do with such information.

    ¡°Her Majesty was very kind to me when I designed and fitted her dress for the ball,¡± Arabe begins to say slowly. I feel my heart sink as I suspect her choice, but try not to let it show on my face. ¡°Kind enough to bestow me such a wonderful marriage. I am eternally grateful to her for the blessing.¡±

    A half-chuckle bursts out of me before my small hand moves to cover my mouth. I¡¯m pleased and displeased. Pleased that Arabe did not fall for the Empress¡¯ impable charm. But displeased when I see the glint of something sinister in her eye. It feels unfair of me to take advantage of her sharp dislike for the mother of the empire to corral her to my side, especially after revealing my secret identity to her as her benefactor.

    But that doesn¡¯t stop me. I extend a hand out to Lady Westmont, her mouth in an adorable O before she realizes she must reciprocate.

    ¡°I won¡¯t ask for a lot, just that you have faith in me no matter what I may ask you to do. If you aid me well, I¡¯ll see to getting your marriage dissolved without any consequence falling upon you,¡± I tell Arabe, her palm warm in my own. Unlike most nobledies and higher-ranking maids, there are cocoons in her palms since she actually works in her couture shop.

    ¡°Like what... your highness?¡± Lady Westmont squeaks nervously. Why do I suddenly feel like the big bad wolf?

    I give her the most friendly smile I can muster. ¡°How would you like to be a free, divorced woman without the empress or the Berrick family being able to do anything about it?¡±

    Divorced women often receive a lot of ck on Erudian society. It always reflects poorly on the former wife: Why didn¡¯t she please her husband? Why couldn¡¯t she fulfill her wifely duties? Nonsense like that makes me want to puke.

    But Lady Westmont may be one of the few women who would burst into joyousughter at the idea.

    I¡¯ve been making a lot of promises. Maybe too many. But when I allow everyone outside to filter back in and Lady Westmont presents me with her gift, I smile because one of them has been fulfilled.

    Stacked up neatly, the shiny paper as crisp as a dor bill, are stacks of golden tickets. 50 gold tickets. 5,000 gold coins. More than double my initial investment. I can only imagine how much she earned from designed my nominal mother¡¯s dress alone.

    ¡°This is too much, Lady Westmont!¡± It¡¯s an unexpected gift. But very wee. I¡¯ve just got enough tact to do the typical song and dance of rejecting a gift before epting it.

    ¡°Please, I insist,¡± Lady Westmont says as she measures me out for a fewplimentary dresses. She murmurs some numbers to her assistant, who writes them down in her notebook.

    Arabe looks far more steady now than she did when she walked in. Is this what having an end goal does? Ever since I¡¯ve made taking the empress down my ultimate goal since she made me whip her maid, I¡¯ve been sleeping better than before. I¡¯m not running away anymore. In fact, I can¡¯t run away anymore, my father has made sure of that. So I have no choice but to keep moving forward and pursue the best option for myself.

    Not as Maria.

    Not as Winter from the slums.

    But as Her Highness, Princess Winter Royberg de Erudian.

    After painfully parting with a little over half of my newfound wealth to secretly buy a house in a quiet neighborhood on the outer edge of the impoverished West Bend, I let out a loud breath as I fulfill the promise that has been eating away at me ever since I¡¯ve returned from the war.

    It¡¯s two stories but incredibly wide, a former factory transformed into housing units ording to the deed I still have in hand.

    ¡°Was he mad?¡± I ask Emma yfully as she returns from outside. Unlike me, Emma doesn¡¯t need Julian¡¯s charity or a doghole under a gate in order to leave, she can go whenever she likes as long as her mistress grants her permission to leave or it¡¯s her rest day. And I¡¯ve known Emma long enough to know that she takes the right precautions to ensure that she won¡¯t get caught... unless she wants to be.

    ¡°He was upset I allowed for us to be seen by the queen¡¯s men like you instructed. And he was angry that you kept the deed to the house, your highness. He said he doesn¡¯t care for whatever games you have to y,¡± Emma informs me.

    I burst out in loudughter at the ambitious kid¡¯sints. ¡°When he asked for a house, he never explicitly asked to own it. If Jack is so clever, he should have thought of that loophole. Besides, it¡¯s for his own good. Tell him I¡¯m going to make that property into an orphanage. It would be too odd for a gang of children to live on their own in a house. He can carry out his business in secrecy with a proper front.¡±

    Emma shes a rare, wry grin. I blink at her like a deer in headlights, wondering what I could have said that was so amusing.

    ¡°What?¡± I whine petntly. I grab her hand and tug her onto the bed.

    ¡°It¡¯s just... Clever Jack said the same thing as you,¡± Emma exins.

    ¡°He did?¡±

    ¡°He said that since it was officially his, you would have no problem with him turning it into an orphanage to use as a cover. He just expects monthly expenses to be paid off if you have any expectations of using his services.¡±

    ¡°Presumptuous,¡± I mutter under my breath.

    ¡°Also since he¡¯s now been involved in the n you have regarding the empress, Clever Jack said he expects this month¡¯s expenses to be covered to start with,¡± Emma finishes.

    A wave of familiar anger rises in my belly. I¡¯m already having shbacks to Clever Jack¡¯s annoying smirk and smart aleckments from the worst road trip I¡¯ve ever been on.

    ¡°Ugh! That little brat! He¡¯s going to bleed me dry!¡± I wail. My feeling of getting one up on that kid goes down the drain as he¡¯s already giving me tit for tat. He¡¯s good. To the point that I¡¯m a little embarrassed with my several more years of experience, he was able to carve out benefits for himself. But I¡¯d seen it on my perilous flee to the west, how much greed and ambition brimmed below the surface of Clever Jack.

    I flop back onto my pillows, my ears hearing the ka-ching of more money leaving my wallet. I¡¯ve scarcely been able to enjoy what little wealth I¡¯ve earned before someone hase to bleed me dry. And with the hungry gaze in Emma¡¯s eyes, I know that I will be short a few more shares before the night is over.

    ¡°Oh. He said that if youin, you¡¯ll never find someone else in the city who does what he does. He said... that he looks forward to the partnership.¡± Emma sets the final nail in the coffin, which hurts the most because Jack isn¡¯t wrong.

    It¡¯s been an open secret that the source who connects Emma to our work¡± on the streets is Jack. I don¡¯t ask, she doesn¡¯t tell me. But both of us know it nheless.

    ¡°Emma, whose side are you on?¡± I use her bitterly. I fling a pillow at her but she ducks with ease.

    ¡°Yours, of course, your highness,¡± Emma replies, batting her innocent eyes at me.

    I think Emma is starting to pick up some of my bad habits.

 Chapter 112

    Chapter 112: Ch. 112: Busted

    Impervious of the spider¡¯s web his daughter was slowly building to entrap his wife, Emperor Helio stood on the balcony with his hands sped behind his back. Trained footsteps belying an extensive training background echoed behind him.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Harold said, ¡°The Lord Protector has arrived at the pce.¡±

    ¡°Bring him in,¡± Emperor Helio ordered indifferently, not shifting from his position.

    But Harold did not leave just yet. ¡°He has brought his son as well,¡± the faithful aide added.

    This time, the emperor cast one look over his shoulder.

    ¡°Theme one?¡± he asked bluntly.

    ¡°Ah yes. The one that uses a wheelchair, Your Majesty,¡± Harold replied.

    .....

    Hearing this, the emperor lost immediate interest. But on ount of his oldest friend, he added, ¡°Make sure hees to no ident in the pce.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty.¡±

    The door to his office closed, only to open again minutester.

    ¡°Hakon.¡± The emperor tucked his hands into his pocket as he turned around to face the Lord Protector of the North and the only man impervious to his killing aura.

    ¡°Old friend.¡± Hakon Wolfe strolled forward, circumventing the desk to reach the emperor. ¡°How has the empire been treating you?¡±

    Hearing how little the Lord Protector¡¯s voice had changed over the years, a small grin sprouted on the emperor¡¯s face, an utter rarity that would give anyone at the pce used to his stony visage a heart attack.

    They both shook hands,paring grip strength with enough power to snap a tree in half. Seeing that the other hadn¡¯t weakened over the years, they let go to a tentative truce.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t changed a bit,¡± Emperor Helio chuckled.

    ¡°I could say the same. How long has it been?¡± the Lord Protector mused.

    ¡°Since the wedding.¡± The emperor did not need to distinguish between which wedding he spoke of, after all, only one had ever mattered to him.

    The thin smile on the Lord Protector¡¯s face faded. ¡°Yes, since the wedding. And yet the old problems from back then still linger.¡±

    The day everything Emperor Helio had ever wanted in life had been within his grasp, and one of thest few happy ones before the facade had crumbled.

    ¡°Old problems?¡± he asked, blocking histe wife¡¯s face from his mind to focus on the present.

    ¡°Your old advisor. I thought you¡¯d killed him,¡± the Lord Protector remarked.

    ¡°He¡¯s a roach. Difficult to kill.¡± The emperor¡¯s face ckened with dark memories. Even after he¡¯d made his deal with Akira, Lord Bromely still proved to have roots buried too deep for him to uproot all at once.

    ¡°Well, your roach has braved the cold run up north and be my problem. It¡¯s hard to figure out his movements, but they are suggesting he may be trying to contact someone on the Old Continent,¡± Hakon was not one to beat around the bush, quickly getting to the heart of the matter.

    Emperor Helio bit back a grimace, a thousand secrets shing through his eyes. Secrets were currency for kings, treasures for emperors. The one that Lord Bromely was trying to dig up, it was the kind that brought down empires. The kind that even the lord before him did not know the full extent of, or the emperor would have to get rid of him.

    ¡°And here I¡¯d thought you just came to say hello to an old friend.¡±

    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª-

    ¡°Your Highness! Princess!¡±

    Maids were scattered throughout the royal gardens, frantically peeking under bushes and searching high and low for me.

    But they¡¯re out of luck.

    The gardens are thest ce I¡¯d hide to stay out of sight. I brush off a little moss and dirt from my dark-colored skirts as I peer at the tall Eastern trees at the center of the pce. A boy in a wheelchair sits alone in front before the uprooted patch of forestry, just as Emma had reported. Recalling how he¡¯dmented on the trees thest time we spoke at the Celebration Ball, I simply chalk it up to a youthful fascination with such strange-looking trees.

    The bark is a pale greenish-brown as if the color has been leached from it. And it¡¯s not just the bark, both the leaves and the small flowers that only bloom during spring simrlyck vibrant color. Catching one¡¯s eyes at the most unlikely of times, I have even found myself staring aimlessly at the strange forest on asion.

    ¡°Elias?¡± I call out tentatively. He swivels around rapidly, his face stony and eyes narrowed. But when they focus on me, Elias¡¯ face lightens tremendously and his goofy smile that I¡¯m used to sprouts on his face. I smooth down invisible wrinkles on my clothes and approach, very much looking like a student in my dark full skirt and white blouse.

    However, I can admit that I¡¯ve failed as a student, having snuck out of one of Mrs. Laroche¡¯s stuffy lectures after receiving a secret note from Emma. How on earth did I miss having her as an etiquette teacher? She¡¯s even worse than my college professor who spent every two-hour ss monotonously lecturing us on long-dead philosophers.

    ¡°Your highness-¡± Elias starts to say in a chipper voice.

    I¡¯ve already reached him, pressing a finger to his mouth with a threatening expression. ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you not to bother with formalities? Just call me Winter, silly!¡±

    ¡°Summer,¡± Elias says warmly with a fat grin.

    ¡°Winter!¡± I scold.

    ¡°Autumn,¡± He counters. I cross my arms and pout, my bottom lip sticking out. Why does he sound more and more like Clever Jack, who always irritates me every time he opens his mouth?

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Elias cooed, although he doesn¡¯t look very sorry to me. But he¡¯s just a kid having fun, after all.

    ¡°Don¡¯t sweat it. Erm, I mean... don¡¯t fret about such matters. I know it was all in jest.¡± I cannot lie, making my speech formal for this era can be quite difficult, even after years here.

    I spy movement out of the corner of my eye and dive behind Elias¡¯ wheelchair before my mind registers my body¡¯s movement. It was all in good time too. I see a maid from the central pce try to look under the hedge I¡¯d wiggled under to reach Elias, although she¡¯s much taller and finding it considerably more difficult. She toils for only a few seconds before throwing in the towel and disappearing back to her side.

    I let out a loud breath, dragging myself back to a standing position while Elias watches the whole exchange with an invisible bag of popcorn in his hands.

    ¡°Hiding from someone?¡±

    ¡°You could say that,¡± I acknowledge, embarrassingly still out of breath. ¡°But who cares about me? Why are you here?¡±

    It is quite surprising to find Elias all alone and unattended within the pce. Those who can enter the pce must be of noble descent and have an invitation from one of the masters in the pce. I can think of no reason for my father, mother, or brothers to summon a still young Elias to the imperial pce.

    ¡°My father is here,¡± Elias says as an exnation. He jerks his head towards the central pce, where my father eats, works, and ignores my existence when he isn¡¯t gvanting off to conquer or fight outside of the pce. Do I sound bitter? I¡¯m really not trying to be.

    ¡°Ah... your father. He¡¯s...?¡± I snap my fingers, trying to remember who Elias¡¯ father was from the webnovel. But remembering details of a character who really was at most mentioned in passing after reading the book years ago is as difficult as it sounds.

    ¡°He¡¯s the Lord Protector of the Northern Territories,¡± Elias says helpfully. A rarely mentioned character who is powerful, albeit very far removed from the power games of the capital. It¡¯s no wonder I couldn¡¯t recall him. Hailing from one of the original founding Houses though, House Wolfe, the Lord Protector is not someone to be so quickly dismissed.

    ¡°Yes, of course. The Lord Protector. I knew that. Do you know why your father¡¯s here?¡± My curiosity gets the best of me. My father has famously had a detached stance concerning noble families, using them as he sees fit and then dumping them like an asshole boyfriend. If it weren¡¯t for his strong military power and presence, perhaps Emperor Helio¡¯s seat on the throne would be far more precarious than it is now without much noble support.

    ¡°They¡¯re friends. Very good friends.¡± In thest sentence, Elias adorably whispers as if he doesn¡¯t want anyone else to hear.

    ¡°Friends?¡± I muse, rubbing my chin. This was never mentioned in the webnovel. But it¡¯s fascinating nheless. With one of the original Houses firmly in his corner, it¡¯s no wonder House Duvernay¡¯s growing power hasn¡¯t unsettled him yet. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know what it is they are speaking of?¡±

    It¡¯s a shot in the dark, my question. But surprisingly, Elias has an answer.

    ¡°The Old Continent,¡± he tells me, wagging his fingers in the air with mystique.

    The Old Continent is to the Erudian Empire what Persia and India were to Victorian Ennd. And of oriental mystery with traditions, fables, and practices far different from our own. It had obtained its name due to the fact that thendmass the empire and neighboring kingdoms were located on had split off several eons ago from the original continent. I pat my hair unconsciously, the fact that my mother had been of descent from the Old Continenting to mind instantly. It couldn¡¯t be that they had met to discuss something rted to me, could it?

    ¡°You¡¯ve heard the rumors, haven¡¯t you? That my mother was from the Old Continent?¡± I ask Elias rather directly.

    Noting his shy expression and the way he looked down at the ground, I know I¡¯ve poked at the truth.

    ¡°I try not to. My nursemaid told me that listening to rumors will make flowers grow out of your ears,¡± Elias murmurs sheepishly.

    ¡°Well, don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s true,¡± I tell him point-nk. One of the few facts ever mentioned about thete Princess Winter in the webnovel was that her mother was from the Old Continent, thus exining her shockingly white locks.

    ¡°That¡¯s not a bad thing, is it? Why don¡¯t you look happy?¡± Elias asks me.

    I shrug, taking a second to string my words together. ¡°I¡¯m not unhappy per se. It¡¯s just weird not knowing my heritage. And when that heritage is just another reason for people to dislike you...¡±

    My words trail off but the message is clear. In myst life, I was a proud Latina and knew it. Speaking Spanish with my mom, watching ser (football) with my cousins, and eating dishes that had been well seasoned make up many of the warm memories I reflect on when I¡¯m all alone in bed at night. But here, my deceased motheres from another country with a lukewarm reception in the empire that no one really seems to know anything concrete about.

    It¡¯s just another can of worms that¡¯s going to explode in my face one day, I can already feel it. Even if Peppermint can¡¯t meddle with the plot anymore, I¡¯m still cursed with bad luck.

    ¡°But your father, he doesn¡¯t dislike you for it, isn¡¯t that right? After all, he weed you into the family when he found you,¡± Elias reasoned. I can¡¯t even get annoyed with the question as I see his pure, round eyes peering up at me.

    ¡°You would think so, right? But no, sometimes things aren¡¯t what they seem. Honestly, if I didn¡¯t have my healing abilities... I would be dead by now. They saved me,¡± I give my hands a reverent look before a thought urs to me. ¡°Wait! Let me try to heal you!¡±

    I grin at Elias, my heart overflowing with excitement but it¡¯s like we¡¯ve switched positions. Elias has a rather grown-up expression on his face, disappointment.

    ¡°You don¡¯t want me to try?¡± My hands that were about to pounce on his legs still in their path.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that.¡± Elias shakes his head, his tone bitter. ¡°But I¡¯ve met hundreds of doctors. All of them have told me that I will never be able to walk on my own.¡±

    ¡°Maybe my hands will be different,¡± I say humbly. In actuality, my hands are the stuff of legends, miracle workers, a divine gift perhaps from Helio. After healing all sorts of gruesome injuries, I have utmost faith in my ability to heal others.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± he says in acquiescence. Seeing his silent eptance I quicklyy my hands on his thighs only for nothing to happen.

    There is no golden light, nor is there any remnant of breakfast shooting up my throat. It¡¯s as if I were touching my own flesh, the only person who I cannot heal. Until now.

    ¡°You have got to be kidding me,¡± I mutter in my breath in lieu of letting out a frustrated scream.

    Someone pats me lightly on my shoulder, I see Elias giving me a look of pity and it crushes me briefly when I recall my overwhelming pride seconds ago.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± My voice is so small it sounds like a mouse. ¡°I don¡¯t know how it- I don¡¯t know why I can¡¯t...¡±

    ¡°It is something I was born with, my burden to bear for life. Be at ease, I have long be ustomed to life in this chair. Besides, your healing hands probably do not work only because this is a congenital defect,¡± Elias says valiantly, his ss half full mindset standing out.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I say, not certain if his words ring true or if he¡¯s justforting me. But he is very kind for the effort. ¡°How long will you be here?¡±

    ¡°As long as my father deems fit. He shall return north without me,¡± Elias tells me.

    ¡°Without you? As in, he will leave you behind in Radovalsk?¡±

    ¡°Precisely. We will be able to y together if you¡¯d like.¡± Elias looks forlorn in his wheelchair, but attempts to put on a brave face when discussing how his own dad will leave him behind in the dust.

    ¡°But, what about your mother? Surely she would object to you being away from home for so long?¡± I insist, trying to dig up how the Lord Protector could be so callous to his own son.

    .....

    Since this is an era still caught up in buggies and carriages, traveling anywhere is an ordeal. I know enough about the Erudian Empire¡¯s terrain that if one doesn¡¯t travel north before it¡¯s too cold, they¡¯ll be caught in the ensuing snowstorms and terrible weather. So if Elias doesn¡¯t return north with his father, he won¡¯t be able to return home until early summer next year at the earliest.

    ¡°My mother¡¯s dead. She died giving birth to me. And then I came outme.¡± Elias¡¯ short answer paints a clear picture.

    ¡°Ah...¡± I draw out the long syble. Elias has always been so self-aware for his age. Turns out, just like me, he had to be. ¡°So you¡¯re like me.¡±

    My father and his father must truly be friends, as neglecting their kids seems to be a pastime hobby of both.

    ¡°I¡¯m like you, but you still have a chance. I don¡¯t think your father hates you. Perhaps he¡¯s just bad at expressing it,¡± Elias pleads with me.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that is very much not the case,¡± I say, rolling my eyes.

    ¡°You can¡¯t say that. Didn¡¯t he move you to live closer with him after the war? That means he cares!¡± Out of nowhere, Elias¡¯ good-natured appeal starts pushing all my buttons.

    ¡°Listen, Elias. Even if somehow in a million years the emperor had a speck of love for me, I wouldn¡¯t care. Do you want to know why?¡± I ask as sweetly as possible.

    ¡°Because I hate him! I HATE MY DAD, OK? And that will never change.¡± I take a deep breath after my sudden outburst only to feel that we aren¡¯t alone anymore. Elias¡¯ expression is frozen in half panic half fear and when I turn around, thest person I¡¯d ever want to hear my words stands before me.

    Emperor Helio and Lord Protector Wolfe, who were perhaps walking toe see Elias, both stand in front of me, their expressions betraying the fact that they heard me loud and clear.

 Chapter 113

    Chapter 113: [Bonus chapter]Ch. 113: A New ssmate

    Birds tweet in the distance. It¡¯s early fall, the weather warrants a light jacket at best but my blood runs cold. The light perspiration still clinging to my face feels like icicles upon my flesh.

    Elias breaks the silence first. ¡°Your Majesty. F-Father.¡±

    I also curtsey. ¡°Father.¡±

    They both just nod. There¡¯s an awkward silence, which is understandable considering what I just yelled out.

    I gulp. ¡°I¡¯mte for my lessons so I shall return. Good day,¡± I say, ready to beat a hasty retreat and go freak out in peace. But life, as usual, has other ns for me.

    ¡°Winter. Stay,¡± The emperor says curtly. It¡¯s so strange, hearing my name from his mouth. Such a rarity.

    I turn around and look at my father withplicated eyes. I also look down at Elias, who¡¯s doing his best impression of a statue. I can¡¯t me him. The Lord Protector of the Northern Territories looks as unfriendly as his name would suggest.

    .....

    His mouth cuts across his face like a knife, heavily hooded eyes giving him a rugged look that has clearly seen many ugly things. His mean mug is reminiscent of my father¡¯s, birds of a feather really do flock together. They are a clear blue, a sharp difference from Elias¡¯ vivid purple gaze, but they both have the same sandy-colored locks. Heavy furs adorn the cloak the towering lord wears, reminding me very much of a bear.

    ¡°I think I¡¯d rather not,¡± I say after observing the Lord Protector¡¯s appearance.

    Without wasting a second I rush to the hedge I crawled through initially and disappear through it. This time unlike a little over two years ago, no fearsome hand moves to drag me back, so I make haste in returning back to my lessons.

    I make a good show of appearing behind underneath a rose bush and giggling as if I were ying a childish game of hide and seek.

    ¡°Haha, none of you could find me! I win!¡± I yell as I burst out. All the attendants and maids who were looking for me collectively let out a breath, save for one perplexed one.

    ¡°I could¡¯ve sworn I¡¯d already looked there...¡± I see Nina scratching at her head.

    ¡°You just didn¡¯t look hard enough I suppose. Now quickly, let¡¯s all go inside.¡± I usher every in as speedily as possible, asionally throwing nces over my shoulder. But my father doesn¡¯t seem like the type to send guards after me just because I ran off so rudely. I think.

    All the while, I¡¯m scolding myself. Rushing off like that was stupid. Reckless. Dumb.

    But a teeny, tiny part of myself is feeling incredibly satisfied. She also takes a seat however when I walk back to my drawing room to a scowling Ms. Laroche. I smile sheepishly, but she does not look pleased with the fact I snuck off while she was speaking.

    ¡°Hand.¡± She holds a familiar ruler. But unlike Empress Katya, her blows to my palm barely sting. This leaves time for me to think of how I basically just told my dad to his face that I hate him.

    And it kind of feels good.

    ¡°Is something funny, your highness?¡± Ms. Laroche asks stiffly as she puts away the ruler and pulls out the little book she¡¯d been dictating from.

    ¡°No. Not at all,¡± I say obediently, dying inside as the lecture on Erudian history that I¡¯ve already read about continues.

    No onees for me after lessons. Nor after lunch. Even as I take an evening bath and put on my nightgown, Emma just shakes her head at the silent question in my eyes. No one.

    ¡°What are you looking for, your highness?¡± Marie asks as she undoes my hair for the evening, the brush running through my hair in slow,forting motions. She can see my skittish eyes through the vanity mirror.

    ¡°My father.¡± I chuckle at the ridiculousness of my words after I¡¯ve said them aloud.

    A look of sympathy crosses Marie¡¯s face before she hides it. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s thinking of you too, your highness.¡±

    I snort, too tired to tell the truth both she and I already know. But the following morning, when I dress up in a schrly outfit once again, I am greeted with the surprise of a lifetime in the drawing room.

    The drawing room, a fancy term for a living room, has a few lion w sofas at the center where I sit while Ms. Laroche lectures from her books, shows me proper etiquette, and on asion brings out a table for me to practice eating properly as I apparently hold my cutlery ¡°like a savage¡±. Ma¡¯am, I can¡¯t help it, my right hand is almost disabled. I¡¯ve already had to master writing with my left hand.

    But today, an extra chair sits in the corner. Seated upon it is my father, leaning casually upon the seat and staring. I nearly jump out of my skin, stumbling in my path to the sofa. Emma steadies my arm and then looks warily at where my father is sat as she curtseys deeply towards him.

    ¡°Your Majesty.¡± Mrs. Laroche also bows deeply towards my father, the typical teacher¡¯s malice briefly going into hiding as she gives a model curtsey.

    She carries on with the lesson as if we are the only ones in the room after, but my father is the literal elephant in the room. An elephant who keeps appearing again. And again. And again.

    The initial surrealness of finding the emperor, who also happens to be my dad, sitting in the corner of the room like a school administrator observing a ss has faded. As I diligently learn about Erudian philosophers and which gloves suit which asion, I¡¯m learning things about him that I never wanted to learn, like the fact he drinks straight ck tea without any milk or sugar in the mornings like a psychopath. Or that, whenever I get an answer correct, he¡¯ll dip his head in a small nod.

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand. It¡¯s just so weird to have him in there!¡± Iin. It¡¯s a few weeks after I let out that bold statement and Elias has be a pce mainstay since then. The leaves have fallen from the trees and I cannot go outside without a heavy outer coat. ¡°I can hardly focus. Emma, you saw it too! Wasn¡¯t it weird?¡±

    Emma nods helpfully, her short bob bouncing.

    ¡°See?¡± I insist. ¡°I thought he was going to kill me discreetly, but this is worse.¡±

    Elias has a strange smile on his face. ¡°Everyday?¡± he repeats.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I say in exasperation. ¡°Did you not hear me?¡±

    ¡°No, no. I heard you. Your father takes time out of his morning to personally watch your lessons,¡± Elias said, twisting my tale around so it sounded like the emperor was some doting father.

    ¡°Do you even learn anything? You¡¯re always free when I call you to the pce,¡± I ask usingly in the face of his weird cheerfulness.

    ¡°I have a private tutor,¡± Elias exins frankly.

    I cross my arms. ¡°Well, how would you feel if your dad sat in the room and breathed down your neck while your private tutor taught you?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I would be pleased beyond words.¡± A starry look fills Elias¡¯ eyes. The Lord Protector returned north shortly after he met my father and left Elias in the capital true to his word.

    I roll my eyes. This neglected son was the wrong person to seek sympathy from. But it gets me thinking about two very important questions:

    What are my father¡¯s intentions in showing up every day?

    And more critically, why hasn¡¯t the empress done anything about it yet?

    It¡¯s been a long while since I¡¯ve seen Empress Katya, a dry spell you could say. It¡¯s awfully uncharacteristic of her, as before I ran away from the pce, I¡¯d be forced to see her intermittently throughout the week. But assuming that she¡¯s simply backing down in the face of my father¡¯s false interest in me would be foolish. I can tell she is biding her time, but for what? Trying to guess why has kept me upte thinking and eating a little less than usual.

    ¡°What are you thinking about?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking about tickling you until you cry!¡± I yell, pouncing onto Elias with augh.

    The little bit of peace I get when I spend time with Elias and pretend to be a typical 8-year-old child turns out to be a short-lived requiem. Two things happen within a few weeks of our meeting, thetter far more concerning. The first is an official summons from the Holy Church, the first of many concerning the agreement I made with Bishop Duvernay in exchange for my life.

    The second is a new ssmate.

    Julia.

 Chapter 114

    Chapter 114: Ch. 114: Uninvited Guests

    I don¡¯t know who¡¯s more displeased with the new addition to my lessons, me or the emperor.

    Her hands are folded in thep of a sumptuous skirt, the image of a well-behaved, rich kid. It¡¯s weird seeing Julia up close again. Thest time I saw her was when we¡¯d learned I was a promised child and she was throwing a tantrum about why her ¡®ve¡¯ sister was there. So I don¡¯t buy the facade at all.

    ¡°Sister,¡± Julia says in a stiff manner. Her mask thankfully cracks at this point, ungifted at the deception that runs in her mother¡¯s veins. Her smile is thin and brittle, ready to break apart at any moment. Even a blind man would be able to see her displeasure.

    ¡°Julia!¡± I¡¯m almost more Katya¡¯s daughter than she is, the smile lighting up my cheeks looks far more realistic than hers. My trick? Believe the lie. Lean into it. I rush over and grab cold hands that jerk in my grasp, grinning like Julia¡¯s my best friend instead of the daughter of the one who wants me dead.

    ¡°What brings you here?¡± I ask, settling down against my will in the seat beside her.

    ¡°Mother said I am to learn with you from now on,¡± Julia grumbles.

    I nod, as her words were what I¡¯d assumed the moment I stepped inside. It is very unwee to have yet another stranger piercing the realm that is supposed to be my own space. But it serves as a helpful reminder that in this world, nothing is truly mine. Not as long as I¡¯m a princess of the imperial family.

    .....

    Julia shakes herself from my grip, looking quite ufortable. But with a nce over her shoulder, she quits ruffling her feathers and sits facing Ms. Laroche who has been tapping her ruler as she waits. Whether she is pleased or displeased with the introduction of a new student, I will never know as sheunches into the lesson the same as usual. However, I find myself faced with a bit of a dilemma.

    Do I show off my skills and capabilities as usual? Or do I tone it down so Julia, and by extension, Empress Katya, don¡¯t know the full extent? As a former college student and an honor roll kid most of my life, learning is as easy as breathing, coupled with the fact that I already did my own research in the early depressing days when my days consisted of reading and staring out the window.

    There is a pause as Ms. Laroche waits for someone to answer. Julia bites her lip and looks down, fumbling with a pretty bracelet and seeming like she wishes she could be anywhere but here. I raise an eyebrow in interest. She does not seem to possess the level of studiousness I would expect from a progeny of the empress. Whipsmart and calcting, I¡¯m not ashamed to say that Empress Katya may be one of the most intelligent women I¡¯ve ever encountered.

    But even though Julia matches the empress in terms of beauty, her intellect falls short. This girl is a troubled student. She¡¯s the kid the teacher would send a note back home to the parents telling them to get her a tutor. I¡¯d feel bad for her if I could afford it. With my current circumstances, pity is a little out of my price range.

    In the webnovel, Julia did not present as someone too bright either. First, she was obviously a dud at science considering how she wished to marry her own half-brother. And second, the stupid author clearly just wrote her in the be a superficial bully to the female lead so that Augustus could swoop in to save the day. Technically, there is nothing superficial about Julia trying to set ra on fire just to see if her red hair was really the same color as fire, butpared to the final boss of the empress, Julia is another small fry.

    That being said, I still have to work to stifle my inner rage as she keeps on ¡°identally¡± knocking my pen from the table. Once or twice is believable, bute on, five times?

    ¡°Sorry.¡± The insincerity is dripping from Julia¡¯s voice. Her delight is so obvious I can see Emperor Helio frown from the corner of my eye. But he won¡¯t interfere. That¡¯s not his style.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± I tell her. To be petty and get revenge or to be the bigger person, that is the question.

    There is no avoiding the Duvernay family today, it seems. Scarcely after my lesson ends, I can see Marie standing beside a holy priest in his pitch-ck robe. My father sees him too, his frown further deepening.

    ¡°Your highness, I am your escort to the Grand Temple,¡± he says with a bow.

    I nod, allowing Marie to throw a cloak over my shoulders as I leave the imperial pce for the first time in several months.

    The city looks different during the autumn season. Cheeks are stamped with red and my breath clouds the carriage window as I stare outside. But my head is not lost in the gray clouds outside, for I attentively listen to the holy priest give me a brief synopsis of the day¡¯s events. It is an ordinary feast day to celebrate some saint I¡¯m sure Ms. Laroche has once mentioned, but I¡¯ve already forgotten.

    Sit still. Look pretty. Lay hands on the partitioners whoe forward at the appointed time to heal them. Say a prayer with the high priestess.

    It had all sounded quite simple in the discreet carriage we took to the location.

    But when I¡¯m surrounded by a sea of hundreds of eyes greedily looking upon me, as if to simply see my face would be enough to ail their wounds and fill their bellies, I finally understand why Bishop Duvernay requested this from me.

    Gas motors may not exist in this era, but the fanatical belief in this room would be enough to power a submarine. Every eye is trained onto Bishop Duvernay who stands at the center, conducting the mass for the feast day. And this time, unlike when he was conducting prayer at the warfront, I am up close and personal to this sorcery.

    And don¡¯t be mistaken, this is sorcery. Forget my ability to heal people with my hands, Bishop Duvernay¡¯s words are healing their souls. They drink in every word with rapture, following his hand gestures like a dog to a bone. And me? I¡¯m just a tool in his gifted hands, albeit an important one.

    ¡°And as such, Helio heard our prayers for he brought us the child that was promised.¡± He gestures towards my figure, d in white to suit the setting.

    ¡°The child that was promised,¡± the throngs echo, the burning stares turning towards me before they greedilyp up whatever else Bishop Duvernay has to say.

    The dais of the temple is where myself, Aria, and Bishop Duvernay stand. As the High Priestess, Aria sits on a semnce of a throne behind the altar, a seat that visibly denotes her as the most important figure in the room. I¡¯m seated to her left in a much smaller seat, while the bishop stands before us both in front of the goldden altar. Just like me, she¡¯s just a figurehead, a tool. However, when I look her way, she smiles at me in greeting despite being blind. It makes me wonder how far her gifts extend, as I already know she¡¯s quite intelligent for a young tween.

    ¡°Now approach for a blessing of health from Helio himself, through the promised child.¡± I¡¯m dragged out of my musings as the bleach blonde pope invites the crowds to approach slowly and receive a ¡°blessing¡±.

    One by one, theye. A peddler whose back has be so hunched over she can barely sell her goods walks away in a spritely manner. A weeping mother with a baby suffering from chronic jaundice carries her chuckling baby boy away. I know that this was all a deal to preserve my safety, but I¡¯m still grateful for the opportunity to help others. It feels like a chance to reset my karma and a way for me to see the many people who live in this city. I haven¡¯t been a princess for that long, but already it feels like Radovalsk is nothing more than greedy nobles with underhanded motives and people who spend more gold in a day than anyone gathered here will spend in their life. It¡¯s nice to get a very visual reminder that I share the capital with many other good and ordinary people.

    But at the same time, while I understand why the Holy Church wanted me to please their fanatical followers and obtain new worshippers, I am struck by the dangerous precipice I now teeter on. Today, I am the one these people look to in reverence. But now, if I ever get on the bad side of the Duvernay family, I will be the devil. A scourge. A witch. And coincidentally, the Winter from the webnovel was falsely used of being a witch and beheaded.

    I heal the rest of the temple goers with a smile while my insides roil like a restless sea. That is until I see a familiar face, smeared with dirt and dressed in rags as if he is a beggar. Arge cut runs down his arm, cruelly ripping through his young skin.

    Jack. Clever Jack.

    I fake cough to hide my change in expression when I suddenly see him out of the blue.

    ¡°Please... promised child...,¡± he gasps out of chapped and bloody lips. It is so startling to see him this way and I cannot think of our petty enmity when Clever Jack stands before me like he¡¯s been through the wringer. But he winks at me, the corner of his mouth pulling into a smile as I reach out to take his hand.

    A paper is stuffed into my palm. And then just like that, Jack is gone.

 Chapter 115

    Chapter 115: Ch. 115: My Middle Finger

    You know that moment that hits you as a young adult, when you suddenly realize you¡¯re dealing with grown-up responsibilities and the sweet days of your childhood are long behind you?

    I just had it. Not when I was being hunted down by assassins or tortured by my ever-smiling stepmother, but now when Jack handed me a slip of paper with secret information. When did I go from being depressed and moping around to being embroiled in any business where I¡¯m being slipped pieces of paper like a government operative in a James Bond movie?

    The whish of reality hits me hard as I tuck the paper up into my sleeve and extend my hands out to the next person in line. The feeling must be akin to a fly realizing that somehow it got itself stuck in theplex matrix of a spider¡¯s web and can longer escape. No matter what, I cannot react now. Not when I¡¯m surrounded by people who are most certainly not my friends.

    Time runs slower than msses when one¡¯s anticipation builds. I keep wondering what information awaits on Jack¡¯s paper. Aside from looking quite disheveled, Jack¡¯s grip on my hand had been strong and divulged his good health. In addition, his clever smirk let me know he¡¯s perfectly fine in joining my little game against the empress. Perhaps the note has his terms of agreement or just a simple greeting. Or maybe, it¡¯s a secret that could scare ten years off my life. All of them would be in the realm of Jack¡¯s rather precocious and unpredictable nature. It¡¯s unbelievable he¡¯s just the same age as Emma and probably hasn¡¯t spent a single day in school.

    ¡°And now the promised child must retreat to pray for our wellbeing,¡± Bishop Duvernay eventually says as fatigue begins to hang from my bones and drag down heavy eyelids.

    I almost pass him a grateful look before I remember that it¡¯s his fault I am here to begin with. But looking at the sea of people who look devastated at the news, I remember that this is bigger than me. With a gift like this, the least I can do is try to help some people and offset my present and future karma. The smile from a wheelchair-bound factory worker who¡¯d lost his job to a bad leg break as he walked, no skipped away from me, ys through my mind in between the bishop¡¯s empty promises of salvation.

    I smile faintly where I sit, a pretty puppet dressed in white for the bishop to toy with at will. The remainder of the feast day doesn¡¯t require my presence so after bowing to the altar and the high priestess, I retreat to the back and slump against the first wall that is out of sight.

    .....

    I am exhausted. I feel like I¡¯ve just run a mile and got run over by a truck. Every step feels as slow and clunky as walking through water. But I don¡¯t sumb to my weariness, taking advantage of the thin light still streaming in to read the contents of the note.

    Old Continent, it first reads. Marriage contract. By Emperor in exchange for something.

    The handwriting is worse than chicken scratch and the cheap ink has already begun to bleed everywhere. It takes me a full minute to decipher the contents but I think I understand it well enough. There is a marriage contract between the Erudian Empire and the Old Continent, and it was granted in exchange for an unknown boon the Old Continent extended to my father.

    I let my hand slowly fall to my side, the paper crinkling in my grasp. This is something I most certainly have failed to consider in my many years in this new world despite being aware of this from my years of studying history in school. That the greatest duty of any princess was usually to be married off as an agreement between nations.

    They, despite all their finery and wealth, were little more than living and breathing treaties sacrificed to maintain peace and prevent war. And if or when a disagreement did break out despite efforts, they were the first casualty of many.

    I chuckle wryly to myself. In all my insistence that I am treated like a real princess, this is one critical piece I forgot to factor in. Never mind that I have the ability to heal almost any wound, knowing Empress Katya, there is no way Princess Julia is going to be married in my stead. Perhaps this was one of the underlying reasons she was so furious I turned out to be the real promised child. But still, that wouldn¡¯t exin why she tried to have me killed as Princess Julia would still turn out to be the only marriageable princess of Erudian blood.

    Unless... Julia and I aren¡¯t the only possible princesses to marry off, which is why she can sacrifice me without any worry.

    The almost sacrilegious thought goes thundering through my mind right as I hear footsteps in the corridor I¡¯m still lingering in. It takes half a thought for the piece of paper to end up in my mouth and my gorge rises as kes of dirt and the iron tang of blood make me want to puke. My mouth bugs out like a chipmunk and I¡¯m certain I look ridiculous, but the calm and cool bishop before me does not react in the slightest. I¡¯m sure I could be on fire right now and he would still look at me the same. Something is dead in his eyes. My previous assessment of him being a skeleton was no mistake.

    ¡°Your Excellency,¡± I somehow muffle out around the paper. I tuck it into my cheek, the sharp edges piercing my soft flesh.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± he replies politely. Bishop Duvernay can never be called impolite, every word and every movement is calcted to perfection. ¡°Are you unwell?¡±

    I make a bit of a show of grabbing my stomach. ¡°Yes, I fear I am a bit ill.¡±

    He nods understandingly. Servants seem to appear out of the shadows at his summon, one on each side to help me walk further into the corridor and to one of the empty rooms where the newer, holy priests usually stay.

    They guide me to a bed, the firm yet soft offering sce to my feet. But I cannot rx, not when this man is here before me.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I tell him.

    ¡°It is my duty,¡± Bishop Duvernay says modestly. ¡°You did well today. The people were gratified to feel Helio¡¯s presence.¡±

    I want to roll my eyes, but I stop myself. I¡¯m not even certain if my ability is truly from Helio, or if it is some fluke of luck that happened to fall into myp after all my misfortunes.

    ¡°When will I be summoned again?¡± I ask, recalling how annoying the short notice of my summon was.

    ¡°When it is seen as a fitting asion.¡± He tucks his hands into his almost white robes.

    ¡°And what would qualify as a fitting asion?¡± I feel like I¡¯m pulling teeth trying to get answers.

    The bishop does not allow me to even get a morsel of information. ¡°You shall know when you see a messenger sent from the Holy Church,¡± he says.

    If I wasn¡¯t so tired, I suppose I might have tried to hit Bishop Duvernay for that deliberately vague answer. I scratch my forehead with my middle finger, happy to spite him in a small way he¡¯ll never understand.

    ¡°Who do you want me to heal first, of your three people?¡± I ask instead, emboldened by his nonanswers. I expect another tongue twister without any information, but surprisingly he gives me this.

    ¡°My mother,¡± the bishop says. He looks over his shoulder as if hearing something. ¡°I am needed out there. An acolyte shalle to guide you out of the Grand Temple. Thank you for your service.¡±

    I did not know demons in human flesh could care about their mothers. But it is interesting, I do not see a sh of warmth or sorrow in his gaze when he reveals this information. I know nothing about Chancellor Duvernay¡¯s wife, she rarely attends social outings and the only sign she is alive is the annual donations she makes.

    I change alone, the silence and my ineptitude drawing out the time. My nursemaid, Marie, is not here so I have no one to aid me in dressing. If it were the simpler clothes I wore when I was on the run this would not be an issue, but the nicer pieces I adorn within the pce tend to require the assistance of another party.

    I smooth down my skirt, a little embarrassed at how rumpled it appears with my clumsy attempt to put it on. Right on time, a knock sounds on the door, the young priest the bishop sent to escort me has arrived.

    There is a secret entrance from the Grand Temple of the Holy Church. We walk through the same halls I was escorted through a few hours ago, the shadows growing longer with the day. Whoever¡¯s pockets were used to fund the Holy Church are quite deep. Even in areas that are only frequented by the priests who serve here, there is gold ting on the walls and holy imagery. All it does is remind me how deep the rot has sown into this supposedly sacred ce.

    It also reminds me of power and the way it has affected the rtionships around me. To Emma, we may be sisters but I¡¯m also an employer of sorts who can decide her life and death at the drop of a hat. To Elias, we are still friends but I haven¡¯t yet forgotten the great devastation he felt when he learned that I was a princess. And for Sir Finn, he seemed like an older cousin I could rely on but turned out to be one of the many yers in this endless bid for power. And the worst part? I cannot fault any of them for this.

    Bright light forces me to squint as we emerge from the catb-like inner workings of the Grand Temple. I discreetly spit out the mess of paper and spit in my mouth, nowpletely ineligible although the disgusting vor still lingers in my mouth. The sound startles the priest beside me and I smile disarmingly at him.

    Marie waits beside the same carriage that brought me here, her eyes lighting up when Ie out of the discreet exit.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± she says excitedly as the cold outdoor winds buffet me mercilessly. The heavy cloak she throws around my shoulders keeps out most of the wind as Marie tsks and talks about how the snow will starting down any day now.

    I do something I haven¡¯t done in a while and stretch out my arms for Marie to pick me up, which she does. The air feels fresher up high and I wrap my arms around Marie¡¯s neck. Or perhaps, it feels fresher because it¡¯s not from within the pce I¡¯ve been stuck in for months on end. I can smell grass and horse poop, the hallmarks of the old-fashioned world I live in. And it smells nice too, far nicer than it ever did when I was still living with my aunt in a shack. It¡¯s amazing the appreciation you can develop with a few years and a little perspective.

    Marie picks me up just as easily, but I¡¯m not the same emaciated, five-year-old girl who was subject to the whims of whoever wished to toy with me. Even if I barely weigh more than I did back then. My nails are clean, my hands are soft and smooth. I don¡¯t look like I¡¯ve undergone a life of hardship. I suppose to themon people who I was able to heal today, I must have been a very rare sight indeed, even though I used to be just like them not so long ago.

    It doesn¡¯t make for a very good feeling. It¡¯s like standing on a cliff all alone with the winds buffeting you mercilessly.

    ¡°Please, spare some change,¡± a voice croaks a few feet away. An empty can clinks with whatever spare change must have been rued.

    One of the guards by the carriage is already moving to shoo the woman away, but that silvery gray hair only a few shades lighter than my own has long been imprinted in my memory. Only, instead of the sheer shock I experienced when I saw Jack almost an hour ago, I¡¯m just annoyed.

    Good ol¡¯ Aunt Bianca clearly didn¡¯t even bother to put any effort in her beggar costume, an old dress of hers I had buried myself under eons ago is covered in some halfhearted soot stains from the firece. Her hair is in a messy bun that looks more artful than haggard, and the matching soot stains on her facepliment it instead, enhancing her sharp cheekbones and adding a smokey eye effect to her already piercing gaze.

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother, let me speak with her and see if she is well,¡± I say as magnanimously as possible, not sparing the chance to brush up my image with the guards.

    They nod appreciatively, eyes shining with undisguised admiration as Marie lets me down and I instantly take off the earrings I wore today to donate. The jewelry clinks into the empty can of beans as I hiss under my breath to the undedicated ¡°beggar¡±.

    ¡°You¡¯d better have a very good reason to be seeking me out, Bianca.¡±

 Chapter 116

    Chapter 116: Ignore this and carry on reading ??

    This was previously a message to readers about a problem that has been resolved. Carry on, my precious readers.

    Ignore this, Chapter 116 is next.

    Peace and love,

    Bunnyreadsabook.

    P.S. Because I can¡¯t publish chapters shorter than 1000 words, which has never been a problem until now, I will repeat the word bunny underneath this until I hit that word count. Just ignore everything after this haha

    bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunnybunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny bunny... huh, you¡¯re still here?

    Lol if you made it all the way down here, try to guess what my favorite animal is.

    .....

 Chapter 117

    Chapter 117: Ch. 116: Memento

    She looks the same.

    Normally if this were a scene from a book, Bianca¡¯s face would look drawn and weary, as if she¡¯s been wading through guilt ever since she sold me out. She¡¯de on her knees begging for forgiveness or any sort of penance to recover from the overwhelming sorrow of giving away her only blood rtive. And within her eyes, I would see the emotions and care she had buried deep down inside, sprung to life like buried treasure.

    But I¡¯m just a side character, where can such poetic justice ur for me? Not to mention, I¡¯ve long given up on expecting such gratuities. So when I see the smug set in Bianca¡¯s gaze and the way her eyes light up more at the jewelry I gave her than seeing me for the first time in years, I am not surprised in the slightest.

    I take one of Bianca¡¯s soot-stained hands into my own and smile back at her while hissing through my teeth.

    ¡°If I scream that you hurt me, you will be put to death,¡± I inform my aunt calmly.

    An unfavored princess I may still be, but at least on the surface I enjoy all the trappings of princesshood. Bianca¡¯s pretty lips press into a thin line, she can see the truth in my golden eyes. My short stature has barely changed, but I know I look quite different from the days I¡¯d spent in her shack. My cheeks are fuller and rosier, my clothes, while subtle, still reflect wealth through the fine fabric and tailoring. As someone who has survived her entire life on the streets, I can see Bianca reading my appearance like a book as a thread of what I can only call fear dashes through her eyes.

    I would have preferred to see guilt rather than fear. I¡¯d seen it fleetingly the night she exchanged me for 10 gold coins. But whatever heart Bianca has was ripped out by someone long before I was born.

    .....

    Her hand tries to recoil from mine, but I hold it tight with both hands.

    ¡°If you keep struggling, I will scream. If you fail to convince me as to why you decided to show your face before me, I will scream.¡± I list out my stiptions under my breath so no one but her can hear me and I feel the moment her hands cken within my grasp.

    ¡°Winter,¡± Bianca bites out through gritted teeth. The smugness is gone.

    ¡°Bianca. What¡¯s brought you out of the slums today?¡± I ask. A frown cuts across her beautiful face.

    ¡°I don¡¯t live there anymore,¡± she tells me, her lips curling in at the offense.

    ¡°Oh?¡± I tap my chin, not caring in the slightest. ¡°That¡¯s good, I suppose. But you didn¡¯te to tell me about that.¡±

    Bianca¡¯s face is chillier than the arctic, but my prodding words send her rooting through the generous cleavage cut out from the bodice of her dress. I avert my eyes in politeness.

    ¡°This... was your mother¡¯s. I forgot to give it to you when you left.¡±

    I smile at her choice of words. Left? I was taken, dragged away to a ce that made my poverty-struck childhood seem like paradise inparison.

    Cold metal kisses my palms. For a second, I think that Bianca is returning the earrings I initially gave her but what meets my eye is instead a ne. It¡¯s pretty enough, I suppose. I¡¯ve lived here long enough to recognize that the workmanship on it that would bemonce in my past life is rather unique in this antiquated era.

    To put it simply, the charm at the end of the silver ne is the infinity symbol. That¡¯s what draws me in, to see something that as far as I know does not exist in this world. In a hybrid realm of both science and magic, certain physicsws and principles either do not exist here or haven¡¯t been discovered yet.

    ¡°This is...¡± My voice trails off in expectation. I feel more excited than I anticipated.

    ¡°It was your mother¡¯s,¡± Bianca says softly, a faint nostalgia in her eyes. I nod, appreciating a cliche when I meet on.

    Dead mom¡¯s memento? Check.

    I never saw my mother¡¯s face so I have no maternal attachments to a person I never met. But as time goes on, it bes clear to me that there are some possible conspiracies and such surrounding her identity. This will be an important step in piecing together the jigsaw puzzle of her life, so I don¡¯t get blindsided in the future.

    ¡°What is it?¡± I ask, pretending I don¡¯t know what the infinity symbol is. But there is some curiosity to my question, after all, it could possess another meaning in the Erudian Empire.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Bianca admits, dousing my curiosity before fanning at the dying embers back to life. ¡°But all I know is that she gave this to me before she died and told me to give it to you someday when you were older. She said I couldn¡¯t show it to a soul or sell it, which is nonsense since I can tell it¡¯s made out of good silver.¡±

    Bianca branches off ranting about how she suffered through hard times all the while knowing there was perfectly good silver jewelry she could have pawned off. The guards behind me are getting antsy as well. A little charity on my part is nice, but too long of a conversation will draw suspicion to Bianca inevitably. I realize I have to cut our tearful reunion short.

    ¡°Get back to the point. Is there anything important she told you about regarding the ne¡¯s symbolism? Maybe something dangerous about the ne rted to Travelers or magick?¡± I demand.

    I¡¯m grasping at straws, throwing out random possibilities for what this ne could allude to. It feels like discovering a cellphone in the Middle Ages, an easter egg of untapped potential.

    ¡°Ah!¡± my aunt shouts. Bianca¡¯s face lights up as a thought urs to her, but her exmation draws the guards¡¯ ire.

    ¡°Your highness, perhaps it would be better to begin to return to the pce.¡± A guard steps forward, looking imposing in his dark uniform and stern gaze. Some people are starting to notice the inconspicuous carriage lurking at the back of the Grand Temple and with my white locks, I will soon be identified by passersby. I want to tell the guard to go away, but that would be too suspicious and out of character for a young, ¡°innocent¡± princess.

    ¡°What?¡± I hiss, patting her hand impatiently under the veil offorting her.

    I feel lucky enough that none of the guards present were the royal guards who picked me up from the slums and don¡¯t recognize Bianca, but I know I can¡¯t push my luck too far.

    ¡°She said that it was connected to some very powerful people. People who maintain the order. Or something like that, anyways.¡± Bianca scratches at her head, struggling to remember more as I pick up the few breadcrumbs she¡¯s left me.

    The guard is too close by now, I can¡¯t question Bianca further. I allow a gracious smile to spread across my face.

    ¡°You will be alright. Have faith and take care of your health,¡± I reassure her warmly, returning to treating her like a beggar I had pity for.

    Bianca catches on quickly although she oversells her part. She immediately falls into a reverent bow, almost knocking her head on the cobblestone to disy her gratitude. ¡°May Helio bless you! The light shines from you, oh blessed promised child! May the world bask in your light!¡± It¡¯s all utter nonsense.

    Marie appears by my side as well, shying me away from Bianca¡¯s fanatical worship. Lifting me onto the steps of the carriage, she inquires about what just urred. The carriage door ms shut behind us, the outside world cut off from me once again. The obedient pet has been brought out to entertain and must now be returned to her cage.

    I can only peer out the ss to watch the slowly disappearing face of my only maternal rtive.

    ¡°That?¡± I tell Marie, deliberately lightening my voice to sound casual as I tuck the ne into a pocket. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about her. She¡¯s mad. Almost reminds me of someone I knew in the past.¡±

    A past I look forward to someday forgetting in lieu of happier memories. Even if it takes me a lifetime to get to that point.

    ¡°Look at that sunset, Marie,¡± I remark. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡±

    A dense pink hue has managed to fight through the heavy clouds in the sky, dusting the streets and rooftops in a warm light that leaves a soft feeling in my chest.

    ¡°Yes, your highness. Very beautiful. Just like you,¡± Marie remarks, smiling down at where I sit. Surrounding her face is a pce-issued bo, required for the staff of the pce who step outside the pce gates.

    I pat my cheek in contentment. I¡¯m still quite young, but I can already tell I¡¯ve got the hallmarks of great future beauty. However, what urs to me first is not how nice it will be to be a pretty girl, but the implications of being beautiful in an era where marriage for the elite is a tool.

    The skin under my hand is soft and bouncy. I don¡¯t need to look at the window¡¯s reflection to recognize the faint ever-present blush that makes me look like a doll. How can I let the tender flower that I am to be get plucked up and nted in some foreign kingdom where I won¡¯t even have the home-court advantage of being a princess?

    I sneer to myself, making sure to turn away so Marie cannot see such a dark expression cross my youthful face. It seems that I will have to take the next step of my n sooner rather thanter.

    It¡¯s not thatte in the day, but with the fall season in full swing, I know it isn¡¯t aste as it appears outside.

    ¡°Marie, the time please?¡± I request, doing mental calctions in my head.

    I¡¯ve been taking detailed ounts of various family members¡¯ schedules throughout the day ever since I returned from the military warfront. This was donergely for the purpose of avoiding them, of course. At noon, Julia receives her private dance lessons in the grand ballroom of the central pce, hence why I used to take my lesson break either outside or in my room. Unfortunately, since we now take lessons together, I¡¯m forced to deal with her every day.

    But if my estimations are correct, this is close to the time my brother, Augustus, leaves his training session with the Mad Dog himself. There are two paths he can take. One is longer, weaving through two borate gardens and just past the Imperial Library. The second shaves the journey down by half, taking Augustus right through the center of the imperial pce and right before the central pce. And with this cold weather setting in, anyone could make a fortune betting that the crown prince will take the shortest path back to his courtyard.

    Marie pulls out an iron stopwatch from her pocket, one of the fun, antiquated things of this era. ¡°It¡¯s 10 to 4, your highness.¡±

    I p my hands together in childish glee.

    ¡°Oh, good. Tell the coachman to make haste!¡± I quickly tell Marie.

    Marie looks puzzled, but seeing my cheerful expression she obliges with a smile.

    ¡°Is there something exciting you are looking forward to, your highness?¡± she asks as she fusses over me, straightening my cor and wrapping the cloak tighter around my figure. This is a discreet carriage without the insignia and pomp of a typical royal carriage. The royal carriages often feature a small, built-in furnace, like most carriages for the high-ss, so the draft outside is able to slip in and leave me still feeling cold.

    ¡°Yes, very much!¡± I squeal. Marie¡¯s eye corners lovingly crinkle and she pats my head.

    It¡¯s only a shame perhaps Augustus won¡¯t enjoy this meeting as much as I will.

 Chapter 118

    Chapter 118: Ch. 117: Big Brother is Watching

    Upon exiting the carriage, I reach for the ne in my pocket, feeling content at its touch. Today has been a day of many revtions. First of marriage, then of my mother. They serve as reminders that my time is short and I must be decisive in my next steps.

    I look down at my slender ankle in pity. She is the only one, other than Augustus, who may not enjoy what happens next to the fullest.

    In a way, Augustus and I share more simrities than Julian and I. Julian and I have both lived previous lives, but I¡¯d like to think I¡¯ve grown and changed since my days as Maria, the college student whose fiance cheated on her with her best friend. Julian, I could practically smell his former, middle-aged, upper-ss self beneath his young flesh. Not to mention, in this world, Julian has ties to a powerful family and is content to coast through life. He still felt guilt, but Julian doesn¡¯t have it in him to shake the status quo.

    Augustus on the other hand, is a puppet, like me. A cherished one, but a puppet nheless. He has lost his mother as well and is the tool the noble faction opposing House Duvernay wishes to use to dull the illustrious family¡¯s power in the future. Aside from the fact that Augustus may still have PTSD from dealing with me at the warfront, a conclusion I have reached from the way he scurried out of view every time I saw him in the distance, I would have been better off trying to develop a partnership with him as opposed to Julian.

    Besides, he¡¯s the crown prince and the future emperor if nothing goes wrong. A future emperor would be far more useful to have in my corner as opposed to an idle prince. But the excitement of dealing with a fellow Traveler had ovee mymon sense in the past, to the point that I was able to overlook our ipatibility and the many slights of Julian.

    ¡°Marie?¡± I say, stopping where I stand. I¡¯d been taking the path back to the central pce so I can arrive before Augustus, but now I realize I don¡¯t want Marie to be there when I deal with Augustus. To some extent, Marie still thinks of me as a pure and good child, and I selfishly want to preserve that image in front of her.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± she answers.

    .....

    ¡°I wish to y outside. Can you please fetch some toys from my apartments? Please look for my golden ball in particr. I will not y without it,¡± I tell my nursemaid. I feel a tinge of guilt inside, as the golden ball I speak of was knocked out of a window by ident a few weeks ago and never found again. But the distraction should serve long enough for me to do what needs to be done.

    Marie¡¯s face brightens. I know how much she yearns for me to y and idle around like a normal child, so I feel bad for fooling her in this way. She is so diligent with me, even sternly instructing the armor-d guards standing like statues before the entrance of the central pce to watch me carefully.

    The moment Marie disappears inside, I waste little time. For once I¡¯m not under the supervising eye of my attendants, maids, or Marie. Save for an assassin leaping out of the bushes for me, the guards do not care what I get up to. It¡¯s quiet and almost peaceful, but not for long.

    I can hear footsteps approach the path I¡¯m conveniently standing smack-dab in the middle of and take a deep breath. Closer and closer my brotheres. He has a few attendants and with the wind blowing against my back, I can already smell the faint horse manure odor that apanies the grounds near the barracks.

    ¡°Augustus!¡± I chirp with more energy than my high school¡¯s cheer captain belting out our school song.

    My older brother has learned. Without saying a word or evenying eyes on me, he gives me the widest possible berth on the path. The wariness that hung in his downturned gaze, I put that there. I feel strangely proud of it for some reason.

    Augustus moves with the dexterity of someone who was strictly trained by the best in thend since he was old enough to pick up a sword. His steps are light as he dances around my obvious trap in the center of the path, even if I were to rush up to him I wouldn¡¯t manage to make contact with Augustus.

    Yes, my mastern to trap Augustus in conversation is just to brush by him, fall, and get him to take responsibility for my injury. I dare you toe up with a better n.

    Augustus may have escaped my clutches, already far beyond me down the path before I can blink. But like any other prince, he walks around with attendants, and they certainly don¡¯t share the same dexterity as he does.

    It¡¯s easy as cake, seemingly walking by one of the slower attendants who can¡¯t move out of the way fast enough and tumbling to the ground. And as always, I¡¯m dedicated to my performance. Faking an injury? That won¡¯t be enough to guilt Augustus intoing back to check on me.

    If nothing else, Augustus¡¯ fatal w in the webnovel was his good heart and typical white knight personality. Any person suffering injustice was championed by Augustus (although I seem to have been conveniently left off out of this treatment). With a real injury, my odds of keeping Augustus long enough to work with me will be heightened.

    The things I do for... power.

    I twist my ankle mercilessly as I tumble down, the white arc of pain bolting up my shin letting me know that my performance may have been a tad more dedicated than I would¡¯ve liked. I wince for real, a loud sound that freezes all the attendants in their tracks. You¡¯d think with everything I¡¯ve been through my pain tolerance would have increased by now.

    Seeing the frozen bodies before me, I blink away the heat building in my eyes and throw my best usatory re at them. I feel bad for perhaps scaring a few years off their lives, but ultimately I won¡¯t do anything to them, I just need Augustus¡¯ attention. And he knows that too, because in the distance where he was eating up ground with his long legs, my oldest brother has stopped in his path home. Even if his white knight nature never protected me, he will never allow his attendants to suffer.

    ¡°How could you?¡± I wheeze out. My voice isn¡¯t loud, but pain drips from each word, causing the attendant to fall to his knees without a word.

    He knows he did nothing. I know he did nothing. But he doesn¡¯t dare to protest and I feel like a terrible brute lording over him with my power in the same way I¡¯ve demonised others for doing. In my heart, I beg for Augustus to storm over quickly so I can stop this farce of a power y.

    ¡°My sincere apologies, your highness. Please punish me as you see fit,¡± the attendant in a quiet voice. He is a picture of subservience. A shback of me biting my tongue before Empress Katyaes to mind.

    ¡°It¡¯s not a big d... I mean, you dare order me to punish you?¡± I bite out, struggling on how to draw out the conversation until Augustus finally sumbs.

    ¡°I was presumptuous, your highness. I don¡¯t dare to predict your intentions,¡± the attendant replied.

    He¡¯s good, as expected of someone in my brother¡¯s service. Other servants would be cowering or have pissed themselves by now. Were these the people the emperor put around my brother? People who could protect him and keep him out of trouble?

    I smile to myself and the attendant¡¯s head dips lower, misconstruing my mirthless grin at myck of importance for rage. But the smile inadvertently serves another purpose: luring Augustus into the poorly constructed trap I made.

    As sloppy as the fake injury act is, I can finally understand why all the two-faced second female leads in romance novels carry this in their back pocket. It is incredibly effective, to the point I almost look forward to using it on a less innocent target.

    ¡°Have you had enough fun yet?¡± Beads of sweat sparkle on Augustus¡¯ forehead, relics of a fierce sparring session with Lord Wolfgang. His brow is pinched as he res down at me like he wishes to run me through with a sword. This look suits him far better than the meek avoidance I saw earlier. It¡¯s understandable why Peppermint gave him so many moments to stand up for others, this is where Augustus¡¯ personality truly shines.

    Unfortunately, today¡¯s task at hand is not to admire the male lead but to endear myself to a valuable ally. Hence why I went all out on making sure my injury was real rather than fake.

    ¡°Does this look like fun to you, Augustus?¡±

    I tug up my skirt, causing the attendants to turn around faster than the speed of light and for Augustus¡¯ scowl to deepen. It looks just like our father¡¯s.

    My ankle is already chubby and swollen, the flesh adopting a painful red color that would make anyone feel tenderhearted to see such a wound on my tiny ankle. When I roll my foot in a circle, I grit my teeth from the faint agony that follows.

    ¡°Just heal yourself. Why take it out on an attendant you ran into?¡± Augustus chastises.

    I roll my eyes. ¡°My gift of healing only extends to those outside of my own flesh. I cannot heal my body.¡±

    Augustus lets out a loud breath, but he peers closer at my let to make sure my injury isn¡¯t fake. Hisrge hand wraps around my ankle as he rubs it to check for makeup.

    ¡°Ow, OW! Hey! What the fuck, man!¡± I yell, pping away at his arm with my good hand. ¡°It¡¯s not fake, alright?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t put it past you,¡± Augustus says. A faint look of guilt shes over his face but he stomps it out quickly.

    ¡°Those were desperate circumstances, something I don¡¯t ever expect you to never understand,¡± I answer sharply, throwing in a jab between my words as even more pain res from my ankle. It increases my determination to forge a partnership with Augustus, the price I¡¯ve paid is too high to walk, no hobble, away with nothing.

    Augustus pinches the bridge of his nose, looking away as he collected himself. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°Dismiss your people.¡±

    ¡°What do you want, Winter?¡± he asks again with faint anger in his tone.

    ¡°Well done saying my name this time,¡± I reply sarcastically. ¡°But no answer until you dismiss your people.¡±

    My older brother gives me a hard look, one partially obscured by the long locks of dark hair that faintly cover his hair. It seems he is trying to grow out his hair to look even more like our father.

    He waves his hand and the attendants disperse onmand in the disciplined manner all pce servants possess. It¡¯s practically inhumane, like reminding me more of well-trained dogs than people.

    ¡°I just want us to get to know each other better,¡± I say with azy smirk designed to piss people off.

    It works and Augustus bristles immediately. ¡°You did not seek me out and dy my return to my quarters simply to tell me this, did you? Because if so, that is absurd.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re my big brother, isn¡¯t it normal for me to want to get to know you better?¡± I pout up at him, tugging at the pant leg closest to me rather pitifully.

    My cuteness, which would have melted Marie or my attendants to a puddle, seem to frighten Augustus even more. He nches, perhaps experiencing shbacks of when I held a letter opener to my neck while talking to him in a charming baby voice.

    ¡°D-Don¡¯t do that. Don¡¯t.¡± He stares at me like he¡¯s seen a ghost, which feels slightly offensive.

    ¡°Fine, fine, fine. I won¡¯t,¡± I murmur yfully. ¡°Did you miss me?¡±

    Augustus keeps staring, too shell-shocked to speak.

    ¡°Boring,¡± I mutter under my breath. ¡°Well, I sought you out because I want us to establish a partnership with one another.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely ludicrous. Never.¡± Augustus doesn¡¯t even consider my words for a heartbeat.

    ¡°How typical of men like you to be so cocky. And you¡¯re not even a man yet,¡± I tell the newly minted 17-year-old. Noblemen of the Erudian Empire debut in society and be adults at the age of 18 so I technically am not lying.

    ¡°Your point?¡± My oldest brother¡¯s patience is clearly at its limit.

    ¡°Father has paved you a road even nicer than this one to the throne. But without me, just like today, you will never make it across unscathed,¡± I warn Augustus, slowly peeling through theyers of arrogance. ¡°You think like a man, that all you need to achieve power is strength, a good heart, and maybe a little bit of pedigree. I can tell you without a doubt that you are wrong. And your way of thinking may cost you your life one day.¡±

    Of course, with the female lead, ra, there to tear off Empress Katya¡¯s mask before Augustus so he could realize the true danger in his path, the crown prince will be fine no matter what in the future. But unfortunately for ra, I will be the one who helps him navigate the delicate nuances of power that women understand best.

    ¡°You dare to curse the crown prince?¡± Augustus scoffs. But there¡¯s been a change in his temperament. He¡¯s stopped yanking his leg from my grip and though his face doesn¡¯t show it, he is keen to listen to my words.

    ¡°Father is powerful, but even he can only give you the royal guard, a majority of the army¡¯s generals, and at best half of the faction that opposes the Duvernay family. However, the army is stationed outside the gates of Radovalsk. In case of a revolt, those associated with the Duvernay family, who would most certainly back a Duvernay prince instead of you, have more than enough forces within the capital to take care of the royal guard. You¡¯d be dead before the sun set on the revolt and the crown would be on Julian¡¯s head by dawn.¡±

    Augustus swallows dryly. ¡°You¡¯re wrong. The empress said both she and Julian do not seek the throne, they just wish to live peacefully,¡± he counters. His voice is weak, I¡¯m getting through to him.

    ¡°Am I? Your mother may not have been as destitute as mine, but the daughter of a former Master of Coin does not inspire much loyalty from this blue-blooded throng we have the misfortune of interacting with regrly. You should be able to discern as much for yourself. But a Duvernay,¡± I tsk lightly. ¡°Even the most destitute gambler would put money on them. Today she tells you she does not want the throne, but I must ask. If tomorrow she tried to take it, could you stop her?¡±

    Augustus opens and closes his mouth for a few seconds. I give him the benefit of the doubt, as he is actually a teenager and as intelligent as he probably is, he still possesses an inane trust for the adults around him. For an ordinary kid, Augustus is exemry, but as a member of the imperial family, he needs to be better. I¡¯mying all my chips on him and I cannot afford to lose.

    ¡°Father, he could-¡± he scrambles for an answer, but I cut him off immediately.

    ¡°Enough about Father! Enough about the emperor!¡± My tone is emphatic as I p the ground with each sentence. I¡¯m already fuming at his mention. ¡°He may seem like a god, but Father is a man. And no man is impervious to death or all-knowing. Your blind trust in him is foolish. Do you know what you look like to me? A fat pig being raised for the ughter. And you don¡¯t even know it, just like the foolish pig that eats from the troughs of his would-be murderer.¡±

 Chapter 119

    Chapter 119: Ch. 118: Time Evesting (aka Immortality)

    ¡°Don¡¯t speak that way about him! Father... he has done a lot for me,¡± Augustus acknowledges. I can see a genuine love for the emperor in his eyes and it makes me sick with envy.

    In my past life, I never had a father and in this one, the one I got only gives a damn about my brother, not me. I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s the origin story for half of the Marvel viins.

    I nod, pretending not to be bitter. ¡°It is good you know. But even with everything Father has done for you, it would not be enough for you to sitfortably on the throne. You would still have to fight for it and you would lose.¡±

    My message sets a somber tone and we both stew in silence for a bit.

    ¡°What makes you think I would benefit from your partnership?¡± He¡¯s got a tricky look in his gold eyes, like he can¡¯t wait for me to stumble and mess up. But little does he know that he¡¯s just stumbled into the crux of my n.

    I smile inwardly as the fish takes the bait. ¡°You saw how easy it was for me in the tent to potentially destroy your reputation and leave a knife your enemies could use to carve away at your im to the throne. You¡¯ve also learned the same history as I, how many crown princes appointed by their fathers made it to the throne? Even Father¡¯s older brother couldn¡¯t make it, but I¡¯d bet good money he was just like you, innocently believing the throne would fall into his hands without consequence.¡±

    Augustus grimaces a little. Father¡¯s past is a hush-hush topic, an open secret no one speaks of. No one has forgotten the former Crown Prince Wilhelm, a dashingd who¡¯d captured the hearts of maidens across the empire. However, good looks and a little charm could not stand in the way of a bastard prince with a hunger that couldn¡¯t be satiated. I do not see that hunger in Augustus¡¯ eyes, that greed to seed no matter what. But I¡¯ve seen it in mine when I look in the mirror.

    .....

    ¡°I will make you a god,¡± I promise Augustus, my honeyed words carrying heavy truth behind them. The wordse out barely above a whisper, but I gain confidence with each one uttered. ¡°One popr enough to lure in the families that are on the fence about supporting you. One who can tempt powerful families to vie their precious daughters for your affections. One whom all the Houses and all the people will be willing to bow down to when ites time.¡±

    ¡°The people love me already,¡± Augustus insisted, fixating on one portion of my words.

    ¡°The people had loved Former Crown Prince Wilhelm too. Now they love our father even more fiercely. To the victor goes the spoils.¡± I douse his faint disagreement quickly.

    ¡°And how would you be able to do that?¡± I don¡¯t me his skepticism. Despite my previous performance at the military warfront, I am promising a lot for such a young child.

    ¡°I know I am but a child now, but mixing with other noble daughters, the future wives of your subjects, is very useful. I am the promised child, brother, many approach me with wishes to create a friendship with me. I am also connected to the Holy Church, opening a new branch of allies to you and potentially swaying the Duvernay family¡¯s grasp on the Holy Church faction. And I can protect you from the schemes of women you are obviously unaware of.¡±

    Augustus snorted. ¡°Noble girls are taught from a young age not to engage in such behavior.¡±

    This time I dough aloud. ¡°And you believe it? Nobleds are taught not to gamble or sleep with prostitutes, but do many not wander through the streets of Radovalsk in early dawn stinking of wine and perfume?¡±

    ¡°Speak properly, you are a princess,¡± he says. I ignore him, of course.

    My older brother has the good sense to look a little embarrassed by his rhetoric, but I¡¯m not quite finished.

    ¡°What will you do if tomorrow at a ball a woman locks herself in a room with you, disrobes, and ims you had rtions so she can marry you? What if a Duvernay girl ims to have exchanged letters with you, allowing the Duvernay family to pressure Father into forcing you to marry her? You¡¯ve signed many edicts and forms, your enemies naturally already have an example of your handwriting to copy.¡±

    Augustus is not entirely stupid, even he must realize that marrying a daughter from that family would be bad news for him.

    ¡°And don¡¯t tell me you still believe Father married Mother out of love? He was obviously forced into it somehow. He detests her,¡± I add. I think of that woman¡¯s cold face, unique in its ability not to disy emotion. Katya never would have settled on wedding some nobleman when she could get an emperor.

    ¡°Mother?¡± Augustus inquires, confused by my wording. I pause, reeling as I stumble out of the roll I¡¯ve been on. A name I¡¯ve only called the empress to her face, why would it slip out of my mouth so naturally just now.

    ¡°Did I call her that just now?¡± The Katya in my head smiles at me, patting my head as a servant spreads medicine over the well scarred back of my shin.

    ¡°Uh, yes?¡± Augustus scratches his head, caught in a lurch as my thoughts derail. I already have a mother, one I will always love very much even if I never get the chance to see her again. Anointing Katya as one, even by ident, makes me want to throw up.

    ¡°Ignore that. It was a mistake,¡± I tell my older brother woodenly, my lips pressed in a thin line.

    But Augustus was nonplussed by the mistake. It¡¯s obvious he doesn¡¯t take the empress as his own mother, but the crown prince clearly looks upon her like a chill aunt or casual female rtive.

    There¡¯s a certain measure of indifference, but it definitely isn¡¯t the hatred or cautiousness that would be infinitely more useless in preserving his life and im to the throne.

    ¡°You are inviting dissent between Julian and I,¡± Augustus uses without any conviction in his voice.

    ¡°What rtionship do you have for me to sow dissent within? Besides, a son¡¯s allegiance lies would most likely lie with his mother if his father has little presence in his life. Have you seen Julian get the same love and affection from Father that you¡¯ve beenvished with your entire life?¡± Have you seen me receive that same love and affection? I keep myst thought to myself.

    The two brothers have always treated one another like estranged neighbors at best. Julian¡¯s treatment from the emperor is more reminiscent of the treatment a bastard son would receive. I¡¯d wager if it wasn¡¯t a middle-aged adult within Julian¡¯s flesh who¡¯d long be ustomed to not having parents, Julian would be a far more bitter prince.

    ¡°Why should I trust you?¡± Augustus eventually asks.

    ¡°Because I want to live,¡± I tell him honestly. ¡°And I wish to live very well.¡±

    ¡°Is that all you get out of this?¡± The skepticism is thick in Augustus¡¯ voice.

    ¡°Of course not. It seems I may need your help for my future marriage. Make sure I¡¯m not shipped to a neighboring kingdom to wed someone. And for after you take the throne, if I¡¯m married someone I don¡¯t like within the Empire, use your imperialmand to divorce us immediately.¡±

    Augustus looked ufortable speaking of marriage. It makes sense as most teenagers aren¡¯t interested in such matters at this stage in their life. I was but five years older, and clearly I didn¡¯t have the ability to choose a decent life partner for myself. But now that I think about it is very curious how he and ra be romantically involved when he¡¯s 24 years old to her 16 or 17.

    9-1-1 what¡¯s your emergency?

    I sh Augustus a look of severe disgust, one that he takes poorly.

    ¡°What?¡± he exims warily, taking a step back for good measure. ¡°You¡¯re not plotting anything against me again, are you?¡±

    ¡°Look for love with someone your own age, don¡¯t go poaching young girls¡¯ who¡¯ve just debuted!¡± I rebuke, wagging a disapproving finger in Augustus¡¯ direction.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t even debuted into society, why would I do that?¡± my brother sputters indignantly. ¡°Why do you look at me like I¡¯m a lecher of some sort? On my honor, I am not the kind of man to engage in inappropriate rtions!¡±

    Augustus pounded at his chest twice, the ancient symbol of a man¡¯s honor in the Erudian Empire. Typically performed before a duel to the death or when a soldier is about to embark into battle, it is a sign of utmost sincerity. I realize that I may have been a bit hasty in warning Augustus of this so many years in advance.

    ¡°Indeed, I was presumptuous. Forgive me,¡± I say grudgingly.

    Augustus just sniffs indignantly, but he looks faintly pleased as he crosses his arms. It feels quite nice having a sibling who¡¯s a great deal easier to read than Julian.

    ¡°I... could consider this deal.

    I gasp, my exhration causing a surprised grin to bloom.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if what you promise is true, but you are my sister. I will try to have faith in you.¡±

    ¡°Where was that faith in your tent?¡± I mutter under my breath.

    It feels like rubbing at a scab, reminiscing on the dangerous days that still send me hurtling out of my bed covered in sweat during the night. Even when Marie slips in without a word and a cup of chamomile in hand, I stilly awake until light peeks through my bedroom curtains.

    If I weren¡¯t so young, I¡¯d certainly have undereye bags that would put Prada and Hermes to shame.

    Like watercolor across a canvas, a faint red color spreads out across Augustus¡¯ cheeks. However, he doesn¡¯t address the sensitive subject I¡¯ve brought up, switching to another perhaps more intriguing one. ¡°To honor our partnership, I shall tell you something you perhaps did not know.¡±

    ¡°Something I don¡¯t know?¡± I repeat curiously. ¡°Help me up first.¡±

    Warm hands grab mine and yank me into a standing position rather easily, causing me tond awkwardly on my injured foot.

    ¡°Ah! Careful, careful!¡±

    He whistles as he looks down at my foot, now hidden under my skirts.

    ¡°Father always told me to beware of those undaunted by the cost of what it takes to get what they want,¡± Augustus says, referring to how I sacrificed my ankle to forge a partnership with him.

    But he¡¯s not really talking to me, instead reminiscing on one of the many life lessons Father must have imparted upon him throughout the years. I¡¯ve learned a great deal courtesy of Father as well. But rather than useful anecdotes, they came in the form of painful experiences.

    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s a good thing then that we both want the same thing: For you to end upfortably upon the throne. Now, what is it that I don¡¯t know?¡± I add, not forgetting what he had promised me.

    ¡°A vige near the base of the D¡¯Anjou Mountains perished rather mysteriously two weeks ago. I saw the reports of it on Father¡¯s deskst night,¡± Augustus tells me with a heavy sigh.

    I want to question why he told me this until a sh of realizations sends goosebumps rippling across my skin. Marie. The D¡¯Anjou Mountains.

    When I look Augustus in the eye, I get the sickening confirmation from his grave look. All of a sudden, Augustus seems several years older than he actually is, his lips pressed in a thin line.

    My heart drops for Marie. I don¡¯t ask if my brother if there are any survivors, something in the deste stare that has overtaken his face tells me that there aren¡¯t. It¡¯s eerie to see such emotion on a face that resembles the emperor¡¯s so much. Humanity and empathy, whether by force or by choice, were stripped from my father long ago.

    It¡¯s in that moment of learning such awful news that I find a morsel of respect for Augustus. He¡¯s naive as well as young and I don¡¯t think I will ever get over the insurmountable differences between us. But, damn. I do have to give it to Peppermint this one time for their choice of the male lead. He has the makings of a good team leader within him. He hasn¡¯t inherited any of our father¡¯s darkness either, only

    And he has a heart, one that aches in tandem with mine at the senseless death that urred. It was kind of him, to let me know this kind of information concerning a close person to me. It also tells me that there may yet be some cunning within Augustus, concerning how he knows the background of someone I keep close to me.

    ¡°That¡¯s terrible,¡± I struggle to say, shaking my head at the devastation this news will bring to my nursemaid.

    A ball rolls to my foot, pink instead of gold. And with its presence few things ur to me at once before I spin around suddenly:

    -In thetest batch of toys I received, yet thetest addition to a pile I have yet to touch, I received a pink ball.

    -Marie has always had a knack for quiet steps when she doesn¡¯t wish to disturb me.

    The sight behind me is as expected but it still brings heat to my eyes as I struggle to keep my emotions down. Marie¡¯s hand covers her mouth, her entire body trembling as fat tears already roll down her face and drip onto the ground.

    ¡°I will leave you two. Good day, Winter,¡± Augustus says behind me, collecting his men and returning back to his courtyard.

    I have no mind to celebrate this much-needed alliance, my arms wrapping around the base of Marie¡¯s skirt as her body continues to tremble and shake like a tree weathering strong winds. A lone hand slightlyrger than mine tugs at Marie¡¯s skirt from the side; Emma has appeared out of nowhere to extend her condolences in her own way. Marie is her jolliest when she speaks of her home. The buckweed, the tales, the woods she¡¯d yed with her siblings in behind her home.

    To lose such arge part of herself is a pain I knew all too well when I woke up here. I cling to her skirts harder as the three of us stand together against the world. Because no matter what, I have promised myself and everyone here that I will make sure wee out of this game in one piece. I will bear any cost I must, short of crossing that line in my heart.

    A line that continuously gets pushed further back time and time again.

    ¡ª¨C

    From a healthy distance away, Julian scratched his head after watching Winter and Augustus interact before she turned tofort her nursemaid. There was a distance now, between himself and Winter. He knew that because he had put it there himself.

    Still, he was surprised by the faint sting he¡¯d felt to see Winter begin to interact with the brother they¡¯d both clowned and cracked jokes about. He didn¡¯t have a right to feel that way. But it made sense from, what he¡¯d gathered of her personality, to do such.

    Winter reminded Julian of when he was young in his past life. Before he got married and had children, then got divorced and despised by said children. He¡¯d always been like a dog pursuing a bone when it came to his ultimate goal back then: more money. More wealth. Raising the profile and worth of thepany he¡¯d built himself right out of college with the help of his grandfather¡¯s trust money.

    And he¡¯d done it ruthlessly and efficiently, attaining billions and rubbing shoulders with the kind of people most folks would only ever encounter in glossy magazines and TV screens. It had all be stale at the bitter end though. As he¡¯d learned all toote, the costs of his wife, his kids, and his happiness had not been worth the fruit of hisbors.

    But that night in the dungeon, and what he¡¯d learned then, had changed everything for Julian.

    He now had a higher purpose. A greater purpose. And even for a fellow Traveler who like him had lived a previous life, it was not something worth giving up for Winter. Julian let out a long, irritated breath, releasing most but not all of the irritation within him. He turned around and left without a word and without anyone taking notice, every one of his steps decisive as he returned to his quarters.

    After all, what greater aim could a man seek than the secret to making time itself evesting?

    .....

 Chapter 120

    Chapter 120: Ch. 119: Outmaneuvered

    Empress Katya Duvernay set down the papers she¡¯d received from her spies without expression, causing her personal maid to wring her hands together with worry.

    ¡°The matter is done?¡± she half-asked, half-stated. The contents of the secret correspondence had been very clear.

    Lte¡¯s head bobbed up and down so vigorously her snow-colored cap nearly tumbled off.

    ¡°Yes. The vige was burnt to the ground. The Duvernay secret soldiers made sure to take care of any survivors as well.¡±

    For Katya, burning down the vige too small to even bear a name in the D¡¯Anjou Mountains was a small victory that would payrger dividends in the future. If one wished to uproot a tree, Katya understood that rather than hacking at the trunk it was better to gnaw at the roots. A thin smile finally took hold of her face, for the empress knew well that her husband¡¯s bastard daughter could not even bepared to a tree yet.

    ¡°Tell Leif tofort the nursemaid well. Ensure that she understands that he is herst remaining blood rtive in the world,¡± she instructed from her writing desk.

    Lte, although dedicated, had always been a little slower. ¡°But he¡¯s not even her real rtive, Your Majesty?¡± she blurted out before the far more clever Kora could elbow her.

    .....

    Katya didn¡¯t pay Lte any mind, extending more leeway than she usually would in the wake of allowing Winter to beat Lte. Beating a dog before feeding them a treat created a more loyal beast at the end of the day. And Lte was a crucial part of some of the uglier matters Katya engaged in underneath the glittering opulence Katya existed within.

    ¡°Are there any more important letters?¡± Katya had just begun to ask before there was a frantic knock on the door.

    ¡°His Majesty is here!¡± a maid called from outside, her excitement bleeding into her tone. It was natural for the girl to feel that way, as the emperor rarely set foot in Sunrise Pce.

    Katya faintly felt the natural fluster all women felt when the person they desired was near and she mentally took inventory of her appearance while gesturing for Kora to bring her the rouge she never kept too far from her person.

    Her hair was unbound, spilling down the sleek silk lounge dress that was at odds with the weather outdoors. But Katya was an empress and the heating in her pce was second to none. The was a gold brazier beside her desk and the fire was roaring in her sitting room, leaving the temperature more reminiscent of the ones they¡¯d encountered during the summer.

    She was a vision that perhaps could leave any other man in the empire ck-jawed, Katya¡¯s eyes fluttering up in a tantalizing manner as her husband walked into the room. He had amanding presence, even without his killing aura that he rarely bothered to restrain he could¡¯ve sent all the maids in her quarters scurrying away. But considering how the emperor hade to see her, it meant that he had put a leash on his aura and that they were all safe- for now.

    Katya rose from her seat in one smooth motion, dropping into a curtsey that belied years of etiquette training. ¡°Your Majesty,¡± she murmured softly, her gaze cast downward in a picture of submission that would arouse the dominating desires of any warm-blooded male.

    But Emperor Helio¡¯s blood ran cold, for his stern mask did not slip as he entered for the first time in years, the abode of his wife. His empress.

    Katya¡¯s face did not shift, but she bit the inside of her cheek. Everyone in the pce and high society honored her as the empress save for the very man who had honored her with the position.

    Curious to see if she could move him, Katya allowed for a look of faint pity and neglect to appear, as if she were hurt by his ease in ignoring her. Pretending to be pitiful was a difficult task for the empress, but a familiar face came to mind when she gave it a try. For this was a look she had seen many times on her nominal daughter, Winter.

    Despite the many thoughts going through Katya¡¯s head, the emperor was impervious to them all as he stalked to the seat furthest from where Katya stood and sat. It was clear from his posture and bearing that he had note to reconcile with her or better yet, spend the evening with her. It had been years since she¡¯d had the boon that could tame even the emperor. But it had run out after she¡¯d used it a second time to bear Julia.

    ¡°You may all go,¡± Katya told her staff, the remaining few who hadn¡¯t discreetly fled once the emperor arrived. Soon it was just herself, the emperor, and the crackling fire. Almost 15 years of marriage and Katya could still count on one hand the number of times they¡¯d sat together outside of royal obligations, ceremonies, and affairs.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± she called, breaking the silence first. ¡°Would you like to pass dinner here?¡±

    Emperor Helio looked up at her, his golden eyes that she saw every day in her children shing in an unfriendly manner. ¡°I am not here for pleasure.¡±

    He never had been too. Every time Katya had managed to use her precious gift on the emperor, it had been on his turf. Sunrise Pce was more like ady¡¯s apartments than a wedded woman¡¯s.

    ¡°Of course,¡± she said, gracefully bowing her neck.

    ¡°Make Janice one of yourdies-in-waiting,¡± the emperor ordered the empress without any warning or ceremony.

    One corner of the empress¡¯ red pout quirked downward, the only sign of displeasure before she hid it with a delicate cough.

    ¡°Janice? You do not speak of...?¡±

    ¡°Yes. That Janice.¡±

    Empress Katya had read of these cases before, where an emperor would bid his wife take his lover as ady-in-waiting so that they could be in close proximity. There were many days where the empress would invite herdies-in-waiting to serve her within the pce and aid her with official duties, aiding in the emperor¡¯s proximity to his unofficial concubine.

    The pure anger that flooded Katya¡¯s system helped keep her from disying her displeasure this time as she thought of Janice¡¯s beauty. The empress was not an insecure woman. Insecurity, as her father and tutors had always taught her, was for the poor and powerless. She was the daughter of a powerful House, with beautyparable to few and a wit that couldpare to the sharpest minds in court. Being insecure would be to give herself a pointless weakness.

    And yet, she¡¯d never forgotten the way that pointless weakness had clogged her throat and made it hard for her to breath when the lowly daughter of a Master of Coin married the newly enthroned emperor. The pitiful looks people had given were bad enough, but even worse was the bewilderment in some gazes. How could the emperor overlook such a beautiful and powerful wife who could ensure all the nobility fell behind him for a weak dodder flower who would be more of a hindrance? Was there something wrong with Emperor Helio or Katya Duvernay?

    It was obvious which one people would be more willing to believe. The marriage proposals to their estate, the praises heaped on by senior noblewomen who wished she was theirs, it all had dried up overnight. She had be tainted, someone no one wanted to associate with. And for someone with as high aspirations as hers, such an oue was uneptable to Katya.

    There was thankfully one countermeasure to Emperor Helio¡¯s sudden request, one grace that ancientw had afforded the empress in the face of such humiliation. The eptance of ady-in-waiting was purely the decision of the empress. While the emperor could make such requests of her, it was always up to his wife whether she would ept.

    Many did, with the promise that their child would be guaranteed the throne upon his death or to attain the hand of a notable noble¡¯s daughter for their son. But Katya had long known of this rule and worked around it, providing the emperor with willing women employed by her family so that she could always keep an eye on them.

    Yet some still managed to slip from her grasp. The first had been a mere military ve, the kind of lowly thing that would¡¯ve spent the rest of her life rutting in a filthy brothel if it hadn¡¯t been for the kindness of House Duvernay. But that thing had the gall to slip from Katya¡¯s grasp and bear a daughter that Katya couldn¡¯t kill fast enough before she was confirmed to bear royal blood. A daughter who, Katya could grudgingly admit, was nearly as clever as she had been as a girl.

    And now there was Janice. The beautiful, cocky, stupid maid who Katya had been more than happy to discard in a Red House for the remainder of her days. It seemed she was losing her touch.

    Katya maintained a peaceful expression on her face, asking the emperor, ¡°Is she someone the emperor cares for?¡± Her voice was soft as her nails cut half crescents into her palm. She was full of so much rage she knew it would take more than one maid to release the fury inside of her.

    She was level-headed on all matters save for the ones of the emperor. It was part of why Katya¡¯s father was always disappointed in her, for not only failing to seduce the emperor but also for entangling her emotions in her marriage.

    The emperor grimaced faintly as if his opinion of Janice were contrary to that. ¡°Just take her in as yourdy-in-waiting.¡±

    Katya sucked in a deep breath, her hopes long dashed. ¡°And if I don¡¯t?¡±

    Emperor Helio straightened on the chair he sat on. ¡°Your greed,¡± he said instead. ¡°Do you think I don¡¯t know of it? You wanted to be an empress and have an imperial heir. Is it not enough for you?¡±

    No, Katya wished to say. I want your heart. But she was old enough to know was something she knew she would never get. He¡¯d given it away years ago to that dodder flower she¡¯d greatly enjoyed burning to death.

    His face was stoic and hard, as it often was. Katya wondered just how much emotion she¡¯d be able to witness for the first time if she told the emperor that she was secretly the reason why he¡¯d lost his first love.

    ¡°I am grateful for your favor, Your Majesty,¡± she whispered demurely, the sound carrying across the silent sitting room.

    ¡°Katya, you know well I do not favor you. I do not trust you. But I will grant you some news which may sway your mind.¡± Knives would hurt less than the words Emperor Helio had told Katya.

    The emperor stood, tucking his hands in the casual pants he wore that day. It was clear he had engaged in physical exercise beforeing, honeyed skin from the recent summer peeking through the linen shirt he wore. But with his undeniable presence, Emperor Helio had the bearing of a ruler, even in casual clothing.

    ¡°As we speak, my men have already kept the news of your uncle¡¯s death out of the papers and public knowledge. But you will have to give me this in return.¡±

    Katya¡¯s brow scrunched up, a minor reaction for some but the equivalent of jumping and yelling ¡°WHAT?¡± for herself. She could demand that the emperor tell the truth, but while Emperor Helio was a murderer, conqueror, and terrible husband, one thing he was not was a liar.

    She quickly analyzed the emperor¡¯s words, taking note of the key information that could be inferred. First of all, one of her father¡¯s two brothers was dead. Second, a narrative had been created that she, the empress, had been the one to do it.

    It was always Katya setting traps for others, but without her knowledge or any warning, she had been caught in one herself.

    ¡°It was not I, Your Majesty,¡± Katya pleaded in a calm manner. But her palms had begun to sweat.

    The list of those who may wish harm upon her was long, but the list of those who would dare do it wasughably short. And unlike the times when she set traps for others, this time she, the victim, did not even have the luxury of who was preying upon her.

    Emperor Helio looked unconvinced, but intent on finishing his message as soon as possible rather than arguing. ¡°Whatever the case may be, the evidence is undeniable so me will most likely fall on you. Have the future Countess within your service before the week is over.¡±

    His voice seemed ready to leave the room before he did, bing shorter as he stood and prepared to leave. Katya understood that his arrival was merely a formality, a slight nod of respect considering he was making a request of her that historically required the emperor to grovel and make concessions before his wife. She had never thought she would see such a thing while she was still young and beautiful, even if the emperor imed that he did not wish toy with the social-climbing former maid.

    ¡°Won¡¯t you?¡± The words exploded from the empress¡¯ mouth, jaggedly cutting through the stiff silence between them as the emperor prepared to depart. Such a gaffe was umon for Katya, but she recovered in a short time and cleared her throat.

    ¡°Won¡¯t you... stay?¡± she repeated. There was a faint vulnerability in her tone. She softened her eyes as much as she could, giving Emperor Helio a bashful look like she was a blushing debutante speaking to a man with her chaperone for the first time.

    An ugly smile wrested her husband¡¯s lips from the unfriendly grimace it was always in. He had pulled open the door, but now he stopped where he stood to stare back at his wife.

    ¡°What? Are you in need of another child? Sick of the ones you took from me already?¡± He spoke slowly, but there was no mistaking the rage beneath his tone. The first day that Katya had used the gift she¡¯d received from the mysterious stranger on Emperor Helio, she knew she¡¯d sacrificed any possible chance of crafting a happy marriage between the two.

    But even so, the deep hatred in the emperor¡¯s golden gaze still shook the besotted teenager in her heart to the core. She¡¯d done something wrong, yes. But it was only because she had to. It was the only way she could be a real empress and hold real power amongst the nobility instead of being regarded as a ceholder wife.

    ¡°I-¡± Everything was slipping from her grasp. The damn bastard girl. The respect she¡¯d painfully earned from her father. The fear she¡¯d once instilled in her enemies so they wouldn¡¯t dare touch her. She was losing it all.

    ¡°Good day.¡± The rage was back under wraps, but the empress could still feel the heat as the door to the sitting room mmed shut behind him.

    Empress Katya let out a long breath, letting her head fall into her hands. But she did not cry. She never cried. Sometimes, she wasn¡¯t even sure if she could.

    Outside the door, a maid whom Katya wouldn¡¯t have recognized from her usual staff crept away with thest tidbit of the conversation she¡¯d just heard. Prince Julian had been nting maids in Sunrise Pce since he could talk. It had almost be a game between the mother and son, one she encouraged so he could practice his skills of espionage and information gathering.

    He¡¯d nt a maid and they¡¯d make a game out of seeing how long he or she wouldst before Katya rooted them out of hiding. Usually, the maids woulde away with inconsequential bits of information that Julian would yfully tell Katya as proof. He¡¯de to her with quotes from her setting up the menu for a formal dinner or repairs to the fountains in the gardens. When it came to more useful information however, only the closed doors and her personal maids were privy to those, until today.

    And so, by the end of the day the young Prince Julian, who was not really so young on the inside but still too trusting of the wrong people, came to a powerful conclusion that could bode ill for the empress someday:

    Winnie had been right after all about his mother.

 Chapter 121

    Chapter 121: Ch. 120: 3 Years Later

    3 YEARS IN THE FUTURE

    ¡°You¡¯ve grown.¡± The tape measure slips across my shoulders down to my wrist. Lady Arabe scribbles down notes in her booklet, a levity in her eyes that I¡¯d once feared would be snuffed out forever.

    ¡°Marie feeds me too much cake,¡± I quip back, making eye contact with her in the mirror. That¡¯s kind of a lie, though. I am baking and eating way more sweets than any other 11-year-old kid would be allowed to eat. I suppose that¡¯s one of the benefits of not having parents who pay attention to you.

    But in recent years, it seems that I¡¯ve exchanged ack of parents for a helicopter of an older brother.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem like it to me, you¡¯re still skin and bones.¡± Arabe extends the tape measure down my back. I can feel her fingers through the thin material of my shift. They¡¯re cold, but I don¡¯t mind so much. In a few short years, I won¡¯t be able to feel them at all as I start wearing corsets like other young nobledies.

    ¡°Ugh, don¡¯t remind me. Augustus keeps getting the chefs to make me meat dishes with every meal to fatten me up,¡± I groan.

    As I tell her, I discreetly wipe my mouth to make sure I don¡¯t have any remainders of this lunch¡¯s steak and kidney pie sticking to my face. Arabe looks at me and smiles in a motherly way and I just scrunch my nose back. It¡¯s funny how on the inside I¡¯ve got a few years on her and yet she feels like an older sister to me.

    .....

    ¡°I mean it. You¡¯re more mature. More grounded. Happier.¡± Her eyes disappear as she begins to measure my legs.

    ¡°Me?¡± I chuckle out.

    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s lovely to see,¡± Arabe says. I scratch my head in embarrassment, but I feel pleased inside. In a way, she is right. I¡¯ve still been drowning in a mountain of stress, but having people I can trust has made the process far easier.

    I¡¯ve been able to look over my shoulder less as I¡¯ve sessfully weeded a majority of the empress¡¯ people save for a choice few so she doesn¡¯t get too suspicious and flood my surroundings with more spies. The orphanage is up and running smoothly, which means mywork of young eyes on the streets has grown exponentially. Arabe¡¯s is flourishing with orders, so now I can finance whatever costs Jack ims he needs for the orphanage without shedding as many tears as I used to. And most importantly, my stalemate with House Duvernay carries on strong as I continue ying being their promised child puppet within the Holy Church.

    I can¡¯t lie and say thest bit doesn¡¯t rankle me. But after the slip-up incident where I had to beat Lte, the powerful House has been true to their word and gotten the empress to mostly leave me alone. And I have been very, very productive in my free time since.

    ¡°Which color is more fashionable for hunting? Dark green or brown?¡± I ask Arabe. Dark somber colors are not one I typically gravitate to, but they¡¯re the norm for huntingpetitions.

    ¡°Both would look lovely on you, your highness. But perhaps a forest green would make for a sharp look amongst the trees.¡±

    I simply nod, trusting her fashion expertise. ¡°Have you... heard anything from anyone about thepetition?¡± I ask, subtly probing whether any of her other upper-ss clientele may have mentioned anything worth noting.

    Arabe ponders for a moment, her hand stilling on my leg. ¡°Guests,¡± she states, her eyes lighting up as somethinges to her. ¡°Guests from afar.¡±

    I tap my chin, the brief happiness I¡¯d felt taking a seat as her words give credence to the unconfirmed reports I¡¯d receivedst week. It is hard to hear about official news without any government officials or lords in my pocket save for Baron Laroche of the treasury. Hence why I have to check with a second source regarding any official imperial business.

    ¡°How far?¡± I ask, my mind instantly going across the Moor to the Old Continent.

    ¡°Very,¡± Arabe simply answered. It¡¯s vague, but it fulfills my suspicions nheless. We are always careful about how we speak, even when we are alone like now, after the body of a dead maid was discovered in one of the air ventsst spring following a bout of terrible odor around my apartments.

    Arabe shows me her sketches, a fitted hunting jacket and a full skirt that cuts off a little bit above the ankle so I can move around more freely. A matching hat apanies it, along with leather gloves to keep out the chill that inevitablyes with being in the woods. Even though it already is spring and my birthday has passed, one can never be too careful.

    Aidel. Kocia. Sarsaval. The names of the three kingdoms tug my frown even tighter, primarily because of the first one.

    The Kingdom of Aidel is the powerhouse kingdom that happens to be the sole reason why House Wolfe, one of the powerful, founding Houses of the Erudian Empire, swore to guard the north from potential invaders across the Moor. Quiet and unknown are the words that best describe the centerpiece of the Old Kingdom. But just because there is so little information in the Imperial Library about them doesn¡¯t mean they aren¡¯t a threat. Just like the important figures and powerful people from my old world, sometimes ack of avable public information is an indicator of power in and of itself.

    Not to mention, the Kingdom of Aidel is currently ruled by the powerful Kumaira dynasty that has subjugated its smaller neighboring territories and happens to have the marriage contract with our empire.

    Yup. The kingdom that I could possibly be shipped off to someday, no big deal or anything.

    Even with a leash on her, Empress Katya will still gnaw off the rope around her neck to make sure Julia isn¡¯t the princess chosen to fulfill the contract. And in the past three years, no new bastard princesses have popped out of the woodwork to share the weight of my burden.

    I don¡¯t necessarily want to condemn a neer who would be an actual child to the trial by fire of the imperial family and Empress Katya. But I also don¡¯t want to thousands of miles away to a kingdom I haven¡¯t even read about in books and try to survive their own royal family shenanigans. There are whispers of the strange abilities they wield across the sea and the way magic runs rampant through thends. It¡¯s in the water, in the soil. It¡¯s supposedly the reason why the blood of the Old Kingdom yields such unique hair colors ording to the storyteller Augustus once brought into the pce when I was bored.

    I loop a strand of my strangely colored hair around my fingers, the styling of it casual as I won¡¯t be going out anywhere. Arabe packs up her supplies with her final goodbyes. Thus imagine my surprise when she opens the door of my dressing room to reveal a familiar boy seated in a wheelchair behind it.

    ¡°Elias!¡± I yell, not necessarily out of joy.

    Courtesy of this era I¡¯ve unwillingly traveled to, I¡¯ve be a bit of a prudepared to my past self that proudly donned short shorts and crop tops. I¡¯ve only got on a shift that falls to midcalf without even covering my arms, and my hair falls untouched down my back. This is the equivalent of being seen in the nude for these times as Ms. Laroche has drilled into me and I dive behind the nearby divan with a squeal.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± I ask, my knees pressing into the hardwood floor ufortably.

    My oldest noble friend¡¯s voicees floating over the divan into my ears.

    ¡°My apologies, your highness,¡± Elias calls out, his voice as soft and calming as ever. ¡°I shall retreat to the sitting room.¡±

    I jump up in a burst of anger. ¡°Do you want me toe over there and hit you? How many times have I told you not to call me that?¡± I scold Elias.

    Itently realize that all the care I took not to be seen was for naught as I stand before him in a shift and nothing else. But I can¡¯t retreat now so I crouch behind the divan so only my face can be seen and send Elias the fiercest re I can muster.

    However, the sole heir to House Wolfe is a respectful gentleman, having covered his eyes long ago even as heughs.

    ¡°Then I shall leave, Winnie,¡± he says. Even with his eyes closed, it¡¯s a breeze for him to reverse his wheelchair and exit, all the while chuckling softly.

    ¡°I told you I hate that name too! I¡¯m not Winnie the Pooh!¡± Thest sentence I grumble to myself under my breath, ringing a bell for Marie and a maid to enter so I can get dressed as fast as humanly possible.

    Perhaps it was meant to be a flex, having borate clothing that required the help of another individual in order to put it on. But the minutes feel like hours as I torturously wait for the maid toce up the back of my silk dress and for Marie to braid my hair into a childish updo.

    ¡°We don¡¯t need ribbons today,¡± I urge, waving away the matching sky blue ones that Marie wants to put in.

    ¡°But you love ribbons, your highness,¡± Marie insists sweetly, a glint of yfulness in her eyes as she can tell I¡¯m trying to leave as soon as possible to spend time with Elias.

    I shake my head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t! Ribbons are for children.¡± I kick off from the vanity. ¡°Thanks for helping me get ready!¡±

    ¡°They grow up so fast. It feels like yesterday when I used to carry her everywhere,¡± I hear Marie murmur happily to the maid who helped me dress as I run out in fashionable slippers with absolutely no traction.

    I slip and slide through the generous halls, practically ice skating as I barrel into the room without any brakes or walls to grab.

    It¡¯s just my luck too, there are no carpets to stop my precarious slide into the sitting room. To my dismay, Elias has parked himself only a few feet directly in front of the entrance. It feels like slow motion, both of our eyes widening at the inevitable. My mind mocks me by reying all the times Marie has told me not to go running inside without any shoes on.

    Elias holds his arms out, but I¡¯ve be a force of nature at this point. I fall into Elias¡¯p with a thump before I carry the two of us over the armrest and onto the floor in a heap.

 Chapter 122

    Chapter 122: Ch. 121: Daddy Issues

    One of my greatest strengths is my ability to think and view the world beyond the lens of someone born into this era.

    But at this moment, my head goes nk. My head is buried in his armpit, one shoe is halfway across the room, and my elbow pressing up against a body part that if treated without care could end the bloodline of House Wolfe with Elias.

    I try to lift myself up, but it elicits an ufortable gasp from Elias. Sweet Jesus, please kill me now. Believe me, I¡¯ve read all about these kinds of dumb, awkward tumbles in romance novels. Heck, there may have even been one or two between my big brother and ra in this very webnovel I¡¯m now a part of. However, I don¡¯t think either of them fully epassed just how goddamn awkward it is, especially considering we are kids who practically lost their teeth yesterday.

    ¡°Sorry!¡± I yell, my voice muffled in his neat shirt I¡¯ve definitely messed up. I roll to the side, never more thankful to feel the hard floor below me. I teeter to my feet, feelingpletely out of sorts as I see Elias staring at me from the floor.

    It takes me a second to remember he can¡¯t get up on his own.

    ¡°Shoot,¡± I grab my head in frustration, just to feel that the hairdo Marie did for me has alsoe undone courtesy of my dazzling disy of clumsiness. ¡°Ok, I got this don¡¯t worry. Give me your hand.¡±

    I head straight to Elias¡¯ side, stretching out a hand as he stares at me with bugged-out purple eyes. I don¡¯t me the kid, he must be traumatized.

    .....

    ¡°Give me your hand, Elias!¡± I urge again.

    ¡°Your face...¡± Elias stares up in awe. I wonder if he¡¯s got a concussion until he opens his mouth again.

    ¡°It¡¯s so red.¡±

    I inwardly roll my eyes, cursing the pale skin that disys every shift in my emotion. Just going up the stairs results in red cheeks for the next 30 minutes, my skin must be as thin as paper.

    ¡°Hmmm seems like you¡¯repletely fine then.¡± I cross my arms and walk over to my shoe across the room, my dignity in tatters. Turning around abruptly when I hear a suspicious wheeze of air that sounds like a smothered giggle, I¡¯m met with innocent eyes blinking back at me.

    ¡°I can¡¯t get up on my own,¡± Elias finally says in the midst of our stare-off.

    I huff out a breath. ¡°I know.¡±

    The wheelchair has been upended so I right it first before trying to pull Elias from the floor. But Elias must be eating very well because my arms quiver as I lift him up from under his armpits. With our heads tucked together in this awkward position, My nose is right by his neck. But Elias bears no discernible scent. He¡¯s not even radiating the warmth of a typical person, to the point that I could mistake him for a mannequin.

    With Elias back in his chair, I rub the back of my neck and look away, certain that my face must be red again.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± I sit on the sofa, feeling a twinge of guilt as I take note of myck of pain from the tumble. Elias probably took the brunt of our fall.

    ¡°You already said that,¡± Elias replies. He doesn¡¯t look miffed or annoyed, instead, his face carries a faint half-smirk of amusement.

    ¡°Yes, but I¡¯m saying it again in case your father looks for me to settle this wrong,¡± I say, pouting my lips childishly. ¡°You can tell him it was an ident. If I ever have any children, he can adopt them and add them to his bloodline.¡±

    ¡°Ha! He won¡¯t care. He won¡¯t even hear of this,¡± Elias tells me, his gaze reassuring.

    ¡°Really?¡± I light up instantly. ¡°Ah, you¡¯re the best, Elias! I take back what I saidst week, you¡¯re my favorite person ever.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. My father wouldn¡¯t care about such minor matters. Every letter I¡¯ve ever sent him has been returned without being opened.¡± Elias speaks matter of factly, seemingly immune to the pain his father inflicts upon him.

    It¡¯s a sensation I willingly endure. Unlike Elias, I¡¯ve experienced another, better life with a parent who loved me. But even in this second life that I¡¯ve entered with the mentality of an adult, I have still felt for myself how much not having loving parents affects my childhood. I don¡¯t want to watch Elias be embittered by the failings of the adults around him.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I say, creeping around the coffee table to him. ¡°Forget your dad, ok? You¡¯ve got me. I¡¯m your family.¡±

    I take his little hand, expressing my support for the kid. He doesn¡¯t let go, but the cynical edge to his words doesn¡¯t fade. If there¡¯s one thing we have inmon, it¡¯s daddy issues.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Elias tells me. ¡°I understand that having a defective son instead of his wife is a hard pill to swallow. But you, on the other hand, still live with your father and see him often. Unlike me, you have a chance to build a rtionship with him.¡±

    I let out a loud sigh. ¡°Look, I¡¯ve told you a thousand times, I don¡¯t care about having a rtionship with him. We are no more familiar than neighbors living on the same street.¡±

    Elias stares at me like he can¡¯t believe a single word that just came out of my mouth. So shocked is he that he gets into a fierce coughing fit that wracks his thin chest pitifully.

    ¡°Elias!¡± I pat his back, waiting for the coughing to subside. I¡¯m not a particrly heavy child, but the impact of our collision must¡¯ve had more consequences than I anticipated.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to go get an imperial physician,¡± I tell Elias, unable to sit around and watch him suffer any longer.

    ¡°No, wait!¡± A hand grabs my wrist, surprisingly able to stop me in my tracks despite his seemingly weak grasp. I turn back and look at him, two doe eyes peeking out between locks of sandy brown hair.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need help, I just need you to promise me something,¡± Elias¡¯ yearning look tells me all I need to know.

    ¡°No. No, I won¡¯t.¡± I had lied earlier when I said that my father and I were like neighbors. It was more like a cat and mouse.

    The cat catches its prey, curious about the little creature. Will it eat the mouse? Will it let it go? Only the cat knows. And all the while, the cat toys with the prey that increasingly piques its interest.

    I¡¯m not invisible anymore. When my father looks at me, he doesn¡¯t look through me any longer. There¡¯s a distinct curiosity in his gaze, made more obvious by the fact that I actually see him every day, unlike the first two years when I saw the emperor a handful of times. It¡¯s as if he¡¯s asking himself, after all she¡¯s been through how is she not broken? How is she still standing?

    I don¡¯t presume to know what forces my father has under his hand. They must be plentiful, to the point that if he knew all of my nning and secrets, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised. Is that what has attracted the emperor¡¯s attention?

    Because if so, I¡¯m not ttered, but even more disappointed.

    ¡°Don¡¯t ask that of me,¡± I half-plead with Elias. We both know that he was about to ask me to try to make nice with Emperor Helio.

    ¡°I overstepped.¡± I can practically see Elias retreat back into his shell.

    ¡°No, you didn¡¯t,¡± I say, trying to assuage Elias¡¯ guilt. ¡°You care. Which is all that matters.¡±

    I settle back onto the sofa on my side, ringing the bell so that a maid can bring tea in.

    A few momentster, ines Sage, the newest maid to my pce. But unlike the others, she¡¯s young, scarcely older than Elias and I. Her skin is well tanned, greatly resembling me in my past life as a young Hispanic woman. Her eyes are eager and bright, darting everywhere as she pushes the cart of steaming tea and treats into the room. But those eyes eventually settle on one target and stay there.

    Elias Wolfe can no longer be called cute, having begun his transition from boy to man as is befitting his age of 12. The faintest bone structure has begun to carve itself into a face smoother than marble, the unique eye color that shines under his mop of hair no longer as round and sweet as it used to be. As she is indeed a young girl, it would be rather strange if Sage wasn¡¯t bewitched.

    I watch with faint mirth as Sage carefully attends to Elias, setting up his tea with more care than I usually see her put into me. I¡¯d almost forgotten the way one¡¯s first crush blooms right around this tender age. Middle school feels like centuries ago.

    To his credit, Elias is gracious even as he notices my maid¡¯s extra attentiveness. He¡¯s always been a sharp-eyed kid, which makes me d. I don¡¯t want to see him get tossed around and yed the way I was in my early days.

    ¡°No Emma?¡± Elias finally asks when Sage leaves, pink hearts practically glowing in her eyes. ¡°You got a new ymate?¡±

    ¡°Emma is... upied,¡± I murmur in a knowing manner, sipping my tea. ¡°For now, I¡¯ll let my mother think that she¡¯s managed to get one of her spies to put a wedge in our rtionship.¡±

    Yes, Sage is a spy of the empress. Her innocentrge eyes and curiosity at the sights of the central pce when she first arrived were very disarming, I cannot lie. But it was too convenient, the timing of her arrival two years ago. Emma sniffed her out first, discovering the remains of a burned letter that carried the rose sigil of House Duvernay.

    It was then we¡¯d concocted a fun little scheme, to pretend that Sage¡¯s attempts at ingratiating herself with me had worked and driven Emma away. And now, we wait, wait for the empress to try to snap Emma up to her side. Wait for the hunter to be the hunted.

    I smile to myself. ¡°A good old-fashioned double-cross,¡± I say to Elias.

    ¡°To smile in the face of the one you aim to destroy, there is no greater pleasure is there?¡± Elias says, taking a sip of tea with the grace trained into every noble child. Even when discarded by his father, Elias still carries the bearing of a proper noble son of a prominent House.

    I swirl my finger around the mouth of my cup, watching the steam rise from the delicate china cup.

    ¡°I guess. Do you think I¡¯m a bad person, Elias?¡± I don¡¯t look up as I ask him the question.

    The awkwardness of the previous incident has faded. That¡¯s the beauty of my friendship with Elias, we get along like peanut butter and jelly.

    ¡°No. On the contrary, I would do the exact same thing if I were in your shoes.¡± I nce up to see Elias nodding earnestly, always on my side no matter what.

    ¡°I¡¯d hope not,¡± I chuckle lightly. Slowly over the years, I¡¯ve been letting Elias get a taste for some of my machinations. ¡°You should be a better person than me.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± A teasing aura surrounds my typically well-mannered friend. ¡°But I am. In our games of chess, you never see meing until it¡¯s checkmate.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because I¡¯m rubbish at chess and you know it!¡± I growl, waving a threatening fist at Elias. Ms. Laroche would have a stroke if she saw me break mydylike bearing just now. But with Elias, I don¡¯t care about that stuff. He¡¯s seen me masquerading as a peasant and didn¡¯t care about my decorum then, so there¡¯s no point in pretending I have any now.

    Amidst our animated conversation, we wind up outside in the gardens eventually. I don¡¯t know where Chester, Elias¡¯ bodyguard and butler, has disappeared to but I find myself pushing his wheelchair as we wander amongst the flowers imported from all over the empire and taken pristine care of by a team of talented gardeners.

    ¡°What¡¯s your endgame?¡± It¡¯s an abrupt shift in our conversation, but I can understand what Elias is asking right away.

    ¡°I want her to be alone,¡± I mutter, the face of the woman who has tormented me since I was a kid shing through my head. We¡¯ve reached the miniature forest and I stop pushing the wheelchair.

    ¡°In a way, we are all alone,¡± Elias muses slowly.

    I shake my head before realizing he can¡¯t see it. ¡°No, none of that philosophical nonsense. I want my mother to truly be alone. No one will stand by her side. Not her son. Not her daughter. Not her precious House. I want her to get a little taste of my life.¡±

    ¡°And then...?¡± Elias trails off.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. She thinks she knows me. She thinks she knows my ns, my people, my resources. But that¡¯s what I want her to think. I want her to get sofortable that when I pull the rug out from under her, she can do nothing but fall and break!¡± I don¡¯t realize that I¡¯ve been raising my voice until I close my mouth.

    Elias is quiet for a second, then two. I worry that I¡¯ve frightened him with the fire of my need for revenge.

    I feel even more exposed before him than I did in the dressing room. ¡°Sorry, I-¡± I start, intending to backtrack from my words.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± Elias says firmly. He looks back at me, his face carrying a grit I¡¯ve rarely seen. ¡°I¡¯m with you. I want to watch you see this through, by your side. But there¡¯s one tool I think you¡¯re missing.¡±

    My lips tug down into a frown as I can already feel the direction this is going. ¡°Nope. Not my father.¡±

    Elias nods. ¡°No, not the emperor. Someone better.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± I ask warily, leaning in anyways to hear what he has to say.

    ¡°Not who, but what. And that, is the Holy Church,¡± Elias tells me with great confidence.

    I scratch my head before absentmindedly running my fingers through the loose tresses.

    ¡°Huh? I already do have that tool.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but you don¡¯t use it. You allow it to use you. The same way your father uses you to bolster the imperial bloodline.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to remind me,¡± I grumble as Elias throws back the same words I¡¯d told him in a previous argument of why I hate my father. The trees in front of us silently mock me, nature¡¯s symbol of my father. If I ever leave this godforsaken pce, I don¡¯t n on visiting the eastern part of the empire where these tall trees apparently grow in abundance.

    ¡°Do you know howe I always beat you in chess? I take out your linchpin, the key piece in your defense. Once that falls, so do you.¡± Elias says with a smug grin on his face. ¡°The Holy Church is House Duvernay¡¯s linchpin. It¡¯s why their power remains unchallenged in the capital. Threaten it, and you will find that there is little they will not sacrifice to keep it.¡±

    ¡°Even an empress?¡±

    ¡°Especially an empress.¡± Elias taps his chin with a devilish look that¡¯s quite adorable on his younger face. ¡°It would be a tad bit more difficult to use than just using your father, but it¡¯ll do.¡±

    .....

    ¡°I¡¯ll never use my father. I don¡¯t need him. I can take care of Empress Katya myself.¡± My teeth clench at the thought of ingratiating myself with the devil and trying to inspire him to care for me. The man¡¯s heart is dead. For everyone except Augustus, that is.

    ¡°I know,¡± Elias says. He wistfully looks in the distance. ¡°You¡¯re brilliant. That¡¯s what makes you the perfect tool.¡±

    ¡°Tool? I think you¡¯re mixing me up in that head of yours,¡± Iugh, tapping at the side of Elias¡¯ head. Heughs too and for just a second, I can pretend I¡¯m a carefree kid without the weight of the world on my shoulders.

 Chapter 123

    Chapter 123: Ch. 122: Like a Prayer

    ¡°Do you know what you will say?¡± My brother¡¯s worried gaze hovers over mine as I push his face away.

    ¡°What, do you think I¡¯m stupid enough to go before every noble guest and fumble through my words? It¡¯s just a simple prayer,¡± I gripe to Augustus.

    I suck in a lungful of fresh pine and smile to myself. I have yet to read a webnovel where someone didn¡¯t try to murder the female lead in the middle of a huntingpetition. While I don¡¯t have the luxury of being the female lead, as Peppermint enjoyed constantly reminding me, I am lucky enough to have the empire¡¯s most powerful woman out to get me so I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be able to get a taste of the main character treatment.

    ¡°Everything will be fine,¡± I say to the crown prince, even though it won¡¯t be.

    ¡°Why do you try to treat me like your junior sometimes?¡± Augustus casts me a disgruntled look within his tent, looking dashing in his hunting uniform, simply a darker version of his military uniform.

    ¡°Habit,¡± I mutter, looking away. Speaking of habits, I harden my heart again as I look at thetest sibling I¡¯ve befriended over the years. Who knows, today¡¯s Augustus could be tomorrow¡¯s Julian. I¡¯m just using him to secure a better future for myself, after all, not to make a new friend.

    ¡°What¡¯s a habit?¡± An unwee visitor busts into the tent, but he¡¯s far too highly ranked to warrant being tossed out by the seat of his pants.

    .....

    If Julian and I were still on better terms, I suppose I might¡¯ve answered with a funny quip, but Augustus and I just toss matching dead stares at the sibling we unfortunately still share.

    ¡°I don¡¯t recall inviting you,¡± Augustus says, alienating Julian¡¯s presence from the get-go. The spacious tent suddenly feels crowded as hostility floats into the air. Augustus doesn¡¯t hate Julian per se, but my warnings over the years have not fallen upon deaf ears and there is a newfound wariness that hangs in his gaze.

    But Julian strolls in without a care about the irritation he¡¯s causing. ¡°I¡¯m a prince. I don¡¯t require an invitation.¡±

    I roll my eyes and prepare to leave my two brother¡¯s behind. As young men taking their first steps into adulthood, they¡¯re like day and night, with Julian¡¯s sunny hair and smile against Augustus¡¯ darker coloring and faint scowl. My past self would definitely swoon if I saw them in a manhwa instead of a webnovel. Unfortunately for me, I know them both in this life and would gag at the thirstyments showering them in praise.

    ¡°Leaving so soon?¡± Something shes through Julian¡¯s eye, but it¡¯s smothered before it can fullye to light.

    ¡°I¡¯m done talking to Augustus and there is nothing worth staying for any longer,¡± I reply, my tone curt as I flit out of the tent into a natural scenery that far surpasses the golden cage of the pce. Sage perks up from where she was waiting, half dancing half running to my side.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± she squeals. Her over-exuberance is reminiscent of my past days of pandering to others with my cuteness so that people could pity me. It had done me very little good in the long run.

    ¡°Sage.¡± I purge the irritation that Julian has brought to my system, venturing into the heart of the matter. ¡°Do you know why Julian is here?¡±

    My brother¡¯s not-so-loyal manservant, Felix, stands outside of the crown prince¡¯s tent and throws a thinly veiled venomous look my way when I utter Julian¡¯s name.

    Sage blinks her eyes in a confused manager, her darkshes fluttering against her face in a way that should appear quite innocent. Behind her soft gaze hides a rolling camera, one that captures everything itnds on. ¡°Not at all!¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± I say nonchntly, turning away as if I don¡¯t care for the matter. In actuality, I am quite curious. Julian is not a typical 17-year-old, but one that houses the soul of an older man who¡¯s already weathered many storms life has thrown his way in his past life. He does everything with a purpose so to assume that Julian is casually greeting Augustus would be foolhardy on my part.

    I instead throw a curveball for Sage, whom I specifically kept by my side so that she could not run off and send a warning to the wrong party.

    ¡°Guide me to the wee reception,¡± I instruct the spy maid.

    ¡°Oh? Your highness?¡± Confusion mars the innocence she constantly tries to emit.

    I smile gently. ¡°I said, take me to the wee reception where my father is going to greet the noble guests we¡¯ve invited to the huntingpetition.¡±

    ¡°B-But you are not meant to be there right now, your highness!¡± Sage nearly shouts, before correcting her tone. ¡°On the schedule Nina gave me, you are to remain in your tent until the brunch the empress is hosting.¡±

    ¡°Do you listen to Nina, or me?¡± I ask her point-nk. As she gets flustered, I smile warmly as if I don¡¯t care about her rudeness. ¡°Don¡¯t you always like to have fun? It will be much more fun to go to the wee reception and watch those simpering nobledies fluff their feathers as they try to catch people¡¯s attention.¡±

    It¡¯s fun watching Sage bite her lips as I walk ahead without any doubt in my step. At best, a maid can suggest a better course of action, but at the end of the day, they have to heed their mistress¡¯mand. Of course, now that my father has visiblyid im to me, they heed my words far better than before.

    ¡°The princess! It¡¯s the princess!¡± The buzz ripples across the throng gathered on a clearing of well-tended grass.

    ¡°What is she doing here?¡± Their curiosity has been inescapable ever since I was outed as the promised child instead of Princess Julia.

    ¡°Hunting for a husband at such a young age? As expected of an illegitimate princess,¡± someone else spits. I do not even stand near the men, as the men and women stand on separate sides of the clearing before the lofted stage. Not to mention, the guests of honor, princes and dignitaries from the neighboring kingdoms, have yet to even make their appearance. Some people¡¯s tongues can truly tell the tallest of tales and wildest rumors.

    The response is varying, but I¡¯ve certainly caught everyone¡¯s attention. I¡¯m indifferent to the positive and negative things that are whispered around me, walking with purpose towards the temporary wooden tform that has been constructed at the front of the clearing. It was built for the sole purpose of my father¡¯s imminent wee speech that is to be delivered sometime in the next 10 or so minutes, but luckily for me, I only need a few.

    Image. In my university sses on PR, that was something that was highlighted rather early on for its great importance in selling anything, whether it be a product, idea, or religion. McDonald¡¯s has their iconic M that almost the entire human poption above the age of 4 can recognize in a heartbeat. The cross is synonymous with Christianity, perhaps the only symbol more recognizable than the fast-food chain¡¯s M logo.

    Elias was right, I need to make better use of the Holy Church. This means I need to tie my image so intrinsically to them that when people look at me, they don¡¯t just see the Holy Church, they see the Holy Church as an extension of me.

    I want to be the face of the Holy Church, the one people turn to. Not Bishop Duvernay whose honeyed words somehow manage tofort the stormiest of souls.

    I can¡¯t talk nearly as well as he can. But I do encounter the nobility more often than he does, the people who hold more sway over theings and goings of the empire. And I can heal people, just about anyone.

    Except for those rare asions.

    Julian¡¯s unconscious face shes through my mind, along with Elias¡¯ ufortable smile when his legs present yet another disadvantage to him.

    I take a deep breath and purge them from my mind. No. Today, I¡¯m just here to utter a short Helionic prayer and present my rtionship with the Holy Church not as one between debtor and debtee, but two equal partners. No matter how untrue that narrative may be, some will believe it. And I have nothing but time to keep working on those who don¡¯t.

    The first obstacle stands in my way, the loyal Mad Dog of the emperor and captain of the royal guard, Lord Wolfgang. He crosses his arm, looking positively wolfish with his shock of red hair and a new scar that bisects over his eye. How he acquired it, no one quite knows. But it¡¯s only added to his fear factor and scared away the few intrepid women who wished to cling to him at least for his powerful house and future dukedom.

    He greets me first. With an ever-present grin, it¡¯s easy to mistake my father¡¯s most loyal associate as a fool but his razor-sharp gaze doesn¡¯t miss anything. Even after a night of raucous drinking, one peek through a window was able to detect my potential identity and kickstart my tumultuous life in the pce. I can even feel it picking apart my intentions of being here, considering how even Augustus is not meant to be present right now.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± his deep voice enunciates. ¡°To what do I owe this pleasure?¡±

    ¡°A prayer,¡± I say, cutting to the choice. ¡°Just a few words to set people¡¯s hearts at ease before thepetitionmences. Not everyone is lucky enough to walk away from an encounter with a griffin.¡±

    It¡¯s a day-long affair and famouslypetitive, the annual huntingpetition amongst the nobility. There is great honor in bringing in the most game or hunting a difficult predator like a bear or one of the rarer creatures that lurk in this stretch of innocent woods ¨C a nesting griffin that had recently given birth. A few overly ambitious noble boys asionally died in their attempts, but once in a while, a talent would manage toe back, bruised and battered, with the unique creature in his grasp.

    Supposedly, when Lord Wolfgang was young, he¡¯d been the first to emerge from the woods with a dead griffin in hand and nary a single scratch. His prowess in such bloody matters is beyond a shadow of a doubt. But the reason why he, a favored noble son, had chosen to follow a bastard son instead of the official crown prince remains cloaked in shadows.

    A nostalgic gaze fills the captain¡¯s eye. ¡°Ah, yes, griffins. What fun. Oh, to be young again and a ve to whatever follies captured my attention. Be careful, young princess, lest you identally step in a bear trap in your pursuit of a griffin.¡±

    He smiles innocently in his imposing navy blue military uniform, but I can feel the warning behind the heir of House Amarelius¡¯ words.

    ¡°I am not a hunter, but the hunted,¡± I tell the Mad Dog in a stiff manner. My nerves have begun to creep up on me and I let out a long breath, before continuing in a calmer manner, ¡°Would it be presumptuous of me topare myself to the griffin that will inevitably be killed by the end of today?¡±

    The scarred eye stares down at me. ¡°Are you, though?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Are you truly in danger of being hunted? I hope you haven¡¯t forgotten how many lives the elusive griffins im from this noble pack every year.¡± We both pause after his words to look over the crowd of overeager teenagers in shiny new hunting gear that probably hasn¡¯t seen a single day of use. A few of those beaming idiots may not return by nightfall.

    ¡°Except I am not prone to violence,¡± I murmur. Now that I look again, the crowd of preening noblewomen, the older ones at least, appear far more fearful than I¡¯d thought. One wrings her handkerchief like a maid wringing her rag as she scrubs the floor. Another has broken decorum and bites at her nails.

    ¡°No, you¡¯re not,¡± Lord Wolfgang agreed. ¡°You women prefer to war with words rather than swords. But any creature backed into a corner will attack when provoked.¡±

    ¡°I- That¡¯s not-¡± I instantly rebut, ready to defend myself. I have had to loosen a few of my morals over the years, but one line I have yet to cross is to cause bodily harm or death to others. My modern sensibilities and conscience will never allow me to go that far, no matter the circumstances.

    A little voice in my head chuckles though that I would be more than happy to toe that line if I had to. I know it. And I suppose, Lord Wolfgang does too.

    ¡°There, there. Don¡¯t you have a prayer to say and hearts to assuage?¡± Lord Wolfgang bellyughs and a few people stare. His energy feels like that of a friendly uncle once more, deception at its finest.

    ¡°Time to show the people how much you¡¯ve grown over the years, even if it doesn¡¯t look like much.¡±

    His looming form steps to the side, tacitly allowing me to go up and speak to the gathered nobility. I can all but hear Sage dete behind me as Lord Wolfgang allows me entry instead of barring my presence like she no doubt had hoped for.

    ¡°My growth spurt is just taking its time,¡± I grumble under my breath as I swoop past him onto the wooden tform.

    I¡¯m terribly exposed on top, a gust of wind blowing in agreement as the throngs quiet down. Faces turn to stone and every eye insight is trained onto my diminutive form, just like that heart-pounding day I¡¯d first emerged on the staircase at the Spring Ball years ago. My sweaty hands almost curl into fists before I remember Ms. Laroche¡¯s teachings and sp them in front in adylike manner. I smile, the same PR smile I¡¯ve practiced thousands of times in front of a mirror, even though I feel like grimacing. If Elias was wrong about this, I¡¯m going to kill him.

    ¡°Please bring your hands together for Chapter 2, Verse 12 from the New Helionic Bible: I Shall Not Cower Beneath Helio¡¯s Light,¡± I utter, my palms so slick they nearly slide off one another as I bring them together.

    My words flow over the crowd the same way my healing energy flows over the sick. Although most nobility are fake believers, they are adept at going through the motions of the Holy Church and following along with ease. Seeing them close their eyes and slightly bend their heads towards me, I finally feel like I can breathe. With new breath in my lungs, I utter the prayer I¡¯ve practiced for days.

    I¡¯m not sure who is more assured as I say the final words, myself or the fearful noblewomen who seem to have calmed some of their nerves. I think I even spy some gratefulness in their eyes. It takes me aback, as I¡¯m no bishop, priest, or anyone officially ordained through the Holy Church. Or perhaps, they¡¯ve simply remembered that if their son should get injured today, I can drag him out of the jaws of death with a single touch.

    I am tangible. I am real. I am not just honeyed words, but a promise.

    This wasn¡¯t part of the script, but I can¡¯t help but say onest thing as I stand on the stage before everyone.

    ¡°May fortune and Helio favor you all as you embark into the woods. So long as I am here, death shall not be favorable in his hunt today.¡±

    The dam breaks and a middle-aged woman dressed somberly in ck bursts into tears and crumples to the floor. There is a newfound reassurance in many of the gathered people¡¯s gazes.

    Little do they know that my promise is not only for the overly ambitious teenagers hunting for game beyond their capabilities, but also for those who may seek to get rid of me or Augustus today.

    After all, what¡¯s a huntingpetition without a few assassination attempts on a member of the imperial family?

 Chapter 124

    Chapter 124: Ch. 123: Ready, Set, Action!

    I¡¯m sure my father gave a great speech after my prayer. Unfortunately (or perhaps, fortunately), I will never know because I left the premises as soon as I could after giving a politician¡¯s farewell to the significantly happier nobles.

    We¡¯re all users at the end of the day. They don¡¯t want their precious, cocky offspring to die just for the chance to gain a prestigious position in the army and I want to solidify my stance within a social ss that prioritizes one¡¯s birth and rank above all else.

    But it doesn¡¯t feel great honestly. The reason why I had wanted to pursue politics in my past life was to make a difference for the little guy in a modern world more than happy to exploit them. However, these past few years I¡¯ve been using my skills for personal gain rather than for others.

    I¡¯m not unaware of the many problems this world suffers. There are very contracts forced onto the poor and recently conquered territories, there are those who go hungry in the slums, and there are countless disced people from the past war. As we celebrated in silk andvish gowns during the Celebration Ball, many had found themselves without a home or hot meal. Many still haven¡¯t found those, yet.

    ¡°A penny for your thoughts, your highness?¡± Sage asks, yfully using one of the phrases I¡¯ve taught her.

    ¡°They will cost you much more than that,¡± I tell her, sessfully distracted from the constant push and pull that my conscience wages within me. For now, my conscience loses as Sage¡¯s presence reminds me that above personal gain there is something else I¡¯ve been trying to protect ¨C my life and the lives of those I care about.

    Sage pouts. ¡°But my sry would be too small to afford the thoughts of a princess,¡± she whines.

    .....

    I chuckle to myself, the unpleasant nostalgia of my tiny stipend when I¡¯d first arriveding to mind.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯d be surprised, Sage.¡±

    My thoughts unconsciously drift to Emma, the person I¡¯d much prefer to be by my side. She is here, somewhere. I told her to find a way to get Nina to bring her along with the rest of my staff, leaving me feeling assured to know that on these spacious grounds a little beyond the city gates, I have a real ally.

    There is afortable lull in the conversation that I¡¯d be happy to have carried on until we reach the location where my real opponents reside. Those opponents are the empress and a few other highly ranked noblewomen who have either never given me the time of day orpletely hate me. But Sage is very fond of chattering on about nonsense.

    ¡°You look very beautiful today, your highness!¡± she chirps as we pass by servants setting up shortened archery stands for the minorpetition to take ce for the noble boys too young to participate in the actualpetition.

    The few boys who have arrived early aren¡¯t far from my age, but they already blush and bow as we pass them by.

    ¡°Do I?¡± I reply without turning to look at her.

    I nod politely to a few nobles who I know firmly stand with the crown prince, and with my known allegiance to my brother they are quick to show their respect back.

    I look down at the stunning forest green hunting ensemble that Lady Arabe put together for me, apparel that will never be put into its intended use. I could practically blend in with the tall trees and lively evergreen that surround us.

    I can practically see a loading icon float above Sage¡¯s head as she considers her next move.

    ¡°Are you... are you mad at me?¡± she asks quietly, deting like a punctured balloon.

    ¡°Mad? I could never be,¡± I scoff in surprise, delighting at how she twists her face in a semnce of sadness. ¡°I suppose that I¡¯m a bit nervous. Mother doesn¡¯t seem to care for me very much.¡±

    Two can y the game and I pout my bottom lip slightly as if I actually care what Empress Katya thinks of me. And I don¡¯t. Mostly.

    But Sage was trained well and knows better than to speak kindly of the empress to my face. It seems that she was sent to me for the sole purpose of surveince. I¡¯ve never seen her try to push me towards a certain decision or convince me that Empress Katya cares for me.

    ¡°Hmph! The empress doesn¡¯t care about you as much as I do. You didn¡¯t even like her birthday gift as much as you liked mine, your highness. That¡¯s why I¡¯m your favorite, right?¡± she coos, leaning in close like a dog begging to be patted on the head.

    I want to swat her face away, but I manage to give her a thin smile. It¡¯s a little harder than usual ying along with Sage today, with the impending brunch before me. If it were just the empress today, I¡¯d be able to white-knuckle it as usual, but there are a few more yers in today¡¯s game.

    Duchess Taylor. All thedies-in-waiting, including Countess Janice, whose suspicious kindness to me over the years has left me more than a little perturbed. And any other outlier who decides to y around with the bastard princess.

    ¡°The empress¡¯ gift?¡± I mutter absentmindedly as I wonder how deep Duchess Taylor¡¯s scowl will carve into her face once I arrive.

    The duchy of Mulworth has historically always been the smallest of the once four, now three duchies in the Erudian Empire. But no matter how small it is, the duke and his son are in prominent positions within the imperial army, which is what gives the small territory a majority of its power. She most certainly has her allies whose stances mirror hers.

    Sage nods so hard I fear her head might bounce off. ¡°The pocket watch! You said it was far gaudier than your tastes.¡±

    ¡°Oh, the watch.¡± I pat a pocket on my hunting jacket where said watch, a bejeweled golden piece that matches my eyes, rests out of sight. ¡°It was very over the top. The little cake you made for me is much more valuable to me than even 10 of those ostentatious watches.¡±

    My empty words send Sage¡¯s mood surging back to normal. ¡°You are so kind to me, your highness,¡± she says with a bright grin.

    My birthday has recently passed in a rather subdued fashion. I received gifts from my family and many prominent families in the capital, an upgrade I suppose from my sixth birthday that I spent locked up in the Tower. But there was no celebration, no fanfare. In the evening, I¡¯d been sent one final gift from Empress Katya, this very watch I carry with me every day. Is it to tell me that my good days shall run out soon? Or is it to remind me that my days are numbered once she finds a way to be rid of me?

    It is just one of the many things that sends me shooting up out of my slumber in the dead of night. And yet I still carry it around every day.

    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re here! Don¡¯t worry, your highness, I am by your side,¡± she adds with a whisper.

    Her cheesy words are meant to be encouraging, but I have to suppress an eye roll as we arrive before the grand, half-open tent where this eventful brunch shall take ce. Underneathvish purple drapery that looks out over the very forest where the huntingpetition will soonmence, sit several well dressed women, most of which have never lifted a finger in their entire lives aside from putting on a few rings worth more than a block of houses.

    A cup suddenly flies to my feet before I can approach the long horizontal table. Itcks the dramatic effect of a proper floor, the delicate thing doesn¡¯t even break on the grass. I take a short step back to prevent the leftover tea from spoiling my dress but Sage practically jumps over my head in fright. So much for her being by my side. I¡¯d give an arm and a leg to have Emma next to me right now.

    ¡°Julia! Such a pleasure to see you! You must be very excited to see me as well, considering how your cup slipped from your fingers just now,¡± I say cheerfully, smiling at the culprit who¡¯d flung her tea cup at me and jabbing at her beneath my kind words.

    Her actions were most unbing of her considering the current setting, but Julia¡¯s seated beside her mother, Empress Katya, who watches this all take ce with a nd look. It keeps the disapproval emanating from the other women to a minimum as they don¡¯t dare to challenge the empress when even she has not found fault with her daughter.

    ¡°Hey, you-¡± Julia shoots up from her seat, startling Lady Bryce who was sneering at me with a snide expression. Her skirts flutter up around her, part of a gorgeous silvery dress that is entirely unsuitable for hunting.

    ¡°Greeting, Mother,¡± I interrupt, dropping into a smooth curtsey and cutting my golden-haired half-sister off right in her tracks.

    I look out over the rest of the table and nod, the rest of the cast is here. Countess Janice bares her teeth in a semnce of a smile, still as uncannily beautiful as ever. Lady Bryce smooths her hair and does a poor job at hiding her disdain for Princess Julia. Duchess Taylor does not look up from the cup of tea she stirs methodically. I still have no clue why she hates me so much. And as for the rest of the noblewomen, they wait with bated breath, their eyes glittering in anticipation of the show they will no doubt witness.

    The stage has been set and all the characters are in ce. This is going to be so much fun... not.

 Chapter 125

    Chapter 125: Ch. 124: Slingshot

    ¡°Winter. Please rise ande sit with me,¡± Empress Katya urges.

    She is in control of the scene. With one movement of her hand, a seat is set up beside her for me to sit. It seems like an honor, but it truly isn¡¯t. When people discuss this inter days, rather than discuss how the empress is a bad host, I¡¯d bet 100 gold coins that people will only ask why the table was never set up for me initially. It makes me seem like a greedy opportunist who intruded on this exclusive brunch despite the fact that I was invited from the start.

    The corner of my mouth quirks up.

    I¡¯d done us both a courtesy by not attending the Spring Ballst year, so as to minimize the potential shes that could ur before the nobility and yet Katya insists on bringing them forth here?

    Well, two can y the game and the easiest way to strike back is fuming in a seat right beside her.

    ¡°Oh Mother, I would,¡± I say with innocent eyes. I turn to look at Julia. ¡°But I already promised to sit next to Julia during our lessons. Would that be alright?¡±

    ¡°I did not!¡± Julia roars. She¡¯s kind enough not to call me a ve girl as she used to when she was younger.

    .....

    ¡°If you forgot, there¡¯s no shame in admitting it. Although considering how we spoke on this matter just the other day, it¡¯s strange you managed to forget it so quickly.¡± I pretend to hide my sadness and bite a quivering bottom lip that is seconds away from breaking out inughter instead of sobs and ruining my performance. My eye unwillingly strays to the empress, as if to ce invisible me on her, before it falls back onto the ground.

    The people here can do the math themselves. Was I truly invited to the brunch or is the empress purposefully trying to exclude me?

    Julia sputters silently, but she knows better than to retort as the servants quickly move the new seating beside her. She¡¯s not entirely stupid, a fact I¡¯m not sure I should be grateful for or irritated about. But at least she isn¡¯t carved out of the same hyperintelligent mettle as the rest of House Duvernay.

    I finally take a seat between Julia and Lady Bryce. The hostility in the air is thick enough to choke on. But now I have a front-row seat to the impendingpetition, which is just minutes away from starting as young men loosen their joints and check their gear for the thousandth time. It will be rather difficult to enjoy within the nest of vipers I¡¯m stuck in.

    A server brings a warm cloth to wipe my hands. I¡¯ve scarcely finished that before Lady Bryce delicately clears her throat. Lady Bryce is the lowest-ranked of all of the empress¡¯dies-in-waiting. But the purpose in her being chosen bes abundantly clear every time she speaks. She has a wide mouth well suited for spreading gossip and beady eyes that seem to catch everything that urs around her. The wife of a baron, an older man who was only recently appointed to be a minister in court, has learned to channel her inferiorityplex into bing a useful weapon in the hands of Empress Katya.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± she begins, ready to jump into damage control. I give her a thin smile, ¡°Although you and Julia may study together, your mother only sought to spend time with you. It¡¯s rare that your presence graces Sunrise Pce. I can hardly even remember thest time I saw you at the Ladies¡¯ Court.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I recall my time there... fondly. As for the rtionship between Mother and I, it has always been good so I¡¯m not quite sure why you¡¯d suggest otherwise.¡± I murmur, acting confused.

    I turn to look at Empress Katya, who is seated on the other side of Julia and drinks her tea as if she were not the subject of the conversation. ¡°Mother, I carry the birthday gift you gave me close to my heart every day.¡± I pull the watch out of my pocket, the golden metal eager reflecting the few rays of light that slipped through the half-open tent. ¡°Isn¡¯t it lovely?¡± I say, addressing the entire table.

    ¡°Very much so. Such a sweet gesture.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely exquisite.¡±

    Empress Katya knows how to y along to my cue just as well as our audience, smiling brighter than the sun in my direction. It¡¯s the same smile she used to give me as she applied salve onto the back of my stinging calves. ¡°I thought it would be most suitable for you. We have known each other for a while ever since Helio saw fit to bring you into our family, no? It is a symbol of how grateful I am for the time we¡¯ve spent together and the time we will spend together in the future.¡±

    The corners of her eyes even bunch up as she speaks fondly of me. She¡¯s good.

    ¡°As am I,¡± I tell her. She reaches across the table to take my hand, her ice-cold palms leeching the warmth from my much warmer ones. I think of how she¡¯d stabbed needles into my fingers with those hands and clutch them even more tightly as if I¡¯m ovee with affection.

    Admiration shines in the eyes of the women present, along with disdain. Illegitimate children are a constant problem for those in the higher echelons who stand to lose much should a child who isn¡¯t their own inherit their husband¡¯s rank and fortune. It is natural that they would feel some type of way about me while admiring the empress for not paying mind to the physical manifestation of her husband¡¯s infidelity. However, unlike the Ladies¡¯ Court, I¡¯vee to a position where I am not someone they wish to offend so easily.

    ¡°It seems thepetition willmence shortly.¡± The Duchess of Mulworth breaks apart the moment with a short, indifferent sentence. The empress retracts her hand and her face bes pleasant once more, but I¡¯ve passed enough time with my nominal mother to know the rage simmering under her flesh.

    She and Duchess Taylor have irreconcble differences between them, from the duchess assuming that Empress Katya had some involvement in her son¡¯s poisoning to the empress losing her right to run the imperial pce for a few years in lieu of the duchess.

    ¡°Mother, you let her go to the Ladies¡¯ Court, but I¡¯ve yet to attend once!¡± Julia hisses to the empress as my father steps before thepetitors a few feet away.

    ¡°In good time, Julia.¡± Empress Katya says in a tone too low to be heard by others save for me. ¡°All in good time, you shall get what was yours.¡±

    We exchange more barbs disguised as small talk as we snack on exquisite little snacks with names I can hardly pronounce before Duchess Taylor¡¯s wordse true and my father steps before thepetitors for onest address.

    In the dark-colored hunting uniform decorated with our family¡¯s impressive phoenix livery and looking as foreboding as ever, the atmosphere created by Emperor Helio is inspiring, rather than terrifying. At least, it seems that way for everyone else.

    ¡°We are all born unequal. Some of us are higher ranked, some of us know the right people, and some of us don¡¯t.¡± He¡¯s just finishing up his final message to the young men, who seem to have stars shining in their eyes as they drink up every word. ¡°This is your time to change that. Hunt well, prove yourself, earn glory from your own hands rather than from your family¡¯s. Time waits for no man, least of all one all too happy to walk the path set before him rather than forge his own.¡±

    Both my mother and father speak of time. Something I am running out of. The boys before me have the rest of their lives to change their fate, but I¡¯ve only got a few more if what Julian said about Travelers dying at the age they were meant to is true.

    ¡°Oh dear, your highness you do not look well. Are you ill?¡± Lady Bryce asks in an overly concerned manner.

    A rousing cryes from the assembled noble boys running en masse into the woods. I can already see Sir Robbie, Emma¡¯s secret trainer of swordsmanship, charging ahead of the rest with a loud battle cry. They disappear in seconds.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m quite alright.¡± I look away and take another bite of pastry. The ones I make taste much better.

    ¡°Perhaps some fresh air is in order,¡± Lady Bryce adds, not taking the hint.

    An rm bell begins to ring in my head, although I¡¯m adept at ying it cool and graciously passing Julia a te of cookies that she snubs. But then Countess Janice rears her head, somehow managing to rip her gaze away from my father¡¯s figure.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it a shame that only the boys get to go hunt?¡± my former maid half-muses, half-states. I can tell she is about to take this somewhere I won¡¯t like. ¡°I¡¯ve always been of the mind that little girls must run around and y before they get married.¡±

    Beautiful women have always drawn the ire of other women and as someone from a less esteemed background such as myself, the venomous res fall her way. Janice fans herself delicately, as if fanning away their hidden fury although Empress Katya doesn¡¯t react. I have yet to understand what she sought to gain by employing Janice, other than pissing me off of course.

    Duchess Taylor graces us all with another rarement, espousing the neutral stance of her duchy and herself.

    ¡°Indeed. A little exercise does wonders for a girl¡¯s temperament,¡± she murmurs in agreement.

    ¡°Precisely!¡± Lady Bryce says. ¡°Hence why I have put together a little fun for the young girls as well, lest they feel left out.¡±

    She ps her hands together twice, summoning a row of servants to emerge from behind the tent. They carry on each tray a single item rather simr to those the young men who just disappeared into the trees were holding. There¡¯s a short dagger, a bow and arrow, and a slingshot. They are paltry imitations of the real deal, toys in the eyes of the women beside me perhaps. But considering how two out of three of those weapons have been raised against me in the past, the hair on my body raises as goosebumps rise across my flesh.

    Lady Bryce stands, looking extremely proud of herself as she gestures towards the assembled weapons. ¡°I propose a hunt for the young girls who have yet to debut! With the permission of Her Majesty, I have cordoned off a small section of the forest and had it filled with small livestock. There will be prizes for the victor, of course.¡±

    ¡°Marvelous! Brilliant!¡± Countess Janice spouts, pping emphatically and urging the other women to do the same.

    ¡°What a novel idea! How fun!¡± Julia exims. She suddenly turns to me, finally taking a cookie from the te she¡¯d snubbed seconds ago. ¡°You will partner with me, won¡¯t you, Winter?¡±

    Before I can even answer, she¡¯s already turned to Empress Katya for backup. ¡°Mother, Winter will partner with me for a hunt in the woods, right?¡±

    Empress Katya gives me an unreadable look. ¡°It¡¯s entirely up to Winter. She herself said that she was feeling fine, but I cannot make any decision for her.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯d be happy to go,¡± I say scarcely before the empress has finished speaking. I smile brightly at Julia and she grins back. To walk into a trap with a smile on their face, how many can say they were able to do that?

    I can see it is not out of sheer coincidence that there aren¡¯t any other young girls here aside from Julia and myself. Typically, Lady Bryce would not miss the opportunity to bring her daughter Leana around to socialize with the cluster of young, eligible bachelors present. The third and most elusivedy-in-waiting, Viscountess Emerson, and her daughter are not even here today.

    Three guards apany Julia proceeds to choose the sharpest looking dagger from the pile. Protection, I¡¯d wager. Whether they will protect me, however, is to be seen.

    Because as Julia flits past me with her choice in hand, she says something that stops me in my tracks.

    ¡°I am going to hunt you down like the dog you are and kill you. Sister.¡± Julia smiles oh so sweetly as I dispassionately choose the only weapon that could serve me well in close quartersbat, a weapon that also happens to be rather useless with only one functioning hand.

    The slingshot.

 Chapter 126

    Chapter 126: Ch. 125: Yet Another Prince

    A FEW DAYS EARLIER

    Emma¡¯s stony face stares back at mine and only years of being beside her inform me that her nk expression is in fact, disbelief.

    ¡°What, you don¡¯t believe me?¡± I giggle.

    She resolutely shakes her head.

    ¡°Well, I can promise you that there will probably be more than one attempt on my life at the huntingpetition. In fact, I¡¯ll bet one year¡¯s sry on it,¡± I say without a single doubt. ¡°But do you want to know something interesting?¡±

    ¡°...¡±

    ¡°Of course, you do,¡± I continue despite Emma not saying anything. ¡°None of these assassination attempts will be sessful.¡±

    .....

    ¡°Then why do you call them assassination attempts, your highness?¡±

    ¡°Are you a gambler, Emma?¡± I counter with a sly grin. I wiggle my fingers menacingly from atop my bedcovers. However, I¡¯m not even sure if she can see their movement in the weak candle light. Due to this long game I¡¯ve been forced to y in, we can onlymunicate at night when Marie personally escorts Emma to my bedroom under the cover of night.

    ¡°... No, your highness.¡±

    ¡°Because one of that day¡¯s assassins will be from none other than myself.¡± I wink yfully at my closest friend. ¡°I will be attempting to kill myself!¡±

    A shard of ss presses itself on my wrist, a dark street flits through my mind. I shake my head, forcibly removing such painful thoughts from my head. I must focus on the present. Focus on surviving. The Winter who ran away from her problems is dead. I killed her myself.

    ¡°Why?¡± Emma¡¯s small mouth curves downward, an obvious sign of her displeasure.

    ¡°Why does one of the assassination attempts have to be from myself? If I told you because it would be more fun, would you believe me?¡±

    ¡°...¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t leave all the death and murder to everyone else, I want to get in on the action too! It¡¯s not fair everyone else gets a turn at plotting to murder me except for me.¡± I crow, rolling around the bed as I let out a loud humorlessugh.

    ¡°... Someone will hear.¡± Emma is speaking of the night guards who patrol the halls in the evening. The unfriendly brutes tend to have a strike first interrogateter temperament.

    ¡°Ok, ok fine,¡± I say as I force myself to mellow out from my outburst. ¡°If you wanted to kill me at the huntingpetition, how would you go about it?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I¡¯d find a way to separate you from your attendants and lure you into the woods,¡± Emma answers without hesitation.

    ¡°That was a quick response,¡± I mutter. ¡°But ah, yes! That is precisely what I¡¯m gambling on, the fact that whatever attempted assassination will at least ur within the woods.¡±

    ¡°And if it does?¡±

    I smile devilishly at Emma. ¡°Then I give them a reason to regret it. Bring me that box on my desk, the one that Jack delivered the other day.¡±

    It¡¯s a simple wooden box, but what lies within it is anything but simple.

    ¡°It¡¯s a charm,¡± I say unprompted as Emma sets the innocuous thing between us both. ¡°At least, that was what the merchant promised. I paid a handsome price for this thing. But if it truly works, how wonderful it will be.¡±

    ¡°What does it do, your highness?¡± Emma finally can¡¯t help but ask. I p with excitement.

    ¡°Why I thought you¡¯d never ask! Have you ever wondered what is the one thing a griffin cannot resist?¡±

    ¡ª¡ª¡ª-

    I still vividly remember the utter surprise on Emma¡¯s face when I¡¯d shown her what was in the box and instructed her to bury it. Her mouth had fallen into a perfect O, and I giggle now at the thought.

    ¡°My threat makes youugh?¡± Julia hisses through clenched teeth, the prior sweetness slipping away like a dream. Something dark glints in her eye, a predator peering out at its prey. I know she¡¯s tasted blood before, even without the whispered rumors about the constant changes her pce¡¯s staff undergoes. But she is a baby beast, untested in the hunt. Unlike the maids who are at her mercy, I won¡¯t sit around and wait for her to kill me.

    ¡°Oh no! I wasughing about something else,¡± I say to cate her rising ire. ¡°I look forward to our hunt. May the bestpetitor win.¡±

    My knees feel like jelly, but you¡¯d never know from the confident smile I sh towards Julia and the seated noblewomen as we walk towards the ¡°safe¡± section of the woods.

    ¡°Hmph!¡± Julia stomps ahead of me, unable to watch me take lead. Under the warm May sun, her knife shes menacingly by her side. She doesn¡¯t hold it properly, my sole constion as we walk towards a ce that could very well be my grave if I¡¯m not careful enough with my next few steps.

    But we are only halfway to the woods when a horse¡¯s loud whinny draws our attention away from the cordoned off area. The object that I had secretly clutched within my fingers slips into a pocket in one smooth motion. There are thousands of excuses in the world, but none of them would exin why I, a princess, am currently carrying a tiny vial of a single male griffin¡¯s blood.

    Before we talk about the foreign prince and his delegation that have just crossed our path, how about a short biology lesson on griffins?

    A cross between a lion and an eagle, griffins are only one of the many fearsome not so mythical foes that differentiate this world from my previous one. In this stretch of woond, they are certainly the most dangerous, particrly now during their nesting season when they have their newborns to feed and protect. Immensely territorial and crazy protective over their young, it goes without exining what would happen if perhaps, a nursing griffin scented a stray male griffin within its territory.

    ¡°And you are?¡± Julia exims first at the crossroads. She seems less angry and more curious, which is justifiable considering the unique dress the prince and his delegation sport.

    His youthful arms still had yet to gain the bulk of adulthood, each encircled with an armband as gold as my eyes. He¡¯spletely shirtless, a deep caramel tan covering all visible skin. He has a regal bearing about him, even as he smiles down in a friendly manner from his steed. The prince looks like he¡¯s on the cusp of finishing middle school or starting high school, cing him right around 13 or 14 years old from my initial observation. If he were in either, there is no doubt in my mind his piercing green gaze and high wattage smile would make him immensely popr amongst teenage girls.

    But as a future husband candidate, I¡¯m afraid I find him rathercking.

    ¡°Forgive me,¡± he says with a distinct ent, sliding off its back in one smooth motion. Neatly woven sandals meet the grass as he strides over to us. ¡°I am Prince Amir, the fourth prince of Aidel. It seems you are off to hunt. May I join you two?¡±

    ¡°I am Princess Julia. This is my sister, Princess Winter,¡± Julia says, taking the lead to curtsey to the bowing prince as I follow suit.

    Julia appears mildly interested, the arrogant twist of her brow melting into her otherwise pretty face. You¡¯d never guess that this adorable bundle of a girl was obsessed with her oldest brother.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that our hunt will not interest you. We are just girls as you can see, our prey will be nothing more than rabbits and other such prey.¡± Julia is swift in curving his self invitation.

    ¡°Oh?¡± His green gaze slides over to me, although he finds nothing of interest on my poker face. ¡°Then I suppose it is good I only have no armor or proper weapon on me.¡±

    I internally roll my eyes. As the face of a foreign delegation, even for a less formal huntingpetition such as today, it would be illegal for Prince Amir to have either. However, having the prince around will make for a fine distraction, one good enough that sneaking away and luring the griffin towards me would be a piece of cake.

    ¡°Come if you¡¯d like, but don¡¯t protest if it¡¯s less fun than you imagined! Oh and don¡¯t bring so many men with you. You¡¯ll frighten all the game away,¡± I pipe up just as Julia is about to find a way to politely dissuade the prince. Now that I think of it, he should make for a handy distraction for me to release the griffin¡¯s blood in my pocket.

    ¡°You-!¡± Julia manages to whisper at me through gritted teeth. I smile sweetly back at her. I¡¯ll be a tad disappointed if she has no other countermeasures, as it just shows that Empress Katya saved her best lessons for me alone. That one¡¯s position is not what grants them power, but what they do with it.

    ¡°Why can¡¯t the prince join us? It¡¯spletely safe there, unless...¡± I allow my words to trail off and tap my chin as if I¡¯m on the verge of connecting the dots.

    ¡°Of course, it¡¯s perfectly safe!¡± Julia fumes. Her venomous gazends upon Prince Amir¡¯s grinning face, but itcks any hint of smugness or arrogance as if he were a clean te of a personality. I know very little about Aidel, but as a kingdom that allows men to marry multiple wives, there is no way a prince could grow up to be so pure in a pce that may be even more chaotic than our own.

    I can¡¯t help but give Prince Amir a second look as we reach the boundary between grass and tree. The gold armbands around his arms look even more beautiful up close, disying intricate carvings that my now keen eye for luxury can tell must have taken hours of fine craftsmanship to create.

    He doesn¡¯t seem to notice, marveling at the luscious green that he even reaches out to touch. His fingers are blunt and strong, plucking a leaf from a branch. ¡°Our trees do not look like this at home. Just one of the many differences between Aiden and this empire, I suppose.¡± He twists it between his fingers. ¡°In Aiden, even royal men participate in the hunt. Why do the emperor and the princes simply watch?¡±

    Curiosity rings through his tone, but thendmine in his question is obvious, even to Julia.

    She bristles immediately. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know that the men of our family are all extremely proficient on the battlefield! Perhaps if you are unlucky enough, you will have the opportunity to find out for yourself,¡± Julia trails off darkly. They are bold words for someone dressed in a frou-frou, fluffy dress better suited for a refined tea party than a trek through the woods on foot.

    The few guardsmen who¡¯ve apanied us into the woods bristle and I finally roll my eyes. As members of the imperial family, our every word must be more careful than most. If Princess Julia¡¯s words were overheard by the wrong party, it could be misconstrued as a deration of war from the Erudian Empire.

    ¡°What my dearest sister means is that our brothers who are especially fond of sparring would appreciate the opportunity to cross swords with you before you leave,¡± I immediately add to mitigate the damage.

    Julia, having realized the error in her words, nods obediently although I can see her hands curl into a fist by her side. I cannot wait until she sees what I will do whenever she decides to follow through with her threat. The bottle of blood rolls around in my pocket as I actively wonder where it would be best to lure the griffin within the myriad of forestry and woond that have overtaken the scenery.

    I¡¯m getting the same heady feeling I felt in Augustus¡¯ tent before I threatened him with the letter opener to my neck. It¡¯s exciting. Exhrating.

    Dangerous.

    Prince Amir appears unfazed by Julia¡¯s outburst, his sunny temperament not dimming in the slightest. ¡°It would also be my great pleasure to do so, although I must confess the true swordsman in my family is not I, but my older brother, the crown prince.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you are being humble,¡± I propose.

    ¡°Perhaps.¡± He gives me a look now, like onepetitor acknowledging the other. His next words are far quieter, but I hear them clear as day. ¡°Or I simply understand sometimes it is more powerful to lower one¡¯s sword rather than raise it. As your father has done today.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± It¡¯s a record screech moment, the kind that jolts me out of the conversation.

    ¡°The emperor, he kept looking in this direction as I rode here,¡± Prince Amir states as he strides through the woods with more confidence than someone who¡¯s never been in a forest would have. ¡°He is worried for his children, no? He does not want you to worry about his well-being, hence why he does not participate. You are lucky to be so appreciated by him.¡±

    I can only stop in my tracks and gape at Amir, whose piercing green gaze has taken on a nostalgic sheen.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± I chuckle, not quite sure if I heard the foreign prince right.

 Chapter 127

    Chapter 127: [Bonus chapter]Ch. 126: Griffin-dor

    ¡°Does he not love you very much? I too have heard the tales of how his favorite child lives with him in the central pce and how he personally oversees your lessons. Were they falsehoods?¡±

    ¡°I- Yes, they are true, but-¡± I stutter. I¡¯ve been thrown for a loop. It¡¯s as if I flipped to thest page of my math exam to find a question from a unit we haven¡¯t covered yet. My father¡¯s cold eyes seem to trail me just out of sight, I can practically feel them on my back. But somehow, I keep myself from turning around and checking like a maniac. ¡°I- Where exactly did you hear this from?¡±

    I barely manage to parry the inquiry with one of my own, perplexed at how he hade to such a conclusion. The wind has been knocked out of me figuratively and I struggle to regroup.

    The warmest smile my father ever gave me ys through my mind. It was the day I was able to disy how useful my abilities would be on the waterfront when I¡¯d regrown a man¡¯s severed head. The veins had been first to return, like roots settling into soil. They¡¯d twisted and tangled in the air like snakes as muscle and bone rebuilt around them. The prisoner of war who¡¯d been beheaded had indeede back to life, but he did not have a hair on his head and he was missing the memories of his youth.

    He didn¡¯t seem to have a clue of what was happening, smiling rather foolishly as everyone around him except for my father and I had marveled at the miracle before them. But fat tears dribbled out of his eyes and watered the grass below his knees as if some part of him realized the loss he had endured even if his mind couldn¡¯t remember.

    Lips had peeled back from teeth that resembled a beast¡¯s more than man, my father¡¯s first smile to me. I was numb to it all, the grotesque scenes I¡¯d witnessed, the blood on my clothes and on my hands. All I¡¯d wondered was whether he had smiled this way too when I¡¯d hugged him in his tent under the cover of darkness. Then I¡¯d felt foolish for even wondering.

    Love? It is not love, but the equivalent of a soldier treating his good sword with better care. He may buy it a fresh scabbard and sharpen it often, but he does not love his sword. It is merely a tool of great use to him, one that can be discarded easily should it break.

    .....

    ¡°Such news was somonly spoken of it seemed to walk into my ears of its own ord,¡± Prince Amir joked lightly. His words are probably true, my informants have long told me how popr news about the bastard princess is amongst the upper sses.

    My high has been doused and I am not grateful to the culprit. My fake smile is not as pretty as it was earlier as I go on the offensive.

    ¡°Why are you so curious about such mundane matters, princeling? Surely you would be better off learning about those who are actually in contention for the throne rather than a bastard like me.¡±

    ¡°I have never seen you as such. In Aidel, there is no such thing as a bastard. Any child of the king is a prince or a princess,¡± Amir exined in a hasty manner.

    ¡°But even princesses cannot inherit in Aidel,¡± I finish. ¡°And although the king¡¯s children qualify as princes and princesses, there is still arge difference between those born of his wives and those born of his concubines. Something I am sure you can attest to from your personal experience. Unless thew has changed quite recently.¡±

    The warm toffee skin above his jaw ticks as his infuriating grin fades. Amir is concubine-born, of that I am sure. He is too cautious, too clever. ¡°It hasn¡¯t.¡±

    We walk in silence the rest of the way, each of us embroiled in our own thoughts. But I cannot focus on my father and the mistaken perception of our rtionship for long as I spot the clue Emma had hidden in this area for me to find. The second item I need to fulfill my n is buried beneath a lone daisy nted within the crook of a tree¡¯s roots.

    They¡¯re out of season, daisies. But none of the current party would know, as I¡¯m the only one who has regrly sold flowers and have a basic understanding of their flowering seasons.

    The heavens must pity me as a wee distraction for Amir flits between bushes in the form of a small doe. He is smart, I¡¯ll give him that, but Amir is still a boy. The young prince is eager to give chase. His disyed muscles immediately tense up and his gaze follows the small deer more avidly than a hawk.

    ¡°That deer... I must have it,¡± he half mutters to himself, the wild urge to hunt sending his feet careening after the critter, which immediately senses his movement and runs off the best it can. The sighting drags Amir along with his men away from our party finally and leaves me alone with Julia and the three guards.

    It is today I learn that Julia¡¯s wicked smile so resembles our father¡¯s. Sometimes I forget that she is his child too with the way she takes after the empress in so many regards.

    ¡°So,¡± she drawls, turning away from Amir who has disappeared with exuberant hooting. ¡°I pray you have not forgotten my earlier words.¡±

    ¡°How could I?¡± I roll my eyes and subtly pull the vial from my pocket. The words Jack had enclosed with this package had been that the blood of a single griffin would be potent enough to lure the threatened griffin away from her nest.

    Julia is unbothered by my external confidence. Without so much as turning to look at the guards, she orders, ¡°There seems to be a rabbit in the bushes behind me. Go give it chase.¡±

    ¡°Yes, your highness,¡± they reply, thumping their chests and immediately going off to search for the ¡°rabbit¡±. Even though they are part of the royal guard, I¡¯d bet my useless right hand that they are all from families subservient to House Duvernay. As they¡¯ve scampered off, I am alone with Julia for the first time in my entire life.

    ¡°You want to kill me?¡± I ask without preamble. My tone is bored as if I¡¯m asking for the weather.

    Julia nods enthusiastically, then after much thought, shakes her head. ¡°Mother said I¡¯m not allowed to kill you just yet. But she never said I couldn¡¯t maim you.¡±

    It seems Julia is capable of being creative in her thoughts when it revolves around more violent matters.

    ¡°How bothersome. I was actually looking forward to you trying,¡± I whine. It¡¯s not a lie, I was indeed curious to see how Julia would go about trying to get rid of me permanently.

    Julia cocked her head to the side, a scientist examining a strange specimen. ¡°You are not... afraid?¡±

    ¡°Afraid?¡± I smother augh. ¡°Julia, do you know how many times Mother has tried to kill me? I¡¯ve lost count. And they were spectacr attempts too. Imagine a fleet of arrows sailing through the skies, more plentiful than the number of birds that fly home during the winter. Men in clothes as ck as night who do not pull their punches.¡±

    It¡¯s like I¡¯m telling a child a story as I paint the picture of the previous attempts on my life.

    I smack my head as another onees to me. ¡°Oh, and poison! How could I forget poison? I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t tried that before. I don¡¯t take any anti poisons regrly so it would be rather easy to do away with me in that fashion.¡±

    I pantomime choking and dramatically stick out my tongue before I dissolve into a heartyugh.

    ¡°You... are strange.¡± The knife in Julia¡¯s hand lowers a bit before she is reinvigorated. ¡°But it is no matter to me. I simply wish to carve away at your skin until your appearance is as lowly as your birth.¡±

    I flutter myshes. ¡°Is that your way of calling me pretty?¡± I ask. I¡¯ve sessfully backed up to the tree where Emma has buried the one item that will keep me alive when madness ensues. The daisy sits between my feet, its innocent appearance rather deceptive.

    ¡°Who cares? Augustus will not find you so pretty and fun when I am done with you. And then what will you be? A lonely, broken princess that anyone can trample on.¡± Julia muses. ¡°Shall I cut off your hands, so you can no longer heal others? Or should I take off your insolent nose?¡±

    My nail digs into the cork that stops the vial, it pops off with a soft hiss and I can already smell a faint coppery tinge in the air. As I tip the contents out over the forest floor, I start talking.

    ¡°You know, Julia, you¡¯re not so bad. I mean, you¡¯re a brat, and the way that you torture your maids is truly horrific. Oh, and your obsession with Augustus is really freaking disgusting and will get you killed in the future just so you know. But I mean, most of it is because of your mother, right? She messed you uppletely. Nature versus nurture,¡± I ramble.

    Julia starts walking towards me with her detached expression, a caricature of the psycho murderous kid that seems prevalent in horror movies. She is close enough for me to see the flecks of dirt that have stuck onto her silver skirt.

    ¡°I do not know what it is you speak of. But I have decided I shall start with your hair,¡± Julia tells me.

    ¡°I guess what I¡¯m trying to say is-¡± A trembling screech fills the air, so loud it causes the nesting birds in trees to fly off. It is a sound unlike anything I¡¯ve ever heard in both lives even though I was a regr on the National Geographic channel in my past life and have seen all kinds of animals.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    I whisper the apology to my half-sister who is but a few months older than me. Thest few drops of griffin blood I ssh onto her skirt, but she doesn¡¯t notice. The fake evidence has been nted.

    I¡¯d never experienced an earthquake before but I¡¯d imagine it feels like now. A soft tremor, so faint that you think you imagined it. But gradually, the sensation bes impossible to ignore as your entire world starts violently rocking.

    ¡°Have you gone mad, you bastard girl?¡± Julia is so focused on me that she doesn¡¯t even seem to notice the way the very ground beneath our feet has be unstable. The dees to my neck, the familiar cool metal kissing my neck. I have had a knife held to my throat far too many times in my short life.

    ¡°Not quite,¡± I say. Every word causes the de to press deeper onto my neck although the skin doesn¡¯t break. Her hand is remarkably steady despite the shaking that is increasing with each passing second. ¡°But if we both survive, you will certainly wish you had because you are going to be in a lot of trouble. Tell Mother...¡± My voice trails off. What do I want Katya to hear?

    ¡°Mother doesn¡¯t care for anything you have to say,¡± Julia hisses. She really is an unoriginal viin. It¡¯s a shame. I would have expected more from Katya¡¯s daughter considering how brilliantly diabolical the empress is. The words I¡¯m looking for finallye for me.

    A strange smile twists across my face. ¡°Tell Mother that she has taught me well. Tell her that I¡¯ve learned from the past lesson she gave me. I will look forward to her next lesson.¡±

    The lesson of how to pin a major crime on someone else. I don¡¯t say it aloud, but Katya should understand well enough, even without Julia to verbally pass on my message.

    The screech sounds again and this time Julia reacts, feartently crawling across her face as she whips around and realizes that it is just us in this clearing and we have no defenses.

    ¡°W-What is that?¡± she gasps, her face turning as white as my hair.

    ¡°Oh, just an angry griffining to kill the intruder in her territory,¡± I shrug. I chuck the empty vial in a nearby bush and begin digging up the buried object, my foot mercilessly smushing the daisy.

    The trees part like the Red Sea and a beast that belongs in a fairytale emerges. Sweat prickles at the back of my neck. My heart pumps so hard I can feel it pulsing in my chest as my breath stops in its tracks. Its front talons are buried in the dirt, each w easily the size of my forearm. It has the body of a lion, but the head and wings of an eagle. A tree beside it creaks and teeters dangerously, the sheer power of the beast so great even the tree trunk can¡¯t withstand its might. A single thought dances through my mind as the gravity of this mess catches up with me all at once.

    Why didn¡¯t anyone tell me that griffins are the size of a damn house?

 Chapter 128

    Chapter 128: Ch. 127: Plot Armor

    Janice lets out a shrill, piercing scream that almostpetes with the griffin¡¯s ungodly screech. You would think we were the closest of friends with the way she rushed to my side, colliding into me so hard that my feet stop digging for our only source of salvation.

    ¡°What is that?!¡± she shrieks again.

    ¡°I already told you. It¡¯s a griffin. And it¡¯s a little bigger than I bargained for.¡± The creature huffs a breath that rattles the nearby branches.

    I¡¯d thought it would charge for us within seconds, but something seems wrong as it keeps swiveling its head around. Is its eyesight poor?

    It is incredibly obvious that a little research into these creatures might have done me a little good.

    ¡°Why do you know so much about griffins?¡± Julia manages to ask without taking her eyes of the bloodthirsty, rampaging beast that is still looking for us.

    ¡°Obviously because I¡¯m the reason why it¡¯s here,¡± I answer nonchntly as sweat drips down my back. My digging foot finallyes in contact with something hard within the soil.

    .....

    Julia still manages to seethe in the middle of being terrified. ¡°Why you-!¡±

    ¡°AAAAAHHHH!¡± the griffin screeches, cutting off her words. It¡¯s bing frustrated.

    ¡°We should probably run,¡± I wisely mutter. I pick up the miniature case containing yet another precious vial of blood within it. ¡°Besides we shouldn¡¯t be in danger for too long. The sheer volume of that scream should attract help in no time.¡±

    I brush dirt off the case and smile to myself. A vial containing a baby griffin¡¯s blood, it should serve as a handy deterrent to the female griffin¡¯s rampage and bring out its nurturant, tame side in a jiffy.

    ¡°Hey, do you want to crawl under that bush to hide or- Ow!¡± I yell.

    My celebration was a tad preemptive. It turns out that Julia can handle herself around a de, her hand shing the sharp edge across the back of the hand carrying the case I just dug up.

    ¡°If I¡¯m going to die here, then we shall do so together,¡± my half-sister hisses through clenched teeth.

    A few things happen all at once in slow motion. The second vial falls from my hand and rolls out of view. Beads of blood well up from the thin cut on my hand and the griffin, whose sense of smell and hearing has been proven to be far stronger than its sight, has found us and begins to charge headlong towards us.

    ¡°Fuck. Well, now you¡¯ve really killed us,¡± I moan, falling to my knees to search for the vial as my hand drips blood like a faulty faucet. I only have seconds to search before fight or flight kicks in and sends me barreling for cover.

    We scarcely make it, Julia and I. The griffin charges, making a beeline for where we stood and knocking into the tree headfirst. But it is not the griffin that falls but the tree where the vial had been buried. Thunder seems to crackle but it is only the tree¡¯s sturdy trunk sumbing to an unstoppable force. Never mind the fact that the trunk was so wide that even if the Mad Dog were to wrap his arms around it he¡¯d barely make it past half of the circumference.

    The leaves encircling us make me want to sneeze. But just as I¡¯m about to let it rip, a hurried ¡°Your highness!¡± from the bush frightens the sneeze away.

    ¡°Finally! Where have you been!¡± Julia hissed, grabbing the royal guard¡¯s ear. It¡¯s one of the three who were originally assigned to us and I actually recognize him as one of the regrs who patrolled the empress¡¯ Sunrise Pce. As for where the other two are, I can already spy one of them creeping stealthily towards the griffin while the other charges in from the side in a neat tactic. This is not good.

    It almost looks like everything is about to be wrapped up in a pretty little bow in an unideal oue. One of the guards will undoubtedly take the rap for mistakenly guiding the griffin to our ¡°safe¡± area and away from the huntingpetitionpetitors and this will all be swept under the rug. It would be a far cry from my original intentions, to discourage any serious assassination attempts against me with a big, showboaty attempt while simultaneously framing Julia (or whoever would¡¯ve tried to kill me first) for it.

    I can feel sweat on my brow, miraculously not from the griffin that just knocked down a full-grown tree but from the fact that if this goes sideways, I¡¯ll have fruitlessly reignited my feud with Empress Katya, who will most certainly strike back regardless of the Duvernay family¡¯s promise to keep her on a leash.

    You felt so clever, my subconscious taunts, didn¡¯t you? You thought you had this all under control. You thought you could y the game like Katya didn¡¯t you? But you can¡¯t. You aren¡¯t worthy. You¡¯re nothing.

    I grit my teeth so hard the root of a headache begins to form.

    My misfortune wanes for a brief, hope-filled moment. As one royal guard is about to deal a blow to the griffin¡¯s side, it senses the movement and sweeps a wing at the guard, forcing him to retreat rather than strike. Their sneak attack won¡¯t work anymore now that the griffin knows there are two, and neither of the two guards can get close enough to the rampaging beast now.

    But like the tide, my misfortunees sweeping back. A grip stronger than iron shackles wraps around my wrist, that grip being attached to the royal guard Julia had been yelling at moments before. She has a wide smile on her face, which I¡¯ve long understood to be bad news for me. But I suppose it¡¯s a step up from the days in her youth where she did everything with a nk, sociopathic expression. Now she looks like a proper mid-tier viiness.

    ¡°Oh sister,¡± she sang. ¡°Someone must take care of this problem you created and I¡¯m afraid that can only be you. I¡¯ll be sure to tell everyone that you died trying to save me.¡±

    ¡°How kind of you,¡± I mutter dryly, trying and failing to free myself from his grasp.

    ¡°-Or maybe I¡¯ll just tell them that you died running away like a coward. Who knows what I may say? Either way, you won¡¯t be there to see it.¡± Julia shrugs without a care before beckoning for the royal guard to drag me from the hiding spot.

    Although I¡¯m being tugged towards certain death against my will, I don¡¯t yell out the corny, ¡°Let me go, you fiend! You will go to jail for this!¡± or whatever nonsense is usually uttered by a damsel in distress in this kind of situation.

    In fact, I¡¯d be better offughing at my own stupidity rather than pleading for mercy. My own fake assassination attempt has been turned against me into a real one. This is the kind ofedic tragedy Shakespeare would have had a field day writing about.

    ¡°Step aside men,¡± the royal guard holding me says. ¡°Her highness¡¯ orders.¡±

    The two guards fighting the griffin are out of breath and slightly panicky. They take his orders promptly, barely giving me a cursory nce as they duck into the bushes with Princess Julia to ¡°protect her¡±.

    ¡°Who¡¯s to say the griffin won¡¯t eat you three after it¡¯s done with me?¡± I ask the guard who¡¯s dragging me to the griffin. Its massive head is swinging side to side, searching for the prior culprits it had been fighting. It will only be a matter of time before it sees me here.

    ¡°That is something that we shall sort out after your demise.¡±

    ¡°Haha! Not even trying to sugarcoat it or address me by title,¡± My bitter smile is punctuated by a familiar sting in my eyes that I fight to keep at bay. ¡°I like that. What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°My name?¡± He looks down warily at me, slowing his path to the demolished tree.

    ¡°Yes, can¡¯t I know the name of the man who¡¯s leading me to my death? Won¡¯t you even grant me so small of a boon? It would make it a fair deal easier to haunt you after I die,¡± I say, blinking my eyes in the innocent manner I¡¯ve long mastered.

    The guard snickers under his breath, belying the absolute certainty he has in my death. ¡°Sure, why not? I¡¯m Sir Porter of the Hudsmith Family. I look forward to meeting your ghost one day.¡±

    Sandy blonde hair, dull blue eyes with a bit of cleverness, and thin lips that disappear when he smiles. All those details aremitted to memory, even though I don¡¯t believe in ghosts. But I do believe in karma, and I cross my fingers that it gets him back if I can¡¯t, which is what the situation is looking like right now.

    ¡°And we can¡¯t have our princess running away yet again, can we?¡± he quips in a low voice. He takes off his belt, which makes my stomach lurch and flip flop in an ufortable way even though I know such an act could not happen right now. Bending down, he loops it tight around my ankles in a way that would take me several minutes I don¡¯t have to undo.

    ¡°So thorough. As expected of one of House Duvernay¡¯s dogs. Let¡¯s see if you¡¯ll get a pat on the head from your owner after this, she seems quite temperamental,¡± I say to him as he stands.

    He responds by pushing me to the ground, an act facilitated by the tight belt that binds my ankles to each other. I take mild pleasure in how easily I riled him up.

    ¡°I¡¯d p you for that, but I¡¯m about to be treated to a much better show soon,¡± he says with a vicious smirk that doesn¡¯t suit his nd features. ¡°Hey! Look this way you oversized turkey! Come get your special meal!¡± he shouts at the top of his lungs.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t even look like a turkey. That is clearly an eagle¡¯s head and wings glued onto a lion¡¯s body, you dumbass,¡± I mutter under my breath, my fake calm snapping as the massive head swings my way and locks dead on my lonesome figure. ¡°So this is how it ends huh? Not with a bang, but with a crunch.¡±

    All I can hope is that the griffin might swallow me whole instead of chewing on me. I bet Clever Jack wouldugh at me if he saw me right now. He¡¯s got a pickpocket¡¯s hands and wits, there¡¯s no way he wouldn¡¯t be able to undo this belt in seconds and make a run for it. Or even Emma, with all the training she¡¯s been doing for years, hell I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if she could take on the griffin herself.

    But it¡¯s just me. The budget princess with one working hand and very little time left.

    ¡°Ah, fuck me I¡¯m dead.¡±

    The earth begins to shake violently once more, causing my head to bounce of the ground and distracting me from my final thoughts. It is difficult to differentiate between my pulsating headache and the side of my head dribbling like a basketball. I think of my mother, my real mother from my past life. And one new thought rises above the rest before I shut my eyes and await my gruesome demise.

    She would be so disappointed in who I¡¯ve be.

    It¡¯s funny how the instinctive brace position for inevitable collisions causes us to close our eyes and hold our breath as if it would make some kind of difference. The sheer volume that apanies the trembling ground envelopes me as Iy there with my eyes closed. The moment before my death bes moments. But I don¡¯t notice how drawn out it has been until I gasp for air after holding my breath for far longer than I¡¯d anticipated.

    ¡°How strange, to think an imperial princess could be tied up like cattle to be sacrificed to a raging beast. And I thought my home kingdom had strange traditions,¡± an ented voice I¡¯ve never been so happy to hear exims with fake shock.

    When my eyes flutter open, I see Prince Amir with a dead deer over one shoulder, its blood pouring down his skin, and a thick whip in his hand. It is wrapped around the ankle of the griffin, the closest one to me. He is so close I can even see the glistening perspiration forming across his back.

    The other four limbs are restrained by the whips in the hands of the guards he had brought with him. Knowing the downed tree is directly behind me, I cannot imagine the sheer strength it would take just to restrain one limb. But there is one more pressing manner that surprises me even more.

    I¡¯m still alive.

    Is this... have I finally attained my own... plot armor?

 Chapter 129

    Chapter 129: Ch. 128: My Turn

    It could just be a really lucky coincidence, but the optimism spurred by my sudden change of events leads me to call this plot armor.

    Wisened by years of experience, I don¡¯t sit around basking in the glory of it as Amir and his men fight to restrain the beast. My one hand immediately goes to work on the belt buckle, and although it takes me a bit longer than it would¡¯ve taken Jack, I¡¯m able to remove the sted belt that had tied my legs together like a rotisserie chicken.

    ¡°Freedom,¡± I sing under my breath as I scramble to my feet. Cirction resumes in my appendages as I hear some whoops and cries in the distance, men approaching to aid in curtailing the griffin.

    Turning towards the bushes where Julia and her men still hide despite hearing every word that Amir just said, I smile rather wickedly.

    I did give her a fair shot, didn¡¯t I? Now it¡¯s my turn.

    My bottom lip begins to tremble and I clutch my chest as if my heart will give out at any moment.

    ¡°My... my own sister... to me... she- she could...¡± I deliberately keep my words rtively unintelligible, but with what was just seen, anyone could fill in the nks with ease.

    .....

    As the damn breaks and tears flood down my face, some of them are real. There are tears of relief along with the residual anger that hade when I felt most useless.

    But the unnecessary loud sobbing coupled with the pitiful hitching in my breath? That¡¯s all me.

    A young man wearing a dark-colored livery adorned with a family insignia I vaguely recognize as belonging to one of the eastern provinces bursts onto the scene first, his sword clutched in hand. It is almostical to see the way his confident brashness crumbles quicker than the tree the griffin headbutted earlier.

    His shiny, new weapon nearly tumbles from his hand just as a loud horn sounds throughout the forest and frightens the birds of the forest out of the trees. It is the warning sound meant to warn of extremely dangerous beasts, which means that word of the rampaging griffin has made its way back to the front of the forest where many anxious parents await.

    However, there is one parent here I have not given enough thought to.

    ¡°Prince!¡± I yell.

    ¡°Just call me Amir,¡± he says, shing me a friendly grin as he wrangles to hold the beast in ce. If he had a de in hand, which he isn¡¯t allowed to carry as a foreign dignitary, I do not doubt that this stand-off between man and beast would be over in mere seconds.

    I roll my eyes. ¡°Amir,¡± I say, inching closer so that those who are slowly arriving at the scene do not hear.

    ¡°That griffin, can you let it go?¡±

    He chuckles a little, never looking away from the whip tightly coiled around the griffin¡¯s front right leg. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I fear I may have misheard you. Did you ask for me to let this creature go free?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I did,¡± I sigh.

    A perplexed green gaze meets mine.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because it wouldn¡¯t be fair for this mother griffin to die all because my... sister wanted to use her to kill me,¡± I lie, looking away first.

    ¡°I agree but I cannot think of a way to make this griffin return. It is rather keen on killing us,¡± Amir states.

    To emphasize his point, the griffin shrieks and ws at the ground, sending Amir surging forward a few steps until he readjusts his grip again.

    ¡°Let me handle that,¡± I tell him, already turning heel to search for my dropped vial. ¡°Release your whip when I say so, alright?¡±

    The foreign prince purses his lips. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can agree to your request in good conscience.¡±

    ¡°Amir,¡± I say, my tone a bit softer due to his show of chivalry. ¡°Just trust me.¡±

    And then I¡¯m back at the base of the tree as if the past several minutes hadn¡¯t just urred. The shallow cut on the back of my hand is still dripping blood, albeit much slower than it was earlier.

    ¡°The vial, the vial, the vial. Shit, where did it go?¡± I mutter under my breath as I abandon all decorum and search for it on my hands and knees.

    Whatever pristine appearance I¡¯d had before I entered the woods has long fallen apart. Tendrils of hair have fallen from my hairdo and my matching hat has long gone MIA. Dirt smears onto my hands as I check everywhere for the vial I dropped and curse every second I can¡¯t.

    ¡°Looking for this?¡± someone croons from my side with a perfectly timed interruption.

    I sigh as I fall prey to another cliche as old as time. My fingers curl into the soft earth. I¡¯d rather they wrap around my half-sister¡¯s tiny neck.

    ¡°Julia. Have I ever told you how much I love you?¡± I inquire sarcastically as I stand up.

    My sister has finally emerged from the bushes and is nked by her three bodyguards. She twirls between her fingers, a precious ss vial that looks as if it could slip free any second.

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think you have dear sister,¡± Julia titters behind her hand. Twigs and dirt have maligned her appearance just as much as mine, but unusually my vain sister doesn¡¯t take notice.

    I don¡¯t need to look to see that Amir and his men¡¯s hold on the griffin is weakening. Simply the terrified expressions of the useless small fries who¡¯ve gathered tell me all I need to know.

    ¡°What if I told you that the vial you¡¯re holding has the potential to save everyone gathered here?¡± I ask, cutting straight to the chase. A tremble goes through my weak hand. I am weary to the bone.

    Julia brings it close to her face, the blood sloshing inside it. ¡°Oh really?¡± she curiously intonates, not giving an inch.

    ¡°Yes. Really.¡± My patience has long dried out.

    ¡°That¡¯s such good news!¡± she yells, jumping with excitement. ¡°But um, there¡¯s one thing I don¡¯t quite understand. Can you exin it to me?¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s within my knowledge, I¡¯d be happy to.¡±

    ¡°Alright. Tell me this.¡± Julia bites her lips to keep her smile from spreading across her face. ¡°Why should I care?¡±

    I¡¯ve been manhandled, had a knife to my throat, and nearly been eaten by a griffin today. But this moment takes the cake for me as the most infuriating of all.

    I suck in a deep breath, attempting to steady my heartbeat and calm down my violent urge to p Julia across the face. If I even took a step closer to her, I know that the guards by her side would without a doubt intervene.

    ¡°You, bitch,¡± I murmur in between breaths of air. ¡°You fucking bitch.¡±

    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± she scoffs.

    A whooping cry louder than the restes from the forest. I look over my shoulder to see freckled Robbie charge past the rest of the cowardly lot towards the griffin. He lunges into the air,nding upon the beast¡¯s neck with ease. It understandably riles the griffin up, her head swinging so vigorously Robbie loses his grip and slips off. But her rapid motion has another effect as well as a leathery snap sounds through the surrounding forest.

    The remaining whips around the griffin¡¯s legs grow taut without warning, rying to all observers that the whip that had been holding one of the back legs just snapped. Mayhem unfolds. I realize that there is no better time for me to act than now.

    I look just over Julia¡¯s shoulders right as screams ring behind me and the earth shakes once again.

    ¡°A-Augustus?¡± I yell as convincingly as possible, putting a quivering hand over my mouth as if Prince Charming has just swooped in to save me.

    It has the desired effect, as I knew it would.

    All the conniving, sociopathic malevolence that had twisted up Julia¡¯s smile disappears in a puff of smoke, her ssy gaze sumbing to a softer and more childlike appearance.

    But the important thing is that her eyes aren¡¯t on me and her guards are too focused on the griffin that has predictably begun to stampede near us where I had originally poured out the vial of a single male griffin¡¯s blood. It¡¯s a small, precious window of opportunity that I, or better yet, my foot takes advantage of.

    I never yed ser, although I watched a fair bit growing up in a Hispanic household. Regardless, I lift my skirts in an indecent way that would scandalize society if any properdies had witnessed it and scissor up a leg towards the hand holding the vial.

    Part of my rage quells as Julia squeals like a pig and grabs her hand. The vial goes spinning through the air. The royal guards are too busy grabbing Julia to whisk her out of the line of fire to punish me. But then out of the sheer habit of being a right-handed person in myst life, and technically this one too, the vial of baby griffin¡¯s blood falls into my right hand.

    It all happens both in slow motion and in the span of a second. The euphoria ser yers feel when they score a goal in thest second of the game floods my heart, only for the referee to blow their whistle and invalidate the shot by calling it ¡®offsides¡¯.

    The vial tumbles from my useless hand onto the ground.

    I naturally bend down to pick it up, but an awareness runs through my veins just as my hand makes contact with the vial. I do not have enough time.

    The mother griffin is the size of a house and is eating up ground faster than a race car down an F1 track. Her time to the finish line? If I¡¯m lucky, by the time my fingers even touch the vial on the ground.

    Julia is yelling obscenities and instructing the royal guards who are carrying her to safety to search for Augustus instead. Prince Amir yells my name, ¡°Winter!¡±. He sounds surprisingly close by as well, but not close enough. A de of grass tickles my fingers as they reach for the vial. The countdown is like a bomb that is about to detonate on an unsuspecting city below.

    Unlike when I had been trussed up and waiting to die, I do not even have the mental capacity or the time to feel any fear within this sliver of a moment that has been stretched to the span of several lifetimes. As Ie to these many conclusions and notice all these tiny nuances, my body is still reaching towards that fateful vial, trapped within my own version of Icarus reaching for the sun and failing.

    Perhaps I have been too ambitious.

    Perhaps I was asking for too much.

    No, I think to myself, just as my fingers are millimeters away from touching the vial and I can all but feel the breath of the griffin on my neck.

    I wasn¡¯t ruthless enough.

    My fingers curl around the slender tube, the cool ss feeling like ice against my sweaty, slick flesh. And then a force collides with me from the back, one that makes me tense up until I realize that this cannot possibly be a griffin. I can smell linen and a heart beats beneath the chest I¡¯m cradled against. The person¡¯s arms that hold me are tighter than steel, but the hand holding the vial is free, free enough for me to uncork it and roll it towards where I¡¯d seen the griffinst.

    But when that is done, I look up into a face I had least expected to see at a time like this.

    ¡°Father.¡± I somehow sound incredibly calm.

    Above the emperor¡¯s head, the innocent griffin I had lured over calms instantly and to my immense pleasure takes to the skies, leaving behind a bigger mess than it had found.

 Chapter 130

    Chapter 130: Ch. 129: Every 100 Powerstones...

    Save for the screeching of the griffin rapidly disappearing into the sky, the forest has be quiet enough to hear a pin drop. It is nature¡¯s way of acknowledging a greater predator. All the smaller creatures vanish and the noise quiets down. ording to the camp instructor from a school camping trip I went on years and years ago, theck of sound within a forest is the most dangerous sign of all.

    Surprisingly, my father is not the first to break the silence. In fact, it almost seems like he is not keen on speaking as he rises from the forest floor with me still tucked in his arms.

    It is not Julia either who breaks the silence, her stunned expression from the corner of my eye one that I would find amusing in any other circumstance.

    The words are spoken in anguage I do not understand, but the implication is obvious.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± I assume one of Amir¡¯s guards yell. What he actually said was, ¡°Shahzadeh!¡±

    He must be injured, but I can¡¯t see as my father¡¯s chest is still in the way. And I have not even begun to process the first voluntary physical contact my frigid sperm donor has had with me.

    It¡¯s a tale as old as time, the proverbial father who stepped out to buy milk and never returned. Now my mother never gave me a proper exnation as to why my father left, often spending nights smoking near an open window and gazing off into the distance with an unreadable expression. Once I got older, I learned not to pry. But before then, it did lead to several mistaken times in my youth I¡¯d imprint on whichever boyfriend my mom had. There were many. She had me when she was younger, and although she began to look more tired, my mother possessed a natural beauty that she did not really pass on to me (although if you asked her I was supposedly prettier than she had been at my age).

    .....

    In the end, they always broke up, eventually allowing me to realize what my mom had learned long ago: that sometimes wishing for something is far better than possessing it.

    I don¡¯t know if my father can feel my elbow digging into his rib, my desire to be parted from a grasp far too warm and inviting for its own good. Or maybe he can feel it, but he just doesn¡¯t care. He¡¯s the emperor, he doesn¡¯t have to care about anything other than himself and maintaining his reign. And yet here he is with me in his arms as if he¡¯s carried me a thousand times before today.

    ¡°Wolfgang.¡±

    ¡°Your Majesty.¡± That loudmouthed, sharp-eyed redhead who¡¯s never a step away from my father¡¯s side materializes out of nowhere.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been negligent.¡± Each word out of my father¡¯s mouth is choppy and curt. Is this his anger?

    He never seems particrly happy, but in terms of witnessing true fury on my father¡¯s part, this may be the first or second time for me.

    ¡°I shall take any punishment you see fit, Your Majesty,¡± Lord Wolfgang says, still on his knees. It¡¯s strange to look down on thisrge man for once instead of always breaking my neck to look down at him.

    But the cries of the guards tending to Amir keep distracting me.

    ¡°You will.¡± A few people had begun to try to wander away but Emperor Helio¡¯s once over on the gathered people freezes their limbs back in ce. ¡°Once you investigate precisely what went wrong without impunity.¡±

    My father has handed the captain of the royal guard a carte nche to investigate this matter regardless of whoever is involved. But when all traces lead back to Julia, will he still oblige?

    ¡°I know! I know what happened!¡± Julia screeches practically on cue, never one to be kept quiet for too long.

    I almost tense up, but I catch myself within seconds. I am still in the grasp of the emperor and should I make any unnecessary movements, I will draw suspicion to myself.

    ¡°Father, allow me to heal the prince of Aidel,¡± I offer right after my half-sister speaks, my indifferent gaze sliding over Julia and moving on to Amir.

    His grasp tightens for a second around me, but he puts me down without a word. I cannot help but give Julia an insidious little grin as I walk past her to Amir. She¡¯s about to bury the final nail in the coffin herself, but she can¡¯t even see it yet.

    The little girl is trembling with rage. ¡°H-How can you leave when you¡¯re the reason this all happened to begin with? Father, she tried to kill me by luring the griffin here! If it wasn¡¯t for these loyal guards by my side, I would be dead!¡± Julia continues, intermittent screams breaking up her words. She stands indignantly before my father, her eyes shining like the angels of justice stand by her side.

    Let alone disying such an ugly side before the nobility gathered, even the guards by Julia¡¯s side are wise enough to look nervous. Especially that Sir Porter who had shown me such special treatment.

    In official regalia with such a dark expression on his face, I¡¯m not sure where Julia found the gall to start yelling like this. Our father res down at her like she¡¯s a bug not even fit to be squished beneath his feet. On one hand, it satisfies me to see such a look directed towards her after she tried and almost seeded in getting me killed. But on the other, to see such an alien gaze directed towards his own child is frightening in and of itself. This is what an imperial family breeds. Distrust and disdain for even your own kin.

    Once I reach Amir¡¯s side and out of earshot of Julia, the guards standing over him cannot hide the anger burning within their hearts and on their faces. I don¡¯t me them as it was indirectly my fault that their prince was hurt. Blood peppers their hands and clothes, but not too much like I¡¯ve seen at the warfront. I breathe out a quiet sigh of relief, the injury must not be the fatal kind.

    I hold my hands up by my side as if to show I¡¯m innocent when in truth, none of us are. ¡°I can heal. Surely you¡¯ve heard that interesting rumor before?¡±

    ¡°Let her through,¡± a weak voice calls beneath their overbearing care.

    His deeply tanned skin appears slightly paler than I recall, but he is in good spirits. shing a weak smile in my direction he asks, ¡°It seems that most of the rumors I heard were correct, no?¡±

    I know he¡¯s talking about my father. He¡¯s brave fornding upon that touchy subject once more after I¡¯d shut him downst time. But I suppose with an injury incurred which saving me, he feels quite emboldened.

    ¡°I would rmend shutting your mouth unless you wish to bleed out,¡± I kindly suggest.

    He was in no danger of bleeding out, I could immediately feel that much when my body takes on his wound for the usual brief second. However, I take note of something else about his injury as well, one that makes it hard for me to maintain a sarcastic grin.

    ¡°I shall pay a visit to give my thanks tomorrow,¡± Amir says, the color already returning to his face.

    ¡°See to it that you do,¡± I bite out. I don¡¯t give the prince on the ground a second nce as I stalk out of the forest, leaving behind a myriad of distasteful things in my wake.

    People step out of my path almost fearfully, as if my father will shove them out of my way if they don¡¯t move quickly enough. They are all probably asking themselves the same question I am, why did my father leap in to save me?

    While it is true that being allowed to live in the central pce is a luxury affording solely to me, the emperor¡¯s affection is not often measured in terms of physical affection. The most Augustus tends to get from our father is a pat on the shoulder and nods of approval. So for him to jump from that to saving my life, the difference is like night and day.

    A cynical part of my mind shrugs away the help from Emperor Helio, promising me that I had more than enough to time to grab the vial and save myself.

    But I know that¡¯s not true.

    And that¡¯s the part that irritates me the most.

    ¡°Your highness?¡± Nina and my attendants stand nervously by the mouth of the forest. The table where the elite noblewoman had brunched and thrown thinly veiled barbs at me has long been vacated as they most likely moved to safer grounds when word of the griffin had reached them.

    I probably look like the sole survivor exiting the woods alone. But rather than assuage my attendants, I¡¯m lost in my thoughts, my emotions at war with themselves.

    I smirk to myself. ¡°Pathetic,¡± I mutter.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, your highness. We will work to better ourselves,¡± Nina says.

    She¡¯s a bit of an eyesore herself, a constant reminder that House Duvernay will always be able to worm their way into those close to me. But she and the attendants are not the subject of my ire.

    ¡°No, not you. Me,¡± I correct. ¡°Let¡¯s leave. I wish to return to the pce.¡±

    ¡°Your highness, Emma wishes to speak with you.¡± A few hours have passed but they felt like minutes. The sky outside my window is pitch ck, the re of light from the candles reflecting my sullen face in the ss.

    ¡°Tell her to return tomorrow night. Tonight I- tonight I must rest.¡± I curl up on my bed away from the door, a pitifully small figure on a bedrge enough for 5 people. Like mother, like daughter I suppose.

    I get little sleep, my thoughts invading the few dreams that dared cross my path that night. I can see my father beheading the prisoner of war without hesitation. Except this time, I am not able to heal the man as easily as breathing. My abilities are gone, not just for the rare case but for everyone. And with each person, my father¡¯s frown grows deeper and more distant. I¡¯m not just a bastard princess, I¡¯m a useless one too. His regret at bringing me back to the pce is palpable as he stalks out of the tent, not even deigning to give me a passing look over his shoulder.

    My finger swirls around the mouth of my teacup, my appetite that morning all but gone even for tea.

    ¡°Something on your mind, princess?¡± Amir inquires with his everpresent grin. Unlike yesterday when he was hunting, he¡¯s a bit more dressed today in a regal Aidelish attireposed of swooping fabrics with the fine embroidery his kingdom is known for.

    ¡°As a matter of fact, yes,¡± I easily admit, giving Amir a wan smile. ¡°What gave you the gall to fake your injury yesterday?¡±

 Chapter 131

    Chapter 131: Ch. 130: Across the Pond

    Amir shakes his head, feigning confusion.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, are you mistaken about yesterday¡¯s matter?¡± He scratches at his head, totally selling his confusion too.

    I¡¯m fatigued, my tolerance for putting up with nonsense at an all-time low.

    ¡°When I heal people, I can feel their injuries briefly,¡± I exin without dancing around the matter. ¡°That was a knife wound.¡±

    ¡°How are you so-¡± Amir asks but I cut him off.

    ¡°That. Was. A. Knife. Wound.¡± I¡¯ve experienced enough that I can discern the difference in my sleep. I would also kill for some coffee right now.

    The kingdom of Aidel produces the precious coffee beans I need, but with the tentative rtionship our empire still has with them, it wasn¡¯t until a few years from now that the lucrative trade of the beans begins.

    .....

    ¡°Did you do it to elicit pity?¡± I take a chance sip of my tea, which has gone cold. ¡°That was a foolish ploy. You should know that in a royal family, blood is something we are acquainted with from youth.¡±

    ¡°Even for a princess as cherished as yourself?¡±

    ¡°Especially for a princess such as myself.¡± I cannot bring myself to repeat his outrageous im of myself being ¡°cherished¡±.

    ¡°With that said, I do appreciate your aid yesterday. You did initially prevent the griffin from consuming me as a midday snack. However, the fact that you tried to use a false injury to trick me cancels out your aid. So now, we are even.¡± I sadly eye the bell that lies on the table beside me, so great is my desire for a fresh cup of tea. But calling in Sage right now would bring an unwanted pair of eyes into this situation.

    ¡°You drive a hard bargain,¡± Prince Amir sighs, leaning back onto the opposite sofa like he¡¯s rxed in his home.

    ¡°I learned from the best.¡± The best being Clever Jack, who manages to rob me blind every time we interact. ¡°Want a cookie?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll pass. The food in this empire does not entirely suit my tastes,¡± the princeling admits, staring at the scrumptious cookies like they¡¯ve got mold growing over them.

    ¡°Tell me about it. Not enough seasoning,¡± I gripe. I¡¯d practically had a stroke when I saw that neither tacos nor tabasco sauce existed in this world. ¡°I had to teach the chefs around here how it¡¯s done.¡±

    Amir sits up enthusiastically, finding a kindred spirit for food before him.

    ¡°Then you would absolutely adore the cuisine of Aidel. We have more rice dishes than can be counted, stews cooked withmb and vegetables, stuffed grape leaves, and so much more.¡± Amir speaks with his hand on his chest as if he were proiming the holy word.

    I¡¯ve heard of all the dishes he speaks of and my mouth waters with Amir¡¯s generous descriptions. But it alles to a record screeching halt when I recall a very important detail.

    ¡°I am not going to marry you,¡± I tell Amir point-nk.

    Amir smirks. ¡°Do you even have a choice? Besides, you cannot do much better than me in terms of princes from Aidel. I can recognize your potential. Together, we could do great things.¡±

    ¡°Why would I want to marry you, Amir?¡± I ask, shattering his pretty vision into pieces. ¡°Have you ever sat back and asked yourself what would make you a great husband? Because from where I¡¯m sitting, I¡¯d be even more miserable in Aidel than here. And that¡¯s saying something.¡±

    A vein ticks at his jaw. It seems that even the happy-go-lucky prince can get irritated.

    ¡°With all due respect, I don¡¯t think you¡¯re considering everything, princess,¡± Amir says through clenched teeth.

    ¡°Ha! Believe me, I have, prince,¡± I counter. ¡°You are not born of the queen nor are you born of a favored concubine. You don¡¯t have much power gathered under you. Oh, and don¡¯t think I don¡¯t know about the two concubines you have already epted from the daughters of ministers who support you. I could never tolerate my husband having another woman besides me. Not in this life, and not the next.¡±

    ¡°Any other lesser wives I take in would have to bow down their heads before you,¡± Amir says,pletely glossing over myint.

    ¡°What¡¯s not clicking? I mean- what do you notprehend? I will not be the woman you marry. And if you try to take me with you across the Moor, I will personally see to it that you lose the throne to Rasoul.¡±

    Throwing up the name of the most popr candidate for the Aidelish sessor, the legitimate son of the queen, most definitely rankles the foreign prince.

    Amir sits in stony silence and I can¡¯t help but add, ¡°We get rumors on our side of the pond as well. Do you think I¡¯d be foolish enough to meet a potential groom without doing research? To be quite frank, you do not meet my standards. Go ahead and try to marry my sister or some noblewoman. I¡¯d be happy to help you choose a good one. But not me. Never me.¡±

    ¡°You strike true with your words,¡± Amir eventually says.

    ¡°I would apologize, but I am not sorry. I would be more than happy to be your friend, however. I believe that if we cooperated as partners, there is much we could aplish,¡± I propose, throwing in one final blow called the friendzone.

    I mean every word. If Amir and I were the first to open up a trade route for coffee beans, I would be an incredibly rich woman on top of the small fortune I am already beginning to rue for myself. And I would finally have a solution for my insomnia-induced tiredness.

    ¡°You dare to call me weak.¡± That stubborn thing called male pride cannot help butsh out after the beating it just took. The irritating grin bes a relic of history as the Aidelish prince finally resembles someone caught within the bitter struggle for power. I would know, I¡¯ve seen the same expression on my face countless times.

    ¡°And the true Prince Amir finally joins us.¡± I give him a slow p, happy to have riled him up after the way he toyed around with me yesterday.

    ¡°You truly think you could stop me if I were to request the emperor for your hand in marriage?¡± A dark grin that looks out of ce on a teenage boy¡¯s face carves itself across Amir¡¯s face. I must admit though, it suits him far more than the sunny smile he¡¯s been sporting ever since I met him.

    ¡°My friend, you saw the chaos I was able to cause in the forest all by myself. What kind of madness do you think I will be able to cook up in your home country? Would you be able to forgive yourself if you indirectly became the cause of Aidel¡¯s demise?¡± I propose instead.

    I¡¯ve flirted with it, my appetite for destruction. I curb the hunger, toeing the line with whatever remains of the morals I¡¯ve acquired from my past life. But being dragged screaming and crying to another country would most certainly send me careening over the edge.

    I¡¯m even afraid of what I would do in such a situation.

    ¡°You dare speak of such things?!¡± This time Amir¡¯s fury cannot be contained and he smacks the coffee table before him, causing the cookies to jump. I wag my finger at him like he¡¯s a naughty puppy.

    ¡°You are too easy to rile up,¡± I scold Amir. ¡°A king whose emotions can be read like a book does not tend to hold onto a throne for long if he even makes it there.¡±

    I almost feel like I¡¯m scolding Augustus, my older brother, rather than Amir.

    Amir sucks in a deep breath, retracting his hand. ¡°My... apologies, princess.¡±

    I smile, not intending to take the matter further. ¡°Not quite what you were expecting when you scheduled for us to meet, hm?¡±

    ¡°Not at all. You are brilliant, Winter.¡± Amir¡¯s eyes shine reverently, the flint in his words gone as if they were never there. Despite his slip in emotions, Amir is a professional at disguising his true feelings.

    ¡°No, you are. The only reason I could see through you is because I¡¯m just like you, fighting tooth and nail for a ce in this family. But that also means that my father can see right through you, so be careful,¡± I warn.

    ¡°You¡¯d give me advice?¡± Amir looks surprised.

    I shrug. ¡°I said we would be partners, didn¡¯t I? You could probably use an ally across the Moor.¡±

    Amir suddenly stands up from the sofa, walking around the coffee table, invading my personal space within the span of a second.

    ¡°Amir?¡± I ask, feeling like I¡¯m about to get the tables turned on me.

    ¡°Princess.¡± The Aidelish prince is less than a foot away from me, close enough for me to smell whatever soap he¡¯d used that morning. ¡°May I thank you with a dance at my banquet tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°Your banquet?¡± I scoff. ¡°It¡¯s just the official weing ceremony for all our foreign guests, which extends far beyond you and your kingdom.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m the only royalty present, aren¡¯t I?¡± Amir says with a devilish smirk. Is it weird to say I miss the overly sunny mask he was wearing? The soundtrack for Chris Hansen¡¯s To Catch a Predator ys in my head.

    His warm cheek meets my hand, but rather than a tender embrace I shove Amir away. ¡°How about you get out of my face first, kid?¡±

    ¡°Kid?!¡± Amir slips from my sofa onto the floor in shock and I smother a giggle. ¡°I am a few years your senior, Winter!¡±

    I roll my eyes, after all, if he knew my true age he¡¯d be running for the hills.

    ¡°I¡¯ll think about the dance if you go back to your seat,¡± I say to appease him.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m quite afraid it¡¯s time for me to leave. I do have a few other appointments today other than you,¡± Amir says, rising from the ground with an anticipatory look. I make a mental note to ask Emma to get some kids to tag along to whatever activities are giving the foreign prince such excitement.

    ¡°But a word of advice, princess?¡± I look up, tugged away from my thoughts concerning espionage.

    ¡°Hm?¡± I look up to see Amir paused at the door, his hand on the ornate door handle.

    ¡°Some of those people you push away in your heart may care about you more than you know.¡±

 Chapter 132

    Chapter 132: [Bonus chapter]Ch. 131: Live By The de

    ¡°Asshole,¡± I mutter under my breath, flopping back onto my sofa as if every muscle in my body has just given out. The pins in my hair pinch my skull, but they¡¯re easy to tune out.

    My eyes have that stered sensation that arises when you don¡¯t sleep enough so I shut my eyes for a bit. But when they shut, I see the same things I sawst night.

    ¡°Emma!¡± I say before my mind can register what my mouth is doing. The stoic maid is typically the best person to speak to when my stomach is in knots like this. And yet, I sent her awayst night. She must hate me now, doesn¡¯t she?

    I can¡¯t wait for the empress to approach Emma, just so we can end this farce sooner and I can have her by my side. We¡¯ve been through the most harrowing events together, yet this is a trial I am undergoing alone. I could call her here, in a moment of selfishness. But with the empress¡¯ suspicions at a height after what I did to Julia yesterday, it would topple down the house of cards I¡¯ve precariously built.

    Is there anyone else I can lean on?

    An amethyst gaze winks at me in my mind¡¯s eye. ¡°Elias. There¡¯s Elias, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°Your highness,¡± someone hisses from an unknown location. I practically jump out of my skin.

    .....

    ¡°Oh my god! Who said that!¡± Those cumbersome skirts make leaping off the sofa into a fighting stance difficult, but no matter how silly I look I manage to do it.

    ¡°I am not a god. I am Emma,¡± Emma says from wherever she has hidden.

    Even if a cup of coffee magically appeared in front of me, my mood would not have improved as much as it just did.

    ¡°Ok, god Emma. Come out,e out wherever you are!¡± I yell with my hands cupped around my mouth. There¡¯s no way she¡¯s under the sofas, Amir would¡¯ve noticed her otherwise. I start moving towards the cabs near the walls, the ones with enough space to house one stone-faced little maid.

    ¡°I will note out if you summon every maid in the vicinity, your highness,¡± Emma grumbles. It is definitelying from the east side of the room, near the tall cabs.

    ¡°Naughty,¡± I scold, skipping closer to where she¡¯s hiding. ¡°Gotcha!¡±

    I whip open the doors to a scowling Emma. ¡°You only found me because I wanted you to, your highness.¡±

    ¡°If that makes you feel better, then sure,¡± I take a smug seat back on the sofa. Emma unfolds herself from the narrow space, rolling to her feet in one smooth motion.

    ¡°Hey, guess what I was craving the other day?¡± I sing, anticipating Emma¡¯s answer.

    ¡°...¡± Emma blinks like a fish in a tank.

    ¡°Nice try!¡± I say as if she¡¯d replied. ¡°I was craving paan and jerky! The stuff we used to eat every day at the warfront.¡±

    I¡¯d been absolutely sick of it when we were hiding away from Empress Katya¡¯s murderous schemes. But now, the taste has been lingering in my mind.

    ¡°The food at the pce tastes much better, your highness,¡± Emma sighs, plopping onto the couch.

    ¡°I guess people always want what they can¡¯t have,¡± I mutter. But my spirits don¡¯t stay down for long. ¡°Hey! The n! It worked!¡± I squeal.

    ¡°Naturally. It was impably nned, your highness,¡± Emma admits with a nod of approval.

    ¡°I-Is that apliment?¡± I swear I can feel tears of joy in my eyes.

    ¡°If you recall, your highness, I also yed a part in the nning,¡± Emma adds in uncharacteristically.

    ¡°One pay raise and you start getting more mouthy, eh?¡± I roll up the sleeves of my dress. ¡°Just wait until I catch you!¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t, your highness. Not unless youmand me to stay in ce long enough for you to reach me,¡± Emma taunts in a serious voice. She swings up from the chair in a smooth motion, light as a dancer on her feet.

    She is not wrong, as a few minutes disy therge disparity in our physical fitness and prowess.

    ¡°Have you been practicing?¡± Emma asks me after a few minutes of fruitless chasing.

    I groan loudly. ¡°I¡¯ll never be good at using a knife. My left hand is not suited for such things.¡±

    The nails in my right hand try to bite into the meat of my palm, but there isn¡¯t even enough strength in the damaged appendage to do so. I can still barely write with my left hand or eat with it and yet my current ability to do so has taken years of effort whilst feeling incredibly unnatural. The left-handed scissors in my elementary school had always given me a good chuckle until I¡¯m now in a circumstance where such a technological wonder is not avable in this world.

    Emma shakes her head, the maid bing a teacher in a second. ¡°It protects you when I can¡¯t. And in times like this where we are apart more often than we are together, some skill with a de is imperative. Come now, we must practice.¡±

    She tosses something at me, the short wooden staff that doubles as my practice dagger. I do have a real one, tucked away at the bottom of my jewelry box despite Emma¡¯s disapproval.

    ¡°Go through the first set of moves I¡¯ve taught you, your highness,¡± Emma instructs.

    I grudgingly begin the movements that have nearly be second nature. A parry, a thrust, and a few quick reversals of the de that might look impressive to the untrained eye. However with the speed and ease I¡¯ve seen Emma perform these moves, my minor progress is nothing to admire. I repeat these until my baby hairs tape themselves to my forehead and my arm is heavier than lead.

    ¡°Good. Good. You have practiced, your highness,¡± Emma nods with approval, disbelief coloring her tone slightly.

    ¡°I¡¯m a woman of my word, aren¡¯t I?¡± I reply, chugging down my cold tea for hydration. ¡°With that said, I can¡¯t promise a future pay raise if you keep torturing me like this.¡± I roll my sore shoulder in circles with a frown.

    Emma shrugs. ¡°There won¡¯t be any pay raises to look forward to if you were to be assassinated, your highness.¡± Emma brutally guts my argument and of course, she is right.

    I¡¯ve always admired the transmigrated female leads who showed up in a new world and manage to be professional swordmasters. But with this hand injury and ack of people for me to fight (and my personalziness), I haven¡¯t really seen the need to take the plunge on this skill.

    ¡°Fair point,¡± I acquiesce. However, I¡¯m not done messing around with Emma. ¡°But haven¡¯t you heard the saying, ¡®Live by the de, die by the de¡¯? Who knows, this could invite the possibility of me dying by being stabbed to death one day.¡±

    As she ponders over my peculiar words, I slowly creep forward, inching towards her with an innocent expression on my face.

    ¡°Gotcha!¡± I yell, lunging in the air for Emma with a triumphant grin.

    Today, I learned two new things. The first is that Emma is not a person, but an apparition capable of disappearing halfway across the room in a split second.

    Elbow meets hardwood floor, the heavy impact striking my funny bone and sending that awful, tingling sensation through my arm. It doesn¡¯t necessarily hurt, but with the way I¡¯m gripping it you¡¯d think I broke a bone.

    ¡°Oh, my arm!¡± I yell, watching through the corner of my eye. Emma is first indifferent, the concerned, before she is finally lured to my side. This time around I won¡¯t be stupid enough to yell and announce my presence.

    ¡°Oh, oh, oh! Woe is me! My poor arm!¡± I continue. If Emma had taken a proper look at my face, she¡¯d see that there aren¡¯t any tears and that I¡¯m lying, but this time around luck is on my side.

    My arms are firmly locked around her when I finally whisper, ¡°Gotcha!¡±

    ¡°Indeed, you did.¡± Emma sits obediently in my grasp.

    ¡°Impable nned was it not?¡± I nudge her for anotherpliment, not loosening my grip in the slightest.

    ¡°Very impably nned, your highness,¡± Emma always ys along well in these scenarios. It always makes her seem like the older sibling who allows their younger sibling to win for a change.

    Speaking of siblings, onees barging in right at this moment, the twin doors mming open so hard the walls behind them are forced to take the brunt of the swing. We freeze, and by we, I mean I freeze.

    Emma¡¯s up within half a second, casting a wary nce at whoever is about to enter. But her fears are unwarranted as Augustuses in with an imperial physician in tow. They clearlye in rush. Although Augustus isn¡¯t out of breath due to the constant activity the emperor puts him through, the poor physician has his hands on his knees and is sucking in air like it¡¯s the holy elixir.

    ¡°You maye in,¡± I greet sarcastically, pointing out his appallingck of manners just now. ¡°What¡¯s with all this false concern?¡±

    I was doing fine picking myself up off the floor, but Augustus walks over toe give me a hand. ¡°I heard that you didn¡¯t attend ss today so I brought a physician to check on your condition.¡±

    ¡°Obviously, I¡¯m fine. Do you know who could use medical attention right now? The empress. She must have a fever from all the rage she is feeling right now,¡± I add carelessly. All my reckless words are jus to cover up the fact that I am ying hooky for one reason only: to avoid my old man.

    Yes, I know the imperial physician is still in the room. No, I don¡¯t care.

    But Augustus does. He¡¯s got the mettle of someone ustomed to giving orders and he shes some of it towards the imperial physician, who scurries off obediently without a word. He passes on the same to Emma, but Emma turns to look at me for my judgment.

    I sigh. ¡°She can stay. She was instrumental in yesterday¡¯s affair.¡± But rather than calming the crown prince down, the words incense him further and he runs a frustrated hand through his dark hair.

    ¡°Oh yes, let¡¯s discuss yesterday. What was that? Why did you do that?¡± he hisses, motioning for me to take a seat.

    However, I¡¯m more thanfortable standing and cross my arms in defiance. ¡°That was me helping you. With the empress trying her best to clean up this mess, then youring of age ceremony will face fewer obstacles. You do realize that is why all the dignitaries are here. Not for tomorrow¡¯s pretty little banquet, but for you.¡±

    ¡°No. That was you putting yourself in unnecessary danger,¡± Augustus counters sharply. ¡°Look at me. Look at me!¡±

    He grabs my arm, a soft grasp despite appearances, and centers me squarely in his field of vision. I petntly stare at the floor, at the little embroidered roses that swirl across my shoes. But they do not rest there for long. It¡¯s impossible not to look up. Augustus¡¯ tone and gaze are so earnest I¡¯d feel like a viin if I kept my head tucked down.

    Not to mention, this is the first time I¡¯ve ever been scolded since I arrived here. It feels weird, and not in a bad way.

    ¡°I know we have a deal. But I... I don¡¯t want anything bad to happen to you,¡± Augustus¡¯ words seem to rip away the curtains hiding my emotions shining a light on the unpleasant feelings I am all too good at hiding away.

    ¡°Like you said, we have a deal,¡± I repeat robotically. ¡°I have to see things through.¡±

    ¡°At what cost, Winter?¡± Augustus all but begs me.

    ¡°I- I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m sorry, ok?!¡± I stammer out. My eyes are burning and my throat feels like it¡¯s being choked, I absolutely hate this sensation. It reminds me of how weak I am.

    ¡°I know.¡± A stern appearance makes him look more like our father than ever, but there¡¯s a light in his golden gaze that life hasn¡¯t snuffed out yet.

    The dam is about to break, water is a force of nature that over time will erode anything, even me. But then my face is buried in a shoulder that smells like Augustus and I¡¯m wrapped up in arms three times the size of mine.

    If a tree falls in a forest but no one is there to hear it, did it make a sound? Silent tears drip down my face, but they soak into Augustus¡¯ jacket and disappear without a trace as if they never existed.

    ¡°Next time I will run my ns by you,¡± I promise. That¡¯s a lie.

    ¡°I will be more mindful in the future,¡± I tell Augustus emphatically. That¡¯s a lie too.

    My chest burns, the hands of guilt twisting my insides into knots. I¡¯ve lied many, many times, more than I can count. So why do today¡¯s lies hurt more than usual?

    We cate each other, a brother and sister in a family that punishes us for acting like one. If you had told me years ago that the dark-haired half-brother who red fiercely at anyone other than the emperor would someday be my closest family member, I would¡¯veughed.

    Oh yes, the second thing I learn today? There may be a ce for me after all in the crown prince¡¯s heart.

    ¡°You¡¯re still too soft, brother,¡± I say to the door when Augustus has finally left. ¡°But I think that might not be such a bad thing.¡±

    It just means that whatever children he fathers someday, they will be able to have the kind of dad I wished for in both my lives but never got.

 Chapter 133

    Chapter 133: Ch. 132: Divorce

    ¡°It is funny how I¡¯m back in the same ce, yet again,¡± I murmur. It¡¯s amazing how much time noblewomen and royal women have to spend getting fitted for this and that. But one thing has certainly changed. The tape measurer around my bust feels different from thest, there¡¯s a new sensitivity there that I remember all too well from my previous adventures with puberty.

    ¡°Life is cyclical,¡± Lady Arabe murmurs, checking the numbers on her tape measurer before scribbling something down. ¡°But we all continue to grow and change.¡±

    ¡°Is something the matter, Lady Berr- Lady Arabe?¡± I curse myself for nearly slipping up and addressing her by the married name that she obviously hates.

    Lady Arabe smiles down sadly at her notebook. ¡°Is it so obvious?¡±

    ¡°A little. You know you can confide in me. If it is within my abilities, I would be more than happy to help.¡±

    She looks tempted for a second. Lady Arabe is a scant few years younger than my real age, smack dab in the middle of her twenties, but her spirit makes her seem far older. At my words, she perks up and a bit of her youthfulness peeks through her eyes. However, I can see her smother her hope right before my eyes, the light dimming once more.

    The young Arabe Westmont whom I saw being bullied at the Spring Ball all those years ago looks even frailer now than she did then as if life has been chipping away at her vitality.

    .....

    ¡°No, it wouldn¡¯t be proper for me to say. You¡¯ve already done so much for me,¡± she murmurs dully. Today was just a meeting forst-minute alterations on my already finished dress, hence the speed of our appointment.

    ¡°I¡¯ll decide if it¡¯s not proper. Go ahead, share,¡± I urge. Rule #1 of running any sort ofwork: keep those in your employment happy. And I¡¯m nowhere near as useless as I was a few years ago.

    ¡°A divorce.¡± Ites out as a whisper, a barely intelligible one.

    ¡°Eh?¡± I ask. Her voice is so quiet I¡¯m not sure if I heard her speak.

    ¡°I would like a divorce,¡± Lady Arabe repeats. Her tone is quiet but firm.

    The words themselves are not shocking to me, but for this era it is. Unhappy marriages aremonce amongst the nobility, but many simply seekfort in someone else¡¯s arms aside from their spouse once they¡¯ve produced an heir or two.

    Lady Arabe is a true rarity for opening a couturier and working, something considered sphemous by most noblewomen. At most, some esteemed noblewomen open up a salon in an expensive part of the capital so they can have somewhere else to gossip and gamble outside of their luxurious homes. In fact, now that I think about it, it¡¯s rather surprising to me that members of the Berrick family she has married into haven¡¯t forced her to shut it down yet.

    Taking my silence as a negative, Lady Arabe backpedals immediately and her tan skin pales. ¡°As I said, it was presumptuous of me. Please take it as meaningless nonsense brought about by today¡¯s terrible heat.¡±

    ¡°No, don¡¯t be like that,¡± I cajole, reaching out to take one of her hands. They are freezing cold despite the aforementioned good weather. ¡°I know how others might react but believe me, I understand why you may wish for a divorce.¡±

    The mountainous Sir Jasper who¡¯d dragged out from under the hedge had been the source of my nightmares for years after all. Larger than a mountain and with hands the size of catcher¡¯s mitts, seeing the obedientpdog of Katya would strike fear into the heart of anyone.

    ¡°He has returned from the east. With more merits under his belt than he left,¡± Lady Arabe stammers out. Patience is key for the entire story to unravel itself and I can tell there is a greater story lurking under her words.

    I¡¯ve had enough years of practice to understand the meaningced in between. After all, the entire reason this marriage happened was so that the then small Berrick family, which was tottering on the small title of baron, could obtain more military power and further benefit House Duvernay. The eldest son was already a lock on inheriting the title, driving Jasper Berrick into the royal guard like any other second son seeking to make a name outside his family. But by marrying Arabe, he¡¯s managed to siphon away herte famous father¡¯s supporters in the army, building a bigger name for himself.

    Allowing her to run her couturier was a great allowance on the part of the Berrick family,rgely due to the fact that they were leeching onto her like a vampire to build up their military power and needed to keep her temporarily happy. But now that Sir Jasper has returned with his own merits, he won¡¯t need to keep Arabe ¡°happy¡± any longer, not that she was happy to begin with. That beast of a husband doesn¡¯t have a soul and I¡¯ve seen the bruises.

    ¡°Coming back with merits means that you can hold your head higher as his wife,¡± I say, pretending to be obtuse so I can draw more out of Lady Arabe.

    ¡°Hold my head higher?¡± Sheughs but it sounds more like a cry. ¡°I am not respected in the Berrick residence. None of the servants treat me kindly except for the scant few I brought with me from home. He fornicates with the maids before my eyes. But do you know that I¡¯m actually happy when he does? I¡¯d prefer he go to another woman other than myself.¡±

    She shivers before realizing she is talking to a young unwed girl and gasps. ¡°I¡¯ve shared too much, your highness. This is not the typical behavior of a husband. I¡¯m sure whomever His Majesty will wed you to will respect you very much.¡±

    I wave her concerns away while inwardly cackling because of a certain marriage contract that could potentially ship me to a whole other continent. ¡°I¡¯m a princess, I¡¯ve heard of these things before,¡± I tell her.

    ¡°I may not be able to visit you as often from now on,¡± Lady Arabe sighs bitterly. ¡°Jasper may try to force me to close my shop and stay home now that he has the prestige he wanted and no need for my family name.¡±

    I tap my chin. The military happens to be one of the ces in the government that I have struggled to gain information about. But from Lady Arabe¡¯s words, I can fathom that the Duvernay family has been seeking to gain more power in an arena that my father has sessfully held dominion over for almost 20 years. Being a conqueror emperor does tend to make you quite popr with the military after all.

    ¡°We have been sessful business partners for the past few years, no?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Then why would I abandon you so quickly? We may have first made our acquaintance under dishonest circumstances when I went by Pandora, but I would say that we get along very well these days.¡± Her eyes grow misty as I speak.

    ¡°Your highness...¡± Lady Arabe half-sobs. ¡°I am grateful for your recognition. My only escape and true passion would have never been fulfilled if it weren¡¯t for you.¡±

    Internally, I¡¯m shaking my head because, in the webnovel, Lady Arabe had already found a way to found her sessful East Bend shop all on her own.

    But I do want to help her. Beyond just the tangible benefits both Augustus and myself would receive if the Duvernay family has one less ace in their corner, she reminds me of my mother. And the same way my mother had the freedom and courage to break off her abusive rtionship, I want to help Lady Arabe do the same, old-fashioned rules and conventions be damned.

    ¡°I have faith that even without my aid, you would¡¯ve done it on your own. But I hope you remember, you¡¯re not alone Lady Arabe. I can¡¯t promise that I can find a way to make this divorce happen, but I will do anything in my power to help you. I¡¯ve... seen before that rtionships such as your own will only do more harm than good if you try to persevere and stay in it. You are still young and without children so now is the best time for you-¡±

    I get pulled into a fierce hug, one that surprises me so much I hardly remember what I am to say next.

    ¡°To leave? Lady Arabe?¡± I say, my remaining words muffled in the simple fabric of her dress. Despite being having debuted in society and newly minted member of nobility, the shy Lady Arabe has often dressed more like amoner than a noblewoman.

    ¡°Thank you. Thank you, your highness. Even if nothing happens, not be demonized for my fervent wish pleases me beyond words.¡± In the midst of her passionate words, I finally wrap my arms around her as well. There is a bruise on her ribcage, which I heal in seconds.

    Lady Arabe speaks with the same reverence as if I¡¯ve done far more for her than simply understanding where she¡¯sing from when she said she wanted a divorce. It¡¯s things like this that make me miss my past life, where women were free to pursue a divorce if they wanted one and weren¡¯t seen as sphemous for it.

    ¡°It¡¯s aplex process but I¡¯ve read up on this matter, there are ways to get around it,¡± I muse, my head already going in circles. I¡¯m grateful for the early days in the pce where I did nothing but read and mope around. The information I¡¯ve obtained in that era, particrly from a heavy tome about Erudianw, serves me greatly to this day.

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother, your highness. I¡¯ve looked into the prerequisite requirements and I know that I will never meet them for the divorce to even be heard in a court ofw. But I will survive this marriage. If you never hear from me again, your highness, take care. I shall still endeavor to get information to you however I can.¡± Lady Arabe looks like a soldier returning to the battlefield, her weary smile and curtsey at odds with the finery and mour of my dressing room.

    She too sits in a position many would envy as the Berrick family climbs the ranks from a low-tier noble family to a mid-tier one, and yet Lady Arabe would much rather leave. She reminds me greatly of myself.

    ¡°If you knew some of the things I¡¯ve done in the past, you¡¯d have more faith in me,¡± I chuckle, her every word only further cementing my desire to drag her out of her unhealthy marriage. But when I look up at the door, Lady Arabe is gone as if she were never here.

 Chapter 134

    Chapter 134: Ch. 133: Wee Banquet

    If there¡¯s one thing that has never changed between my two lives, it¡¯s the sound of a party. The clinking sses, the constant hum of chatter, and the asionalugh that climbs above all the noise, the sounds are eternal and transcend time.

    I, however, most certainly am not. My godlike powers only serve as a reminder of my mortality. I have died once after all, in the pinnacle of my youth. By some crazy factor of bad luck, I have reincarnated as a princess. But I may still die once again when I turn 16 if Julian was right.

    ¡°You look beautiful,¡± a voice that has tormented my nightmares for years says behind me.

    ¡°Thank you, Mother,¡± I reply in monotone. The backs of my calves grow itchy with remembrance.

    The imperial family stands behind the closed doors of the throne room, which is traditionally used for banquets with foreign dignitaries as it disys the full grandeur of the one thousand-year-old Erudian dynasty. Empress Katya looks calm and dignified as if she hasn¡¯t been caught up in the ongoing investigation and scandal of what ¡°Julia¡± did during the hunt. The rumors were personally fanned by me, taking to the street like wildfire and bing even more colorful than before.

    The entire ¡°family¡± is here, lined up like ducks in a row, except for Julia. It starts with my father, then Augustus, then Julian, myself, and Empress Katya, who requires the distance from the emperor¡¯s aura. Even in the darkened hallway before the throne room, the same hallways I once anxiously awaited my fate as a prospective princess, the imperial family¡¯s finery glitters.

    The fancy aiguillette that threads around the shoulders of my brothers and father shimmer in the darkness, along with the jewelry and gold thread intricately added to both the empress¡¯ and my attires. Banquets with foreign dignitariese with a set of rules unique to the typical balls and festivities oft held within the pce.

    .....

    We are no longer just people, we be a symbol that has existed long before we were born and shall continue long after we have died. As heralds y into trumpets and the doors open, everyone within the banquet halls bow. And it¡¯s easy to understand why so many people have fought and died to stand where my father does today.

    ¡°His Majesty the Emperor has arrived! Her Majesty the Empress has arrived! May the light of the imperial family forever shine upon the empire!¡± As required byw, the emperor and empress must be introduced first before the children.

    Tables have been erected in the sprawling space between the doors and the throne itself, which has been lowered from it¡¯s elevated tform to the center of the long tables.

    My father gives a brief wee address to everyone invited while Amir tosses me a not-so-subtle wink from where he¡¯s seated. The Aidelish formal costume is truly a work of art, a colorful breath of fresh air from the stiff fabrics and military uniforms that aremonce here.

    But I ignore him, allowing a gentle PR smile to overtake my face as my father finishes up with a toast. Elias watches from a few tables away, so enraptured by his every word that my PR smile bes a real one as raucous apuse erupts.

    ¡°To the prosperity of the empire and to all our territories, we drink!¡± As stern and terrifying as he is, my father has unmistakable charisma. He raises his ss high in the air and the others echo as the sounds of merrymaking carry on as if never interrupted.

    But the empress still watches him, faint traces of infatuation evident before she too takes a delicate sip from her ss. Love? Romantic love? I never would¡¯ve thought that the empress was capable of such. However, the person who was watching my father right now wasn¡¯t an empress, just Katya, a girl in love.

    I have to take a sip of my drink as well to keep myself from breaking into incredulous guffaws.

    There is only myself to me for not recognizing it earlier. Although to be fair, there have been very few asions where the emperor and empress are in close proximity of one another in this way and a majority of them ur when I¡¯ve had bigger fish to fry.

    Even now, I feel like I¡¯ve been put in a cage with a beast. And sure enough, once those doting eyes trail away from the emperor, theynd on me. There is no rage, just curiosity. Like a cat that has been enticed to chase around a mouse.

    ¡°The speech was good,¡± my stiff lips manage to utter, stabbing at the awkwardness between us.

    ¡°Yes, it was.¡± She takes another sip from her ss. ¡°It was most surprising to me how an emperor so skilled at warfare could also have the tongue of a politician.¡±

    She is not talking about the emperor. She is talking about me.

    ¡°Sometimes circumstance begets talent,¡± I reply swiftly. Her many punishments of the past have taught me well.

    ¡°So I¡¯ve seen,¡± the empress muses. There is a light shining in her eyes, one that makes me ufortable. She is far too calm for someone whose reputation has been sshed in mud and whose daughter is being condemned in court by the pro crown prince faction. That is never a good sign. It makes me want to pry open her head and see what she knows for her to be so calm.

    Thankfully, the food is brought out swiftly, allowing me to free myself from this conversation. My eyes go across the room, taking note of who is who and where they are seated. But my attention is seduced away before long, drawn to the inconspicuous servants who linger along the walls and only leave to refill a ss or remove a te.

    The nobility have a habit of ignoring the ¡°help¡±, a ssist notion that persevered even in my past life where people treated my mother like she was invisible when she was working lower-ie jobs in my youth. This is to their detriment of course. The number of affairs or paraphernalia my mother discovered in those days was pretty impressive.

    So even if it weren¡¯t for my rough induction into princesshood, I¡¯d still have a sharp eye on those who serve in the pce. Even the little slip of paper handed to Sir Jasper isn¡¯t missed by me. The mammoth of a man fake coughs into his hand, taking the time to subtly read whatever the note said, before tossing it into his soup and carrying on eating as usual.

    Interesting.

    I look at Augustus, but he¡¯s knee-deep in a conversation about lobsters with one of the Aidelish envoys. But Julian is a sharp bastard, he winks at me and takes a sip of his soup after throwing a look in the direction of Sir Jasper. It¡¯s a shame Augustuscks that alertness and observation of Julian. But thates with time and experience, both of which the crown princecks.

    Sir Jasper politely excuses himself to the restroom and leaves.

    My irritant of a brother also happens to be seated right beside me, allowing him to lean in and whisper, ¡°Will you follow, or will you stay? I¡¯m quite curious myself what was written on that note.¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡± I¡¯m never in the mood to interact with him after the prison break fiasco, but with today¡¯s nerves, I am even less inclined to exchange words with the golden-haired upstart.

    Julian personally mentioning this topic also puts me off from investigating. Never mind his carefree appearance, every word he says is calcted towards some goal of his. If he really wanted the throne, I¡¯m sure he¡¯d have worked out a way to get it even with our father¡¯s enormous preference for Augustus.

    So what on earth has got Julian¡¯s attention these days?

    ¡°What are you up to these days?¡± I ask innocuously as if I didn¡¯t tell him to shut his trap a moment before.

    ¡°Oh, so now you deign to speak to me,¡± Julian drawled, serving me a hearty helping of side eye. There is an unmistakable flicker of anger in his eyes, which is funny since between the two of us I¡¯m the one who should be mad.

    ¡°Fine. Just pretend I didn¡¯t say anything,¡± I snort.

    ¡°Fine!¡± We both simultaneously snub each other and turn away. Our minor spat must lookical to onlookers, but I don¡¯t care as I aggressively drink up my tasteless soup. It needs a lot more salt and pepper.

    I can¡¯t help but find his actions strange today, it was almost as if we are real siblings. Julian runs a frustrated hand through his hair, ruining the careful waves, and something metal on his wrist shes in the light. It looks like a charm of some sort, but he puts his arm down all too quickly for me to discern what it could be.

    I pat my mother¡¯s ne absentmindedly, which is tend to wear very loosely around my neck so it isn¡¯t visible outside my clothes.

    Suddenly soup sshes onto myp. The thick material of my skirt soaks it up before it can reach my skin, but as etiquette would dictate, I must leave and change immediately.

    The culprit smiles at me, waving his spoon rather innocently. ¡°Oops. My apologies, Winnie.¡±

    ¡°There will be payback,¡± I murmur low enough for him to hear. He must feel pleased that he¡¯s made the choice to follow Sir Jasper for me. But the days of me being pushed around to someone else¡¯s whims ended years ago.

    A maid materializes by my side. ¡°Your highness, I shall escort you to change your skirts.¡±

    I sigh but silently allow her to lead me away. It¡¯s a shame that the lovely dress Lady Arabe made for me must be changed so soon. But this is also why most women arrive to balls with an extra back up skirt or bodice in their carriage.

    ¡°Please take me to thedy¡¯s room furthest from the throne room. I wish to walk a bit and stretch my legs.¡±

    ¡°Yes, your highness,¡± the maid answers, somehow managing to sound even more monotone than Emma. I smirk inwardly, patting myself on the back for being clever enough to put great distance between myself and wherever Sir Jasper has disappeared to. No matter what, there¡¯s no way we should run into each other.

    In thedy¡¯s room, a faint pleasing aroma floats through the air as the maid diligently begins to uce the back of my dress. For most formal dresses, the dresses tende in two pieces so as to allow them to be easily worn and tailored. With the bodice loosened, the maid can finally take off the stained skirt and rece it with the second ¡°emergency¡± skirt made.

    ¡°Your hands are steady,¡± Ipliment, cutting through the dead silence. ¡°What is your name?¡±

    ¡°Your highness is most kind to her servants,¡± a deep voice says, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. It¡¯s a man¡¯s voice, which only sends goosebumps running across my skin. Thedy¡¯s room is obviously off limits to any man, which already tells me that whoever entered cannot have good intentions.

    ¡°How improper,¡± I scold fiercely, not allowing my voice to tremble in the slightest as I look over my shoulder to see the very person I was aiming to avoid smiling at me.

    I never even heard Sir Jasper walk through the door and yet his looming frame clearly stands between me and the exit.

 Chapter 135

    Chapter 135: Ch. 134: Peeping Tom

    I¡¯ve got an adult mind and I¡¯m doing a lot of adult things, but nothing reminds me that I¡¯m very much still a kid in this world than now. The skirt isced up thankfully, but it is utterly sphemous that a man has trespassed into the space where women typically touch up their makeup, change, and rest themselves.

    He¡¯s giving me a lecherous look that makes my stomach do backflips of disgust inside of me. I¡¯m 11 years old in this body and this man is in thetter half of his twenties. Broad, thick brows sit over eyes that look at me the way I¡¯d look at a tasty piece of fried chicken.

    ¡°Certainly a member of the royal guard would know better than to trespass into thedy¡¯s room,¡± I say, taking a seat as if I¡¯m not terrified to my bones.

    The odds of someone showing up anytime soon are low, not to mention I deliberately went to change somewhere further than the appointeddy¡¯s room for the banquet is. As a girl, this is one of those situations that you pray will never happen to you.

    ¡°You are friends with my wife, your highness?¡± Sir Jasper is rude and not a man of many words. He bites his nails while maintaining eye contact with me, a savage through and through.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I reply stiffly. He shifts positions on the door he¡¯s leaning on, taking keen pleasure in the way I flinch when he moves. I know Emma would p me upside the head for not bringing the short de she told me to always carry around. But I could never take on that mammoth of a man with the itty bitty knife Emma cleverly named Sparrow. Heck, Sir Jasper probably uses knives like that to sharpen his teeth.

    ¡°Then I can assume you are responsible for her wish for a divorce then,¡± he says. It¡¯s not a question.

    .....

    ¡°What?¡± I sputter, doing my best to look indifferent.

    Sir Jasper shrugs. ¡°I asked all her maids who could have put such an idea in her head. She does nothing but run her little shop, you know? It took some time but they always sing when I make them.¡±

    I swallow, my sweat going cold on my forehead. I can understand perfectly well he means that he tortured them. With such a likeness to Empress Katya, it is no surprise that he has been able to impress her so.

    ¡°Why are you here?¡± I ask, fighting to take the offensive.

    ¡°Why are you here, your highness? For us to meet in this ndestine manner, it is exciting for me. Almost fate, perhaps,¡± Sir Jasper smiles gleefully.

    He steps towards me and I can no longer keep my cool.

    ¡°Stay right there, good sir!¡± I bark out. I intentionally raise my voice even though I know it¡¯s probably futile.

    ¡°Good sir?¡± Sir Jasper chuckles at my attempt to be polite even in the face of his onught. ¡°Me, a good sir? No one has ever called me that before.¡±

    He curiously eyes me but doesn¡¯t take another step, that beady gaze I so hate looking at me like I¡¯m a new toy for him to break.

    ¡°You told my wife to divorce me. Is it because you want to marry me instead, princess?¡±

    I¡¯m so bbergasted I don¡¯t even know what to say. I open and close my mouth like a fish, not knowing how to handle this situation.

    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± he continues without caring if I¡¯ve said anything. A sick, dreamy look overtakes his face. ¡°I want to marry you too.¡±

    ¡°Marry me?¡± I scoff furiously. Despite the considerable danger I¡¯m in, I still point a finger at his face. ¡°Dream! On!¡±

    What is it with everyone and their mom trying to marry me?

    ¡°Yes. You¡¯ll endure my affections much better than Arabe.¡± He¡¯s already nodding his head, probably imagining something inappropriate that could get him locked up for twenty years in my world.

    I clench my teeth so hard my jaw clicks. ¡°The day you marry me would be the day you die,¡± I promise him. No matter what morals I¡¯m trying to cling to, I¡¯d abandon them without a thought if such an asion were to arise.

    ¡°I¡¯ve faced worse odds,¡± Sir Jasper says without a care. ¡°Out in the eastern provinces, I killed a dragon. That¡¯s why I¡¯m at this banquet. That¡¯s why I¡¯ll be able to ask for your hand.¡±

    First griffins, now dragons. The books I¡¯ve read said they were instinct, but clearly, they aren¡¯t. Arabe¡¯s father killed one several years ago, hence his unimaginable fame and the noble title he was awarded as amon knight. But this time, Sir Jasper¡¯s already a nobleman. When ites to what honors might be piled on for such a feat, it chills my blood to realize that marrying a princess is not that much of a far cry.

    ¡°What¡¯s so great about killing a dragon?¡± I murmur. Aside from besting such a fearsome foe, I cannot fathom why there are so many rewards bestowed for the feat.

    Jasper smiles at me, a wide toothy thing that looks more like a robot trying to mimic a smile. ¡°Many, great things, your highness. Many, many things.¡±

    ¡°So you do realize that I am the daughter of your emperor, the sovereign to whom your sword is dedicated,¡± I thunder out, unable to stand his lecherous stare. In the vows to officially be a knight of the royal guard, there is indeed a line that says such.

    ¡°Very much so.¡± He¡¯s nonchnt, but not for long. Something thumps on the door, startling us both. He crouches like a predator about to lunge on its prey, lowering himself to my level.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go see who is interrupting our special moment, shall we?¡± He boops my nose. The feeling of his hand on my skin makes me want to sanitize my skin with bleach ten times over.

    Before I can think of retaliating, he¡¯s crossing the space between me and the door, mming it open with enough force to rattle the walls. Fear chokes at my throat.

    As much as I desire salvation from this situation, being seen by the wrong people could very much ruin my reputation. Was this all a plot to do just that? I can hardly think.

    ¡°To think someone else swooped in for a conversation before I could. As a prince, I am ashamed that I was so slow to arrive,¡± Amir says, leaning against the frame. ¡°And who may you be?¡±

    He tosses thatst bit over his shoulder, hardly paying Sir Jasper any mind as he walks towards me. The emerald sash across his tunic only further brings out the green in his eyes, which are staring deep into mine.

    ¡°The foreign prince,¡± Sir Jasper spits out. He turns ready to shut the door behind him, but another foot blocks the way. A curious head pops in.

    ¡°Winter? Are you decent?¡± It¡¯s Elias. The whole circus has arrived, it seems. All that is left is for my brothers to arrive for this show¡¯s cast to beplete. But frankly, they could not have chosen a better time to interrupt.

    ¡°Not quite,¡± I call out, somehow managing to sound normal.

    Amir¡¯s smile tlines, his stare towards Jasper far less friendly than anything I¡¯ve ever seen on him.

    ¡°In my culture, ¡¯tis improper for a man and ady to remain alone together in such a situation. What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°Just exchanging a few words with the princess. I will take my leave.¡± He quails immediately, a little bit too quickly so that it is obvious he doesn¡¯t put Amir in his eyes. With onest unfavorable grin in my direction, he sweeps out the door, nearly hitting Elias who has just rolled his wheelchair inside.

    ¡°Did he misread the sign on the door? This is thedy¡¯s room after all,¡± Elias asks as the door ms shut behind him.

    ¡°You could say that,¡± I reply with a bitter smile. I re sharply at the door, my mind¡¯s eye still seeing the terrible figure that had suddenly appeared behind it.

    ¡°Now, now, the door didn¡¯t do you wrong, did it?¡± Amir¡¯s hands are on my shoulders, guiding me to take a seat. Elias¡¯ eyes follow his actions avidly, glittering more brightly than they ever have before.

    Meanwhile, I fantasize about somehow wrapping my hands around Sir Jasper¡¯s throat until he¡¯s sorry, until he cries like a little baby and tells me he will never even breathe in my direction again. The violent mood takes ahold of mepletely by surprise. Perhaps there is more of my father in me than I thought.

    ¡°What of the custom you spoke of, your highness? I did not hear it properly when that knight had been here,¡± Elias cuts in, his gaze trailing to the lingering hands that weigh upon my shoulders.

    Even in my turbulent mood, I can understand the undertone of his words and appreciate him for allowing me my personal space.

    Amir unwillingly relinquishes my shoulders but quickly takes a seat beside me. Elias sits in front of us, unable to move from his wheelchair to a seat without aid.

    ¡°Most untoward was the behavior of that knight just now. In Aidel, such insolence would have been answered for with his life.¡± His voice sounds airy, but there¡¯s a hidden steel belying his true emotions underneath.

    ¡°Too bad I will never be Aidelish I suppose,¡± I joke, reminding him that I still do not wish to marry him.

    ¡°Unless such an action were to be done by you, it is rather meaningless to bring it up right now.¡±

    Eliaszily leans his head onto a hand, staring at Amir in a way I¡¯ve never seen before. His bright nature seems to have been snuffed, leaving behind a far more sarcastic version of Elias than I¡¯ve ever seen. It must be puberty, he is 12 now after all.

    ¡°At least I¡¯m capable of doing such actions,¡± Amir retorted with an insincere chuckle.

    ¡°That¡¯s rude,¡± I snap at Amir, unhappy with him poking fun at Elias¡¯ wheelchair-bound state. ¡°And unnecessary. Save a fight for another time.¡±

    Amir exhales sharply, an obvious sign of displeasure, but he lets the situation go with an unsavory re in Elias¡¯ direction.

    ¡°But still, will you not do something about that knight. What was he doing in thedy¡¯s room with you? How could he dare to enter the presence of the princess without consent?¡± With every word, Prince Amir grows more incensed. ¡°Nonsense. I ought to go to the emperor and beseech him to punish that man.¡±

    He jumped up from the chair, ready to storm out, but I grab his arm.

    ¡°No! No. Even in the off-chance my father was to punish him, people would wonder why the knight who has just performed the impressive honor of killing a dragon was punished instead of rewarded. It would chill the hearts of the people and rumors of what happened tonight could be spread and ruin my reputation,¡± I blurt out in one breath.

    ¡°Wow, a dragon?¡± Elias whispers to himself in surprise. He taps his chin in excitement.

    The prince from across the Moor stares at me incredulously, ignoring Elias. ¡°So you would have him go free after today?¡±

    ¡°I have no choice.¡±

    ¡°There is always a choice.¡±

    He¡¯s not willing to budge and neither do I, our gazes locked in a fiercepetition like two bulls fighting for dominance. Elias had been a spectator, watching us argue but now he cuts in like a matador carrying a bright red cloth.

    ¡°I agree with him!¡± Elias chimes in. I suck air into my teeth and cut a re at one of my oldest friends. Et tu, Brutus?

    ¡°Not 100%, more like 50%!¡± Elias adds before it¡¯s toote, using one of my often used modern phrases to soften the blow. ¡°Even if your father can¡¯t punish him now, there could still be other ways he could get revenge for you. Don¡¯t underestimate His Majesty.¡±

    He says thest line like it¡¯s an inside joke, but if it is, it is one that none of us are privy to.

    I let out a long sigh, the wind leaving my sails. I¡¯ve been humbled, forck of a better word. Power equals respect and clearly I haven¡¯t attained enough of it if any old knight from the royal guard can waltz up to me and tell me he wants to marry me.

    ¡°Do whatever you want. I¡¯m done here.¡± I shove past both boys and get ready to storm back to the banquet.

    ¡°Wait!¡± Amir yells.

    ¡°What?¡± I bark over my shoulder.

    ¡°Theces of your skirt, there aren¡¯t fully tied up yet. Would you allow me the honor of tying it for you?¡± Is this the ancient equivalent of being caught with toilet paper stuck to your shoe?

    Even amidst the embarrassment, his words serve to remind me that from the moment Sir Jasper arrived, that clever-handed maid had disappeared without a trace.

    ¡°Strange,¡± I muse. If you tried to convince me that something big isn¡¯t afoot here, I wouldugh in your face. It seems I have some homework and light detective work in the near future.

    ¡°Strange, indeed. Shall I?¡± Amir hops eagerly forward but I smack his hands away.

    ¡°Let the traitorce me up,¡± I mutter dryly to Elias. ¡°You will, won¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Of course. For you, there are not many things I wouldn¡¯t do,¡± Elias pledges like the good friend he usually is, doing up thestces with great ease. His hands are practiced and steady, just like his temperament despite being a youngd.

    ¡°Be wary of your words. Otherwise, I will look forward to making you prove that someday, Young Lord Wolfe,¡± I warn yfully as I start to get over my previous anger.

    ¡°But I look forward to such a day, too, Winter,¡± Elias swears, his hands finally relinquishing me from his grasp.

    .....

 Chapter 136

    Chapter 136: Ch. 135: Even More Secrets

    What is the best way to humiliate a man?

    There are a few ways, my friend. The easiest? His manhood. I¡¯ve never not seen a man not get offended when someone called his dick small. But that is just surface level. Peel away everything that makes a man: his job, his reputation, his perception amongst women, his ¡°family jewels¡±, and then what do you have left?

    Nothing. You have trash, a humiliated piece of castrated trash. Because in a world where men can¡¯t always rely on their looks the way women can, they have to earn or inherit their keep. And I cannot wait to strip it all away from Sir Jasper.

    Yes. Yes, that would be most fitting for revenge.

    The dark clouds above my mood float up, up, and away. I smile brightly at the two boys, a light giggle escaping my mouth before I can help it.

    ¡°Shall we?¡± I say cheerfully, gesturing towards the door. They both stare at me as if I¡¯ve grown a second head.

    ¡°Remind me to never cross the second princess of this empire,¡± Amir whispers not so quietly to Elias.

    .....

    And then Elias replies and I¡¯m not quite sure if my ears are tricking me or if he really said, ¡°She¡¯s perfect.¡±

    Which I¡¯m not. But it is certainly nice to hear.

    ¡°Amir,¡± I say suddenly, causing both boys to straighten and look away from each other as if they weren¡¯t gossiping like old fisher¡¯s wives.

    He clears out his throat awkwardly.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Are you really angry for my sake?¡± Elias narrows his eyes, clearly picking up the subtle nuances in my not-so-innocent question, but Amir zes ahead like a knight charging for victory.

    ¡°Of course!¡± he exims righteously. He even pounds his chest in the Aidelish fashion, with both arms crossed across the emerald green tunic.

    ¡°Then I¡¯ve got a fun little idea for you to act out for me,¡± I beckon him over and whisper in his ear, relishing the way his eyes grow wide, and then a simrly devious smile sprouts across his face.

    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¨C

    LAST NIGHT

    Wolfgang ¡°Mad Dog¡± Amarelius was many things.

    A lord. The emperor¡¯s running dog. A prestigious knight. The asional ck sheep of House Amarelius. Today, he was even a messenger.

    Of these many things, however, he was not a father. Wolfgang had no desire to be one either. Even well situated in histe 30s, witnessing all hisrades¡¯ ruddy faces tell stories of their teenaged brats, the urge had never struck the yboy.

    But Wolfgang was a son. Not the best one, but if it weren¡¯t for his impulsive teenage desire to stand beside the bastard prince, House Amarelius would not have been awarded a duchy for all their troubles.

    And as a son, he could tell that his closest friend, Emperor Helio, was a bad father.

    ¡°What of the matter during the huntingpetition?¡± The Mad Dog asked without a care, settling down in a chair with the leisure of someone not conversing with the most powerful man in the empire. The quiet study was illuminated by a single candle, casting shadows on everything including the solemn emperor¡¯s already gloomy face.

    Emperor Helio¡¯s eyes flicked up from the paper he was reading, pinning Wolfgang with a hard stare, before continuing to digest the confidential information.

    ¡°Bromely is on the move again. This time he¡¯s gone east. It is time to find him,¡± Helio simply said as if he hadn¡¯t heard a word.

    ¡°Why not just kill the traitor?¡± Wolfgang snorted. ¡°Anyways, I know you¡¯ve been paying attention to the mayhem in court. If nothing else, shouldn¡¯t you take this opportunity to humble House Duvernay?¡± He began to toss a container of ink between his hands, the bottlepletely dwarfed in Wolfgang¡¯s massive hands that had killed many enemies for the emperor.

    This time, Helio didn¡¯t even deign him a response. But Wolfgang carried on talking regardless.

    ¡°I spoke to Princess Winter the other day. She reminds me an awful lot of you when you were young, Your Majesty.¡± It was as if the captain of the royal guard had just said magic words because he drew an unexpected emotion out of a man famous for having so few of them.

    ¡°Of me?¡±

    A fish had been drawn to the bait, only this fish knew when bait had been thrown before it. Nheless, Wolfgang was briefly proud of himself for managing to drag the emperor¡¯s attention away from a matter that had been consuming most of his attention for the past few years. And it was for good cause. Lord Bromely was not infamously nicknamed ¡°The Kingmaker¡± for no reason.

    But what he made was not a king, but an emperor. And this one was demanding an exnation from Wolfgang, his heavy stare a burden the confidant had carried for many years.

    Wolfgang tapped his chin. ¡°Well, not that simr to you. She hasn¡¯t quite got that particr stare of yours down yet. And she¡¯s nowhere near as good at hiding her fear.¡±

    ¡°I was never afraid,¡± Helio retorts.

    ¡°Then consider what I said a slip of tongue, Your Majesty,¡± Wolfgang wily responded without missing a beat. He absentmindedly rubbed at the new scar on his face, drawing Helio¡¯s stare to it.

    ¡°You have done a lot for me over the years,¡± the emperor said, putting down the secret message in hand. ¡°Is there anything you desire?¡±

    ¡°Look into whatever business Princess Winter is getting mixed up in lest the next Bromely starts putting ideas in her head that shouldn¡¯t be there. She doesn¡¯t look or act like any 11-year-old girl I¡¯ve ever seen. And my sister has 3 daughters!¡±

    ¡°It is inevitable for children of the imperial family to be a little different from others.¡± Helio¡¯s expression darkened once more, his golden eyes shing dangerously. ¡°And that matter has already been handled.¡±

    Helio was a curt speaker, but Wolfgang had spent enough time with him to read between the lines. ¡°You¡¯ve already handled the situation? How? Will you me it on Katya?¡±

    ¡°I just gave her back the right to run the imperial pce. Doing something else to her would rile up the Duvernay faction in court even more during this critical time,¡± Helio disagreed immediately.

    Wolfgang snorted obnoxiously, only to be cowed by Helio¡¯s deadly side-eye. ¡°Since when did you care about the Duvernay faction?¡±

    ¡°Since the days we learned of their desire to usurp the imperial throne for themselves.¡± Helio folded his hands on his desk in deep introspection. Time had hardly left a trace on him over the years other than the ever-present darkness that seemed to doggedly chase at the emperor¡¯s heels. Others only saw the frightening might Helio presented to the world, but never moments like this.

    ¡°Right. That is concerning.¡± Wolfgang sobered up right away at the mention of theirtest headache in the past few years.

    ¡°To think a day woulde when I would learn that not all my problems could be dealt with with a sword.¡±

    Helioughed but itcked humor. It sounded deste and pitiful but Wolfgang would sooner fall on his own sword than admit that to his friend. They sat together in the silence, their shared years of friendship if Wolfgang could call it that, making the silencefortable.

    Wolfgang knew how much blood had been spilled to pave Helio¡¯s way to the throne. A majority of the imperial family had been brutally wiped out and dissidents from neighboring kingdoms were invaded and assimted seamlessly into the empire. Helio was a conqueror in his blood. He took back what had been denied from him and took from those who dared to doubt him.

    But to rule an empire, meant maintaining a delicate bnce between several parties of varied interest. Most empires of old didn¡¯t end because they were invaded. No. They fell apart due to internal strife and corruption. Helio was a smart man, how could he not know that? Hence the many allowances he made to House Duvernay, who had usurped the Holy Church and several key industries within the empire while he was off basking in the glory of war.

    What was most frightening was that the one who moved all the chess pieces of House Duvernay always seemed to be two or three moves ahead of anything they had done over the years. Chancellor Duvernay had first appeared to be the mastermind of House Duvernay. But Emperor Helio had found out the hard way several years ago in the dark days after the mes had ravaged the former Rose Pce.

    ¡°So this is the price he spoke of,¡± Wolfgang still remembered Emperor Helio moaning as ash from the Rose Pce floated down around them like snow. The then almost 20-year-old emperor had kneeled amongst the ashes, his hands and arms burnt badly from the mes before Wolfgang himself had dragged him away from the zing pce. The screaming inside had stopped long ago by then, so even if Helio had somehow made it in, the former empress was long dead.

    ¡°It is my fault. If I hadn¡¯t... if I hadn¡¯t sought this power, Liana would be- She would still be-¡± The devastation had wiped all sense from Helio. No one could approach him, literally. His aura was so powerful that just dragging Helio from the fire left Wolfgang in bed for a month fighting through the side effects. The words echoed through Wolfgang¡¯s head as he hadin on a sickbed for the first time in his life with his tearful mother beside him because he did not understand what Helio had meant.

    What price? Was the power Helio referring to his killing aura and the unstoppable onught that followed whenever the young emperor unsheathed his sword? Wolfgang fathomed that somehow the emperor had made a deal involving dark magic with a sorcerer of some sort, but with no proof, he¡¯d always shelved the thought in his mind.

    All he knew was that after that night, Emperor Helio, who had already grown out of being a vicious, wolf-like child no one cared about into a loving husband, fell back into his past self that waspletely focused on achieving his goals at any cost. He married the Duvernay girl they¡¯d always made fun of when they were younger and he carried out more campaigns than ever. It grew to the point that he spent far more days out of the pce than in it. And in that time, House Duvernay sank their ws deeper and deeper into Radovalsk to the point that they basically controlled the capital.

    The most strange thing was that Helio watched it all happen. The sharp emperor was not someone who could easily have the wool pulled over his eyes, yet he watched the power ys of his hateful wife¡¯s family and did... nothing.

    ¡°Do you regret letting House Duvernay grow as much as they did?¡± Wolfgang finally asked as the emperor proceeded to burn the message in the candle me.

    ¡°It was part of the price. I knew what I had to pay. But I did not expect them to be so greedy.¡± The rage in Helio¡¯s voice still made Wolfgang¡¯s heart jump a little even though he knew it wasn¡¯t directed towards him.

    ¡°They are too powerful and yet they want more,¡± Wolfgang concurred.

    Despite being the emperor, the government was not totalitarian like the Kingdom of Aidel, hence the presence of nobility in court affairs. And those greedy bastards were happy to do whatever it took to gain more power.

    Wolfgang still remembered the weathered hands that had felt so heavy as they wrapped around his thin shoulders he hadn¡¯t yet fully grown into. He¡¯d always had a keen eye for people and even in his youth, Lord Bromely the ¡°Kingmaker¡± always left a bad taste in his mouth.

    ¡°Everything and everyone has a price. It just depends if one is willing to pay for it,¡± Lord Bromely had once taught a young Helio and Wolfgang back in the days they were plotting the impossible and Wolfgang hadn¡¯t acquired his killing aura.

    Only back then they went by different names. He was the popr and beloved Young Lord Amarelius and Helio was still Prince Bartholomew. The second prince. The prince no one loved.

    Today¡¯s Emperor Helio of Erudia and the Northern Territories, that was just a persona created the day his friend had finally sat upon the throne with a tired look on his face.

    ¡°Themon people love that god, Helio, don¡¯t they? So they should love me too,¡± Helio had murmured after he was announced at the coronation with his new name. ¡°Will you still follow me, Wolfgang? Even as Helio?¡±

    ¡°Without question, Your Majesty,¡± Wolfgang had answered, sinking onto a knee immediately.

    As a new emperor, Helio had been generous to him and his family. House Amarelius was awarded the former Duchy of Provoth as repayment. Lord Bromely had been awarded the most coveted position of Chancellor. The girl Helio had long secretly admired became his beloved wife and they had a son within a year of their marriage. Things had been good and leaving Bartholomew in the past seemed to be a good decision.

    But things changed and so did the new Helio, who wore his new name so well that even Wolfgang himself had almost forgotten the thrashing and animalistic Bartholomew who had been locked in the stables for identally showing his face before the Dowager Empress. Until he saw Princess Winter with that same, jumpy expression.

    The most dangerous beast is a cornered one. But when theysh out, does the me fall on the beast or those that cornered it?

    ¡°I know you have wondered why I gave House Duvernay so many allowances,¡± Helio said from the desk, unknowing of Wolfgang¡¯s mental journey into the past. ¡°Not just you, but Bromely must have wondered as well. He is in the east now probably to seek such answers.¡±

    There were many secrets Helio kept from Wolfgang. How he became friends with the Lord Protector of the North. How he acquired his mysterious power. But Wolfgang was wise enough not to pry, the same way he was wise enough not to have children. He had his inklings, but like any wise subject who wanted to live a long life, Wolfgang mostly kept them to himself.

    Even though they were still friends, even as they threw back sses of imported ale and reminisced on the old days, Wolfgang never forgot that they were subject and emperor. That was how he¡¯d managed tost as long as he had, even when the ruthless, bloodthirsty Helio had taken the reigns.

    ¡°Do you intend to tell me, Your Majesty?¡± Wolfgang asked, not expecting any information.

    Helio smiled up at Wolfgang. ¡°You actually already know more than you think,¡± the emperor responded cryptically. ¡°But it is what we do not know that is far more intriguing.¡±

    There was a glow in the hooded gaze of the emperor, the kind that Wolfgang often saw before Helio did what he did best and took what he wanted.

    ¡°Your Majesty...?¡± Wolfgang unconsciously straightened in the chair he sat in, curious to hear what his friend had to say.

    ¡°I have been hearing whispers from my spies for a while now. Whispers of a secret even an emperor is not privy to. A secret that supposedly involves the most powerful figures not only in our empire, but the neighboringnds and continents too.¡± The corner of Helio¡¯s mouth quirked up even higher. ¡°ording to that message I just burned, it seems even Bromely knows of it.¡±

    Wolfgang got a bad feeling immediately. ¡°Anything that Bromely is involved in cannot be good. You have not forgotten the illegal matters he got up to while he served as chancellor, have you, Your Majesty?¡±

    Wolfgang verbally danced around the crimes of Lord Bromely, but Helio stabbed the truth out into the light.

    ¡°His magic experiments, you mean?¡± the emperor said. ¡°No, I have not. He was always curious about how to replicate my aura.¡±

    ¡°Do you think House Duvernay is involved?¡±

    ¡°Without a doubt. But not the Chancellor. No, no, no,¡± the emperor shook his head. ¡°The real head of that family. He doesn¡¯t have much longer left to live, you see. He¡¯s been cursed.¡±

    ¡°A curse?¡± Wolfgang sputtered, unable to hold his cool. The candlelight flickered as if it were just as perturbed as he was. ¡°Those have been banned for centuries! There should not be a soul alive who knows how to cast one let alone has the ability to!¡±

    .....

    His stomach churned in the way it did before he embarked into battle. Politics were just as frightening and dangerous as the battlefield. The lengths people went to for power, the lengths that Emperor Helio had gone to for power, they crossed a threshold that deeply frightened him.

    ¡°And yet I¡¯ve personally seen traces of one cast in the past few years. Even with our history books, people still forget why magic is banned beyond battlemages and healers. First Travelers, now curses. Something big is afoot and yet I am not privy to it.¡± The emperor stood from the desk, his tall figure slightly shorter and trimmer than Wolfgang¡¯s own. Yet he could easily best Wolfgang in battle, even without his killing aura.

    ¡°Call Madame Nightingale. Tell her to find a way to lure Bromely back to Radovalsk,¡± Helio ordered.

    Wolfgang shook his head. ¡°He would never risk that. After sneaking in to speak with the princess all those years ago, he has avoided Radovalsk like the gue.¡±

    Helio smirked darkly. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t pay that woman such an exorbitant amount of coin if she couldn¡¯t fulfill such a simple matter. Her and her little birds will see to it.¡±

    Wolfgang pouted, an unusual expression on someone as old as he was. ¡°But I hate talking to that strange woman. I still don¡¯t understand why you had to appoint her as your spymaster.¡±

    ¡°Because she could do what you couldn¡¯t,¡± Emperor Helio said, throwing in a quick barb as he prepared to leave the darkened study. The candle was nearly about to go out. ¡°Get me the information I need.¡±

    ¡°I am a knight, not a gossip monger,¡± Wolfgang muttered under his breath. He smiled innocently when Helio cast a nce over his shoulder in his direction. How could Wolfgang forget that the emperor had the senses of a hawk?

    Wolfgang awkwardly cleared his throat as he trailed out into the dark halls of the opulent pce after the emperor. ¡°It iste, Your Majesty. Are you off to rest?¡±

    ¡°No, I must see to some matters regarding my daughter. Go rest. I shall see you tomorrow for a spar before the banquet,¡± Emperor Helio called back, disappearing into the halls.

    The torchlight on the walls provided for subpar lighting, but before the emperor turned the corner, Wolfgang could swear he¡¯d seen the faintest hint of a real smile on his friend¡¯s face. Even though Emperor Helio couldn¡¯t see it, ever since Princess Winter had moved into the central pce, the lighter-hearted Helio from the days when Empress Liana was still around seemed to be making aeback.

    He only hoped it wasn¡¯t toote for a true rtionship to foster between the estranged father and daughter.

 Chapter 137

    Chapter 137: [Bonus chapter]Ch. 136: Wild Goose Chase

    Wolfgang was being strangled. But rather than an assassin wrapping rope around his neck, which he had actually experienced before, the tight cor of his formal uniform threatened to cut off his airway. His friend was giving a longwinded speech full of fancy words that sounded much more impressive than they actually were and all Wolfgang wanted was a proper stiff drink.

    The wine before him was not the kind of drink that would get him through the long, dull night of meaningless conversation that loomed before him. Especially as an unmarried key figure within the throne room, Wolfgang could all but guarantee that more than half the people in the room would attempt to bribe, seduce, or simply talk his ear off before the night was over.

    People began to apud, the speech was finally over. Wolfgang took the chance to throw back the full ss of wine like it was cold water on a hot summer day. But even water had more of a kick than whatever overpriced swill was in his delicate ss that he could probably snap with half a thought.

    ¡°Helio, give me strength,¡± he muttered under his breath as the first wide-eyed sap seated beside him began to engage in chatter about the recent prosperity of the Erudian Empire.

    He didn¡¯t believe in any of the Holy Church¡¯s nonsense, but such phrases had pervadedmon vernacr to the point that they slipped out as easily as breathing. It was no wonder Empress Duvernay could sit around sofortably in her seat as her daughter was under fire in court and under house arrest in her quarters. If Wolfgang hailed from a powerful House that held significant sway over the main religion in the empire, a religion so popr that if every believer turned into a soldier they would¡¯ve won the Sarsavalian War in half a day, he too would not be stressed by such matters.

    Besides, he thought to himself, if he were to look at the Empress¡¯ current situation from the cruel angle most nobles would, it was just a daughter who couldn¡¯t even serve her intended purpose of bing the promised child. It had been an open secret amongst the nobility after all, the purpose of Julia¡¯s timely birth and the Holy Church¡¯s prophecy.

    Julian was but a second son and the son of a woman the emperor clearly did not care for in the slightest. Even if he were a ster candidate and had House Duvernay¡¯s full support, it would be hard to sway the court from the long-standing tradition of naming the eldest legitimate son as crown prince. And Julian didn¡¯t have the same hunger for power that Emperor Helio had when he was little. Wolfgang could see that every time he sparred with the young man.

    .....

    Julian was not hungry for a throne, that much was clear as day. But the way one fights paints a picture of who they are.

    Emperor Helio¡¯s strokes were unpredictable but vicious, a chess game where he slowly beat you down mentally and physically until you had no choice but to surrender. This matched his methods in real life, because even as his closest friend, Wolfgang did not understand a majority of the political decisions his friend made until they ripened into fruition.

    For Julian, he was still hungry for power in a way. He fought with a thin de that suited his wiry frame and could swiftly change its direction without warning. He also did not immediately go for the kill like Augustus was wont to do, drawing out his matches so they felt more like a game until he sent an unexpected jab for the throat or swept the de across one¡¯s ankle tendons to incapacitate them instantly. No matter how well Julian yed the part of an innocent, happy-go-lucky prince, his fighting told another story. So then, what did Julian want?

    Wolfgang¡¯s eyes wandered to the second son who presented as an enigma, wrapped in a smile that was always a little too fake. Even when he was young, the boy smiled like those market chatans whose tongue could convince a poor man to give them the clothes off his back. Julian was chuckling as he whispered something to Winter, who clearly could see through the market chatan act as well as Wolfgang could. The siblings seem to briefly get in a spat before Julian proceeded to ¡°identally¡± spill his soup on Winter.

    It was typical sibling behavior, Wolfgang had engaged in such shenanigans when he was a youth. But such an act would have been far moremonce a few years ago when Winter and Julian were much closer to one another. Now it just seemed out of ce,pounded by the expression that fell upon Julian as Winter turned and exited the banquet.

    The mask fell off, the one that every child of high birth learns to wear as soon as they can talk, and beneath it was destion and loneliness. Andscape devoid of cheer. It was not the face you typically see on a young maning into adulthood. But before he could observe further, the gold eyes that Wolfgang had been long familiar with snapped towards him; Julian had detected his stare. Wolfgang raised his ss towards him and Julian raised his cup back. The smile that apanied the cheers was a tad less bright than usual.

    Wolfgang¡¯s eyes flicked towards the door that Winter had left through. He had a feeling inching down his spine, the kind of feeling that had kept him alive on the battlefield and made his body move out of the path of an arrow he couldn¡¯t detect. The kind that made him follow up on a girl he¡¯d briefly seen in a doctor¡¯s office, hence discovering the emperor¡¯s youngest daughter.

    More often than not, it was not feeling he typically liked to have.

    Wolfgang took note of the room and everyone¡¯s location within seconds, but no one looked out of ce. The empress looked as calm as ever, Julian was eating his soup as if nothing had happened. There was no obvious threat, but he¡¯d lived for far too long to dismiss his feeling as a fluke.

    ¡°Bloody hell,¡± he sighed, resigning to his instincts. His chair scraped against the floor as he stood and stalked towards the door the princess had disappeared through. Perhaps it was just his pity for the girl rearing its head.

    The hallway was a bit cooler and Wolfgang took the chance to loosen his cor to give his neck a brief respite. It had been a while since he¡¯d navigated the auxiliary halls outside the throne room, but he detected thedy¡¯s room closest to the banquet soon enough.

    ¡°You. Girl,¡± he barked at a passing servant girl. ¡°Go inside and check if the princess is alright.¡±

    She quivered upon seeing him, nearly dropping the basket of table clothes she was carrying. Knowing that his voice had a tendency to be frightful to the fairer sex, Wolfgang cleared his throat and tried again.

    ¡°If you do your task properly, I will see to it that you are rewarded.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my Lord,¡± she said obediently, disappearing into thedy¡¯s room. Wolfgang did not have to wait too long. The girl appeared quickly with a wide-eyed look of surprise.

    ¡°My Lord, are you certain the princess is in here? I did not encounter Her Highness in thedy¡¯s room. There was but one upant, Countess-¡±

    ¡°Who seeks my presence?¡± someone thundered out, the double doors banging open so quickly Wolfgang had to pull the servant girl out of the way to prevent her from getting hit. ¡°Oh, ¡¯tis you, Lord Amarelius?¡±

    Wolfgang recognized the woman instantly, a sour taste filling his mouth at his bad luck. At the same time, he wondered where Princess Winter was if she was not in thisdy¡¯s room. It was a touch unusual, which was enough cause for his concern to be warranted.

    Still, he pulled on his familiar, rakish grin, just in time too, as Countess Koberg, formerly the expelled maid, Janice,id her eyes on him and a stunning smile bloomed on her face. She obviously still had the temper he¡¯d heard she possessed, but she was now skilled at reigning it in.

    She has learned the game, Wolfgang thought to himself. He distinctly felt like it was not a good thing for a conniving, irritation of a former maid to learn such tricks. She was married, yet she still carried that seductive smile all women were taught when they entered the trade of flesh and pleasure.

    The Countess, whose hands that had shoved open the doors with more strength than Wolfgang would¡¯ve thought possible for a woman of her stature, must have realized how she hade across just now.

    ¡°My apologies. That maid was rather rude in her inquiries and it startled me. I had feared it was someone seeking to cause me undue harm.¡± Countess Koberg sang her lies in a honey-soft tone, cing a jewelden hand upon her full breast in a deliberate attempt to draw his eyes to her more than generous decolletage.

    She took a step nearer to Wolfgang, peeking up at him with spidery longshes as she crossed the barrier between friendly conversation and ambiguous situations. The servant girl beside him drew in an abrupt breath, he could practically taste the sharp tang of her fear. It was not an unfounded fear. How many maids met their untimely ends for witnessing the wrong thing at the wrong time?

    ¡°You jest,¡± Wolfgang said dryly, taking a step back.

    ¡°I have never been fond of jokes,¡± the countess countered.

    He did not like the way lust had danced through her eyes, nor did he care for thenguid, suggestive motions she managed to perform with every movement. She did not approach him further, but the countess leaned against the door frame, the full skirts emphasizing her tiny waist that she practically taped against the carved oak.

    ¡°I shall carry on with my task,¡± the servant girl interrupted, clearly fearful as forfeited the marypensation Wolfgang had promised and rushed to her basket. Venom slid through the countess¡¯ eyes, memories of her past no doubt returning to her as she looked at the quivering girl.

    Seeing the sight of that venom calmed down Wolfgang, allowed him to think with his usual savvy. Someone who held such obvious disdain for her past could not serve as much opposition to him. Even with such an alluring appearance, like a flower at full bloom.

    ¡°It was most intriguing,¡± the countess said as her eyes trailed after the servant girl into the dark halls like a hunter marking its prey, ¡°that the girl had called for Princess Winter. Why would she do such a thing?¡±

    ¡°Because I told her to,¡± Wolfgang answered curtly. ¡°I shall take my leave. Good day.¡±

    ¡°There are three otherdy¡¯s rooms close to the throne room. I shall apany you so that you do not need to find another servant girl to do such a minor task. Do not turn me down. I am a little bored and in need of air,¡± Janice said, taking the initiative to walk beside him towards the otherdy¡¯s rooms before he could politely refuse.

    Even her speech had changed, Wolfgang marveled. The crass, rude Janice was truly a fixture of the past, except for that temper. Little did he know that if he had seen Janice when she had first arrived at the pce, he would swear up and down that some witchcraft had to have been performed for her to transform as much as she did. But Janice had been a servant back then and people tend not to notice servants. That was the way the world worked. You had to fight to be seen.

    Helio understood this down to his bones. But Wolfgang, due to his privileged upbringing, did not fully understand yet.

    Despite marching through the halls with the woman Wolfgang had personally ordered to be tossed into the lowliest of brothels, the lord captain of the royal guard did not feel the slightest inkling of guilt. Instead he felt concern. For a disgraced maid to climb from the lowliest of brothels into nobility, that took the kind of hunger that Wolfgang had only seen in Emperor Helio.

    ¡°Hmmm... no one in this one,¡± she sighed in a low voice after taking her time in the firstdy¡¯s room. There was a pleasing aroma about her, the kind he¡¯d smelled before when he¡¯d foundfort in the sheets of a woman at a Red House once in a while. But it was even headier, stirring buried feelings and sending irritation through Wolfgang as he faced an invisible opponent he couldn¡¯t battle with a sword.

    ¡°Then on to the next. Quickly. Do not tarry, Countess,¡± Wolfgang barked as if he were speaking to his soldiers. He struggled to hold his breath, but Janice stuck to his side like a bed sore from sleeping on the ground too many days in a row.

    Janice pouted, her red lips puckering. Wolfgang wagered she¡¯d won many things from the Count just by shing such a pout. ¡°That is not my name. I am Janice. Say it.¡±

    ¡°That would be impolite,¡± Wolfgang said without giving it a thought of consideration. ¡°Make haste, Countess.¡±

    Countess Koberg continued to linger too long in the rooms, her full lips smiling demurely as if she held a secret behind them. It was then Wolfgang began to consider that perhaps this was all part of a plot. Only he happened to be the lucky one who¡¯d stepped into the trap. If anyone had sent an ordinary servant to search for Princess Winter instead of himself, he¡¯d wager that this process would take even longer.

    Janice¡¯s arm brushed against his jacket and it felt like Wolfgang had been struck by electricity. Automatically, he looked down at Janice, only to find her gazing up at him with faintly hooded eyes. His chest felt stuffy, it was as if he would have to undo even more buttons on his ornate formal jacket. A rational, intelligent part of him was screaming that what he was feeling right now was not normal, while the dimwitted idiot inside him settled his eyes upon her breasts in an indecent manner. It filled him with rage, to lose control over the heart he had never given anyone and would never give anyone.

    Desire, what a pesky, carnal emotion. The closest emotion that mirrored the sensation of killing, was fucking, to put it bluntly. Wolfgang had enjoyed his fair share of both. But now was not the time to indulge in either.

    It was a movement so swift that even the most talented of fighters would struggle to follow it, and yet as Wolfgang closed the distance between them in a sh and mmed the iling, smaller woman against the wall, he could just tell. Janice was not surprised in the slightest. Her eyes seemed to follow him as he made his sudden move, the corner of her lips curling with amusement as she almost stood in ce and waited. This meant that the former maid had senses sharper than any man he had faced across the battlefield. Almost as sharp as the sovereign he¡¯d sworn his sword to.

    A hand traced against the forearm Wolfgang had pressed against her neck, as if she couldn¡¯t recognize the threatening position she was in. ¡°Oh! My Lord! How forward of you,¡± the countess cooed. In her eyes, triumph glittered as if she had already conquered him.

    ¡°What are you plotting, Janice?¡± Wolfgang asked softly as if he had pinned a hardened criminal to the walls rather than a beauty who could stir the heart of any red blooded man with eyes. His quiet voice was a bad sign that would send any member of the royal guard falling to their knees and begging for forgiveness if they had heard him speak just now.

    A quiet Wolfgang was an angry Wolfgang. And an angry Wolfgang was dangerous for those on the opposite end.

 Chapter 138

    Chapter 138: Ch. 137: The Real Show

    ¡°Why should I tell you?¡± Janice whined, rubbing at her neck even though it wasn¡¯t the slightest bit bruised or red. ¡°You are neither my husband... nor my lover.¡± Her eyes flickered up suggestively, but Wolfgang was already learning to see past her attempts at seduction.

    There was no denying Janice¡¯s overwhelming charm and beauty. Perhaps if Wolfgang had met her in a Red House he might¡¯ve paid thousands to spend an evening with her. But she still had yet to master the kind of word games nobles had yed since they were young.

    Wolfgang snorted, releasing her neck. ¡°Only a blind fool would voluntarily choose to be either. Tell me, Countess, what benefit is there in being with you?¡±

    His words were deliberate, scratching at the wound of Janice being ofmon birth. It also reminded her that she was but a countess by marriage, while he was set to inherit a duchy from his father someday.

    Janice¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°Toomon for you, am I?¡± she spat. ¡°Then I suppose I ought to return to the banquet.¡±

    ¡°After giving your promise to help me find the second princess? I¡¯m afraid His Majesty would be disappointed to hear such disloyalty from his subjects,¡± Wolfgang slyly said, verbally backing Janice into a corner.

    ¡°Would he really be disappointed?¡± A light shed in Janice¡¯s eyes, the kind that Wolfgang did not like. Like she was privy to something he wasn¡¯t.

    .....

    ¡°Let us proceed to thestdy¡¯s room,¡± Wolfgang replied instead, marching ahead.

    The maze-like halls snaked their way towards the finaldy¡¯s room as a bad feeling crept over Wolfgang. They were not alone in those halls, he suspected, and his suspicion was validated as Sir Jasper emerged from the dark halls in front of him.

    ¡°Captain. Countess,¡± Sir Jasper greetedzily. His tone was fraught with disrespect for a subordinate. Wolfgang did not care for Sir Jasper, as he knew that thed was one of Duvernay¡¯s dogs. He also had ack of respect for life, killing for pleasure rather than necessity. Wolfgang did enjoy battle, in his own way. But he did not truly have a taste for blood. Not the way this second son from the Berrick family did.

    As his greeting was rude, Wolfgang did not acknowledge it. ¡°There is no rest room for gentlemen down there,¡± Wolfgang said in lieu of a greeting.

    ¡°No. There isn¡¯t,¡± Sir Jasper smirked. ¡°I shall see you in the throne room.¡± The talld, who somehow managed to soar past Wolfgang in height as well, brushed past rudely.

    Janice and Wolfgang both watched him leave, although the former had a satisfied grin on her face. It wasn¡¯t often Wolfgang tasted the kind of disrespect he¡¯d just experienced, particrly from a subordinate whom he¡¯d beaten several times in the past. It was odd for the second son of the Berrick family to act in such a way after killing a dragon. It seemed that the emperor was right that there was something fishy about dragons that they didn¡¯t know about.

    ¡°I¡¯ve worked in the trade for years. I know the face of a satisfied man when I see one,¡± Janice muttered just loud enough for Wolfgang to hear after Sir Jasper had sauntered away. There were undeniable undertones of satisfaction in her voice.

    ¡°What did you say?¡± Wolfgang asked, throwing an insidious look over his shoulder at the woman who apanied him.

    ¡°How do you think His Majesty would feel if the tender, young flower he protects in the central pce were plucked? He would be angry, wouldn¡¯t he?¡± Janice tapped at her pointed chin with a long nail, giddy at the idea as if she¡¯d concocted it herself.

    Wolfgang did not waste any more time verbally sparring with the countess as he rushed to the doors. But they opened from within, three young children emerging. Wolfgang¡¯s eyes first focused on the princess, who looked extremely surprised to see him.

    ¡°Lord Wolfgang?¡± she eximed. But then her eyes focused on the countess standing behind him and a smile widened across her face.

    ¡°Jani- Countess! A pleasure! You look even more vibrant than you did at the hunt.¡± Wolfgang inwardly smirked at the barbed greeting from the young princess.

    But even so, he hadn¡¯t lost sight of the important matter at hand.

    ¡°Your Highness,¡± Wolfgang said, bowing politely to his friend¡¯s youngest child. She nodded, humbly epting his greetings with the maturity of someone twice her age. Meanwhile, he could all but hear Countess Koberg seething behind him. It seemed that only a small number of people were given the privilege to call her ¡®Janice¡¯. ¡°Did you encounter Sir Jasper on your way here?¡±

    It happened in a sh. There was the barest of motions, Princess Winter¡¯s lips pressed into a line before she relinquished it into a confused smile. A dark look fluttered through Prince Amir¡¯s summery gaze. Elias squeezed his armrest before he released it.

    Something had happened, just as he¡¯d feared.

    ¡°I did not. Did you require his presence for something?¡± Princess Winter asked innocently, falling into step beside him.

    ¡°Yes. They are about to give a toast in his honor soon,¡± Wolfgang lied through his teeth. Her tone was airy, each step practically floating in her now clean dress. The girl was truly hard to get a read on, which made it difficult to determine what he should tell Emperor Helio.

    ¡®I saw Sir Jasper wandering through the halls and I got a bad feeling?¡¯ ¡®I think something bad may have urred between Sir Jasper and the youngest princess? Oh, and perhaps that maid who somehow married a count may be involved?¡¯

    Just hinting at such things would get any other man killed and even Wolfgang would not escape without punishment if there was no evidence to support such ims. But something had to be said.

    There was nothing but silence, and yet something hung thick in the air. It could have been Janice¡¯s hatred, which rolled off her in waves only to hit the insurmountable wall of Princess Winter. It could be that mischievousness that most children emit when they¡¯ve been up to naughty behavior. Or it could be Wolfgang¡¯s guilt knocking at his door and telling him something he already knew: Something happened. Sir Jasper did something.

    The knocking was a constant drumbeat, much like the pre-dawn marches he¡¯d been subject to as a new member of the royal guard years ago. He couldn¡¯t escape it by covering his head with a pillow, no matter how hard he tried.

    The drumming was reced by stomping as the unlikely group reentered the throne room. A traditional Aidelish performance was taking ce. Prince Amir immediately sprung to life, pping in tune and dancing back to his seat.

    Little did Wolfgang know that the real show was about to take ce.

 Chapter 139

    Chapter 139: Ch. 138: Kesuri!

    ¡°It¡¯s called Kesuri,¡± Amir¡¯s voice floats into my ears as we return to the table. ¡°It¡¯s a dance representing victory in battle.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s lovely,¡± I say, already spellbound by the loose, ankle-length skirts that shimmer under the light.

    The gathered guests, some of the most important people in the country, watch in awe as well. I suppose they¡¯ve never quite seen anything like this before.

    ¡°We perform it often at home,¡± Amir adds.

    ¡°I¡¯d imagine so,¡± I reply dryly. Despite still calling itself a kingdom, Aidel has subjugated many of the localnds surrounding their kingdom for centuries. We maneuver around the periphery of the room, expensive velvet banners bearing the sigils of the Five Houses on the walls. The corner of my mouth inevitably curls downward as I spot the rose sigil of House Duvernay.

    Amir steps in closer, cutting off Elias who was rolling his own chair between the two of us. ¡°Perhaps one day we shall do the dance together?¡± he asks with a suggestive waggle of his brows.

    ¡°Don¡¯t hold your breath,¡± I roll my eyes, but a light chuckle stilles out. I make sure that the Mad Dog is a good distance away from us before I lean in and ask, ¡°Will you still do my favor?¡±

    .....

    ¡°But of course? It¡¯s the least I could do-¡± The foreign prince suddenly leans in suddenly, invading my personal space. But before I can get upset, he tells me something that I could not have expected in a million years.

    ¡°-for a fellow Traveler. Bonjour from Moro. I can already tell you¡¯re an American, no?¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    But he¡¯s gone, returning to his seat with a smug smile while I get the rug pulled out from under me. It takes everything in me to keep my mouth from falling open.

    A maid materializes out of nowhere, escorting me to my seat after I froze where I stood. I¡¯m in a trance as I sit down, my mind automatically tuning out Julian¡¯s quiet but deadly ribbing.

    Another one. Another Traveler.

    This means that we aren¡¯t just in the Erudian Empire, we are everywhere. All I want to do is survive and perhaps end up with a peaceful life after leaving the pce. But it is increasingly clear that there are things in this world Peppermint invented that were not written in his or her sappy romance webnovel.

    Something unpleasant sits in the pit of my stomach, even as the first chapter of a y I¡¯ve helped write and direct begins to take ce. It begins from the moment the dancers gracefully bow to my father and vacate the spot for one of the more prominent ambassadors who apanied Prince Amir to our capital city.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± the man says with a bow, simrly adorned in a tunic that is slightly less intricate than Amir¡¯s. ¡°There are happy matters I have primarilye to fulfill.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Emperor Helio agrees, his voice booming in my ears as Julian is all that sits between him and me.

    I cannot help but look to my father to see how he will react. I know of the matter at hand already, that one of his daughter¡¯s hands in marriage was promised to a prince of Aidel, at a price I have yet to learn. It must have been something good though, for a deal to be struck with the Old Continent that is so shrouded in mystery. Something irresistible to an emperor.

    The ambassador¡¯s glittering, toffee eyes cannot help butnd on me. He¡¯s like a fisher who¡¯s just felt the tug of a fish at his bait. But little does he know that I will not be the prize he pulls out of that water. I¡¯ve saved that special honor for someone much more deserving, someone legitimate.

    The ambassador looked quite pleased with himself and he lowered himself onto one knee and did a full formal bow in Erudian fashion to show respect. Out of the corner of my eye, Empress Katya looks rxed and calm as she watches on without a word.

    ¡°Your Majesty, on behalf of the Supreme Ruler of Aidel, King Samoval the Third, I humbly offer the hand of Prince Amir of Aidel in exchange for-¡±

    A chair, hand carved from pure white baster just like all the tables and furniture in the throne room, screeches against the marble tiles.

    ¡°In exchange for, Princess Julia,¡± Amir interrupted. It is a record screech moment, punctuated by a shocked noblewoman dropping her crystal ss onto the floor.

    I can hear the empress¡¯ breath catch in her throat, before carrying on far more heavily than before.

    Oh good, I think to myself rather sadistically, I¡¯ve finally gotten a rise out of her. After years of being the aggrieved party, I¡¯m all but ready to pull out the popcorn and watch the empress try to maneuver her way out of this situation. Which she will make no mistake of it. But I want to watch her squirm and stress right before my eyes.

    A calm empress is not an empress I can feelfortable sitting next to.

    ¡°Princess Julia?¡± someone in the throne room murmurs in surprise. ¡°Not Princess Winter?¡±

    It¡¯s quiet, but everyone can hear it. If Clever Jack hadn¡¯t gotten me this intel and I hadn¡¯t managed to convince Prince Amir, it would be me sitting here dumbfounded at the prospect of being sold off like chattel.

    A heavy gaze falls on my shoulders, Empress Katya is staring down at me. Her emerald eyes are sharper than flint, a stony mask freezing all the muscles in her face.

    ¡°What?¡± I scoff instead of meeting her eyes, disying a great performance of appearing surprised. I shake my head in disbelief, all the while watching as the empress lets out one shuddering breath, then another.

    She smiles. It¡¯s quite eerie.

    ¡°The hand of my daughter?¡± the empress gently inquires, taking a sip from her ss.

    ¡°Y-Yes. The hand of one of His Majesty¡¯s daughters as was agreed upon,¡± the ambassador eloquently amends.

    The ambassador looks like he¡¯s been caught with his pants down, and in a way he has. This was entirely concocted in the spur of the moment by me on my way back to the banquet. The fact that Amir even agreed is bonkers, but considering how angry he was at what had just urred between myself and Sir Jasper, it is unsurprising he agreed to my request. But then again, he also just dropped a bombshell on me, one that sticks to the back of my throat like a fishbone.

    ¡°A bride was promised from your family, Your Majesties. I intend to collect,¡± Amir says grandiosely.

    Ites off a tad disrespectful and I slightly shake my head to warn him toy off the over-the-top behavior. The intent is to piss off the empress, not my dad. If he gets mad too, then no one will walk away from this situation happy.

    ¡°Ah. A daughter of the imperial family,¡± Empress Katya shifts in her seat with difort, but it isn¡¯t perceptible to anyone who isn¡¯t seated beside her. I hope she feels ufortable. This is nowhere near the level of difort I experienced when I was used of attempted murder at age 5 and locked up for a few days in the Tower. Or when I had my fingers stabbed with needles longer than my hand and made my right hand disabled. There¡¯s aundry list of slights I¡¯ve yet to pay back.

    I can see the calctions running through her head before the empress makes a split decision. It is one that is going to hurt her. Her eyes flicker over to one of herdies-in-waiting she was conversing with and I watch the color leech out of Lady Bryce¡¯s face.

    She hadughed so much when the teacup burned my hands. Now that the heat is on her, she looks like she wishes to be anywhere but here.

    ¡°Y-Your Majesty,¡± Lady Bryce stutters out, the titters of her previous conversation a distant memory. Her lips quiver, she probably wishes to fall on her knees and beg the empress for mercy. But after serving Empress Katya so diligently, Lady Bryce knows better than others that the only way out of her predicament is through.

    So she says nothing.

    ¡°A child I have so cherished over the years and taken under my wings. She is a princess in all but name. She has certainly enjoyed all the trappings of being one, wouldn¡¯t you agree, Lady Bryce?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Y-Your Majesty.¡± She has no choice but to agree.

    ¡°I offer to you instead, the hand of my goddaughter, Leana Bryce, whom I personally helped christen at the Holy Church,¡± the empress says with a pleasant grin as if she were a peddler selling her wares instead of herdy-in-waiting¡¯s daughter.

    Lord Bryce has an ugly expression upon his face, as if he¡¯s eaten something unpleasant. But he has a son, an illegitimate one he has hidden away ording to my intel so he isn¡¯t too worried to watch his only legitimate child get taken away. Meanwhile, Lady Bryce clutches at her chest and makes a strange sound in her throat.

    As I said, I knew that Emrpess Katya would worm her way out of this. I just wanted to watch her break one of her arms again. First, it was Lady Vernice. Now, it is Lady Bryce. Dominoes that will hopefully, inevitably lead to me taking down the queen pin before she can take me out first.

    Empress Katya may be the empress consort hailing from a powerful House, but with twodies-in-waiting put through the wringer, what well-to-do madam would want to take the risk of serving as the empress¡¯ confidant? Janice may find herself far more busy in theing weeks than before.

    ¡°Someone raised under your hand must no doubt have the grace and elegance that you emit, Your Majesty. I thank you for my new bride,¡± Amir says with a bow, first to my father, than to my mother.

    Going once, going twice, and sold to the highest bidder! Leana isn¡¯t even here to watch her future get sold off.

    I can see almost every tooth in Amir¡¯s mouth with the shit-eating grin he has stered on his face. He¡¯s enjoying this far more than I am. I told him not to give her too much trouble, there is a certain level of decorum that must be maintained in such an esteemed event.

    ¡°To new beginnings!¡± Amir toasts as the ink dries on the invisible contract.

    ¡°To new beginnings!¡± Everyone in the room echoes, enjoying the chance to drink again. Conversation begins anew, albeit a tad quieter than before. Empress Katya is a beat slow in raising her cup and sets it down again without drinking.

    ¡°How clever of you. You have learned much,¡± Empress Katya praises under her breath. My heart jumps with excitement at the acknowledgment, but I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s from happiness or righteous anger at being forced to act this way.

    ¡°Thank you, Mother. I¡¯ve learned all your lessons by heart.¡± The words tumble out of my mouth, without the intended sarcasm I¡¯d nned. The victory feels hollow as I see Lady Bryce bury her face into her hands and rush out of the door I just entered from.

    Sir Jasper stares at me from his seat with bright eyes I wish to gouge out with my spoon. I scowl at that freak, thest vestiges of my already small appetite taking a hike.

    The Aidelish ambassador rises from the floor with shaky knees and returns to his seat. You would not know anything had just happened now if it weren¡¯t for the faint sweat stains that a maid deftly mops up in seconds. It is the same girl who had disappeared when Sir Jasper suddenly showed up.

    I stare at the ground where the stains were as if I can still see them, the notion of talking to Julian again as appealing as walking on Legos. The fishbone still hasn¡¯t unstuck itself, I¡¯m still bbergasted that Amir is like me. It opens up a can of worms I¡¯m not ready to digest, I instinctively feel the same distrust I have for my brother, Julian. Would Amir have honored our promise from yesterday? If I hadn¡¯t told him to mention Julia¡¯s name, would he have carried out his original n of backing down from the marriage agreement?

    It is hard to say. I¡¯ve been walking through a field covered inndmines this whole time, which is a frightening thing to realize in hindsight.

    Now young Leana Bryce, who hasn¡¯t even debuted into society yet, will now sail across the Moor in my stead. She doesn¡¯t deserve to marry a foreign prince with a mind deeper than the sea and two wives. But neither do I, and I made sure of it. I¡¯m so selfish and I don¡¯t even feel bad about it.

    I take a sip of the stuff in my cup and let out a sigh. I don¡¯t feel very good either though. I don¡¯t feel much of anything.

    It urs to meter that night, as I ponder and plot on whom I should betroth myself to in order to prevent today from reurring, that the Maria of my past life would not recognize me at all. And it frightens me a bit.

 Chapter 140

    Chapter 140: Ch. 139: Husband Hunting

    ¡°Marie,¡± I moan, my face buried in my arms as she diligently does my hair as usual. ¡°I need to find a husband, fast.¡±

    I can feel my nursemaid¡¯s body shake with silentughter as she buttons me up into a dress that makes me look far sweeter than I truly am. The budget allotted to me has slowly risen over the years, so even though it¡¯s still a far cry from Julia, I¡¯m still livingvishly on the surface.

    ¡°A good marriage will be chosen for you by your parents,¡± Marie cautions. But she knows who my parents are and she knows what nearly happened yesterday. ¡°However it wouldn¡¯t hurt for you to start getting to know the young gentry in the empire, your highness.¡±

    ¡°Precisely,¡± I agree. There wasn¡¯t a hint of difort in my father¡¯s eyes as he prepared to give away my future to the kingdom of Aidel. It would be best to secure a potential marriage before something like that happens again.

    ¡°Was... was Her Majesty angry?¡± Marie inquired, a tad more quietly than before. She looks nervous, her hands shaking as they do up thest buttons. It makes me think back to the maid who¡¯d silently done up my buttons in thedy¡¯s room before I was attacked by Sir Jasper. If I were the empress, I would silence that girl so that she doesn¡¯t identally say something about Sir Jasper.

    ¡°I would assume so,¡± I reply indifferently, ying with the misceneous bottles of perfume and powder on the vanity. ¡°If I asked you to find me a maid, would you be able to do it?¡±

    Marie thinks for a moment, her thick brows scrunching up in the mirror before she nods. ¡°Yes, most likely.¡±

    .....

    Her years in the pce and being a princess¡¯ nursemaid haven¡¯t been for naught,st I heard old Marie now has significant sway within the imperial pce. Deference is shown to her when she walks around attending to her duties, yet none of it has gone to her head as she remains just as jolly as she was the day I met her.

    My heart can be soft around her, the shell of a hardboiled egg breaking apart to reveal the delicate breakable flesh beneath. It¡¯s like therapy almost.

    ¡°What for?¡± she adds with a curious look.

    ¡°A reward,¡± I spit out, my pockets already hurting even though the reward would be but a few silver coins. I¡¯m not the empress. That time she¡¯d made me beat Lite made me sick and I never want to emte such behavior.

    I heave a deep breath and smile in the mirror as teeth that are slightly too big for my mouth wink back. I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m perfectly fine. I have the upper hand. The words run over and over through my head as I carry on my Oscar-worthy performance of pretending everything is ok.

    ¡°These ringlets make me look like a little girl,¡± I pout. I flick the offenders that are twined around my head, somewhat amazed that Marie managed to twist my long tendrils into a hairstyle that can hang above my shoulders. Shirley Temple could never.

    ¡°You are a little girl, your highness. And they are very much in style these days,¡± Marie huffs, patting down thest few wrinkles in my dress.

    ¡°Don¡¯t remind me,¡± I inwardly roll my eyes. ¡°The only good thing about being little is that I haven¡¯t started my monthly bleeding yet.¡±

    Marie¡¯s mouth falls into a perfect O in the mirror and I btedly remember that I have not received any sex education in this life yet. If only Marie knew I¡¯ve experienced just about everything in my past life except actual intercourse, I fear she would never recover from that shock.

    Speaking of blood, I want to punch Amir in the face hard enough for blood to spurt out like a cheesy cartoon. The amazement wore off sometime during the night and has been reced by a seed of incessant anger that sits in the pit of my stomach. Just thinking about it makes my breathe out heavier than it should.

    ¡°Is the dress too tight?¡± Marie checks theces. I don¡¯t have to start wearing corsets yet, but the boning and rigid structure on these old-fashioned dresses do take some getting used to.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine,¡± I murmur.

    It¡¯s not fine! I was toyed with, treated like a joke! Who knows, when I¡¯d threatened him in my chambers how much heughed when he departed. In my mind¡¯s eye, his ever-present smile turns mocking, almost like Julian¡¯s when we were still cool with each other. The delicate ss bottles before me begin to tremble in fear as they start looking like good stress relievers for me to throw around the room. I need a distraction and I pinch the bridge of my nose as I take a deep breath.

    ¡°Augustus has hising-of-age ceremony tonight. That means he will be able to get married soon, right?¡± I ask cheerfully.

    I can tell I¡¯ve weirded out Marie a bit, but she still answers with a calming, ¡°Indeed, Your Majesty.¡±

    ¡°I wonder what kind of wife he will have,¡± I muse. ¡°Do you think she¡¯ll be prettier than me?¡± I add yfully.

    In the books, red-haired ra had been described as a fiery, passionate beauty who could snatch one¡¯s breath away with a single, innocent look. But in retrospect, she sounds like the typical, basic cocktail for most female leads in the webnovels I used to love: a concoction of naivete, self-righteousness, andpletely unaware of how gobsmackingly pretty she is until one of the male leads tells her.

    To think that Augustus fell for such a girl who not only did nothing for his political career but also gave him extra hindrances on his path to the throne. If there¡¯s one thing I¡¯m looking forward to if I manage to make it past 16 years old, it is making sure that ra never catches Augustus¡¯ eye!

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Marie sings, patting my cheeks which have distressingly begun to lose the chubbiness of youth. ¡°You are the loveliest little girl I¡¯ve seen in my entire life, your highness.¡±

    ¡°Hmph. I¡¯m almost 12. I¡¯m too old for cheek pats,¡± I whine as I subtly slide in closer for more.

    ¡°One is never too old for cheek pats,¡± Marie wisely counters. Truer words have never been spoken.

    ¡°Do you pat your nephew¡¯s cheeks?¡±

    ¡°You mean, Leif? But of course!¡±

    If I said I wasn¡¯t jealous, I¡¯d be lying. I¡¯m d that Marie has a great rtionship with her sister¡¯s son considering she has none of her own, but for once I¡¯d like someone entirely devoted to me. Someone whose world starts and stops with Winter Royberg de Erudian.

    But then again I¡¯m also a mature 30 something year old on the inside so I understand it is irrational and selfish to expect someone to care solely about me. A girl can dream, right?

    That starry eyed look hasn¡¯t left Marie¡¯s eyes, I can tell she loves her nephew a lot. ¡°He¡¯s to be married soon. He fancies a girl he met by the docks. She¡¯s a very sweet thing who makes marvelous tea.¡±

    ¡°With how much tea everyone around here drinks, it must be a lucrative industry,¡± I mutter sourly.

    Sometimes I feel like I¡¯d willingly give my left arm for an ice cold ss of coke. But other than lemonade, other fruit drinks, and alcohol, the drink options in this world are quite limited. Speaking of drinks, a fierce resolve overtakes me as I remember talking about coffee with Amir. Lying prick or not, we need to iron out the details for importing coffee to the Erudian Empire.

    ¡°You seem stressed, your highness,¡± Mariements, her brows knitting together in worry.

    ¡°There are many things to worry about.¡± The empress¡¯ rebuttal. Sir Jasper¡¯s psychotic delusions of marrying me. Augustus having a sessful ceremony. Amir being a Traveler, after all Julian has shown me that there is no solidarity amongst us, even though we are literally siblings. Oh yes, and finding a husband.

    ¡°It will be good once all the foreign delegates leave and the crown prince has a sessfuling-of-age ceremony,¡± Marie pats my shoulders to reassure me.

    ¡°I can only hope so. But remind me once Leif does actually get married. I will send him a gift.¡±

    Marie curtsies instantly, her eyes shining with gratefulness. ¡°Thank you, your highness!¡±

    Rejuvenated by Marie¡¯s joy, I suddenly perk up. ¡°Where is Emma? I can trust her judgement when ites to finding the most eligible bachelors in the capital.¡±

    ¡°How so? She is an unmarried girl just like you. You may prefer the opinion of someone who interacts often with the noblemen in the capital, your highness,¡± Marie disagrees quickly.

    A familiar sandy haired boyes to mind and I p the table. ¡°Elias! Elias would be perfect!¡±

    ¡°To marry?¡± Marie asks out of the blue.

    ¡°What?¡± I scoff. The only thing that could¡¯ve surprised me more than that question would be if Marie had turned around and shed me. ¡°No, I mean he¡¯d be perfect to vet any of my options for a fiance.¡±

    ¡°Oh...¡± My nursemaid trails off listlessly.

    If I¡¯d been looking at Marie¡¯s face right this instant, I would¡¯ve seen the confusion then deep contemtion that overtook her wise, older face. But instead, I¡¯m too busy mentally concocting the cast of the newest season of The Bachelorette, starring me of course.

 Chapter 141

    Chapter 141: Ch. 140: The Bachelorette

    ¡°So that¡¯s my current predicament,¡± I conclude, taking a long sip of tea to wet my parched throat. Exining why I need to get betrothed in a short amount of time without disclosing certain secrets was tougher than an obstacle course.

    Elias sits in front of me with a face just as expressionless as his somber butler. He hasn¡¯t reacted so I wave a hand in front of him.

    ¡°Hello? Did you hear me?¡± I ask the dapper young heir to House Wolfe. With the weather warming up, a faint red flush sits on his skin which must be because he¡¯s ustomed to the cooler weather of the north. He¡¯s dazed alright, but whether it¡¯s from what I said or the heat has yet to be determined.

    ¡°I did,¡± Elias says calmly, returning back to his body as if he hadn¡¯t been lost in his thoughts.

    ¡°Then give me your thoughts,¡± I snap, my patience wearing thin.

    Elias has aplex expression on his face. ¡°I don¡¯t think you need to worry about marriage. It¡¯s very far off in the future. Things could change.¡±

    ¡°Precisely,¡± I instantly agree. ¡°Today, it¡¯s Prince Amir, who is handsome but is a tad too clever and has two other wives! Ew. But what if tomorrow, it¡¯s another prince from a far-offnd or some old geezer? I need to protect myself. And besides, who said anything about marrying whichever bloke I be betrothed too?¡±

    .....

    ¡°A fake betrothal?¡± Elias¡¯ interest is piqued.

    ¡°Yes and no,¡± I drawl, happy to have his full attention. ¡°It will be conditional. If I feel like it¡¯s a person I can get along with for the long run, I may go through with it. But if there are any faults in his character or he¡¯s too smart for his own good, I won¡¯t go through with marrying him.¡±

    Elias huffed under his breath, a sound I onlytently recognized as augh. ¡°Too smart,¡± he mocks.

    ¡°Keepughing. As clever as Lady Bryce must be to be the empress¡¯ running dog, she wasn¡¯t smart enough to know that her husband won¡¯t be too bothered about the loss of his daughter since he has an illegitimate heir out in the countryside.¡±

    ¡°Such confidential information at the tip of your fingers. How did you learn about that?¡± Elias props his head up on his wheelchair¡¯s armrest in a childish, silly manner.

    ¡°Ady always has her ways. I¡¯m not as helpless as I was a few years ago,¡± I sigh coquettishly.

    Recruiting Lady Arabe as a confidant was such a wise move on my part. I can hear any and all gossip from the esteemed noblewomen of Radovalsk as well as see which mistresses noblemen sneak into Arabe¡¯s for a fitting, which is how I learned of Lord Bryce¡¯s second family.

    ¡°Which means if you go around talking about things you shouldn¡¯t to the wrong people,¡± I continue sweetly as I do a knife gesture over my throat. ¡°Your father will be forced to sire another heir for House Wolfe.¡±

    There¡¯s a heavy pause in the air, then simultaneously, Elias and I throw our heads back andugh until our bellies hurt. Marie and Emma stare at us in disbelief, by which I mean Marie stared at us in disbelief while Emma had the same expression as usual. A bomb could explode in front of her and she¡¯d still have the same stony look.

    ¡°Was I scary this time?¡± I ask, eagerly shuffling closer to Elias¡¯ wheelchair.

    Elias nods. ¡°The sweet voice made your threats sound far more menacing.¡±

    A knock sounds on the door, dispelling some of the happy atmosphere as Marie goes over to check. Even though I¡¯ve long vetted everyone who works in my wing of the central pce, Marie, Emma, and I still have PTSD to the days when there was no one to trust in the Rose Pce.

    A shy-looking maid pops in and curtseys. ¡°A letter from the guest residences in the pce, your highness.¡±

    I p with anticipation. ¡°Perfect! He¡¯s already responded!¡± I chirp. I can hear the ka-ching of a cash register as I salivate over how much money I¡¯m going to make once I¡¯ve introduced coffee to the Erudian Empire.

    ¡°You still wish to befriend the Aidelish prince?¡± Elias asks, his voice a tad more cool than usual. I look over at him and it almost seems like his amethyst orbs harbor a hint of usation.

    ¡°Friends?¡± I scoff, as Emma slices open the envelope and hands it to me. ¡°Try business partners. I¡¯m about to be a very rich woman, Elias. Or I suppose I should say Pandora is about to be a very rich woman.¡±

    My blood vessels constrict at the very thought of investing a majority of my newly acquired money into merchant ships to buy the coffee beans and bring them here, even though every ounce of my soul knows that once people try coffee they will be hooked.

    ¡°How do you know these new business ventures won¡¯t wind up being a Pandora¡¯s box of trouble?¡± Elias asks with a clever reference.

    I beam at Elias. ¡°You remember the story!¡± It feels like decades ago when I¡¯d first told a much younger Elias the story of Pandora and her box.

    ¡°I remember everything you say,¡± Elias replies modestly.

    ¡°As you should,¡± I say, nodding to myself. ¡°Remember, do as I say, not as I do.¡±

    As his senior in age (mentally), it is my job to guide the young with words of wisdom. While mentally patting myself on the back, I pretend I don¡¯t see Marie putting her face in her hand and shaking her head.

    Elias just smirks to himself, I can tell he¡¯s winding up for a clever retort and brace myself. But instead, it¡¯s a single question that catches me off guard.

    ¡°Have you got a trade permit?¡± he finally asks.

    ¡°Huh?¡± My proud smile dims a few degrees as I search my brain for what he¡¯s talking about ande up nk. An off-screen sportsmentator screams into his mike, AND IT¡¯S AN ACE BY THE YOUNG WOLFE! WINTER CAN NOT RETURN HIS SHOT!

    I open and close my mouth a few times like a fish out of water, unable to retort anything.

    ¡°Trade. Permit,¡± he repeats.

    We¡¯ve switched positions, Elias and I. This time, he gets to sit there looking smug. He even snaps his fingers and Howard, who looks like a reanimated corpse, instantly busts out a definition.

    ¡°A trade permit is an official document sanctioning government permission on imported goods. In order to bring a new product into the empire, you must file for a trade permit personally signed off by Master of Coin,¡± Howard says in a gravelly voice that sounds like he gargled sand before he spoke. I¡¯d wager it¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve seen that silent and looming butler open his mouth.

    ¡°Count Koberg is in charge of those,¡± Elias chimes in helpfully. As expected of butler and master, they work in tandem as if they¡¯d practiced this embarrassing scene a thousand times.

    ¡°That exins how that fat man is so rich,¡± I mutter, reflecting on how Janice is always decked out in the most expensive gems and fabrics.

    Within the positions of the treasury, the Master of Coin is not a particrly high role. But like most positions within the Imperial Treasury, it is a lucrative one.

    ¡°Shall I aid you in acquiring a trade permit?¡±

    ¡°Hmph, and get a cut?¡± I turn warily to my only noble friend. ¡°How much do you want? I¡¯ve already promised Emma a 5% stake which doesn¡¯t leave a lot of room for you.¡±

    ¡°However much you are willing to give me,¡± Elias says in a generous manner. I peer closely at him, but he doesn¡¯t seem greedy at all for any money.

    ¡°How much allowance does your father give you?¡±

    ¡°1,000 gold.¡±

    I nod, impressed at a number that is far higher than my own. ¡°Wow, a month?¡±

    ¡°A week,¡± he says nonchntly.

    I click my tongue under my breath. ¡°If only my father were so generous.¡±

    I make a mental note to tell Emma to explore how the Lord Protector of the North has acquired so much wealth.

    ¡°Just marry someone rich then,¡± Elias suggests casually. ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be too difficult as a princess.¡±

    I turn his suggestion over in my head, the idea bing more and more appealing with each second. When I turn to look at Elias again, none of the prior irritation is there.

    ¡°There¡¯s an idea. Emma, write that down!¡±

    ¡°I already have, your highness,¡± Emma answers. She is definitely getting a raise this month.

    Negotiations for Elias¡¯ cut of the business and how he can help me out carry on until the bright rays of suning through the window begin to dim and Elias surprises us all with his business acumen. But there is little time to shower him in praise as the first hunting ground for a fiance lends itself to me readily enough in the form of Augustus¡¯ing-of-age ceremony.

    ¡°Are you nervous for tonight?¡± Elias asks. Shadows fall on his face; the candles upon the wall have already been lit to make up for the failing light.

    I shake my head.

    ¡°Scared?¡± he inquires further. We are mostly alone in this spacious room, aside from Marie and the quivering footmen holding pillows full of jewelry.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that the same thing?¡± I casually reply, peering over the selection of earrings the Imperial Treasury has brought before me. With every official event I attend, the selection they offer bes more and more sumptuous. Rubies the size of my thumbnail hang from earrings of delicately crafted gold and the tiara selection is a far cry from the humble circlet I was offered at my first Spring Ball.

    Once again, I¡¯m dressed in the same, night sky blue color I¡¯d worn to that Spring Ball, but I¡¯m far more mature and scarred than I was then. In a way, tonight is aing-of-age ceremony for both my older brother and I.

    ¡°Nervousness and fear are naturally different. Nervousness is like a mild spring cold, fear is a bad case of the bloody flux,¡± he continues, mentioning the terrible disease that I ironically used a few years ago to distract the empress¡¯ maid so I could escape the pce.

    I ponder for a moment before replying, ¡°Then I suppose I¡¯m scared. I¡¯m always scared.¡±

    The conversation draws to a pause as maids carry out the changing screens I¡¯d gotten dressed behind. Despite their movements, Elias¡¯ purple eyes never leave mine.

    ¡°You should be,¡± he agrees. ¡°No one ever has good intentions.¡±

    It may just be my imagination, but the two footmen seem to shake even more after Elias speaks.

    They are dark words for a 12-year-old, but he¡¯s right and I tell him so. ¡°Believe me, I¡¯ve learned that the hard way.¡±

    ¡°Not yet,¡± I think I hear Elias answer. But his voice was so quiet I second guess myself and focus on picking out a piece of jewelry I¡¯m no longer interested in.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take this one,¡± I tell the footmen and they gratefully run out of the room. You¡¯d think I bite with the haste they leave.

    ¡°About what you said earlier about my father getting a new heir,¡± Elias says out of the blue, bringing up the joke I¡¯d said earlier in the day.

    ¡°Oh, was that too much? I apologize. It was too forward of me,¡± I immediately respond.

    ¡°No, no, no. It was funny!¡± Elias waves my apologies and some of my guilt away. We get along so well and he seems so smart that I speak to Elias the way I¡¯d talk to anyone, forgetting that he is still an actual child.

    ¡°I only mention it because I was curious how you¡¯d feel if His Majesty were to... have another child,¡± he hazards out.

    ¡°Hmmm?¡± I¡¯m confused. Marie silentlyes behind me and helps me do up the simple pearl ne I¡¯ve chosen for the evening. Strands of pearls are also woven into my hair, which shine beautifully in my silvery-white strands.

    ¡°What if you weren¡¯t the only illegitimate child to be discovered, Winter? What if tomorrow another one was found. How do you think His Majesty would treat them?¡± His words unlock a treasure trove of thoughts I¡¯ve only reflected on in the dead of night when I go through a number of conspiracies and contingencies that could possibly ur.

    I force out augh. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Not very well, I guess?¡±

    But rather than amused, I sound unconfident and awkward. The only reason why I¡¯m staying in the nicest wing of the central pce is because I bartered for it in blood. My ¡°usefulness¡± of healing wounded soldiers on the battlefield, in exchange for the finest living arrangements.

    ¡°He still sits in on your lessons, doesn¡¯t he?¡± His headzily leans on his hands, disappearingpletely into the shadows. All I can see are his eyes.

    ¡°Y-Yes.¡± Every day, without fail. I¡¯d hated Julia¡¯s presence during my tedious lessons, but without her here now, the emperor quietly sitting in the corner of the room has a muchrger presence than before.

    It annoyed me at first, to see the face of the person I thought I¡¯d be able to bend to my cuteness when I was still naive and full of gusto. But now, I¡¯m not sure how I feel about it. My tired morning eyes have grown ustomed to seeing him seated in the corner of the room I take my lessons in every weekday. None of the servants dare move the chair he upies except to dust it and every time I pass through that room I¡¯m reminded of him.

    ¡°Do you think he¡¯d stop? Do you think he¡¯d go to their lessons instead?¡± Elias pries further.

    Snap. A sound echoes through the room and I btedly realize it came from me. I look down at my hands dispassionately, to see that my pinky nail has broken from how hard I was balling my fists. But the broken nail is like a breath of fresh air and for the first time, I pin a hard, suspicious stare on Elias Wolfe.

    .....

    ¡°Your highness-¡± Marie exims, simultaneously cutting the tension and rushing to my side.

    ¡°Marie, can you please step out a moment?¡± I request quietly. I don¡¯t look up from the broken nail, which trembles precariously from my finger like a petal about to tumble from a flower.

    Her expression is conflicted, but I can tell she understands. ¡°The ceremony starts within the hour,¡± my nursemaid gently reminds me before both she and herforting scent leave the room.

    ¡°What is this, Elias?¡± I ask with the calmness thates before a storm. ¡°What game are you trying to y?¡±

 Chapter 142

    Chapter 142: Ch. 141: A Great Game

    It was the fire in Winter¡¯s eyes that reminded Akira why he had deigned to take up the flesh of the crippled heir of House Wolfe and personally interfered in the great game he¡¯d been setting up for years.

    It was too much fun for him to resist.

    Taking up a proper mortal host lessened his abilities somewhat, but Akira could still sense many rampant energies within the capital alone. Someone somewhere nearby was dabbling in wild, taboo magic he hadn¡¯t tasted in eons. There were beings powerful enough to control the actions of people in this world like an invisible puppet master. His longest game yet was soon toe to a satisfying conclusion if he yed his cards right. And most satisfying of all, the bright-eyed disciple his good brother, Helio, had chosen was square in the middle of his palm.

    ¡°Game?¡± He murmured, happy for once not to stifle his true nature.

    ¡°You are certainly ying at something,¡± Winter said, not backing down. ¡°And I don¡¯t like that.¡±

    At the end of the day, Akira was just collecting thest of the debt owed by Winter¡¯s father before collecting the debt of the other imperial family member who had needed his help not once, but twice. The pious fearfully called him the Devourer, thieves in need of luck called him the Deceiver, but at the end of the day, Akira just considered himself a very good debt collector who always received what he was owed. But he couldn¡¯t very well say that, so he went for the next best thing: redirecting Winter¡¯s attention.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re right. There is a game in y right now. A losing one. By you.¡±

    .....

    Winter had gotten rid of her invisible puppet master somehow once she came into her abilities, but she still was tangled up in her strings.

    ¡°Oh?¡± A nomital response. Winter wanted him to keep speaking. But it was a dangerous ledge he stood on, one that could cause Akira to fall out of Winter¡¯s trust forever if he wasn¡¯t careful.

    ¡°Let us make a bet. If this ceremony goes off without a hitch, I will leave Radovalsk forever and never set foot in the capital for as long as I live,¡± Elias pledged.

    Winter looked unimpressed. ¡°I¡¯m already expecting the empress to make some trouble.¡±

    ¡°No. It won¡¯t be from her.¡± Akira shook his head. ¡°That is your first mistake, to attribute anything and everything bad to her. It blinds you to other enemies.¡±

    Akira would know since he had personally turned one of those enemies into hisckeys. Although Akira knew that Winter was well aware of the enmity Janice had for her, she clearly underestimated its potency. Some might even call him Winter¡¯s enemy, but he truly wasn¡¯t.

    She was just one of his pawns, albeit the most fascinating one he¡¯d ever encountered.

    ¡°Sometimes the most obvious answer is the correct one,¡± Winter said stubbornly. ¡°Besides, don¡¯t think you can get away with trying to change the subject on me.¡±

    ¡°Winter-¡± Akira started to say.

    ¡°Your. Highness.¡± Winter interrupted coldly, revoking her first name privilege.

    Akira heaved a sigh, but his next words were gentle. ¡°Your highness, I cherish our friendship. Which is why I can be silent no longer.¡±

    Winter gave him a long look.

    ¡°Why do you always bring up my father when you know how I feel about him?¡± she asked quietly with none of the initial anger. But the air was heavy with unspoken emotions. ¡°Especially when you yourself don¡¯t even have a good rtionship with your father.¡±

    ¡°Touch¨¦,¡± Akira said with a nod.

    But Akira grimaced inwardly. It was true that he did not have a good rtionship with Elias¡¯ father, Lord Wolfe. The boy had not been well-liked from the start, suffering both physically and emotionally due to circumstances beyond his control. He¡¯d been born prematurely in a breech position that had robbed his mother of her life and him of his legs. In aughable knee jerk reaction, the boy¡¯s father had ced the burden of his grief and anger on his son and was distant with him.

    This weakened the boy¡¯s psyche, which made it incredibly easy for Akira to take up a semi-permanent residence within Elias. He was Elias, and Elias was Akira. His vessel¡¯s legs could not be brought to full health, but his magic was otherwise unencumbered by it. However, these days, he was beginning to realize that perhaps some fragment of the original boy¡¯s conscience was still lurking inside of him, which was a troublesome revtion as he was forced to face a slight conundrum.

    Elias was in love with Winter. But Akira was not.

    ¡°It¡¯s simple. Your father is the emperor, mine is not. I¡¯m going to inherit my father¡¯s mantle no matter what, but you will not.¡±

    ¡°Because I am a girl,¡± Winter said, unimpressed.

    ¡°Because you are a girl,¡± Akira carried on. ¡°Arge part of your fate is in the hands of others. But rather than ensure that the person who holds your fate has a good rtionship with you, you invest it in the hands of someone else.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re asking me why I have a good rtionship with Elias?¡±

    ¡°No. I just want to know one thing. What is it you really want, your highness? You seek to avoid political matters, yet you stand behind the crown prince. You don¡¯t want your father¡¯s attention, yet here you sit in the central pce.¡±

    ¡°I-¡± Winter started, before cutting herself off. ¡°I just want to survive of course.¡±

    Akira shook his head. She still needed more of a push. ¡°Maybe that is what you used to want. But things have changed. What is it you want now?¡±

    Something shed in Winter¡¯s eyes, she¡¯d found her answer.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± a girl suddenly squealed. Before the princess could tell Akira anything someone knocked on the door and popped her head in without invitation. Behind her, Marie could be heard scolding Sage to shut the door and leave. The spike of irritation at such a great conversation being interrupted caused Akira¡¯s piercing re to fall upon Sage.

    ¡°Not now!¡± Both he and Winter yelled at her in sync. But it was not nearly as amusing as it was earlier that day, as Princess Winter¡¯s corresponding eye roll told Akira.

    Sage¡¯s face went through a series of emotions. Shock, anger, suspicion, then back to her happy-go-lucky mask. She was a decent spy, but not good enough to realize that her cover had long been blown and Winter was keeping her around to confuse the empress.

    ¡°When are you going to get rid of her, your highness?¡± Akira asked, knowing that his chance to get an answer from Winter had escaped out the door with Sage.

    ¡°You can see through her too?¡± Winter chuckled, simrly moving past his prior question. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But I¡¯ll be done with her soon. Her existence takes away from time Emma and I could spend together.¡±

    ¡°Just based on her movements, she seems extremely skilled inbat. Be careful, lest you be her victim,¡± Akira warned.

    ¡°So you¡¯re concerned for me, huh? I¡¯ve underestimated you. But I should¡¯ve expected this since you¡¯re the heir of one of the great Houses,¡± Winter muttered.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± Akira repeated.

    Winter sneered, her patience visibly thinning. ¡°Hmph. You seem to think you can read me like a book. So you tell me what I want, Young Lord Wolfe.¡±

    She strolled all the way up to Akira¡¯s side, sitting down on the armrest that wasn¡¯t upied by Akira¡¯s elbow. He could faintly smell the perfume she had on. Camellia. The same flower he¡¯d given her the first time they met.

    ¡°Hello? Tell me what it is I want,¡± she drawled, leaning in close. Her actions seemed yful, but there was an unmistakably malicious glint in her eye.

    ¡°You want to take back control. You wish to be the puppet master who runs the show, rather than the puppet.¡± Akira didn¡¯t waste time delivering his answer.

    His words hung in the air between them, mixing with the scent of the camellias to create an ambiguous atmosphere. It made Elias, the real Elias, restless. Akira¡¯s heartbeat picked up, although he wasn¡¯t certain if it was because of Elias¡¯ lovestruck nature or his own burning curiosity.

    Winter drew back first, a slight tilt in her cherry red lips. She neither confirmed nor denied Akira¡¯s answer. She was so strange, the way her emotions danced back and forth without warning. Sometimes Akira wishes to peel back her skin and understand what made Winter so peculiar, so intriguing. Too many secrets seemed to follow the girl wherever she went.

    ¡°Am I right?¡± Akira inquired. ¡°Does this mean I¡¯m now forgiven, your highness?¡±

    It felt strange going from ¡®Winter¡¯ to ¡®your highness¡¯ after years of addressing her as the former.

    ¡°It¡¯s going to be my birthday soon. Get me something good, then I¡¯ll really forgive you,¡± Winter said with a huff, disappearing out the door and leaving him alone without answers.

    Akira couldn¡¯t help but smile bitterly to himself. Who didn¡¯t know that the newest imperial princess could attain whatever material thing her heart desired? It seemed he would have to be creative with his choice of a gift.

    But then again, ever since the first time he¡¯did his eyes on her years ago in the temporary body of a flower seller, Akira had known he would have to be more careful this time than any other. The thrilling sensation was utterly new too, never had he so thoroughly enjoyed collecting a debt. He was having so much fun, he almost wished he didn¡¯t have to kill Winter. Almost.

    ¡°Janice, don¡¯t let me down,¡± he murmured to himself in the dark room with a single flickering candle, a faint smile ying at his lips.

    He did not have an invite to theing-of-age ceremony, a prestigious event meant to only be attended by those of rank and title. But Akira almost wished he could go, just to see the expression on Bartholomew, no, Emperor Helio¡¯s face as he watched his son go through a crown prince¡¯sing-of-age ceremony after killing his older brother, the former Crown Prince Wilhelm.

    Did Helio love the son borne by his beloved first wife? Love! Such aughable idea, that Helio would feel love towards the incarnation that represented everything he hated, everything he¡¯d ovee, everything that could someday perhaps surpass him. In an imperial family, the emperor is an emperor first and father second. And what emperor can stand to watch himself be reced from the throne he worked so hard to earn?

    Love! That was not love, but guilt Emperor Helio had for his son. Guilt that his own ambition had killed his son¡¯s mother. Guilt that he was raising his eldest son the same way his father had raised his older brother, to becent on the battleground for power. Comcency had no ce in an imperial family, even if the crown was promised to sit on his head someday. It never ended up on Wilhelm¡¯s head after all.

    But the wolf-like Bartholomew had always been rather heartless. After the bastard prince had bargained for some of Akira¡¯s power in order to take the throne, Emperor Helio had then taken on Akira¡¯s brother¡¯s name in an amusing twist.

    For such a slight, deceiving the emperor into thinking that their bargain wasplete when it was not was just Akira returning the favor. His amethyst eyes glittered maniacally in the dim lighting as he remembered the fire that had burned so brightly in the pce years before. Helio truly still believed that the terrible incident had been Akiraing to collect rather than the machinations of others.

    And now the emperor¡¯s guard was down. His heart was beginning to warm once more towards his youngest daughter.

    No matter how much Elias protested within the confines of his mind, Akira could not wait to watch it get torn to pieces once again.

 Chapter 143

    Chapter 143: Ch. 142: de of ss

    Sage is quiet by my side as I and a procession of attendants walk towards the venue Augustus¡¯ing of age ceremony will be held.

    ¡°Still mad?¡± I ask, my hands sped behind my back as I march ahead.

    ¡°Sage is very mad!¡± she whined, dipping into the third person like the lovable idiot she tries to be.

    ¡°You ought to know better than toe in without knocking, Sage,¡± I say, not giving in as quickly as I usually do.

    ¡°I¡¯m very sorry, your highness! I will never do it again,¡±

    ¡°I know you won¡¯t.¡± ¡°What do you think of my dress?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s very pretty, your highness! You look like a fairy!

    .....

    ¡°Oh?¡± This simple word works like a magic charm. Every time I utter it, people tend to chatter even more.

    ¡°That fabric is very fashionable these days. I heard that only the well-connected madams at the Ladies¡¯ Court wear it,¡± Sage gushes with a not-so-innocent name drop.

    I smile wryly to myself at the mention of the ce I first, forck of a better word, got hazed by Empress Katya. Sage isn¡¯t stupid enough to casually mention that exclusive sorority-like club, no matter how dumb she acts. So why does Empress Katya want her to mention it in front of me?

    There isn¡¯t much time to ponder why as we arrive at the amphitheater that has been converted into a setting fit for aing-of-age ceremony. Empresses and princesses of old used to entertain themselves by inviting dancers and acting troupes to perform. It seems this practice of isting the women at home while the guys get to go be cool and conquer ces is a tale as old as time.

    ¡°What were you speaking of, with Young Lord Wolfe?¡± It¡¯s an innocent question perhaps, but Sage identally steps in andmine.

    My re is sharp enough to cut flesh to the bone. ¡°Is it your ce to question the conversations I have?¡±

    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry.¡± Sage quivers where she stands then falls to her knees. The entire procession grinds to a halt.

    If anyone were to witness this moment, there would be rumors of me bullying my servants courtesy of Empress Katya. The frustration of having to deal with Sage ebs as I remember once again why I keep this spy close to my side.

    ¡°There is no need to be sorry, Sage. Now quickly stand up, it makes my heart hurt to see you fall to your knees,¡± I assure her, taking her hand as she rises.

    They are callused, but not in the way a maid¡¯s should be, with four tough mounds where the finger meets the joint. Hers are callused in the same way Emma¡¯s are, with one at the base of the thumb and rough fingertips. Ironically, it was because of those killing hands that we caught her in the first ce. I pat them lovingly while I vomit internally.

    ¡°Your highness.¡± Tears of affection and gratitude hang in the corner of Sage¡¯s eyes.

    I¡¯ve heard what they say about me recently around the pce. The pauper princess. The princess who prefers thepany of lowly maids rather than her fellow nobility. They must be why Sage has been even more clingy than usual, to help cement these new rumors that Empress Katya has spread. I¡¯d much rather it was Marie by my side, but I¡¯m too old to bring a nursemaid around.

    ¡°Her Imperial Highness, Princess Winter Royberg de Erudian, has arrived!¡±

    When my presence is announced, the contempt hangs faintly in the air, nearly imperceptible. But I can feel it, and I smile when I do. Not the sweet, naive grin I gave at my first Spring Ball, but a smaller, neater one.

    I¡¯m a little taller too now, but still have yet to hit a proper growth spurt. My former height was a blessing I never fully appreciated until I woke up in that ufortable cot as a baby.

    ¡°Winnie!¡± Julian yells cheerfully as I¡¯m escorted to the section where the imperial family sits. ¡°You excited?¡±

    I give the annoying blond a side nce and ignore him as I¡¯m forced to take the only seat that is open without Augustus¡¯ presence, the seat beside my father. I feel dumb standing on the tips of my toes to get on my seat, until two warm hands swoop under my arms and tug me into the seat.

    ¡°Huh?¡± I squeak in rm, looking over my shoulder to see the emperor¡¯s face all too close to mine, to the point that our matching gold eyes are inches away from each other.

    ¡°Oh... thanks... Father!¡± I manage to eke out of my throat. Julian chuckles obnoxiously from the opposite side of our father, although he seems far more enraptured by the empty stage than what just happened. Empress Katya¡¯s brows furrow, then release. She sits on the far side of Julian, always apart from the emperor, never together. I¡¯m grateful I don¡¯t have to make asinine small talk with her this time.

    I rub at my arms absentmindedly while hush falls over the crowd. It¡¯s as if that small motion would be enough to wipe away the sensation of my father¡¯s hands pulling me onto my seat. But more than anything, it helps me ground my mind for the uing ritual.

    Coming-of-age ceremonies are exclusive to the official heirs of the imperial family, a moment when the Holy Church and the imperial family quit budding heads ande together. My father never had one, but his brother Wilhelm did. Gold is the color of the evening. It¡¯s the color of the imperial sash I had to wear over my dress tonight, the same one my entire family wears. It drips from the stage in golden streamers and the single spotlight flickering over the stage is gold as well.

    Turns out that spotlights are kind of tough to create in a world still lit up by candles and torches. God, I miss electricity.

    It is not Bishop Duvernay¡¯s ghastly white figure that steps out on stage, but a far more wee one, High Priestess Aria. She¡¯s bloomed in her teenage years, adopting a faint aura that forces one to sit up and take notice. Blind, sky blue eyes are offset by her deep brown skin, eyes that look my way and yfully wink. Our friendship is perhaps the sole benefit of working for the Holy Church as the promised child.

    She stands in the center of the amphitheater on top of a sun that has been painted on the stage. ¡°Praise Helio,¡± she begins, saying the first of many prayers intermingled with pompous ceremony.

    Augustus takes it all like a champ. The way that the amphitheater is structured, the stage is below all the seats, which stack up on each other like stairs extending into the night sky. Anyone who is a somebody in the empire sits and watches my oldest brother get officially ordained as the crown prince of the Erudian Empire.

    Augustus kneels and Aria presses her thumb onto the center of his forehead, imparting a blessing. I can actually see it and watch as a faint, gold shimmer envelops both of them before it disappears altogether.

    ¡°Beautiful,¡± I murmur under my breath, spellbound by the sight. When I¡¯d first seen magic, it had been a frightening sight of colors and music only I could see and hear. And when it came near me, we were like two instruments slightly off-key with the other. The ability that runs through me is not magic, not in the same sense that the high priestess or imperial doctors can use magic. But as for what it is, I¡¯m not certain yet.

    Augustus rises, unable to hide the happy smile on his face as he faces his future subjects. He has the bearing I¡¯ve coached into him, humility with a rigid spine of righteous honor. I can see people in the dark crowd nodding to themselves as Augustus presents himself, not as a boy, but as a fully-fledged man. Who knows how many women will be swooning over him now?

    Julian snorts where he sits. I turn to look at him, surprised to see that both he and my father wear identical masks of faint displeasure. As the spare prince, it makes sense for him to not be impressed by what he¡¯s seeing. He and Augustus, despite being quite close in age, have never seen eye to eye with each other.

    But our father? I couldn¡¯t have predicted that.

    I don¡¯t have much time to linger in my thoughts as a shout rises in the crowd, followed by a shrill scream. This time it¡¯s my turn to snort.

    ¡°Right on cue. You win, Emma,¡± I mutter as a ck figure bes apparent in the crowd. There are two, working in tandem through the screaming nobles towards the center stage where Augustus stands seemingly alone. In actuality, there are several guards hidden close to the stage as we had long predicted this kind of oue.

    I roll my eyes, annoyed because I¡¯d bet with Emma that the interruption woulde at the beginning of the ceremony while she¡¯d bet towards the end. Now, all that awaits is to find out whether Elias was right about today¡¯s interruption not being the empress¡¯ retaliation, but the actions of a third party I¡¯ve yet to uncover. I¡¯d much prefer for it to be Empress Katya.

    Better the devil you know, than the one you don¡¯t.

    But every extra day I spend in this new world as Emma has shown me that there is much I do not know and much I do not want to know.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± a royal guard I¡¯ve never seen bows deeply near where we sit, overlooking the mayhem below. Today, intriguingly, the Mad Dog is not present. ¡°Allow me to escort you to safety!¡±

    But my father just frowns and remains seated as if an active assassination attempt is not urring as we speak.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen your face. From which family do you hail?¡± Emperor Helio asks coldly. He does not check on Augustus or show any panic, a ruler through and through. My father may be a piece of shit, but he¡¯s a good emperor.

    The fake guard frowns as the other guards in the room tense up and re at him menacingly. But it¡¯s only for a second. He sheds his humble knight demeanor in seconds, pulling out a de that looks like it is carved out of ss. It is see-through and has the wicked curve of a scimitar. I¡¯ve never seen such a thing before, but my bones tell me that it is something terrible.

    ¡°To hell with you! Die, demon emperor! You do not deserve your throne! You do not deserve to bear the name of our lord, Helio, as your own!¡± He yells like a fanatic, going in for a suicide charge through the narrow walkway of the amphitheater¡¯s seating.

    The few guards try to stop him, but it is now that the peculiarity of the de reveals itself. It cuts through the first sword in its path like a knife through hot butter, before it cuts through the guard the same way.

    It¡¯s a shocking sight, not the most shocking thing I¡¯ve ever seen, but quite high on the list. It knocks me out of my body, leaving me a spectator of the way the entire situation unravels. After all, I was expecting these people toe after Augustus, but not my father as well.

    Empress Katya stands up quickly, grabbing Lte¡¯s hand and going pale. Julian lets out a couple swear words I know all too well as he reaches for his waist and remembers that he doesn¡¯t have his sword on.

    And my father. He just sits and watches.

    Now is a good time to reiterate that the seating in the amphitheater, like the Roman amphitheaters of old, are glorified single-file benches. And lucky for me, I¡¯m the closest person to the iing onught.

    Panic flits through my chest like a caged butterfly, before I suddenly remember something that causes my racing heart to slow. My father has his killing aura. And I¡¯m immune.

    He can¡¯t extend it to its full potential right now because the empress sits close by, but so long as the assassin guard gets within range, he will be toast.

    But then why hasn¡¯t this assassin armed with a de of ss slowed down yet?

 Chapter 144

    Chapter 144: Ch. 143: Panic! At the Coming of Age Ceremony

    It would almost be funny if my life wasn¡¯t on the line.

    I look to one side and see this fanatical fake guard cutting through the guards faster than they can put their bodies on the line. I look to the other side and see my father sitting there with his arms crossed and ignoring the chaos.

    I look to the stage to watch Augustus escort Aria carefully down the stairs as if he too isn¡¯t being pursued by assassins. Being a member of the imperial family truly changes a person.

    Heck, even I¡¯m not freaking out the way I¡¯m supposed to.

    So I decide to think instead. These assassins aren¡¯t solely attacking the crown prince, but the emperor as well. On that basis alone, that takes Empress Katya out of the mix. With her pining stares and her desire to put Julian on the throne, taking out Emperor Helio would be the exact opposite of what she wants.

    Not to mention, this attack is a touch sloppy. It feels passionate, like a tiff between scorned lovers rather than a calcted sting operation. But that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s ineffective. Passion can make a difference in life or death situations. After all, in the few seconds since I¡¯ve witnessed the ming hatred within this man, he¡¯d carved through 4 more guards without breaking his stride. It¡¯s a good thing I¡¯ve gotten over my visceral disgust for blood and guts otherwise I¡¯d be having a much harder time right now.

    Blood is sttering, sshing onto my skirt and skin like paint. It serves as a time machine, dragging me back to the boiling hot war days when I¡¯d hardly felt like I could catch my break from the grievous injuries I had to treat. And then I realize, I really can¡¯t catch my breath, because a hand is gripping my throat and I¡¯m looking into those passionate eyes I¡¯d been monologuing about in my head.

    .....

    Shit.

    The movies make it seem like getting picked up by your neck isn¡¯t a big deal and I¡¯d like to correct that narrative tonight. Breaking my wrist in 7th grade was far less painful than your entire bodyweight being suspended by your neck, which is simultaneously being crushed in someone¡¯s hand. The fanatic clutching my neck is saying something and I tune in to catch hisst words as he waves his ss sword around.

    ¡°-otherwise the princess dies!¡± He says, finishing up a threat I never heard.

    My fingers slip down his arm as I try and fail to pull myself from his grasp. They slip onto the bare skin on his wrist and just like that, I can feel every injury on his body. There¡¯s a scrape on his temple from a guard who got in a lucky hit before being chopped in half. His right shoulder is recovering from a ligament tear, a speedy recovery considering how easily he is holding my neck right now with that arm. His knees are sore with thousands of faint pinpricks, they¡¯ll bruise tomorrow.

    It is this injury that intrigues me. Was he crawling around at some point?

    You¡¯re being choked out, my brain reminds me, now is not the time to y Sherlock Holmes.

    But just as soon as I remember my predicament, I¡¯m tossed to the side. The relief of being relinquished from the chokehold is brief, however, as my head smacks into the stone floor. My ears are ringing, my mouth tastes salty as I cough and sputter back to life. Yet the words that are spoken may as well have been sted from speakers.

    ¡°Dragon scales fashioned into swords. You came prepared,¡± my father is up on his feet, standing within a short distance of the assassin who is surprisingly willing to talk at the moment. The reason bes clear in a moment. ¡°And yet, you still cannote close enough to deal the killing blow.¡±

    The assassin¡¯s boot taps impatiently on the floor, a beast trying to free itself from a chain. This conversation will not be long.

    ¡°Who sent you? You must surely realize by now that they knew you would fail from the start, no?¡± My father maintains the calm of an emperor, his feet are still as ever as Julian slyly sneaks to my side and tugs me back. The tremors of his hands can be felt through the fabric of my dress. Afraid? Why would Julian be afraid?

    A thought briefly runs through my mind, but the burning in my throat distracts it from blooming into suspicion.

    ¡°Silence, dog emperor! You know nothing! You dare to pollute the imperial family with cursed magic, if I do not purge you today I shall disgrace my ancestors!¡± he bellows, spit flying from his mouth andnding not far away from my delicate slippers and the blood on the ground. It reminds me of how close I came to death just now, and the same jitters that run through Julian begin to contaminate me as well.

    He raises the ss sword as if to strike my father, but the distance between them is still too great for the sword to ovee and it is clear that he realizes that if he steps in too close, he will die.

    In fact, I can now see that in a way, my father is toying with him. At any second, he could expand his aura and kill this man. But instead, he is baiting him to talk and reveal traces of whomanded him. Emperor Helio¡¯s hands are rxed by his sides, betraying his confidence. As for the assassin¡¯s hands?

    My eyes sickeningly trail from the stump on his right arm to the open hand that is but a few feet away from me. I can¡¯t see a de on my father¡¯s person, yet somehow he just cut off this man¡¯s hand to free me. No wonder the assassin is even more worked up than before, I¡¯d be too if I had my hand cut off without even seeing how.

    ¡°Hand!¡± I want to yell. But ites out as a raspy, ¡°Hhhhh...¡± That chokehold really did a number on my poor throat.

    The assassin lets out a sickening smile, raising his bloody stump. ¡°You think this is a game, Bartholomew?¡±

    Uttering our father¡¯s old name causes Julian and I to catch our breath in fear, our eyes swinging to Emperor Helio. The guards on the periphery prepare to move in again, but my father stops them with a simple hand gesture. Meanwhile, the air seems to drop by 10 degrees as he looks at the assassin once again without any of the former calm.

    The cat grows weary of ying with the mouse and prepares for the kill.

    ¡°Let me assure you, it is not,¡± the assassin hisses with eyes shining like a mad man. I get a bad feeling in my stomach even though my father still clearly has the upper hand. I cannot help but recall the old saying, in a fight between smart and crazy, crazy wins. ¡°The Devourer alwayses to collect what he¡¯s owed. That darkness he gave you is not a gift, but a curse. Helio¡¯s darker half has never been fond of gifts, you know.¡±

    The fake guard turned assassin may as well be speaking anothernguage. I look at Julian, but there is also a giant question mark floating over his head. Empress Katya, who has avoided most of the melee and is protected by a group of elite royal guards, pales and takes a seat at this moment too. The amphitheater is almostpletely empty. Dead bodies dressed in ck litter the seats and I cannot see Augustus anywhere, but I¡¯m certain he is alright.

    I¡¯ve had the great fortune of experiencing enough assassination attempts to know that something about this one feels fishy. First off, I should not be alive. Second off, this man is talking too much, almost as if he¡¯s stalling for time.

    My father has grown weary of the idle, fanatical prattle as well. ¡°Who sent you?¡± he asks, cutting to the chase. His eyes narrow dangerously in a way that would have any member of court stumbling over their words and sweating, but the assassin smiles even wider.

    ¡°The only one who canmand my spirit! Helio himselfpelled me toe and confront the imposter emperor who dragged the imperial family into darkness!¡± he yells like a mad man.

    They¡¯re dangerous words, the kind that could get a family killed if they dared utter such within earshot of the wrong people. If anyone who wasn¡¯t in the imperial family had heard that just now, I¡¯m afraid they would not be allowed to leave the amphitheater alive.

    ¡°Wilhelm? You came for him?¡± Emperor Helio picks through the fake guard¡¯s words with the delicacy of a surgeon, focusing on the underlying message. This time I¡¯m truly frozen in shock at hearing the name of my father¡¯s dead older brother, the former crown prince.

    The wind changes direction and my father¡¯s head veers to the left as if he can see something in the distance. A gruesome smile cuts across his face like he can see all the pieces of the puzzle.

    ¡°Clever. A distraction,¡± he says without any anger or ire. ¡°You won¡¯t find what you¡¯re looking for.¡±

    The fanaticism in the assassin wavers for the first time, my father must have hit the nail on the head. A strange feeling bursts in my chest, pride followed by a wave of rumbling anger that bubbles in my gut. Emperor Helio is wicked smart, I could not pick a better person to fulfill the ruthless persona needed to hold a throne. But a wall is erected around him, an insurmountable one I will never cross.

    I shake my head, realizing I missed a few words between the two of them. How can I be bitter about ourck of a rtionship when I don¡¯t need one anyway? All I need are Marie and Emma to be alright, and perhaps Jack and Elias too.

    ¡°-you can hide it today, but you can¡¯t hide it for a lifetime. Someday we will find it. But until then, I shall leave you with a parting gift, Your Majesty.¡± The sarcasm is dripping as he addresses my father by his title onest time.

    ¡°Your Majesty, get down!¡± a guard yells, sprinting over. He¡¯s too slow naturally.

    ¡°Hahaha! You didn¡¯t expect that did you-¡± The assassin¡¯s words cut off violently and I know he¡¯s dead withoutying my eyes on him. Nheless, he managed to trigger something before going off to meet his maker, courtesy of my father.

    There is a sh of bright yellow light, the kind I haven¡¯t seen since my past life. A pop follows, like the illegal firecrackers my next-door neighbors once used for the Fourth of July but a tad louder.

    My ears buzz and I fear I¡¯ve gone deaf permanently. I¡¯m lying on my side and the world has turned into a jumble of motion as people run around me. It¡¯s like watching a ck and white silent movie, the moonlight above coating everything in silver light. Each blink of mine is slow, like a camera catching snapshots of motion.

    A figure is at the bottom of the camera frame. It moves in closer and closer, a boy. One I recognize. His blonde hair is a mess, there is soot on his face. Julianes into focus and a tinny sound reaches my ears. His gold eyes are frantic and bright, like a child who¡¯s suddenly found themselves in the deep end of the pool.

    ¡°Winter! Winter! Winter, wake up! Winter, go save father!¡± Cotton seems to have been stuffed in my ears but I can hear him just fine.

    ¡°I¡¯m awake, asshole,¡± I grunt. My throat burns in punishment for my profanity.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± a familiar voice calls. I shake my head, unable to believe my eyes as I see Finn, now a duke, beside Julian as well.

    ¡°Sir Finn?¡± I whisper out. Just the sight of him makes the taste of lemon tarts and blood fill my mouth.

    Hands tug at my body, uncaring of my surprise as they drag me to a sitting position and pull me along. ¡°Father! You must save him!¡± Julian yells.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I ask, trying and failing to free myself from Julian. He¡¯s panicking, bad.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± the newest Duke of Avernall calls,ing in close so I can hear him properly. ¡°Can you hear me?¡±

    Finn Rensley has grown up since Ist saw him. That vivid youthfulness that was a part of his spirit has dimmed and his shoulders that I¡¯d once napped on have filled out as well. He must be well into his 20s now that I think of it.

    ¡°I can hear you. What just happened?¡± I gasp out. I rub my forehead and am surprised by the soot I see on my fingers.

    Finn¡¯s face is dark with anger. ¡°I cannot confirm it yet, but I fear it may be the same deadly weapon we faced during the Sarsavalian War. However, more importantly, His Majesty has been wounded by it. Guards have gone to fetch the imperial physicians, but some haste may be required with this injury.¡±

    ¡°Father¡¯s hurt?¡± I teeter to my feet before I know it, the world wobbling around me before settling. So eager to help, a voice in my head jeers, like a patheticpdog seeking attention.

    Julian¡¯s already dragging me over, leaving Finn behind tomand the situation in the way only a former royal guard could as a few straggling noblemen with considerable positions in court begin to creep over. The remaining royal guards hover over a still body in front of us, calm from their training but clearly putting pressure on a wound.

    ¡°Heal him! Quick!¡± Only Julian would dare speak to me like that, but I can feel the anxiety and silent begging from everyone on the scene.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Julian,¡± I say, not used to seeing him this worked up. As long as a breath of life remains within my father, my power will always be able to save him.

    ¡°I said quickly, dammit!¡± Julian barks, spurning my reassurance.

    I shrug and turn around, guards parting like the red sea. A hush falls over the chaotic scene, one that eerily reminds me of the hush that fell when theing-of-age ceremony had just started. Who would¡¯ve thought that the happy event would devolve into an event none of us would be able to predicting?

    Emperor Helio is not unconscious nor in any visible pain. He looks at me and I look at him, but neither of us says a word. It is a cruel reflection of the day he¡¯d called me to his tent and tested the extent of my abilities on the Sarsavalian prisoners of war. Oh, the irony, for it to be him on the ground instead of a stranger.

    A fat piece of shrapnel is lodged in the lower portion of my dad¡¯s chest near his appendix, staining his formal white military jacket a startling red. I settle my hands on his body, surprised at how they shake. A deep breath settles rampant emotions within me as the ticking seconds turn a frightening possibility into a sickening reality.

    The nausea that fills my mouth only confirms my worst fears.

    My father, like that imprisoned bombmaker and Elias, is resistant to my abilities.

 Chapter 145

    Chapter 145: Ch. 144: Decisions, Decisions

    Houston, we have a problem. A very big one that is bleeding out by the second.

    It takes everything in me to keep my face calm as if I know what it is I¡¯m doing, while internally I¡¯m screaming every swear word known to man.

    My eyes flicker over to Emperor Helio, but his matching gold eyes are shut as if he were taking a nap rather than painting the stone floor of the amphitheater a new color. It¡¯s soaking into my skirt and coating my hands and filling my eyes until all I can see is red.

    My hands shake on my father¡¯s chest as unwee possibilities run through my head. Yes, I would be happy to have Augustus take the throne, but he¡¯s far from ready. He¡¯d get eaten up and spat out within five years if he¡¯s lucky. Not to mention, two words keep guing my subconscious during my weaker moments: what if?

    What if my father and I could have a good rtionship? What if I could pull the ssic webnovel princess move and be the apple of Emperor Helio¡¯s eye? What if... what if I could finally have the second parent I was cruelly denied in my past life? Not a father, but a dad.

    ¡°Hey, Dad! How was work?¡±

    ¡°See you after ser practice, Dad!¡±

    .....

    I¡¯d watch my other ssmates preen under the loving attention of both of their parents after a school y while my mom would be forced to show up halfway through because she was working hard to support us both.

    Not all of my mom¡¯s boyfriends were crazy or ill-intentioned, but none of them ever fit that Dad-shaped hole in my life. And now, myst chance at one is bleeding out in front of me.

    I hate everything. I hate being a stupid kid. I hate my powers. I hate being an imperial family member.

    This world is asfortable as a shoe with a pebble in it, every time I think I can limate, the world cruelly reminds me why I won¡¯t.

    ¡°Hurry up! Why aren¡¯t you doing anything yet, Winter?¡± Julian has morphed into that irritating fan in the stands who jeers at his own team when they aren¡¯t performing up to par. But this isn¡¯t a damn ser match, it¡¯s a life and death situation.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Augustus has arrived too, taking the steps two at a time as he rushes to where we are. Aria is nowhere in sight, hopefully, tucked away in safety.

    ¡°The shrapnel. Someone needs to take that out if I¡¯m going to heal him. Otherwise, he¡¯ll heal with the metal sticking out of him,¡± I order, attempting to sound gruff to cover up my panic and insecurity. Even excluding the strange force that keeps me from healing our father, the pressure and weight of expectations are enough to make me physically sick.

    I take deep shallow breaths during my brief reprieve, as the imperial physicians slowly and safely extract the shrapnel from the emperor¡¯s stomach.

    ¡°Bloody hell,¡± Augustus says under his breath, his face going white. ¡°What happened? How is he like this? Winter ¨C are you alright too? You¡¯re not hurt are you?¡±

    His rapid-fire questions are faster than bullets, but I can tell he¡¯s trying to put on a brave face just like me. Not to mention, he is also the only person to check up on how I¡¯m doing as well, which gives him extra brownie points.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been better. Nearly went deaf,¡± I joke next to my father¡¯s dying body. It¡¯s such an out-of-body experience, I half feel like I¡¯ll wake up from a nightmare. I still don¡¯t know how the hell I¡¯m going to heal our father.

    The shard is extracted from his chest with a sickening squelch, but neither Augustus nor I visibly react to it. It¡¯s a bit sad that the two of us have been desensitized to such sights.

    But on the other hand, Julian has been reinvigorated, bending down to my kneeling level and once again yelling, ¡°Heal him! Please! Quickly!¡±

    That thought that didn¡¯t fully have a chance to bloom earlier gets her chance, and I level a suspicious nce at Julian.

    ¡°You are too anxious, to the point that you are hindering me more than helping me. Either take a deep breath and calm down or leave,¡± I order my second brother in an icy tone.

    He must be truly disoriented because he doesn¡¯t say a word of rebuttal as Finnes and leads him away. But his absence gives me the opportunity to speak with Augustus one on one.

    ¡°Augustus, I have something I must confess,¡± I tell him, tugging his sleeve and dragging his attention away from the imperial physicians pulling out the smaller pieces of shrapnel now that therger one has been removed. They are using magic to heal them, but it is clear that therge one formerly in his appendix would need to be handled by myself.

    ¡°Is it about Julian? Don¡¯t mind him,¡± Augustus says, patting my shoulderfortingly.

    ¡°No, no, not Julian. Although he is acting very strange today,¡± I shake my head, lowering my tone so the physicians can¡¯t hear me. ¡°It¡¯s about father.¡±

    ¡°What about him? Aren¡¯t you going to heal him after they are done?¡± He scratches at his dark hair with a look of confusion.

    ¡°Well, to be honest with you, I cannot heal him. I-I don¡¯t know why, but it¡¯s not working,¡± I confess. My voice breaks halfway through speaking, I can hardly bear to look up at Augustus as I speak like a child confessing to eating all the marshmallows.

    But once I look up, I regret it.

    Because nothing cuts through one¡¯s soul more than undisguised, unrequited disgust.

    ¡°What?¡± I spit out, perplexed and vaguely disheartened even though he hasn¡¯t yet spoken.

    My oldest brother shakes his head and dips in close so his words can cut even deeper. ¡°You would kill our father for me to take the throne?¡± he whispers in disbelief. ¡°Our own father?¡±

    His words take a moment to interpret, but when his underlying meaning bes clear, I shove Augustus away from me.

    ¡°Are you stupid? How could you think that?¡± I scoff, my heart pounding with hurt. His disgusted expression lightens, but only slightly.

    ¡°Then why won¡¯t you heal him?¡±

    ¡°So you will just assume I¡¯m telling falsehoods, then,¡± I say tly, nursing my wounds internally as I strike back.

    He doesn¡¯t deny it, even though I wish he would. I roll my eyes.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be emperor,¡± Augustus almost pleads with me. His eyes are redrimmed, a physical manifestation of my internal feelings. I consider being soft, but there is nothing soft about death and session.

    ¡°Listen well, brother,¡± I start slowly, but irritation makes my wordse out faster and faster. ¡°Even if I wanted to kill father, it would not be now, or next year, or even ten years from now! Because you are not ready to take the throne, you¡¯d lose it within a fortnight along with your head.¡±

    I know I just predicted he¡¯d lose it in five years, but what he¡¯s just said has lowered my expectations to the ground. Myst wordse out like a p, shocking Augustus into silence.

    ¡°Anything else to add, dear brother?¡± I ask sarcastically.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Good. Then help me think of ways to save father¡¯s life that don¡¯t involve my abilities.¡±

    Augustus¡¯ expression hardens, then he shakes his head hard. ¡°I¡¯ve been to battle enough times to know that it is the kind of wound we would write off for dead.¡±

    ¡°Shit.¡±

    A pit seems to open up beneath me, sending myself and my heart into freefall.

    ¡°I¡¯ll just have to try again, I suppose. But... but what if...¡± I look up at Augustus, unable to say my next words.

    My father has passed out behind the proverbial wheel, but neither Augustus nor myself know how to drive. Julian isn¡¯t particrly power-hungry, but the empress would do everything in her power to put him on the throne regardless. House Duvernay would stand behind him too. Other yers woulde sniffing, sharks that smell blood in the water and want a taste of this powerful empire.

    There would be no powerful Houses inclined to stand behind us, save for perhaps House Amarelius should Lord Wolfgang be inclined to help us out of loyalty to our father. Augustus would have to wed a wife from a powerful House fast, but I¡¯ve watched enough Game of Thrones to know that that is still no guarantee to keeping our heads.

    No. Losing Emperor Helio is not an option today.

    ¡°I¡¯m just going to have to try like my life is on the line,¡± I mutter to myself. Because it is.

    ¡°If it doesn¡¯t work, I¡¯ll have a physician im that it was a strain of poison that has never been seen in the empire. Or forbidden magic,¡± Augustus says helpfully, racking his brain as he gives our father a distressed nce. Thest of the bomb fragments have been extracted and it will soon be my time to act.

    ¡°Cursed magic,¡± I correct him, referring to a term I¡¯ve only read in books.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I said,¡± Augustus replies without a beat.

    ¡°Idiot,¡± I snort, the weight on my chest lightening slightly as I slide to my knees beside the man who has done little for me other than ignore my existence for the most part other than sitting in on my lessons. Should a miracle be performed and I bring the emperor back from the brink of death, I¡¯m going to demand something in return for the favor. And yes, before anyone asks, I did just conveniently forget the fact that my dad just saved my life.

    My hands rest back on the white formal military jacket, now dyed red and warm with my father¡¯s blood. There is too much of it, to the point that even modern medical services may struggle to save his life. But, I don¡¯t start attempting to heal right away likest time.

    Instead, I close my eyes and think.

    Much like I¡¯d encountered with the dying prisoner and Julian¡¯s strange head injury, there is a mysterious purple energy that ispletely against the golden healing energy that resides within me. Rushing to eradicate it to get to the wound causes a sharp recoil, hence the nausea I felt at the whish.

    With Julian, I¡¯d tried to push at it softly, which worked for a moment before it recognized there was an intruder and forced me out just as brutally. There had seemed to be no method to work around it, and I must admit, after Julian¡¯s betrayal, I wasn¡¯t the most invested in trying.

    In fact, I¡¯d seen Julian¡¯s stint of prolonged unconsciousness as justified karma. Something inside me was deeply satisfied at the sight. I suppose it was the guilt of feeling happy to see him half-dead that drove me to try so hard to heal him that I threw up for days on end with my efforts.

    Today, there is no guilt. There is only panic and stress and my father¡¯s slowing heartbeat that I can feel through my fingertips.

    I need to try something new, and fast.

    I grit my teeth so hard my jaw begins to ache. I tried to force my way through this foreign energy and failed. I tried to coerce it out of the way and failed.

    I could try forcing my way through it again, but logic tells me that would be ineffective again.

    ¡°Have you saved him yet?¡± Julian whimpers somewhere in the background. I¡¯m surprised to hear how his voice is thick with tears.

    ¡°Be quiet!¡± Augustus chides. But I can hear the worry in his voice too. As the only person to whom the emperor yed any sort of fatherly role, I cannot imagine how devastated he would be if I fail. He might say that he believes me today, but the human heart is a fickle thing. Tomorrow, a Lord Bromely type of fellow may yet again convince him that I intentionally did away with Emperor Helio.

    ¡°Your highness, perhaps some silence would be advisable,¡± Finn says politely to Julian when he continued to babble incoherently.

    Hearing his voice makes me think once more of those lemon tarts of old and the craziest idea ever suddenly pops into my mind.

    What if I just ate this strange, foreign, purple energy?

 Chapter 146

    Chapter 146: [Bonus chapter]Ch. 145: Midnight Snack

    I¡¯ve only tried to go through this strange energy or around it. But if I were to draw it out of my father¡¯s body and into my own, the same way my magic draws wounds into my body for a split second of pain, that might work.

    I gasp despite myself, my shut eyes flickering to reveal the bone-white faces of the imperial physicians before me. ording to the practices of this time, they could be put to death for failing to save the emperor.

    I mentally reach out to this energy again, seeing in my mind¡¯s eye the way it crackles and jumps like electricity. It¡¯s a beast uncontained, but only a small sliver of what must belong to a greater entity. Immense fear pools in my gut at the thought of meeting wherever such a foreign power must originallye from.

    Regardless of that visceral terror, I orient myself quickly as I recall my brilliant n at hand: slurp up the purple energy like spaghetti.

    It¡¯s wary of my presence now, an almost sentient being that bes rowdier as I approach. I do not hesitate.

    I draw it into me the way one takes a deep breath of air. It feels wrong immediately. It feels more like drawing in a deep breath of water rather than air. My body wants to sputter and gasp physically, even as I feel the cool, evening airzily swimming around me during this tense moment.

    We are twopletely opposing energies. Whatever magic rests in my father does not agree with mine because as it enters, I feel worse than ever. It¡¯s not just nausea anymore, my entire body is at war against itself. One second my flesh is scalding hot, then it¡¯s as if I stand at the top of Mt. Everest without a jacket on. My heartbeat goes so fast it feels as if it may beat out of my chest, only for it then to go so slow I can feel the blood moving through it like sludge.

    .....

    I want to abort, but I can¡¯t. My hands are glued to his skin, my body all but a statue that my soul resides in.

    And then, perhaps out of pity, a sliver of growing hope begins to show itself.

    I can feel my father¡¯s wound.

    It is truly terrible. But what is most terrible about it is that it is the material within the bomb that has rendered him to the ground so effectively. Mercury, my mind tells me even though thest time I studied chemistry was in high school. The shrapnel is made of lead and within it is some extraction of mercury. No wonder he fell. This kind of injury would kill anybody.

    This time, my healing is unrestricted. I finally take the injury unto myself, the golden shower a wee sight as a sh of great pain ignites in my side. And to think Emperor Helio looked so calm with this kind of grievous wound wrecked upon him.

    I release the breath and the strange power goes slithering back to where it came from. Warmth floods back into my father¡¯s skin and I see his fingers twitch. I did it. I managed to eat this strange power long enough to do what needed to be done.

    But oh boy, do I hurt!

    My eyes open and I see my father looking back at me. He looks like he just woke up from a nap, his eyelids are low, giving him a sleepy, unguarded look. I¡¯ve never seen such an expression on him before and for a second I cannot hear anything else around me as I¡¯m hit with questions from the peanut gallery. The corner of his mouth twitches, perhaps a smile?

    I do not get the chance the find out as I fall backward into a faint that takes me away before my head hits the ground.

    I dream.

    It is not the other Winter¡¯s cries I hear tonight, but another one that cuts my heart to pieces. My mother. My real mother.

    She carries much of her pain within her, my mother. Looking at her tired, yet smiling eyes, I was never burdened with the difficulties I knew she went through on a daily basis to pay rent and tuition. But it was at night, when I woke up for a ss of water, that I would hear it.

    A smothered sound, probably held back by her hand, yet unmistakable. Whenever I hear the soft keening sound of my mother¡¯s cries, it would make me cry too. But I never went in tofort her against my better judgment and she would never mention it. Now, I wish I had. I wish I¡¯d held her tight and let her know how much I loved her.

    I can see her for the first time, kneeling on the floor of the bathroom of the apartment we lived in when I was in middle school. She clutches the skin like a lifeline, the running water somewhat obscuring the sound of her crying. She¡¯s in her old panda print pajamas. I have a matching set too, somewhere in my closet.

    ¡°Mom!¡± I yell out. But my voice can¡¯t make a sound.

    I can¡¯t tell whether this moment is in real-time or a shback. Either way, it doesn¡¯t matter as my ¡°eyes¡± greedily look at a face I thought I would never be able to see again. But all too soon, ck encroaches on the edges of the scene, which draws back further and further from me until it is but a speck in the distance, and then, nothing.

    I open my eyes to great fanfare, by Emma¡¯s standards I suppose.

    The money-loving stoic was perched by my side, but the moment my eyes opened she pats the back of my hand and exits the room, presumably to fetch someone.

    Marie is on theplete opposite end of the spectrum. She bursts into tears, the water glistening on her cheeks and falling onto my bedspread.

    ¡°Your highness! By Helio¡¯s great mercy, you have awoken,¡± she babbles.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± I mutter, struggling to sit up until Marie helps pull me into a sitting position. ¡°How long was I out?¡± Outside, I can see sunlight.

    ¡°The time for lunch has just passed,¡± she says. ¡°Are you feeling alright?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve had better days. May I have some tea, please?¡±

    ¡°Of course, your highness!¡± And just as quickly as she entered, Marie has left. Usually, she designates one of my maids or attendants to do so, but she seems especially high-strung today.

    I look at Emma with questioning eyes.

    ¡°What happened?¡± I ask her.

    ¡°Unknown assassins attacked the imperial familyst night. There were no casualties or injuries. Long live the emperor,¡± Emma says. It sounds strange, but I¡¯ve known her long enough to know she¡¯s just reciting the headline of the most popr newspaper.

    I tap my chin. ¡°So they¡¯ve decided to hide the fact that my father was injured?¡±

    ¡°And yourself,¡± Emma adds. I can detect a sullen cloud hanging around her short figure.

    ¡°I¡¯m not injured-¡± I protest, only to feel constraint to my throat. There is a bandage, presumably for the bruises from the assassin¡¯s hands. ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°It is a shame you cannot heal yourself, your highness,¡± Emma says, letting out a rare sigh.

    I let out an udylike snort. ¡°Tell me about it,¡± I reply with an eye roll.

    We fall into a long, butfortable silence. Unspoken questions float in the air, and surprisingly Emma is the first to shoot them out of the sky.

    ¡°You are wondering where His Majesty is?¡± Emma states.

    ¡°A little. But don¡¯t worry, I didn¡¯t expect anything,¡± I admit quickly. But her next words nearly cause me to leap out of bed.

    ¡°He was here allst night,¡± she tells me.

    ¡°What?¡± My head whips around as if I will catch the emperor still lingering in the corner as if I were still taking lessons. ¡°I-In here? In my room?¡±

    Emma is a good sport, nodding along to my inquiries.

    ¡°Hmph. I would¡¯ve thought he didn¡¯t know the directions to this wing,¡± I cross my arms and look away. But wouldn¡¯t you know it, a tenacious smile begins to tug my cheeks upward.

    ¡°The first empress did used to live here,¡± Emma says matter-of-factly.

    ¡°He was in this room. Well, I¡¯ll be damned,¡± I murmur as if I didn¡¯t hear her, just as heavy, male footsteps make their way to my room.

    ¡°Not if I have anything to say about it. Winter, you saved Father!¡± Augustus runs in, barely out of breath even though I can tell from his attire he was in the midst of his swordsmanship practice halfway across the pce.

    ¡°Winter! Oh, my lovely sister, Winter!¡± He showers my cheeks in warm kisses, like a joyous ser fan who¡¯d just watched his favorite ser team steal the game with ast-minute goal.

    ¡°Stop. Stop!¡± I try to say. But when I do speak, ites out as a giggle.

    In truth, I don¡¯t hate it. No one has ever been this affectionate with me in this world. Marie carried me often in my youth and has more hugs than she can spare, but there must be some propriety between royal and servant so she never takes her affection as far as I would like.

    Augustus pulls back, his messy ck hair making his face look even more youthful. ¡°You did it! I knew you could! Oh! Are you alright, are you hurt?¡±

    His eyes make contact with the bandage around my neck, but my spirits are so high I can¡¯t feel an ounce of pain.

    ¡°I can¡¯t feel anything,¡± I tell him truthfully. ¡°How are you?¡±

    Augustus bounces off the bed, into a sword fighting stance. ¡°I came out of that with nary a scratch!¡±

    ¡°Not even one?¡± I ask curiously.

    ¡°Not even one,¡± he answers with a smug glint in his eyes.

    The tickling suspicion from the prior eveninges back with a vengeance, although I don¡¯t let any of it show on my face. If Julian were indeed the culprit of this incident, wouldn¡¯t taking Augustus out of the picture be his priority?

    Augustus is a gifted swordsman, that much I know for certain. While perhaps he has some room to grow in a political sense, as someone personally trained by the Mad Dog, his skill level is all but a given. That being said, those assassins had decent skill and peculiar weaponry, while Augustus was also trying to protect the high priestess at the same time. In any webnovel, this could be written off as a bad case of plot armor.

    But for my father to get wounded while Augustus walked away unscathed sounds too strange to be true.

    ¡°Is Aria alright?¡± I ask my brother.

    ¡°Aria? Is that her name?¡± A faint flush rises on Augustus¡¯ face, but I dismiss it for him being out of breath from sprinting up the stairs to my room. ¡°Yes. She is fine. She told me to extend her condolences for your injury.¡±

    ¡°How kind of her,¡± I reply, thinking warmly of the only person who makes my Holy Church work more bearable. Being the promised child was the only way for me to survive, but at the same time, I hate being one.

    ¡°Wait,¡± Augustus says, a thought urring to him. He turns to me in confusion. ¡°How could she have known that you were hurt? She promptly left after I took care of the assassins, I don¡¯t believe sheid eyes on you once.¡±

    I think back on Aria¡¯s all-seeing blue eyes fondly.

    ¡°She saw it, obviously,¡± I tell him in a cryptic manner, enjoying the look of confusion a little bit too much. Aria¡¯s blind eyes grant her sight to many things I cannot count.

    ¡°But she-¡± He cuts himself off. Thankfully, Augustus isn¡¯t too slow and is able to piece together my meaning quickly. A look of respect and reverence ovees his face. ¡°Lady Aria is truly worthy of being the high priestess of that damned church.¡±

    ¡°Damned?¡± I repeat, my heart agreeing with his every word.

    ¡°Take heed not to repeat such words, Winter,¡± Augustus lectures, awkwardly clearing his throat and conveniently forgetting I had uttered the word myself not long before.

    ¡°Whatever you say, my damned brother,¡± I say in a charming voice.

    Augustus bristles like a porcupine that¡¯s been startled. ¡°Winter! What did I just say!¡±

    ¡°Emma, help!¡± I wail yfully as Augustus wags his finger and tells me how it is udylike to say such words. If only he heard mynguage on the regr.

    ¡°She won¡¯t be able to help you,¡± my oldest brother replies devilishly, stepping in closer with his fingers wiggling like he¡¯s about to tickle me.

    ¡°Oh really?¡± I answer with a devious look of my own. ¡°I¡¯ll bet 5 gold coins that Emma will be able tost 5 minutes against you.¡±

    To Emma, I frantically turn and whisper. ¡°Would you be able to do that? I can lower it to 2 minutes.¡±

    ¡°I could do 10,¡± my beloved friend says confidently.

    ¡°Attagirl,¡± I tell her, she nods back to me, already unsheathing the dagger on her side.

    And indeed, 5 minutester I grudgingly hand the 5 gold coins to Emma.

    .....

 Chapter 147

    Chapter 147: Ch. 146: Chit Chat

    ¡°Strange things are afoot,¡± I tell Emma after Augustus has tea with me and goes back to his practice.

    Emma nods.

    ¡°Have you heard anything?¡± I ask her, alluding to our growingwork of informants.

    ¡°No,¡± Emma says, dousing my hopes. ¡°But it¡¯s strange...¡±

    Her voice trails off, which is unusual for her.

    ¡°What is strange?¡± I ask. I lean like a gossip reporter trying to listen to thetest scoop.

    Emma looks back at me. ¡°It feels deliberate. Like there is a secret people are tiptoeing around.¡±

    .....

    ¡°Must be something big,¡± I agree. I start tapping my fingers on my bedspread as thoughts begin to flood my head.

    ¡°What?¡± Emma asks despite herself as I sit up aggressively in bed.

    ¡°Whatever it is, Julian is a part of it. Of that, I am absolutely certain,¡± I say forcefully. My throat twinges in response.

    ¡°Are you sure, your highness?¡± She cocks her head to the side like a confused puppy.

    ¡°Do you know what I think? I think that Julian nned this assassination attempt. Only he had not wanted it to be this serious situation. He wanted a farce, for them to just be going through the motions. Tell me, when does one n a fake assassination attempt?¡± I ask Emma like a teacher asking her ss for answers.

    Emma shrugs. ¡°When they need a distraction.¡±

    ¡°Precisely! He was just acting too strange when everything had happened,¡± I continue. ¡°His behavior reeked of guilt. And then father, he said a few strange things I couldn¡¯t make sense of either. Oh, I¡¯d bet my entire fortune there is a good plot waiting to be uncovered.¡±

    I rub my hands together and look at Emma. ¡°What do you say, Watson? Shall we look into this mystery?¡±

    ¡°Emma. My name is Emma,¡± she corrects me, the equivalent of tossing a bucket of cold water over my head.

    I sigh, my inner Sherlock Holmes shaking his head. ¡°It¡¯s a reference to a- oh, never mind. But what do you say we uncover this conspiracy?¡± I grab her hands in excitement.

    ¡°No.¡± The bucket of water has ice in it now.

    ¡°Hm?¡± I¡¯m not sure if I heard Emma right. But she pulls up a stool andes by my bedside

    ¡°Too dangerous. Much, much too dangerous,¡± Emma says seriously, her tone carrying a hint of finality. She won¡¯t budge.

    ¡°But...¡± Iment reluctantly.

    ¡°We won¡¯t even know how we died, your highness. Let sleeping dogs lie.¡± She speaks with a tone of finality.

    ¡°Let sleeping dogs lie,¡± I repeat in a sullen voice. But I know she¡¯s right and as the excitement of potentially discovering something cool where¡¯s off, I¡¯m filled with a sense of dread. I was just standing at the edge of a cliff without realizing it, even after my countless experiences that have shown me how dangerous living at the epicenter of power is.

    ¡°Stupid, stupid, stupid!¡± I mutter, whacking my head. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m just going to move on from this. But mark my words, Julian was involved. So if you hear anything about him or his movements, do let me know.¡±

    ¡°Yes, your highness,¡± she replies as we fall into afortable silence.

    My lessons for the day have been canceled, so I move through the early afternoon with leisure. I blow at the bubbles in myvish porcin bathtub, cupping them in my hands as the water runs through my fingers. It reminds me of time, the way it keeps ticking closer and closer to my potential death. I¡¯m turning 12 about a fortnight from now, which would mean I¡¯m 4 years away from dying at age 16 like the original Winter did in the webnovel.

    The warm water soothes my legs that ache from the growth spurt I¡¯ve begun to undergo, but it does little to soothe my fears of the future and my wellbeing. When I was younger, it was easier to pretend that there will be a happy ending for me at the end of all this. I¡¯d survive the imperial family long enough to grow up and move far away.

    But let¡¯s be real, I¡¯m not sure I can escape any of this.

    The constant fittings with Arabe for my growing body and the idental stares I get from male servants all just confirm that. A sword called ¡°what if¡± seems to hover over my neck at all times.

    What if Katya finds a way to hurt me or those I care about?

    What if I lose the little power I¡¯ve managed to umte until now?

    What if... what if Julian is right about Travelers dying when they were originally meant to?

    I twirl a strand of damp hair around my finger, which takes on a grayish color much like Bianca¡¯s when it¡¯s wet. Marie brushes at the rest of it, getting ready to braid it into some borate updo. Despite my protests, it seems she¡¯s going to put ribbons in my hair again.

    ¡°Marie,¡± I whisper. ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡±

    ¡°About what, your highness?¡± she asks, each stroke of the brush ratherforting.

    ¡°The future. Of growing older. Of being hurt. Of bing someone I¡¯m not. Of dying.¡± I run through theundry list, eliciting a chuckle from my nursemaid.

    ¡°Everyone¡¯s afraid of those, your highness. It¡¯s a part of being human,¡± she reassures me.

    ¡°I know. I¡¯ve felt this before,¡± I say, vaguely alluding to my previous life although she wouldn¡¯t know it. But back then I was more scared about what my first job out of college would be like rather than trying to survive to adulthood in an imperial family.

    ¡°But I¡¯m scared of being betrayed. I¡¯m scared of losing,¡± I continue feverishly. ¡°I feel like I¡¯m winning the battle, but losing the war. And the worst part is that the ones I¡¯m trying to fight don¡¯t even take me seriously yet. But the second they do, I¡¯ll die. Maybe I won¡¯t even know how I died.¡±

    I look at Marie in the mirror, where her hand has long frozen with the brush. ¡°If it seems like I¡¯m going to die, I¡¯ll find a way for you to get out. No point in sinking along with the ship.¡±

    Of course, I¡¯m alluding to the Duvernay family, who much like the Medici family of old Florence, have an astoundingrge portion of the empire within their pocket.

    I¡¯d been giving certain matters some thought during the deceptively calm days preceding the arrival foreign delegation, the huntingpetition, and all the recenting-of-age madness.

    You see, I¡¯m not dumb. I¡¯ve always had a knack for smelling trouble. And that is the crux of the problem, right there. There is none. No madness brewing underfoot. No secretive actions. I smell nothing except for oil. And I have no idea when the match will be lit and set everything aze.

    This secret matter involving Julian could be the flint for all I know.

    ¡°You can always trust me, your highness. No matter what, no matter where. I am always on your side.¡± There is a weight to Marie¡¯s words, one replicated by the warm hand that settles on my shoulders.

    My throat swells up. I want to reply, but I¡¯m embarrassed my voice wille out sounding croaky. But I want know that her words mean something to me and I cover the hand on my shoulder. Maybe there is hope. Maybe I can beat the empress and her powerful House.

    ¡°So, who carried me back from the amphitheatre? I¡¯ll need to send them my condolences for their sore back,¡± I quip in my obvious attempt to change the subject. I take all my weak, vulnerable emotions and shove them in a box deep inside my heart.

    Marie sniffs, her voice somewhat warbly. ¡°It was His Majesty.¡±

    ¡°Oh, which of his men?¡± My mind runs through the faces I recognize amongst the highly trained men who nk my father¡¯s every movement during public ceremonies and outings.

    ¡°No, he did it himself, your highness,¡± Marie corrects, beginning to do the thin braids she intended to weave throughout my hair.

    ¡°Hmmmm,¡± I hum, less enthusiastic than when I had heard he had visited me. Thinking less like a daughter and more like a princess, it is odd for the emperor to do such disys of emotion.

    Is this ¡°kind treatment¡± my reward? Allowing others to think I have his favor to further improve my perception and treatment from the upperss? It¡¯s not a bad gift. I shall make good use of his fake favor.

    ¡°Say,¡± I look up at Marie. ¡°I must¡¯ve been receiving invitations for a while, no?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡± Marie is confused, with good reason too as when she¡¯d asked me a few years ago about a certain invitation I turned it down without a second thought and told her to never bring them up again.

    But in webnovels such as these, noble girls always seem to be receiving invitations to ys and teas and whatnot out of courtesy. I¡¯ve ignored social gatherings beyond the pce ever since I arrived,rgely due to my unofficial grounding by my father and ack of interest on my part. But if I¡¯m to fight for my own power, the best way would be to get my face out there.

    ¡°Bring thetest ones to me,¡± I request.

    ¡°Your highness?¡± I¡¯m sure her mind is running through the embarrassing, angry spiel I gave about how I¡¯m never going to y nice with stuck up, privileged rich kids who¡¯ve never suffered so much as a hangnail in their posh life.

    ¡°I know, I know. I said I never wanted to hear about them again, but now I¡¯m older and wiser so I think I will see what these social gatherings are all about.¡± Seeing that Marie still needed onest bit of swaying, I threw in the one line that got any parent to agree to anything. ¡°I don¡¯t have many friends my age, so I really want to make more now,¡± I add sheepishly. Obviously, I don¡¯t actually about making friends with middle schoolers, but Marie wouldn¡¯t know that.

    My bottom lip quivers a few times, I¡¯m a little rusty at wielding my cuteness, but I haven¡¯t lost my charm.

    ¡°Oh, your highness, this is wonderful! You shall have such fun! Friendship is a wonderful gift!¡± Marie gushes. ¡°I¡¯ve taken good care of every single one I¡¯ve ever received, you can look through them here!¡±

    She ruffles through a cab at the corner of the room, pulling out an ornate letter box that is stuffed to the absolute brim. Seeing my surprise, she wryly adds, ¡°You have been very popr ever since you moved out of the Rose Pce and into the central pce, your highness.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t say,¡± I marvel, staring at the box straining to hold the borately decorated invitations.

    I let out a whistle. ¡°You can tell they spent a pretty penny on their stationary.¡±

    ¡°You also have very lovely stationary, your highness, one befit for the correspondence of a princess,¡± chimes Marie.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right. That¡¯s right.¡± I btedly recall the very reason why I rarely write letters and told Madame Laroche that I will only orate during my lessons: my somewhat useless right hand and terrible penmanship with my left. ¡°Well, I should write a response, shouldn¡¯t I?¡±

    My nursemaid¡¯s senses are more urate than a weather channel, picking up on my shifts in mood even though I hardly said anything.

    ¡°You most certainly should, your highness,¡± Marie says kindly. ¡°You have always had a way with words.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re too kind,¡± I chuckle out. Talking my way out of a prickly situation or just trying to keep up with Julian¡¯s verbal games have taught me a lot.

    ¡°Would you like to go to your writing desk or would you prefer for me to bring your stationary to the vanity?¡±

    ¡°Bring the stationary, please. Oh,¡± I suddenly say as a sly ideaes to mind. ¡°And bring Sage. She shall write for me.¡±

    I¡¯m curious to see how Empress Katya will react when the princess she tried to murder and keep out of public eye decides to step into the social limelight. Will it be the flint I¡¯ve been afraid of? Or will she once again perform the strange, tactical retreat she has been employing as ofte?

 Chapter 148

    Chapter 148: Ch. 147: Trust Fall

    ¡°Sage, catch me,¡± I brusquelymand the second the girl walks through the door. Without any further warning, I tilt backwards, my white shift floating forward as I fall back in an elegant faint.

    She is quick. Too quick, honestly. With the haste that an ordinary maid shouldn¡¯t possess, she makes it across my dressing room in record time, catching my body just before it hits the ground.

    ¡°Your highness! Oh dear! Are you alright? Just breathe!¡± Her hand fans over my face, which does feel refreshing.

    But I pop open my eyes and smile at Sage.

    ¡°Don¡¯t fret. I was pretending,¡± I tell her. I sit up from the ground, with her hovering around me like I¡¯m a baby bird taking its first steps.

    ¡°Pretending?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Pretending to faint. Is that not popr for youngdies? To faint every now and then?¡± I ask. From my impression of this era of dress, women would often faint from how tight their corsets were. I¡¯m not old enough to have to deal with corsets or stays, but those days areing sooner rather thanter as my sore chest often reminds me.

    .....

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I wouldn¡¯t know, your highness,¡± Sage says with an ignorant shrug.

    ¡°No, I suppose you wouldn¡¯t.¡± I grin at her as I rise from the ground. ¡°But how was it? I¡¯ve fainted a few times before, but I worry that I look funny doing it. So I decided, I ought to practice.¡±

    ¡°What a novel idea!¡± the spy maid gushes. I do wonder what her personality is like when she isn¡¯t trying to be that cliche quirky, innocent maid that always bes best buds with the female lead.

    ¡°It is, isn¡¯t it?¡± I agree, basking in my genius. I point towards the stationery set that Sage left on the floor before she caught me.

    ¡°Sage, do you know why I called you here today?¡± I ask. I look into her clear eyes, ones that would have honest to god fooled me if I hadn¡¯t expected the possibility of Empress Katya sending in a spy. I wonder if people get the same misleading energy from me, although at this point, those who ought to know of my double nature already do.

    ¡°No, your highness,¡± she shakes her head so vigorously that her white cap nearly falls off.

    ¡°I should like to attend a tea party. So I will dictate and you shall write my reply,¡± I inform her.

    I see a few thoughts run through her head, probably logging that information for future reports.

    ¡°A party, your highness? That sounds delightful! There is so much wonder beyond the gates of the pce,¡± she gushes with a starry-eyed look.

    I chuckle lightly to myself, briefly wondering if she is mocking me. After all, it ismon knowledge that I was found beyond the pearly gates of the imperial pce.

    ¡°Of course, I know,¡± I just say. Many wonders and much darkness beyond the gates, although there is a healthy helping of both within the golden opulence I¡¯ve been reluctantly forced to call home.

    ¡°Dear Lady Elsbeth Laroche,¡± I begin to recite, causing Sage toically rush to the stationary and open up bottles of premium ink to write down my reply. ¡°Many thanks for the invitation. I would be most delighted to attend and make your proper acquaintance. May the sun of the empire always shine down upon you. That¡¯s it! Don¡¯t forget to use my special imperial seal when you seal the envelope with wax.¡±

    The scritch scratch of her pen frantically writing my message leads to a wonderful payoff. Sage has decent handwriting, with fancy swirls on her g¡¯s and y¡¯s that I could never dream of copying, even if my right hand weren¡¯t in poor shape.

    I lean over to admire her work and nod appreciatively. ¡°Well done.¡±

    ¡ª¡ª¡ª

    ¡°That¡¯s what she said? Well done? Tch, as expected of an illiterate bastard,¡± Lte seethed under her breath.

    Sage gave her a cursory nce, none of her former coquettishness in sight. In fact, she was a bit of a nk te,cking any disy of emotion. It reminded Kora eerily of her mistress, the empress.

    Speaking of Kora¡¯s mistress, she gave Lte a look that silenced her before beckoning for Sage to carry on with her report.

    ¡°Continue,¡± Empress Katya ordered in a soft voice, lounging on her borate bedspread in a delicate robe lined withce that the emperor would never see. Kora had heard that soft voice order the most horrific things.

    ¡°The recent assassination attempt seems to have spurred her into ying arger role within society, Your Majesty. She ordered me to write an RSVP to the Young Miss Laroche¡¯s uing tea party.¡±

    ¡°You wrote it?¡± The candlelight flickered off porcin cheeks.

    ¡°She does not seem fond of writing,¡± Sage admitted. She was of sturdy stock, able to kneel for long durations of time without budging. If the empress had wanted the bastard princess dead, Sage would have it done within seconds.

    A strange smile alighted the empress¡¯ face as she fondly recalled a night that had given Kora nightmares. Princess Winter¡¯s right hand had been ck from the poison as if the flesh would begin to necrose and rot, and yet the next day it was as unblemished as ever albeit somewhat crippled.

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t suppose she would be. Amazing how she survived that, right Lte? She should¡¯ve been deaf, dumb, and mute with the medicine I applied.¡±

    Kora marveled at how easily the empress exchanged the word medicine for poison.

    Lte, who had been brash and overconfident as usual instantly cowed, dropping to her knees. ¡°Apologies, Your Majesty. I¡¯d thought the usual amount of the special medicine would be enough to make her sumb to its effects.¡±

    ¡°It must be something to do with her being the promised child. She¡¯d never let me get close enough to try again, don¡¯t you agree Kora?¡± the empress said lightly, dragging the usually quiet Kora into the conversation.

    Kora gulped nervously from the quiet reading corner where she stood. The queen often retired in the evenings to that very corner with books on religion or warfare and a cup of chamomile tea. Evidently, tonight was not one of those peaceful nights.

    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty.¡± When in fear, it was better to stick to shorter responses. But today, despite her pleasant appearance and soft tone, it was evident that the empress was in a bit of a mood.

    ¡°Yes, that it is because she was the promised child in the prophecy that I specially requested for my daughter? Or yes that the princess has risen enough in status that I could never get her alone to my whims again?¡± the empress continued, dragging Kora into a sticky situation.

    Kora could already see how this evening would end, with either her or Lte getting punished. Usually, Lte¡¯s big and stupid mouth ended up taking the punishment for them both. But it wasn¡¯t as if Empress Katya simply forgot her. Katya did not simply ¡°forget¡± anyone or anything, every action and inaction was a deliberate choice.

    Lte was like a fierce, rabid dog, one that needed to be whipped constantly to obey its master and bite those it wasmanded to. As for her cowardly self, an example every now and then was enough to make her fall into line like the most obedient of soldiers.

    Kora cleared her throat, suddenly sweating even though the cool spring air was blowing in through an open window.

    ¡°Yes that the bastard princess would never escape any of your ns if you so wished it, Your Majesty,¡± Kora said carefully. She knew that calling Princess Winter a bastard always made the empress happy, but today she¡¯d miscalcted.

    ¡°Bastard princess? She is still an imperial princess, a daughter of the emperor, my husband,¡± Empress Katya replied cooly.

    Kora instantly fell to her knees beside the cozy yet elegant armchair. ¡°I have misspoken, Your Majesty. Please punish me as you see fit.¡±

    ¡°Punishment? The true punishment will be when the emperor forbids the princess from stepping foot outside the pce. It seems he is just as keen as myself to keep a close eye on his mistake, save for when she must serve at the Holy Church. How he must hate the Holy Church that my family holds in the palm of their hand!¡± Empress Katya chuckled. Herugh was so melodic to the ears that one who did know the empress¡¯ true personality would be tempted tough along.

    A drop of sweat from Kora¡¯s forehead dripped off and sank into the sumptuous carpet she¡¯d been lucky enough to be standing near.

    ¡°There will be no punishment for you. Quickly, rise and go fetch Felix for me. I wish to know what kind of idiocy my dearest son has been engaging in to cause such a catastrophe,¡± the empress said, seeming to remember that Kora was still kneeling there.

    ¡°You are most gracious, Your Majesty,¡± Kora said in thanks, backing out of the empress¡¯vish bedroom. Her stomach twisted in knots.

    Yes. The empress knew that the sham of an assassination attempt turned real had been in part due to her son. Her short temper was the result of spending her entire day covering the few loose ends he¡¯d unwittingly left behind. But that didn¡¯t mean she was letting Kora go scot-free. In fact, Kora felt even more stressed as she curtsied and hurried out to summon Felix.

    The longer punishment was dyed, the more creative the empress became with it.

    She hurried through the night, the sound of her steps making her move even faster until she was nearly running. Kora hated the empress¡¯ games, but she had no choice. She had never had one ¨C her family was born on Duvernay territory and when her mother moved to the House¡¯s main estate in the capital as a housekeeper, a much younger Kora had attained the coveted role of Katya Duvernay¡¯s personal maid.

    Everyone saw the glory of the position, but none noticed the guillotine poised over Kora¡¯s neck, ready to fall at any second. Their jealousy and admiration made sense. Boring, in Kora with eyes the color of mud and a long, drawn face had somehow gotten a role many coveted but few would ever attain. But most of those around the empress hade into her employ after Lte had reced a prior maid whose name Kora did not even dare think about.

    ¡°Ow!¡± She yelled, her body colliding with a body as firm as rock and tumbling to the ground. For a moment, she thought she had run into a marble column by ident. She was in the interconnecting outdoor hallways that ran throughout the imperial pce like cobwebs. However, they were usually empty at thiste hour save for the asional low-ranked servant.

    Arge hand reached out to catch her just before she fell into a puddle of skirts.

    ¡°How dare-¡± she held her tongue the moment she saw the face before her. ¡°Your Majesty! My Lord.¡±

    No, it wasn¡¯t the emperor himself before her. If it was, she¡¯d be dead. But the faces of the guards who surrounded him constantly and Emperor Helio¡¯s few, trusted associates were permanently carved into her mind. She fell to her knees for the second time that night.

    The captain of the royal guard was apanying the emperor, having stepped in front of the emperor to catch the brunt of Kora¡¯s collision. She felt faint embarrassment until she realized what path the emperor was on ¨C the one that went directly led to Sunset Pce. He stood silent, dressed in ck. Although she didn¡¯t dare look, she could feel his eyes stabbing into her flesh as if he could see her fear.

    Sometimes she swore that he knew more about the machinations of his estranged wife than he let on.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you in the empress¡¯ employ?¡± Lord Amarelius, the Mad Dog himself, inquired with a gentle tone. He was known to be kind to womenfolk, but brutal with anyone who stood opposite of him.

    ¡°I am, my lordship,¡± Kora replied, falling into the pleasing yet slightly monotonous tone everyone who worked in the pce had long perfected.

    ¡°What has you running around at this hour?¡± He asked again, his seemingly innocent questions probing for something Kora would rather die than share.

    Kora took a deep breath. Mentioning Prince Julian would bring suspicion onto him, after all the mother and son duo did not meet too often now that he was older and certainly not in the evening. And if she made such a deathly error, even Akira the Devourer would pity the terrible suffering the empress would inflict on her.

    So Kora decided tomit the great crime of lying to the emperor.

    But even her lie was one that would get her in trouble. The still healing whipshings on her back seemed to cry out in pain as she opened her mouth. Those wounds were a cruel remnant from when she¡¯d made a mistake 3 years before. The queen had used a special ¡°medicine¡± that time, one that ensured the wounds would never fully heal.

    Kora sucked in a short breath, cursing her terrible luck. ¡°The empress bid me ask His Majesty that her highness, Princess Winter, be allowed to attend her first tea party at the residence of Baron Laroche.¡±

    By her great fortune, or misfortune, the only other pce that the path she was currently kneeling in led to was the central pce where Emperor Helio resided.

 Chapter 149

    Chapter 149: Ch. 148: Buy One Get One Free

    The central pce did have a name. It was just hardly ever used that most hardly ever remembered. When the empress was young, she had delved headfirst into the history of the imperial pce with the enthusiasm only the young possess. She¡¯d eagerly learned about the history of the architecture and the lives of those who¡¯d lived within its golden walls. She¡¯d longed to live there too one day.

    ¡°Father told me I might marry the crown prince someday, Kora,¡± a young Katya had told her joyfully. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen him before, but he must be very good-looking, no?¡±

    Back then, Kora had called the empress by a much simpler ¡°Young Miss Duvernay¡±. She¡¯d been just as psychotic back then too, but Kora hadn¡¯t learned the painful lessons enough times at that young age.

    ¡°Crown Prince Wilhelm is indeed handsome, mydy,¡± Kora had said onmand. Those were the words she was supposed to say, but she had meant them.

    The crown prince was said to be like a ray of sunlight, his every smile lighting up the room in a way that would make any woman¡¯s heart flutter. In fact, there had been one asion when Kora had glimpsed him in his carriage when she¡¯d been running errands for her mistress. His golden eyes had met hers and then-

    ¡°But what good is handsome?¡± the young Katya had maligned. ¡°Handsome will not win you a throne or allow you to reign from the Lotus Pce.¡±

    ¡°The Lotus Pce?¡± Kora had asked despite herself, offended on the behalf of the handsome crown prince. Catching her gaffe, the maid had quickly fallen to her knees. ¡°Forgive me for misspeaking, mydy.¡±

    .....

    She had thought Katya was in a good mood when she¡¯d told her to rise. ¡°Never mind that. Do you know why the central pce is called the Lotus Pce?¡±

    Kora nodded, praising her luck at being able to dodge punishment for speaking out of turn.

    ¡°The lotus flower is a symbol of rebirth, sinking into the mud at night before rising to the surface in the morning. Much like how the phoenix is on the imperial family crest, the lotus is a symbol of where the seat of power resides.¡±

    Katya looked at her expectantly from the lounge chair she and her expensive dress were slumped on, awaiting a response. Kora swallowed.

    ¡°That is fascinating, mydy. But... but then why isn¡¯t the name of the pcemon knowledge like the rest?¡± she inquired.

    ¡°What ruling family would be stupid enough to allow for the secret ability thates with their golden eyes to bemon knowledge?¡± Katya chuckled.

    She watched Kora¡¯s face avidly, from confusion to the shock that rippled across her face and nearly made her drop the stack of books she¡¯d been moving back to the bookshelf. Katya had always been an avid reader, absorbing copious amounts of inane information she asionally regaled her maids with. But trivia about the Erudian Empire¡¯s former g paled inparison to learning such a shocking secret.

    ¡°Amazing, no?¡± the young Katya had asked, her smile slowly melting off her face as cold, reptilian eyes focused on Kora¡¯s quivering form. ¡°It cost me a lot of time and effort to learn such a secret. What will you pay after learning such a thing for free, Kora?¡±

    Looking back, Kora had not only learned such a shocking secret about the imperial family, but also that seeing and learning certain things could have terrible repercussions for lowly individuals like herself.

    ¡°For Winter?¡± the emperor pursed his lips in thought before his heavy gaze fell on Kora again.

    The breeze that blew through the outdoor hallways ruffled at Kora¡¯s skirt, coldly reminding her of the empress and what she would do to Kora if she were to drag suspicion onto Prince Julian. So she gritted her teeth and doubled down on her lie.

    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty. Her Majesty views Princess Winter as her own daughter and wishes for her to begin to participate in the social season like other young misses her age,¡± Kora said.

    ¡°She wishes for Princess Julia¡¯s ban to end?¡± Emperor Helio said, reading in between the words like most nobility did and picking at what he thought to be the underlying message. In fact, Kora hadn¡¯t been thinking of the bratty demoness at all, but hearing His Majesty bring it up, she realized it was also an opportunity for her to slightly redeem herself in the empress¡¯ eyes.

    On the ground, Kora lowered her head further in quiet acquiescence.

    The emperor lightly chuckled. Kora didn¡¯t dare look up but she could imagine the smile he had on his face, like a wolf peeling back its lips to reveal sharp teeth. It was nothing like theforting smile of the former Crown Prince Wilhelm.

    ¡°She is my daughter too. The empress need not ask for such a thing.¡± His tone was almost jovial as he strolled past Kora as if nothing had happened.

    Within seconds, he and his cohort were gone and Kora was alone quacking on the ground. It took her three tries before she could stand up properly.

    This time when she walked, it was slow, with each foot dragging against the freshly cleaned floor in a defeated manner. There was no point in moving with haste, as the emperor had most certainly gone in the direction of Sunrise Pce. Bringing Felix there would only add further insult to the injury Kora had most certainly inflicted.

    Her lip curled at the thought of the emperor. Despite his attempts and decent sess at mollifying the people during his sudden session, Kora had never liked him. Even when the usually stoic Katya had be enamored with the murderous bastard prince, she still didn¡¯t. Stalking in the dark pce that seemedpletely empty, Kora naturally did not sense the eyes that watched her every move before slinking away into the darkness.

    ¡ª¡ª¨C

    I m the book in front of me shut, the words ¡®DIVORCE¡¯ in bold across the cover. Something about old-fashioned books, they never mince their words.

    ¡°Kora? In the direction of Julian¡¯s courtyards?¡± I vaguely think back to the gorgeous low buildings that all togetherpose Julian¡¯s living quarters.

    The bright sun overhead is quite warm, even with the umbre overhead to block out most of its rays. This medical leave I¡¯ve been on has been a bit of a blessing in the sense that I have much more free time now that I am no longer a student for the second time around.

    A strange smile spreads across my face as I connect the dots.

    ¡°So the assassination attempt was indeed Julian¡¯s doing. What on earth was he thinking? He always told me he had no desire for the throne,¡± I muse.

    Of the mixture of lies and truths Julian has told me, that was one I trusted more than most.

    ¡°Power is as seductive as a naked woman,¡± Emma says frankly. If I were drinking my tea at the moment I would¡¯ve spit it out right then and there.

    ¡°Emma! Who told you that!¡± I ask, feeling like a mom whose kid heard his friends mention porn at school and asked her about it.

    ¡°My mother.¡±

    I dete instantly. ¡°Hm. Well, she¡¯s right,¡± I tell her. ¡°It seems I never knew Julian well at all.¡±

    The realization sits heavy on my shoulders, threatening to tug my smile into a frown. As my literal sibling and a fellow Traveler, I have always had a soft spot for Julian even amongst his many inconsistencies and betrayals. But Ipartmentalize, thest of my restraints falling away and ridding me of the guilt of what I n to do next.

    ¡°On the bright side, this means that the next step of our n shall go off without a hitch. We will soon be rid of Sage and you can be back at my side proudly without needing to sneak around.¡±

    Now is a good time to mention that poor Emma is hiding out of view under a nearby bush. It¡¯s a good thing I¡¯m one of the few people in this quiet garden behind the central pce otherwise there would be rumors circting that the princess has gone mad.

    ¡°She got it from hermoner mother,¡± I¡¯d wager they¡¯d say behind covered mouths. Too bad I never knew her otherwise I¡¯d be hurt.

    Emma knows what I am talking about, but she brings up another good point. ¡°If she loses Felix, she wille for me and try to lure me away.¡±

    We both know who ¡®she¡¯ is. But it¡¯s a good thing that we¡¯ve been anticipating this ever since I made it appear that Emma and I have be estranged.

    ¡°All the better,¡± I say darkly. ¡°Let her get tangled up in the web of her own making.¡±

    A maid pushes out a cart of pastries, setting them down on the table and curtsying before leaving. This quiet deference is such a far cry from the constant disrespect I had to deal with in my early days. Powdery sugar coats my tongue in near euphoric happiness. The new pastry chef I brought in truly has a way with lemon tarts, even better than my own.

    Power truly does taste sweet.

    ¡°Well, enough of that. Any ideas on how I can circumvent the foot ban that keeps me in this pce?¡± I ask, pping my hands together to signify the end of the topic.

    A distant gardener pruning the already immacte hedges looks my way expectantly and I apologetically wave at him to ignore me.

    My heart beats rapidly just at the thought of leaving the pce properly, an old panic bubbling to the surface. Being ferried from one location to another when I go to the Grand Temple of the Holy Church or the hunting grounds is nothing. But this, going somewhere entirely new that isn¡¯t under the jurisdiction of my father or the Duvernay family? It sends my emotions into the spiral of the time I¡¯d escaped the pce to save my life.

    If you step on ss long enough, you learn to prefer the pain over thefort of a smooth floor.

    I can think of no better phrase that encapstes my life at the imperial pce, where most threats lie await behind honeyed words and smiling faces. But every once in a while, under the opulent mour, ites for you like a knife in the dark. You only catch a glint of it before it buries its sharp end in your side and twists.

    The worst part? More often than not the knife belongs from someone I know. Like Julian.

    I hear a thump, that distant gardener has tossed his shears to the grass. His hat obscures his face, but he¡¯s looking right at me.

    I don¡¯t scream as such events have be asmon as a fire drill and Emma is in the vicinity. But I grab the heavy tome on how divorces are processed in Erudian court as the man suddenly advances.

    ¡°Uh, Emma. Emma!¡± I hiss, panic creeping into my voice as the figure breaks into a run.

    I want to curse the heavens. I still have an itchy, cloth bandaid around my neck from thest attempt and there¡¯s already another one. Is there a special this month? Buy one get one free?

    I can hear Emma scurrying out of the bushes onmand, blowing her cover. But it¡¯s toote. The figure in a gardener¡¯s uniform has alreadye to my side and invades my personal space in an rming manner that causes me to suck in a breath of air.

    ¡°My dearest passenger, it has been so long since I heard from you face to face I had to seek you out for myself. How do you do?¡± The charming words melt my fear and ignite my fury, although I manage to grit my teeth and hold most of it back.

    ¡°Jack. What a pleasure.¡± I can barely recognize him, he¡¯s grown a fair bit since thest I saw him and has acquired a hearty tan. My hand on top of the book trembles as I fight back the urge to p his cocky face.

    ¡°No, the pleasure is all mine, your highness,¡± Clever Jack promises as he looks me deep in the eyes. He drops onto one knee and nts a kiss on the back of my frozen hand like a knight in shining armor.

 Chapter 150

    Chapter 150: Ch. 149: Nursery Rhymes

    ¡°Let¡¯s cut to the chase. What do you want? Do you want to renegotiate terms for the orphanage or for our... agreement?¡± I ask him, annoyed at the way he had me frightened for a second.

    He¡¯s so close to me I can see the sweat on his nose. But it doesn¡¯tst long as Emma shoves him out of my space with a curt, ¡°Move, you weasel.¡±

    ¡°Good day to you too, cousin,¡± Jack greets Emma with a tilt of his imaginary hat.

    My closest aplice lets out a loud breath from her nose. ¡°I told you not to call me that.¡±

    ¡°My apologies, cousin,¡± Jack says without missing a beat.

    He turns back to face me with a cocky smirk, no doubt for managing to sneak into the pce. It¡¯s like he took special sses on how to piss people off in the fewest words possible. An absentminded nce gives me yet another reason to be angry with Jack.

    This bold chap has just stolen two rings right off my hand.

    .....

    ¡°Give them back!¡±

    ¡°Give what back?¡± he asks, ying clueless.

    I lean back in my garden chair, unamused. ¡°Do you know that a single shout from me will summon every guard in the vicinity?¡± I warn him.

    Jack shrugs. ¡°It was easy enough to get into the pce, even with their presence.¡±

    That is the part that perplexes me. ¡°That¡¯s right. How did you get into the pce?¡± I ask, leaning forward despite myself.

    Following the assassination attempt, security at the imperial pce has been at an all-time high. It seems preposterous to me that amon street thief would be able to surmount both physical and magical defenses to make his way right where I am.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you know, your highness? A knight doesn¡¯t kiss and tell.¡± He gives me a knowing look, alluding to the kiss on the back of my hand. This kid is about 12 years old, he ought to put off flirting for a few years at this age.

    ¡°Too bad I only see a gardener before me,¡± I retort, rolling my eyes. ¡°Now get on with your message before I really do get you kicked out. Emma always gets a bonus when she takes out the trash for me.¡±

    All of sudden, Emma seems a lot perkier from where she stands by my side. I see her hands dance over the hidden pocket where she stashes her dagger. Clever Jack must¡¯ve seen it too because he drops the nonsense act and gets straight to business.

    ¡°Have you ever heard the rhyme, ¡®Just as night cowers to the light of day, the true ruler shall have his way?¡¯?¡± Jack asks. His face is so serious it looks like a mask, the shade from the umbre cutting across his face to make his knife-like nose even sharper.

    ¡°N-No? Did this warrant youing to the pce?¡± I ask.

    ¡°It¡¯s all the buzz in West Bend. Children sing it as they y in the streets. Factory workers sing the tune during their lunch break, the ones that get lunch breaks anyways.¡±

    I sit up straight. ¡°It¡¯s that popr?¡± The way that my father took the throne isn¡¯tmon knowledge to the entire poption, considering how the imperial pce only officially stated that Crown Prince Wilhelm had unfortunately passed away and was being reced by Emperor Helio.

    ¡°Do people truly... dislike my father?¡± I inquire hesitantly. In the webnovel, my father was beloved by the people and never implemented harsh policies on the people. That¡¯s the great irony of webnovels with historical settings. The ruler can be a terrible, cruel, cold person, but as long as he¡¯s hot the readers will only draw the line at him or her mistreating themon people.

    ¡°No more than thest one. Emperorse and go, they don¡¯t really make a difference in our lives.¡± Thest sentence sounds bitter, but Jack grins up at me. ¡°That¡¯s why the new orphanage is incredibly helpful.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m d to hear it,¡± I say sincerely, the lump in my throat shrinking in size. Sometimes, despite my impoverished past, it¡¯s easy to forget that the system of nobility is one that sits on the shoulders ofmoners.

    ¡°This song was nted. It¡¯s not the typical, ahem, tune that those of us who reside on the western side of Radovalsk tend to sing,¡±

    ¡°Oh? What kind of songs do you sing?¡± I ask, genuinely curious.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you da-¡± Emma begins to say.

    ¡°A busty maiden to my left and another to my right. Should I die in their bosoms it would be alright!¡± Jack proudly sings.

    ¡°Oh.¡± No matter the world, no matter the century, men truly don¡¯t change.

    Jack clears his throat in embarrassment. ¡°Anyways, I came to report to you because I believe that this rhyme came from the same people who attacked the emperor- and yourself, your highness.¡±

    I rub at the bandage. ¡°Now that is something truly interesting.¡± Jack perks up like a dog that just got petted for doing a fancy trick.

    ¡°Shall I investigate more?¡± he asks intently.

    ¡°No. That should be quite enough. It¡¯s not safe for you lot,¡± I reply, speaking of him and the other children at the orphanage who discreetly gather and spread street intel.

    But Jack is stubborn and young and full of that youthful fire. His fist pounds the DIVORCE book with determination and the abandoned pastries on my te jump in fright. ¡°If myself and a small group of a trusted few-¡±

    ¡°I said no,¡± I reiterate sternly. ¡°Do you think my enemies don¡¯t know your purpose and why you exist? You simply haven¡¯t been taken care of because you don¡¯t warrant arge enough threat. But make no mistake. The minute you be a problem, you will be taken care of discreetly and quickly.¡±

    ¡°Fear not your highness, I¡¯ve long taken note of those with hidden intentions at the orphanage,¡± Jack murmurs darkly. ¡°Any intelligence they gather is fraught with misinformation and half-truths.¡±

    ¡°That is good to hear. But regardless, I cannot condone you looking further into this. Nothing good lies at the end, of that I¡¯m certain,¡± I sigh. ¡°If a few street urchins disappear off the street, do you know what they¡¯ll say? Good riddance. But I would be crushed. Emma would be crushed. And everything you¡¯ve worked for will amount to nothing.¡±

    Everyone is quiet for a few, long moments. Jack¡¯s frustration fills the air, as thick as the scent of roses I never seem to escape. I can feel my heartbeat start racing in my chest as an idea suddenlyes to me.

    ¡°You can read,¡± I state, breaking the ufortable silence. No one likes to be confronted with the fact that no one will care if they were to die tomorrow. And in this world with rigid ss structures and royalty, I¡¯d imagine that feeling is doubly so.

    ¡°And write. How do you think you receive your secret letters from the couturier?¡± he not-so-humbly adds.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± Emma adds with a cross murmur. She always loses her temper with him. Distant cousins, she said? I don¡¯t believe that for a moment. But I don¡¯t pry and neither does she.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± Jack parrots sullenly. The untrained eye would mistake him as any ordinary child. But traveling with him to the warfront and working with him as a business partner has taught me otherwise. Quite frankly, Clever Jack is really clever.

    ¡°Clever Jack,¡± I say in a sly manner that has Emma giving me a side-eye immediately. I rarely call him ¡®Clever¡¯ voluntarily. ¡°You¡¯re smarter than I ever was at your age.¡±

    ¡°I do believe I¡¯m older than you, your highness. But thank you,¡± Jack is quick to correct, although he soaks up the praise like a sponge.

    ¡°And you possess an iparable amount of street sense and wisdom beyond your years. I wager you¡¯d run circles around just about any otherd in the whole capital,¡± I carry on generously. I really do believe he could, except for Elias maybe.

    True to his name, Clever Jack catches on to something fishy going on.

    He takes a few steps backward. ¡°Why are you looking at me like a fat broodmare you want to buy from the market?¡±

    ¡°Am I?¡± I ask Emma. She readily nods, but upon seeing my expression of betrayal she shakes her head.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be silly, Jack,¡± she scolds.

    ¡°Yes, don¡¯t be silly,¡± I echo with a smirk of my own. ¡°I don¡¯t want to buy anything from you. In fact, I wish to give you a gift, on top of my rings, to show you my appreciation.¡±

    ¡°A gift? I do love those,¡± Jack says. A hint of wariness still lingers on his tone, which is expected. You don¡¯t survive in the streets by believing that the strange man who ims to have candy in his house is telling the truth.

    ¡°We both know how important one¡¯s identity is to their power. You can and probably will rise to the top ranks of West Bend within a few short years. People will whisper your name even when it¡¯s bright out and seek you out in the dark for a boon only you can grant.¡±

    I lean backfortably in my chair, knowing that I hold a useful card under my sleeve. Jack¡¯s wariness slowly bes overtaken by amon foe that lures even the steadiest of souls, curiosity.

    ¡°That is the goal, your highness,¡± he says in the most respectful tone I¡¯ve heard all day.

    ¡°It¡¯s a good goal, but it¡¯s only effective in the alleys, crevices, and gutters of Radovalsk. Mostw-abidingmonfolk will never know your name. The nobility will scoff at it unless they require you to do some sinister bidding on their behalf. You may find yourself bing someone¡¯spdog or pawn before long,¡± I continue.

    With every word, Clever Jack¡¯s expression grows darker and darker.

    ¡°Am I not a loyalpdog to you right now?¡± he bites out. A dark ferocity sets his eyes aze, although he does a good job at controlling the rest of his face.

    Emma lightly frowns as well, but says nothing. Sometimes I wish she didn¡¯t care about Jack so much. But I know that is just the selfish side of me speaking.

    ¡°The best! But I want you to be more. I want you to be a dog whose bite they fear throughout Radovalsk. I want you to be someone who matters to this city. Someone who, Helio forbid, if you passed away tomorrow, the entire city would mourn your loss.¡±

    Social mobility is hard. However, since the beginning of time, there has always been one tried and truedder to the top. For men, anyways.

    ¡°The Imperial College,¡± Jack says, catching on in seconds that I¡¯m referring to a good education.

    ¡°I always knew you were clever,¡± I chuckle.

    You see, the Imperial College is not merely a ¡®good¡¯ education. A ¡®good¡¯ education would be the state college that I was about to graduate from with honors and a future job.

    The Imperial College is Oxford, Harvard, and MIT rolled into one fancy institution that trains the next generation of people who will one day run the government and empire. And despite its misleading name, it takes in students from the age of 12 and spits them out at 20. After the school lets in its annual nepotism babies (Augustus is smart but definitely not smart enough to get in), it has a famously difficult exam with a 1% eptance rate.

    If one manages not only to graduate from the Imperial College, but as a top student called an Imperial Schr, the world bes your oyster. I know it. Emma knows it. Jack knows it too.

    The blooming excitement on his face is heartening to watch, it takes me back to my past life where I worked my butt off at school because I knew that was the only way to get myself and my mother a better life. Unfortunately, I¡¯ve got yet another task at hand.

    ¡°Now if you¡¯ll excuse me, I need to go get permission to escape this pce you were so eager to break into,¡± I sarcastically tell the boy with a crazy, wide grin on his face. His bunching cheeks that still carry some childhood fat remind me how young he is, how young we all are.

    Despite, the casual confidence behind my words, I have no idea how I¡¯m going to convince my father to let me leave the pce for something that isn¡¯t rted to an official royal family event like Blessing Day or an appointment with for Holy Church.

    ¡°If I get in, I won¡¯t let you down, your highness! You can count on me!¡± Jack promises from where he kneels with gratitude. His faith in me is endearing as I still have yet to think of how I¡¯m going to get him into the most prestigious institution in the entire empire.

    ¡°I know,¡± I reply under my breath so he can¡¯t hear. Because in my moment of need and weakness years ago, he did indeed get me to the warfront in one piece.

 Chapter 151

    Chapter 151: Ch. 150: First Time?

    ¡°This is the first time, no?¡± I ask to fill the quiet.

    ¡°It is, your highness.¡± Emma can understand that I refer to it being the first time I¡¯ve set foot in my father¡¯s pce.

    With Jack¡¯s infuriating presence gone, the somber mour of the pce threatens to choke me once again. Emma and I¡¯s footsteps alight the silent hall, only broken by the somber figures of guards intermittently posted throughout the central pce. I have never stepped into my father¡¯s wing, but the path seems mapped out in my mind as I navigate my way to my father¡¯s office with ease. After all, theyout is the same as my own wing, although I¡¯m not sure if the simrity isforting or annoying.

    When I¡¯d lived in the Rose Pce, the distance and pink touches had allowed me to differentiate between the two. Now, it¡¯s like I¡¯m beginning to ovep with the very man who seems to have the most meager of attachments to my existence.

    I see the emperor every day when I have my lessons and yet I¡¯ve never seen the 3/4ths of the central pce he upies. We are roommates, roommates with an unspoken agreement not to vite each other¡¯s space. When Halle and I were roommates our freshman year, we had the same mentality until one day she stumbled home drunk from a party and I took care of her. It spawned a sudden friendship that burned bright and burned out just as spectacrly with my ex-fiance balls deep in her.

    So I suppose, with that experience in my past, I¡¯m a bit wary to break this roommate status with my father.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to break a leg with all this walking,¡± I sigh as we round the corner of yet another of this immacte pce.

    .....

    ¡°Exercise is good for you, your highness,¡± Emma says, her tone even and unwavering as usual. I wonder if Sage will be all in a tizzy at myst-minute decision to bring Emma along rather than her. Even if this throws off my n a bit, I want the support of someone I trust around me right now, rather than a spy or a distant attendant.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you know that. Isn¡¯t this the generation that thought leeches were the cure to all illnesses?¡± I mutter under my breath, although Emma catches the tail end of my words.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what a leech is.¡±

    I chuckle to myself. ¡°They¡¯re bloodsucking little beasts that asionally can be human.¡± My mouth curves into a grimace as I recall one short-lived ex-boyfriend of mine who¡¯d eat up everything in my fridge and mooch off my school dining points. ¡°Be careful with all your money lest a human one finds a way totch on to you.¡±

    I think I catch Emma shudder out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn to face her she already has her poker face back on.

    ¡°What has Nina been up totely?¡± I ask as another guard passes out of earshot.

    ¡°Nothing.¡±

    I nod to myself. ¡°Good.¡±

    I wouldn¡¯t spare Nina if she were to go behind my back again. I don¡¯t require loyal attendants, just ones who won¡¯t stab me in the back at thest second. Besides, her presence is a daily reminder of how willing the empress is to infiltrate those who are closest to me in order to harm me. Even a double shot of espresso loses to seeing her face every morning when ites to waking me up fully.

    Speaking of loyal attendants, the one who is by my father¡¯s side every waking moment of the day stands before me. Harold is tall and thin, but still appears sturdy enough to dissuade the unwise from starting a fight with him. He has a stern but charming face, well suited for following my father¡¯s every order. Standing before the doors to the study, he seems to puff out his chest even more at my arrival, performing a stiff and neat bow at my presence.

    ¡°Greetings, your highness,¡± Harold says. Behind me are oval windows, that Itently realize overlook the very garden I¡¯d been lounging in minutes earlier. I can only pray that Jack¡¯s presence was innocuous enough to be overlooked.

    ¡°Harold,¡± I reply in kind, with a faint hint of respect in my tone. Only a fool would speak to the man closest to the emperor with disrespect, myself included. I am, after all, a subject first and a daughter second. A very distant and estranged daughter.

    ¡°Is my father in today?¡± I ask.

    ¡°He is, your highness.¡±

    Talking to Harold is like pulling teeth. I grit my own but continue speaking with my gentle, humble smile that I show to parishioners whenever I¡¯m at the Grand Temple of the Holy Church.

    ¡°Please let him know that I would like an audience with him.¡±

    There is surprisingly little resistance from Harold, whose attitude is known to disy the emperor¡¯s will. ¡°One moment, your highness.¡±

    He knocks on the door twice, to inform Emperor Helio that he ising in, and disappears behind one of the doors. There is a clink in metal, one of the guards in full armored regalia shifting his step to face me. His eyes are invisible within the shadowed holes carved into his helmet but I can imagine them ring at me from beneath his shiny tin can. I nod respectfully towards him, wiping off my sweaty palms on my skirt as I ponder whose identity lies beneath the suit.

    Is it Robbie, Emma¡¯s semi-secret tutor? Or Sir Gregory? Or another?

    The door opens, putting my inquisitive thoughts out of their misery as I¡¯m faced with a much greater foe. He sits behind a desk, sses with a thin frame perched on the tall nose he passed onto me. That long ck hair of his falls down his shoulders and partially onto the desk itself. But they go unnoticed, so immersed is my father in his work.

    ¡°Take a seat,¡± he orders in a soft voice. The duality between the bloodthirsty conqueror who ravages his enemies¡¯nds to dust and the bookish administrative ruler going through court papers is truly astounding.

    Emma remains outside, so it really is just me and him in a room right now, for the first time ever. I rub at my neck bandage unconsciously, but even that slight movement draws my father¡¯s eyes towards me.

    ¡°H-Hello, Father,¡± I greet, my voice hitching in surprise.

    ¡°Hello,¡± he says. He puts down his pen and takes off his sses. ¡°Is there a reason you¡¯vee?¡±

    Straight to the chase, without a hint of small talk. Despite his softer appearance, he is as blunt as ever.

    ¡°I would like to ask for permission to go to Elsbeth Laroche¡¯s tea party thising week,¡± I ask, then I abruptly hold my breath and wait for him to speak.

    ¡°Then go ahead, ask,¡± he says, pinning me to the seat in confusion.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Ask for permission,¡± my father repeats. It takes a few seconds for his attempt at a joke to sink in, which falls t due to his inability to disy an amicable facial expression.

    ¡°Can I please leave the pce and go to Elsbeth Laroche¡¯s tea party?¡±

    A pause hangs in the air between us. ¡°You may.¡± He picks up his pen and writes some more.

    ¡°Thank you, Father,¡± I say respectfully, eager to leave now that my mission has been a sess. I scoot off the annoyingly tall chair, the floor seeming ever so far from the ground even though I¡¯m going to turn 12 very soon.

    ¡°Your mother,¡± he says, causing me to unconsciously bristle at the mention of Empress Katya, ¡°She already asked me for permission for you to begin attending social events.¡±

    ¡°She did? Oh, I mean, thank you, Father.¡± I gasp, my sheer willpower keeping my jaw from falling to the floor and allowing me to curtsey normally. The same Empress Katya who wants to pretend that I don¡¯t exist and eliminate me from the picture asked the emperor for permission for me to leave the imperial pce?

    Immediately after the shock, I frown. Royal courtesy dictates that I¡¯ll be required to visit her and show my gratitude. The thought of setting foot in the Sunrise Pce that holds so many bad memories for me sends a chill up my spine. Did she do it on purpose so I¡¯d be forced to meet her face to face on her turf?

    But today¡¯s surprises don¡¯t stop there. The emperor looks up again. ¡°You need not thank her out of courtesy. It was ultimately my decision,¡± he tells me. My father looks me right in the eye as he says that. My mind shes back to the hug I gave him at the warfront, one of the rare times of physical contact between us. I imagine his stern, unmoving face in the darkness of his tent as I¡¯d wrapped my arms around him and feel a dull pain in my chest.

    ¡°Thank you for your consideration, Father,¡± I curtsey again in a formal manner and move towards the doors, all too eager to get out of his hair.

    ¡°Of course,¡± he says curtly. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m just seeing things, or if I truly see a hint of displeasure sh across his face.

    I¡¯m halfway to the door when I hear his voice again.

    ¡°You¡¯re neck, has it been healing?¡± It would be a lie if I said I wasn¡¯t surprised to hear him inquire about my neck injury.

    ¡°Y-Yes it has. Very well, thank you,¡± I respond, my eyes probably as round as saucers.

    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± he nods to himself. ¡°Your healing abilities are very effective. Keep practicing.¡±

    Emperor Helio finally sounds more like his usual self, the one that had gleefully watched me heal the prisoners of war. ¡°I will, Father.¡±

    ¡°Your apartments...¡± he says, loosely referring to my rooms in the west wing of the central pce. He shakes his head and starts over. ¡°See to it that anything you purchase is charged to the central pce.¡±

    I listen diligently outwardly while the wheels turn inside my head. Is this his reward for healing him? That would also be in line with his typical behavior. I don¡¯t know what kind of upbringing my father had, for him to be so intent on repaying any and every debt thates his way.

    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary, Father,¡± I say out of politeness. It¡¯s not far from the truth. I¡¯m often hurting for cash for my many operations, but not to the point that I can¡¯t pay for the things I buy with my monthly allowance and my outside ie.

    ¡°They¡¯ll be charged to me nheless,¡± he replies. I can hear the wall in his voice, he won¡¯t budge.

    I stifle a sigh and drop another curtsey. ¡°Thank you for your kindness, Father.¡±

    But the prim and proper bow that I¡¯ve trained to perfection seems to irritate him further for reasons unknown.

    ¡°Father?...¡± I bravely ask, confused by the now obvious displeasure on his face.

    It melts away at the sound of my voice, revealing the same mask I¡¯ve grown ustomed to.

    ¡°Take care, Winter,¡± Emperor Helio says in a tone of finality, signaling the end of the conversation. He picks up his pen, but doesn¡¯t dip it in ink to write, instead twirling it in his fingers in a funny habit I too possess.

    ¡°Do not work for too long, lest you hurt your eyes, Father. And do take a break for some tea before long,¡± I answer politely, repeating the things I once told my mother in the past in much more formalnguage.

    Ites out stiff and clumsy, I¡¯m going through the motions after all, but once they¡¯re out a funny expression ovees my father¡¯s face.

    He must be mad, I think to myself. So like any proper kid, I split right away, knocking twice on the door and slipping out at the first crack that Harold creates. My footsteps back to my wing are decidedly faster than they were on the way there. We are a good distance from the study when I finally open my mouth.

    ¡°You must be wondering how it went,¡± I say.

    ¡°A little, your highness,¡± Emma replies, although she probably wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°It went... hmmm. I suppose it was a sess. But it was strange. Like identally stepping in quicksand,¡± I think of the deep, unreadable stare on my father¡¯s face, with intentions I could not decipher. ¡°Let¡¯s not do that often.¡±

    ¡°As you wish, your highness.¡±

    ¡°And the empress, she has fingerprints all over this too. Perhaps Kora¡¯s conversation with my father hadn¡¯t been as innocent as to inquire about his wellbeing,¡± I mutter the second half to myself, my spidey senses telling me that there was much to be uncovered concerning the quiet and clever maid Empress Katya diligently kept by her side.

 Chapter 152

    Chapter 152: Ch. 151: Too Many Rewards

    The gift for a certain Miss Elsbeth that I have yet to meet sits nestled in a box that appears nearly as precious as its contents. The container is wrought in gold, with a delicate sp in the shape of a heart. But inside it lies a sweeter gift on a pink pillow, a gold ring with the intricate rendering of a rose on top of it. The workmanship is so fine that the flower truly looks like it was captured in full bloom and dipped in gold. But I hardly have time to admire the workmanship as I get ready for the tea party where I shall present the gift.

    ¡°Are you sure this is the right style?¡± I wince right after I ask as Marie tugs at a piece of icy white hair a bit too hard. I¡¯d gone to bed the prior night without braiding my hair, so intent was I on finishing the book about divorce that Henry the kind librarian at the Imperial Library had given to me. Now I¡¯m paying the price.

    ¡°This has been a trend in the capital recently. Apparently, all youngdies of high standing have been doing it. It will look lovely on you, your highness!¡± Marie coos, eagerly teasing theb through my impossibly long locks.

    I grumble but don¡¯t say anything more, silently acquiescing to her bidding. Sometimes our interactions really do seem like that of a mother and daughter.

    Avender gown of taffeta is slipped over my shoulders andced up behind me, the maids paying little mind to my grunt as they pull the dress fabric taut over my tender chest. True to Marie¡¯s tendencies, she still finds ways to loop matching ribbons into my trendy hairstyle, which now falls over my shoulders rather than the stiff updos that were considered chic just a few short years ago.

    Still, bos never go out of fashion and she ties one on over my head as Nina rushes in yelling about how the time is short. We make eye contact through the mirror and she looks away. That¡¯s what I like to see. The ever-present guilt in her eyes.

    The day that¡¯s gone, I¡¯ll be in trouble.

    .....

    ¡°How do I look?¡± I ask no one in particr, twirling in the dress and clutching Elsbeth¡¯s gift in my sweaty palms. I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m this nervous for a youngdy¡¯s tea party, the equivalent of a kid¡¯s birthday party in my world.

    Marie looks like she¡¯s about to burst into song, so jubnt is her mood. ¡°Absolutely dazzling, your highness. You shall be the most lovely girl at the tea party!¡±

    ¡°Lovely like a rose,¡± I murmur absentmindedly, thinking of the ring I am to gift Elsbeth.

    Today is a day of a few firsts. I¡¯ve been to banquets and balls, but only one of those was beyond the pce walls. I follow my attendants to where the carriages and horses have been taken from the stables. Two footmen bow and help me onto the lily-white imperial carriage, which is slightly easier to get on than thest time. It feels strange to step out without Marie or Emma or someone I¡¯m truly familiar with by my side. That¡¯s what makes this excursion feel even more strange, as if I¡¯m about to enter uncharted territory.

    The carriage rolls past the ck iron gates that I once crawled under like a dog, the wheels rumbling on the cobblestone. We go past the empty section that no one is allowed to enter, before emerging into the busy, bustling Radovalsk. Sights greet me like old friends. The fountain in Winifred za bubbles happily while the familiar cafes and restaurants are full of patrons as usual. The city doesn¡¯t feel like it¡¯s changed, but I have significantly since thest time I roamed the streets freely.

    I look away from the streets to the hands that have been nervously flipping around the borate gift box in its grasp.

    ¡°Nina,¡± I utter when the scenery has fully satiated my hunger for the outside world. She jumps as if she¡¯s been electrocuted, so on edge was she.

    ¡°Yes, your highness?¡± she replies, recovering quickly like any well-trained attendant.

    ¡°So jumpy,¡± I chuckle, covering my mouth delicately behind my hand. Nina smiles sheepishly to herself and I can sense her wallse down a little.

    ¡°I just hope that the tea party goes well, your highness,¡± she tells me to exin away her nerves.

    ¡°Myself as well,¡± I quickly agree. ¡°Tell me, can you still see the bruise on my neck?¡±

    I point at the unblemished skin and already know what answer to expect. Thest remnants of redness and swelling disappeared a few days ago.

    ¡°No, your highness. There¡¯s no wound to be seen,¡± Nina replies obediently.

    ¡°That¡¯s good. But even when I can¡¯t see the wound, I can still feel it,¡± I sigh. I sit back and look at her expectantly.

    Nina is slow to understand, but she¡¯s worked at the pce long enough to figure it out in a few heartbeats.

    ¡°Your highness...¡± The hands spinning the box stop dead in their tracks.

    ¡°How is your brother?¡± I inquire suddenly.

    I watch Nina gulp nervously. ¡°He is well. He has begun studying for the exams in the fall.¡±

    I¡¯ve never seen this brother of Nina¡¯s, but ording to Emma, he is indeed a smart kid now that his health is no longer a bargaining chip for the empress to exploit. The higher-ranked personnel who work at the pce gain the rare opportunity to allow their family members to participate in the official examinations held right at the end of the social season in the early fall. It breeds the promise of potential social mobility. After all, if you have a family member who manages to get into one of the empire¡¯s prestigious schools and start a decent career, you will have a chance to be served rather than make a living serving others.

    Who wouldn¡¯t jump at such a rare opportunity?

    ¡°That¡¯s good. If he¡¯s anything like you I¡¯m sure he¡¯s incredibly bright. How do you think his chances are?¡± I continue conversationally.

    ¡°I think they are good, your highness,¡± Nina replies. She is wary, her keen senses that keep her aware in the dangerous pce no doubt sounding rm bells in her head.

    I nod to myself. ¡°That¡¯s good. That¡¯s very good.¡±

    ¡°It is?¡± Nina must be surprised by my questions and asks one of her own. Outside, the streets grow sparser and cleaner. We are starting to enter the affluent East Bend.

    ¡°Yes. Because I know someone who will be needing his spot at the exams,¡± I finish, dropping a bomb on the attendant.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± It¡¯s a rude outburst, but Nina¡¯s reaction is understandable.

    ¡°Yes, Nina?¡± My calm reaction is like night and day to her tone, causing her to stop and take a few breaths.

    She opens and closes her mouth a few times, struggling to find what she should say. Composure in the face of chaos is something that all attendants must innately possess. It¡¯s the reason why they aren¡¯t relegated to the same ck and white dresses ofmon maids and servants, and why they may apany the imperial family beyond the pce walls. A privilege not many get to enjoy. Let alone former traitors.

    There is a modicum of intelligence in Nina¡¯s head despite the panic coloring her cheeks an unnaturally red color. ¡°I have been true to you all these years, your highness,¡± she finally sputters.

    ¡°You have,¡± I easily agree.

    ¡°Then why-?¡± Her voice trails off, but her question is apparent.

    ¡°I have one question for you, Nina.¡± I innocently smooth out my dress¡¯ skirt, it seems taffeta wrinkles rather easily. ¡°Should traitors be rewarded?¡±

    ¡°No, your highness. But we are orphans, my brother and I. My family was moderately well-to-do, which was why I was able to secure entry into the pce. But then they passed suddenly and left me and my younger brother with so much debt. There was nothing I could do! I had no choice! I have been repenting all these years!¡±

    A hint of a sob hangs in her tone, but I look on unsympathetically as she details her plight.

    ¡°Repenting?¡± I almost snort as I think of how I¡¯ve let her carry on as if she didn¡¯t betray me. ¡°You have been rewarded unjustly. Every minute you draw breath. Every day you are allowed to serve by my side. Every month you take your generous pay home to your little brother. And year after year after year, I tolerate having you by my side.¡± Each word from my mouth is like lightning in the clear sky, making Nina jolt and jump.

    I let out another sigh and look out the window wistfully as we pass by the immacte and exclusive store window of Arabe¡¯s Couturier. ¡°Nina, you are lucky to be alive. Lucky that you crossed me when I was younger rather than now. Have you not eaten well at my expense all these years?¡±

    ¡°I have, your highness,¡± she practically whispers. I smile generously at her, pleased that she understands.

    ¡°It¡¯s good you know. Then you should understand that some rewards only go so far.¡±

    ¡°Yes, your highness.¡±

    ¡°Are you mad, Nina?¡± I lean forward so I can see her eyes. I search for that same spark of greedy rebelliousness I¡¯d once seen in Janice a long time ago and foolishly dismissed. There¡¯s anger, of course, a little sadness, but no rousing hunger for more.

    ¡°No, your highness. I wouldn¡¯t dare,¡± she says, shying away from my piercing gaze.

    ¡°That¡¯s good. I would hate to have Marie train a new head attendant who understands my needs as well as you do. But I¡¯d imagine there are many who would be eager to do so,¡± I add conversationally.

    ¡°There are, your highness,¡± she says, tucking her head down.

    The implications in my words are clear. Any dissatisfaction or anger will quickly get her reced by a younger upstart eager to gain my good graces as well as the pay raise and benefits of being an attendant.

    We enjoy another minute of quiet carriage riding until the carriage pulls to a jerky stop. I can hear chatter outside, other guests arriving at the same time as myself loudly specting over who is in the imperial carriage. But my head attendant doesn¡¯t seem to have noticed.

    ¡°Nina,¡± I call.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± She seems to brace herself for more words from me, but I just gesture to the door with a grin.

    ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± The first stirrings of excitement erupt in my belly. It would be a lie if I said I wasn¡¯t satisfied with our conversation just now. This is just a prelude, a precursor to the many, many debts I have to collect from those who owe me.

 Chapter 153

    Chapter 153: Ch. 152: Guest of Honor

    Nina still looks a little gobsmacked, but she climbs out of the carriage and extends a hand toward me before a footman can escort me down the steps. It¡¯s a hand that represents opportunity: the chance to finally establish myself beyond the mysterious bastard princess and the promised child with no voice beyond performing miracles.

    The sun is pounding down overhead, but it does little to stop the fully formed PR smile that spreads across my face. I¡¯ve made it! I¡¯ve left the pce. I wait for the familiar panic to ring through my chest, but perhaps due to this excursion being entirely of my choosing, I can¡¯t find the previous fears within me.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± the few noble guests near the entrance of the Laroche Estate quickly curtsey in greeting.

    The Laroche estate is a greying mansion, the elements turning the off-white paint a darker hue. But it does little to obscure the magnificent wealth thates from working in the Treasury. The curling arches and delicate filigree are reminiscent of the imperial pce to a lesser degree. My eyes run over the well-trimmed hedges, shaped to perfection by gardeners who no doubt work every day to maintain its elegance. The estate is surely not thergest of all nobles in the capital, Emma has told me in confidence that there are several ones that eclipse this Laroche estate.

    But for a baron? This home touches a grandeur and enjoys the kind of proximity to the imperial pce that an honest-to-goodness baron could never dream of possessing. Corruption, I think to myself as a wan smile spreads across my face. I¡¯m looking at the product of too little oversight on a bureau that directly manages the empire¡¯s currency, exchange rates, and major financial contracts. And I¡¯m turning a blind eye to it.

    Maria of the past would be appalled by my actions.

    As custom dictates, the visit of a guest from the imperial family requires the honored noble and his or her family members to personally emerge and greet them. Baron Laroche is away working, but I can spot two light-colored dresses emerging from the home with great haste. It is the Baronness Laroche and little Elsbeth, the exertion painting itself on their cheeks in a prominent red. On poor Baronness Laroche, who already applied blush, her cheeks are nearly as red as a clown¡¯s.

    .....

    ¡°Your highness, you are most kind to grace our humble home with your presence,¡± Baronness Laroche says, opening her mouth to reveal a tongue that has clearly been schooled in ttery.

    My appearance is kind of a big deal for them, not to brag or anything. It¡¯s like when a celebrity suddenly goes to a random shop and that little store bes the next hottest shop in the city. But this is a favor I am happy to grant to Baron Laroche, in hopes that it may inspire a little more loyalty in that dodgy little man. Not to mention, Ms. Laroche has been a diligent teacher to me all these years so doing her family a favor is the least I could do.

    I can practically hear Ms. Laroche in my head: ¡°Smile, kindly but not too kindly. Tell them to rise. Enter on the right side of the door behind the hosts. And sp your hands, your highness! You are not amoner to walk in such an uncouth manner!¡±

    Thinking of my etiquette teacher turned governess makes my smile for the mother and daughter pair a slight bit more generous as I follow them into theirvish home. Nervousness seems toe from little Elsbeth in waves. I know she¡¯d just invited me out of courtesy to the imperial family and had not expected me to actually arrive. I¡¯ve been receiving invitations for years and never showing up so it must surely be a formality for most noble girls by now.

    She clutches at the dusty yellow skirt of her puffy tea dress, her eyes flitting towards me and away from me. Elsbeth is not alone in such behavior, however. The other guests who arrived at the same time as myself linger behind us in awe, maintaining a couple¡¯s feet distance on the carpeted rug that leads deeper into the home. They are children indeed. No matter how much training they¡¯ve received, this sort of unexpected circumstance is not one they could¡¯ve foreseen or prepared for.

    ¡°The princess is here? I can scarcely believe it. I don¡¯t suppose she¡¯s evere to any tea party anyone has hosted before, has she?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s pretty. Mummy never told me she was pretty.¡±

    ¡°Pretty or not, you know what she is.¡±

    Thest voice is harsh and firm, silencing all the curious voices behind me. I smirk to myself as we emerge from the home to a backyard the size of a park, ensconced in a hedge taller than the terrifying Sir Berrick. Sweet, little white tables covered in name cards. have been erected across thewn, with a maid diligently waiting beside each one. One especiallyes to me, guiding me personally to my seat at the head table where Elsbeth is seated.

    ¡°The weather was so lovely that I arranged for us to pass our tea outside. I hope that is alright with you all,¡± Elsbeth says generously as everyone is seated. She has a sweet look, that little Elsbeth. Her gap teeth and wide green eyes give her the kind of honest appearance people favor in children. At the same time, her words are crisp and she has the demeanor of a well-mannered child.

    ¡°I have always preferred to take my tea outside when possible,¡± I say, helping her out a little. Our table has 3 other girls besides ourselves and none of them seemed keen on speaking up to back up Elsbeth.

    ¡°Of course she¡¯s ustomed to eating outdoors,¡± I hear someone mutter from a table nearby. It¡¯s the same voice I¡¯d heard in the hallway earlier. My interest piqued, I look over my shoulder for the culprit and am not disappointed.

    Leana Bryce is a face I haven¡¯t seen for a few years, but puberty hasn¡¯t begun to work its magic on her so she still looks very much the same. She has the same long, brown hair as the mother, although shecks the overly ingratiating expression Lady Bryce had permanently installed on her face whenever she spoke to the empress. The girl has a haughty look on her face, one that evidently looks down on my status as a formally recognized bastard.

    I don¡¯t suppose she¡¯s heard the news yet of her impending nuptials to my soon-to-be business partner. To think fate would be kind enough to grant me the opportunity to deliver the exciting news to the bride to be herself is enough to make me smile kindly in her direction.

    The girl scoffs and rolls her eyes, her hairstyle which matches my own flying over her shoulder as she whips around to face her cronies. Her family¡¯s rank isn¡¯t particrly high, Lord Bryce is a viscount, however, as her mother is the empress¡¯ right hand, her family enjoys elevated status as a result. Not that Lord Bryce appreciates his wife¡¯s efforts as he happily raises his illegitimate heir in the countryside.

    Let¡¯s hear it for the bastards, am I right?

    Light conversation floats over the tables as the first cups of tea are poured. Nina personally handles my own as a safety precaution. She draws a few stares but works diligently, not allowing emotions to creep over her face.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± Elsbeth says, breaking the silence of our table. ¡°Thank you foring to my tea party. I was delighted when I received your RSVP.¡±

    ¡°The pleasure is all mine. Ms. Laroche has been so diligent in her tutge I wished to meet the rest of her family to see what you are like. Suffice to say, I have not been disappointed,¡± I calmly respond, taking a sip. Notes of honeysuckle and brown sugar dance across my tongue.

    ¡°Your hairstyle looks lovely, your highness,¡± another girl in a petal colored dress and bo chimes in softly. I do not recognize her, but her family¡¯s rank must be important to be seated at the host table. Soft ck ringlets encircle her cherubic, brown face, a hairstyle poprized by Julia.

    ¡°Why, thank you,¡± I respond. Marie was indeed right about this hairdo being thetest trend amongst noble girls. I look at her somewhat expectantly before she takes the cue to introduce herself.

    She smiles pleasantly, a PR smile that denotes high familial training in etiquette and formalities. ¡°It was rude of me not to introduce myself. My name is Antonia Bourdain. My father was Baron Bourdain and my mother is Patricia Grace.¡± Thest sentence evokes total silence from all the conversing tables, although I take not of how she said ¡°was¡± rather than ¡°is¡±. Antonia lowers herself into an elegant curtsey, her gold jewelry winking prettily in the sunlight and against her deeper skintone.

    ¡°How interesting,¡± I murmur with the faintest of smiles, the kind that one would have difficulty interpreting the emotions behind it.

    Internally, I mentally quirk up an eye brow at a name that evokes a st from the past. Baron Bourdain is in fact the traitorous minister who yed a cataclysmic role in the Erudian-Sarsavalian War that had killed thousands of citizens and given birth to the new and improved Winter. Refugees disced by the war still trickle in to this day and nobles still host charity gs and events under the excuse of helping protect disced citizens.

    As for the traitorous noble himself? His whereabouts are unbeknownst to me, but neither hair nor hide of him has been witnessed within the entire empire in the past few years. Fascinatingly, despite his treason, the consequences of his treason did not extend to his family. I do remember hearing news of his wife, Patricia Grace, a daughter of thergest merchant family in the entire empire, gaining permission to promptly divorce him and then donate half of her vast fortune to the war effort as penance. As a result, much of the blowback did not affect the wealthy woman and her daughter, who was rumored to inherit her father¡¯s barony in wake of his mutiny.

    ¡°I do not run away from who I am,¡± Antonia says, her steady gaze never wavering from my own.

    She reminds me of myself, the quiet steel in her tone and her calm demeanor making her seem a few years older than the adolescent she really is. There is nothing but silence for several heartbeats, even the maids have stopped setting up the towers of colorful confections on each table.

    I rub absentmindedly at my tea cup, making up my mind as I identally stain myce gloves on a drop of tea that had escaped. Ms. Laroche¡¯s harsh re lingers in my mind as I hide my social gaffe under the table and discreetly signal to Nina to bring me another glove. A proper youngdy always travels with backup.

    ¡°Indeed, Antonia Bourdain does have a better ring to it than Antonia Grace,¡± I chuckle, breaking the tension that had lingered. As a member of the imperial family, Ms. Laroche has drilled it into me a thousand times that my treatment of others in public spaces is a reflection of the imperial attitude towards that House or family.

    Since it was the imperial will that the baron¡¯s abandoned family would remain respected members of high society then it stood to reason that there was no need for me to treat her any differently. After all, it wasn¡¯t as if she asked her father to betray the empire. Much like the idental tea stain on my glove, it was a circumstance that could only be handled with grace, no pun intended.

    Antonia smiles widely, her first genuine grin towards me. ¡°In that case, it would then be my most humble honor to invite you to attend the opening of the newest opera program with me tomorrow evening.¡±

    ¡°This tea party has hardly started and you are already trying to lure the princess away. She is my guest of honor!¡± Elsbeth quipped in a good-natured manner.

    Ninaes to whisper in my ear at this moment. ¡°The imperial family already has a schedule to attend the opera tomorrow night, your highness.¡±

    It¡¯s the kind of news I should¡¯ve known about days if not weeks ago.

    ¡°And why was I not informed of this earlier?¡± I hiss back through clenched teeth. I have a bad taste in my mouth that is not from the tea I¡¯m drinking.

    But to the others I smile generously. ¡°As my luck would have it, my family shall be attending the opening of the opera together tomorrow. But should you send me another engagement I¡¯d be delighted toe.¡±

    I know the gap in information is not Nina¡¯s doing, there are many more people who would be informed of an uing asion than my head attendant. Which leads to far more frightening implications ¨C that my chain of informants has been tampered with to the degree that I do not even know about important events in my schedule. This leaves me very little time to n or prepare any countermeasures.

    A deliberate move? I would assume so. The snake hidden in the tall grass rattles her tail, signalling to her prey that she is about to attack.

    In the corner of my eye, I can see Leana smirking at our cheerful conversation and a little ideaes to mind. Because if nothing else, I ought to make sure the empress chokes while trying to swallow me whole.

 Chapter 154

    Chapter 154: [Bonus chapter]Ch. 153: Angel and Devil

    A shadow descends upon our happy conversation, quite literally. It is Leana, to no one¡¯s surprise. She possesses a tact most mean girlsck, which is the sole praise I will ever give her. The voice dripping in disdain has been washed clean, reced by a tone that is lighthearted and almost sweet.

    ¡°Greetings, your highness. I am d to see you at this tea party. How fares Princess Julia? It has been a long time since Ist saw her.¡±

    Her tone is polite, but the question is disrespectful. It¡¯s like biting into a cream puff and tasting mayonnaise. But despite the whispers that arise with her question, her carefully crafted smile does not waver.

    She is her mother¡¯s daughter. Had Lady Bryce not smiled at me the same as I¡¯d been forced to hold the boiling hot tea cup?

    ¡°My dearest sister is in fine health, just focusing on her studies at the moment. I will be sure to pass on your well wishes, Miss...¡± I deliberately trail off, as if she is not important enough for me to recall her name.

    ¡°Miss Bryce. We¡¯ve actually met-¡± she quickly tries to add, but I don¡¯t give Leana a chance.

    I cut her off with a sly smile of my own. ¡°It¡¯s wonderful to meet you properly, Miss Bryce.¡±

    .....

    ¡°Well met, your highness,¡± she says through lips struggling to maintain their cheerful curvature. ¡°As I was saying, I do believe we have met once or twice before. I am a close friend of Julia¡¯s.¡±

    Close enough to know of her plot to have me killed during the hunt? That is what I want to ask, but instead I just shake my head in a bashful manner.

    ¡°Unless you frequent the pce grounds often, I¡¯m afraid I wouldn¡¯t have had much opportunity to see you,¡± I murmur shyly.

    A faint blush arises on my face, but no one would realize it¡¯s from the hot cup of tea rather than the secondhand embarrassment of pointing out to Leana that she is not important as she thinks she is. Visiting rules for nobility have often been notoriously strict for centuries, only those of the highest rank or with special permissions are able to visit asionally.

    The other girls titter lightly behind their hands, having caught on to the underlying implications of my words. But I know it isn¡¯t out of support for me. It¡¯s out of support for the imperial family. As of yet, no one knows me. But just like with Leana, I am more than happy to introduce myself to the up-anding members of high society today.

    Leana bristles and I relish at the sight. I can read the young girl¡¯s face like a book, her mind flipping through different ways to insult me without being outwardly disrespectful of an imperial family member. It¡¯s a game of appearances, to give people one thing on the surface and another underneath. Leana¡¯s fingers curl into a fist as her smile bes sickly sweet.

    ¡°Since birth, it is true I¡¯ve only had the privilege to visit the imperial pce on a few, rare asions. Such is my fate as someone with lower birth.¡±

    Thest sentence she tacks on after a bit of hesitation, an obvious, deliberate jab at my low birth. The entire yard goes silent. Leana has taken this game a touch too far. But I don¡¯t mind as she¡¯s only set up the very conversation I was hoping for.

    ¡°Fret not, Leana. May I call you Leana?¡± I say with a casual wave of my hand, a redundant question moreso meant to remove the niceties between us. If I wanted to call her a pig, I could. If I wanted to call her a trollop, I could.

    ¡°One¡¯s rank is always flexible is it not? From generation to generation, one¡¯s fortune can change like the wind or the tide. Your mother married well to grant you an upbringing of greater rank than herself. A low birth is nothing to scoff at. One¡¯s character and morals far outweigh such things.¡± The barb of her mother¡¯s status being slightly lower than her father¡¯s, a cause for light scandal several years ago, was artfully buried in between high-sounding titudes.

    ¡°That is difficult to argue against.¡±

    ¡°She speaks well, the princess.¡±

    There was delicate chatter in agreement. Even though one¡¯s birth is obviously a criticalponent of one¡¯s ce in society, it appeared crass to ce full importance on that criteria. There were nobles of lower rank whose importance in the empire far outweighed that of those of higher rank. Take the Duchy of Mulworth, a cause of much grief in my earlier years. Aside from possessing arger territory than most, Duke Taylor¡¯s impact within the empire was weak inparison to Count Koberg or Baron Laroche.

    The clenched hands slowly loosen in defeat. It¡¯s a shame that Leana is too young for a good, verbal spar. But I¡¯m sure a few years by the wily Prince Amir¡¯s side will sharpen her skills.

    ¡°Thank you for educating me, your highness,¡± Leana says with a curtsey.

    ¡°It was my pleasure, Leana,¡± I reply with a kind grin as I emphasize her name. ¡°I do hope it serves you well across the Moor.¡±

    My words sound indifferent, as if I did not just throw a bomb at the end of our conversation. I turn back around in my seat and take a sip of tea as Leana Bryce digests the heavy words.

    ¡°Pardon... me? Y-Your highness?¡± I take an even longer sip of tea, only noticing Leana when Nina signals to me.

    ¡°Is something the matter?¡± My longshes p up and down, the picture of innocence and confusion.

    Leana Bryce steadies herself with an exhale. Her cronies on either side of her are still in shock looking between each other and me. ¡°If I may ask, can you please borate on yourst sentence? The one about... the Moor?¡±

    She hups as she speaks of the massive body of water that separates the empire from the Old Continent.

    ¡°For your impending nuptials. To Prince Amir,¡± I say like she should know what I¡¯m speaking of. As seconds pass and her face bes scrunched up as if she¡¯d sucked on a lemon, I allow a little bit of shock to bleed into my tone.

    ¡°Do you mean that... you don¡¯t know? Oh dear,¡± I fret. ¡°Your mother must not have had time to tell you.¡±

    Judging from the fact that Leana doesn¡¯t know, I¡¯d wager that her mother intended to keep her daughter in the blissful dark until thest possible moment before sending her off across the sea. Unfortunately for her, I am not of the same mind.

    ¡°M-Marriage?¡±

    I look side to side, as if just now noticing the enraptured crowd hanging onto our every word. Leaning in as if to seem considerate, I say, ¡°Perhaps we may continue this conversation in a more private setting.¡±

    ¡°No wonder Mama is so strangetely...¡± Leana is lost in her own world. I¡¯ve never had the privilege of watching someone¡¯s whole world fall down around them until now. It is not satisfying at all, in fact, it¡¯s rather bittersweet. Her or me, I remind myself. It was either her or me.

    Leana¡¯s eyes move back and forth in her head, beads of sweat tumbling down her hairline down her cheek. But finally, she gathers her wits about herself and straightens. Never forgetting her manners, she turns to Elsbeth and nods her head in a dignified manner.

    ¡°Miss Laroche, I¡¯m afraid I feel rather unwell. I shall have to take my leave early. Thank you for the invitation.¡±

    ¡°Yes of course!¡± Elsbeth chirps with wide, deer-in-headlight eyes. ¡°You there, escort Miss Bryce to her carriage!¡±

    ¡°Yes, Miss!¡± a maid waiting on the side chirps. Shees to Leana¡¯s side, helping the pale girl take steps across grass that seems to have be as unstable as quicksand beneath the shocked girl¡¯s feet.

    ¡°Miss Bryce!¡± Someone shrieks. Leana seems to look up at the sun beating down overhead, but it turns out to be a proper faint as her body crumbles beneath her.

    The maid awkwardly catches Leana¡¯s dress sleeve, which partially tears as Leana kisses the well-manicuredwn. Everyone is in a tizzy. A maid runs inside to fetch Lady Laroche, who had left us girls to our own affairs. Someone else yells for a doctor and I¡¯m certain I hear a girl or two burst into tears.

    In my eyes, these noble girls are soft. Soft and woefully overprotected. Or perhaps, I¡¯m too desensitized. I¡¯ve seen too many people die before my eyes to be affected by a mere faint. But I put on an act of rushing to Leana¡¯s side while cursing my luck. If I don¡¯t troubleshoot properly, tomorrow¡¯s gossip will im that I bullied the young Miss Bryce into a dead faint. Never mind the fact that she approached me first with ill intent and further inquired about the marriage. At the end of the day, it¡¯s all about perspective.

    So right now, I rush to her side with a look of great concern. ¡°Step aside, I shall heal her!¡±

    It¡¯s mere shock, the kind of fix that shouldn¡¯t cause me the slightest bit of pain, and yet I feel something painful flutter through my chest. Leana¡¯s eyes flutter open and I take a step back as other people converge around the awakened young miss.

    ¡°Leana are you alright? The princess just healed you! Be sure to thank her!¡± Antonia warns as she falls onto her knees next to Leana, bothforting the viscount¡¯s daughter and reminding her of the proper etiquette.

    I expect burning animosity in Leana¡¯s eyes when she turns to me with the aid of those near her. But there is none, just a strange mixture of defeat, resignation, and an emotion too confusing for me to decipher right at that moment.

    ¡°Thank you, your highness.¡± Leana¡¯s voice is as weak as a feather as she bows the elevated half of her body towards me.

    I shake my head. ¡°I was only doing what I could do. I am... sorry, Miss Bryce.¡± In a way, I am also apologizing for putting her in the position of being shipped out of the empire in ce of me.

    But with this knowledge in her hands, Leana can n in advance and guilt trip her mother. If Lady Bryce were to be truly tormented by her daughter¡¯s immense sense of betrayal in thesest few days before the Aidelish delegation takes to the sea, one cannot be certain she would continue to hold Empress Katya¡¯s best interests at heart. Especially after my people identally help her find out about Lord Bryce¡¯s bastard.

    Well done, the devil on my left shoulder praises as Leana once again teeters away.

    You ought to be ashamed, the angel on my right admonishes.

    Nina helps me rise from the floor and I teeter a bit, forcing her to catch hold of my right shoulder and in a way, brush the angel away. One step closer to saving yourself, the devil sings.

    I shoot up in bed wide awake in the dead of that night. Heartbreak. The emotion I¡¯d seen in Leana¡¯s eyes and in a way, felt, was heartbreak.

    I don¡¯t sleep for the rest of the night.

    My fingers rub against the ne Bianca imed once belonged to Winter¡¯s mother. There is great irony in carrying around the infinity symbol as I be short on time.

 Chapter 155

    Chapter 155: Ch. 154: Forbidden Magic

    ¡°You look tired, your highness,¡± Elias notices, his loyal butler Chester pushing him into the sitting room.

    The ornate room, which had seemed dull and lifeless all week, suddenly seem to brighten a tad as he is rolled right to the side of my couch as opposed to being seated on the opposing couch across from me. The proximity isforting. Most maids and servants are required to stand a certain distance away from all imperial family members, which can feel incredibly isting at times.

    I know, I know. I said I wouldn¡¯t see Elias again until my 12th birthday when he begs for forgiveness with a nice present. But this princess is also a loser with no friends so I have to make do with the few I have while Emma is off on assignment and I¡¯m stuck in a fugue about the tea party yesterday.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t your mother ever teach you not to tell ady that?¡± I snap, beforetently recalling that Elias¡¯ mother died at birth and could be a huge source of trauma for him.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I add immediately after, my anger disappearing in the face of contrition. I don¡¯t want to be one of those cliche princesses who are so caught up with themselves that theyck empathy and consideration for others.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Elias says, waving away thement as if it wasn¡¯t his mother I¡¯d identally insulted. He narrowly peers at me, his eyes seeing to peel backyers to unveil my true emotions. ¡°You seem... different. Did anything happen since Ist saw you?¡±

    ¡°Different, huh? You wouldn¡¯t believe it if I told you,¡± I sigh, thinking over the assassination attempt, my semi-disastrous foray into the younger circles of high society, and the struggles of acquiring a trade permit for coffee under my pseudonym of Pandora. If I revealed that Pandora was actually me, I¡¯m sure the process would be far easier. But then, all my business dealings would bemon knowledge to the public, leaving me open to condemnation and criticism. Running a business is seen as lower ss amongst the nobility.

    .....

    I tell Elias my struggles and by the end of my short, woeful summary, Elias is chuckling to himself, shaking his head as if he couldn¡¯t fathom what he had just heard.

    ¡°See, I told you you wouldn¡¯t believe me,¡± I pout, burying my face in an ivory couch pillow. It faintly smells like incense and the light perfume that is used on every article of furniture.

    ¡°Winter, I¡¯m notughing because I don¡¯t believe you. I¡¯mughing because I cannot believe how incredible you are.¡± His amethyst eyes burn a bit too bright as he speaks, as if he actually means what he says. I feel my cheeks warm. Compliments are a dime a dozen from maids who want to gain my favor, but I do not often hear sincere ones.

    ¡°You jest,¡± I say in a ¡°tell me more¡± kind of way.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare, your highness. You are truly brilliant,¡± Elias tells me in a serious voice.

    ¡°What did I tell you about calling me that?¡± I chide him in a yful manner as the topic meanders into the mundane and ordinary. A foolish nobleman blew through much of his inheritance on a few raucous nights at a Red House. The head constable of the Radovalsk police force had his pants pulled down by a nimble-fingered thief who sounds a little bit too much like Jack.

    ¡°I was put into music lessons recently,¡± I muse after I¡¯m tired ofughing from his stories.

    ¡°Oh?¡± Elias perks up.

    ¡°I¡¯m rubbish, obviously. One useless hand does make ying an instrument rather difficult. And singing is considered too lowly for me to learn,¡± I quickly exin lest he presumes me to be the next Mozart.

    He nods slowly, unfazed by my exnation. ¡°Music is useful to learn. Its structure is simr to magic.¡±

    ¡°Magic? Isn¡¯t that a taboo in this empire if it isn¡¯t used by a licensed physician, one of the Holy Church¡¯s people, or me?¡± I turn an inquisitive eye in his direction, silently ordering Elias to keep talking.

    He beckons me closer as if to share a secret with me. But I¡¯m disappointed when he just says, ¡°Magic is a force of nature, embedded in the very bones of this empire. It cannot be good or bad the same way water is not good or bad.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not quite the same. You need water to live, but you don¡¯t need magic to live,¡± I sigh, disappointed he¡¯s not informing me of anything new.

    ¡°Oh, but you do. Don¡¯t you need your bones to live?¡± He speaks of all this reasonably, as if we are discussing why birds fly or why water is wet.

    ¡°Look,¡± I sigh, feeling as if I¡¯m going in circles. ¡°I¡¯ve read all of the few books on magic the Imperial Library has. Magic does not y thatrge of a role in the Erudian Empire.

    ¡°Us Northerners, we are more forgiving when ites to magic. We know things those of you in the capital do not.¡± He¡¯s doing that infuriating thing he didst time where he pretends he knows everything.

    ¡°So will you tell me or will you keep dangling the carrot before me? If you won¡¯t say, I have other ways of finding out for myself. But I¡¯m sure you know that already, don¡¯t you, Elias?¡± A sh of old anger parks itself on the periphery of my emotions, demanding to be let through. ¡°Congrattions on winning your bet about whether or not theing-of-age ceremony would go smoothly. I suppose you don¡¯t have to leave the capital now,¡± I add snidely, referencing the bet we¡¯d made in the heat of ourst argument.

    ¡°I found no pleasure in winning, especially after you were wounded,¡± he confesses, his innocent face not appearing the least bit smug. But that too could just be a mask to hide his true intentions.

    ¡°How do you know I was hurt?¡± I ask, reflexively curling away from him on the sofa.

    ¡°I can see it. I can sense it. From the moment I entered, you¡¯ve had the energy and temperament of a recovering patient.¡± I rub at my neck where I¡¯m certain the wound has already disappeared.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m alive. And so is my father,¡± I bite back without my usual care for my words. Elias is sharp, catching my slip of tongue without skipping a beat.

    ¡°His Majesty was in danger?¡± His sped hands on hisp, which had been tapping out a tempo I could not follow, immediately paused mid-beat.

    ¡°That¡¯s none of your business.¡± But that purple energyes to mind and an ideaes to me. ¡°Wait. Forget birthday gifts. If you do this one thing for me, I will properly forgive you for your deceit.¡±

    ¡°Deceit?¡±

    ¡°I treated you as a friend, yet you only showed me a false version of yourself. Who knows how conniving and wicked you are under your gentle appearance?¡± I use lightly, peeping at Elias through myshes.

    ¡°The same could be said of yourself, your highness, for you are as lovely as you are devious. It is unfair to condemn me of such a crime,¡± he counters swiftly, not breaking eye contact with me.

    To a certain effect, his words do ring true. Moving through high society is like attending a constant masquerade ball, where dropping your mask for even a moment can have dire repercussions. But while knowing all this, I still remember the pang of hurt when he¡¯d turned his face so suddenly.

    I rise from the sofa and step close until I¡¯m towering over him in his wheelchair. ¡°I¡¯m a princess. I¡¯m a promised child. I¡¯m Pandora. And I¡¯m many more identities you couldn¡¯t possibly fathom. But one thing I have not been, is disingenuous in my interactions with you. You have gotten the most real version of me.¡± And you squandered her away.

    ¡°When will you show me the real you? The one tucked away in here,¡± I tap on his chest, ¡°plotting or whatever it is you are up to? What do you want, Elias? We can work together to achieve it.¡± I don¡¯t know when my voice acquired a stupid, pleading tone, but it¡¯s toote to change its course.

    ¡°Me?¡± Elias seems surprised at my question. ¡°What do I want? Not much I suppose. Just those who owe me to pay me my just dues,¡± he answers vaguely. But I can see something flicker behind those deep purple eyes that have been like a stone wall when it came to interpreting his emotions. There must be some truth to his answer which I can manage.

    If there had been none, I don¡¯t think I would ever speak to him again.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I should trust you. I don¡¯t know if I should avoid you,¡± I admit, not letting up on the physical intimidation.

    Elias clears his throat awkwardly. ¡°Do neither. Or the first. Maybe not the second. There are... very few in the capital I can call my friend as well.¡±

    ¡°A friend, huh? I used to have many of those too.¡± But the interrogation is over. The tense moment gains a brief reprieve as I back out of his space and pinch the bridge of my nose.

    ¡°Now where was I before you decided to show off how clever your tongue is?¡± I let out a sigh, but it¡¯s the freeing kind that leaves my chest feeling less blocked up than before.

    ¡°You had a favor to request of me in lieu of a gift,¡± Elias replies dutifully.

    I snap my fingers. ¡°That¡¯s right! I did. I have questions about something that, if you¡¯re caught it might get both of us in trouble, but would most definitely get you in trouble. Are you still open to hearing it?¡±

    ¡°Please share, Pandora.¡±

    ¡°Hmph. Just Winter.¡± But it¡¯s halfhearted, my mind already on the topic at hand. ¡°Forbidden magic,¡± I whisper with a flourish of my hands. ¡°There are no sources about it in the Imperial Library. But I have a feeling that it is present in the capital.¡±

    It¡¯s more than a feeling of course, as I quite literally slurped it up like spaghetti the other day to save my father¡¯s life. But there is only so much I should share with Elias.

    Elias lets out a huff that faintly sounds like a chuckle, his eyes gazing off into the distance. But his tone is sure and steady. ¡°I am yours tomand, Winter. If it is forbidden magic you wish to learn about, I shall see to it that you are satisfied.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm,¡± I hum nonchntly, unable to curtail the smile on my lips. ¡°I shall await your results with bated breath.¡± The air suddenly seems to smell sweeter, the weather feels warmer. Satisfaction is truly a feeling unlike any other.

    ¡°Sweet Winter, where do you hide?¡± A usually weed, but at the moment entirely unweed voice says. It¡¯s Augustus performing one of his spontaneous visits after sparring practice, when the path takes him right past the central pce and myself.

    ¡°Brother!¡± I chirp, taking a few steps away from Elias unconsciously. Augustus has grown tall, covering the steps from the door to the couches in a few, short steps. If it weren¡¯t for the fact that I¡¯d dismissed all maids thoroughly when Elias arrived, I would¡¯ve known he was on his way.

    Displeasure announces its presence on Augustus¡¯ handsome face, tugging the corner of his mouth downward. As summer readily approaches, a steady tan has begun to make itself known on his skin, making him look more rugged and grown. ¡°What is he doing in here? Unchaperoned. Unsupervised. Where is your nursemaid?¡±

    He suddenly looks and sounds so much like our father, although Emperor Helio has never spoken to me so.

    ¡°We are children. I need no chaperone,¡± I scoff to my older brother, barely suppressing an eye roll. I¡¯ve watched this scene often, where the father or older male chaperone walks in and indignantly barks at the offending male presence. But never in my life did I expect this to happen to me for the first time here and now in another world.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you always the first to remind me that childhood is a luxury we do not enjoy in this family?¡± He asks, purposefully stepping in between Elias and myself so I cannot see my wheelchair-boundpanion behind his towering figure. Irritation sparks up. I dislike the way Augustus throws past words back in my face.

    ¡°Well, it isn¡¯t your ce to worry about with whom and how I pass my time,¡± I use, crossing my arms and turning away to hide my embarrassment.

    ¡°And if I were to disagree? There is no ce in our home, in our empire, that isn¡¯t my ce,¡± he challenges in a soft yet unforgiving tone. Augustus wears a smile, but his eyes look between the two of us, carrying the zing torch of suspicion.

    It is now I realize, Elias is not the only one who¡¯s changed from my initial impression. For this is not the easily manipted crown prince who gave in to my whims when I held a letter opener to my throat. Not. At. All.

    I don¡¯t know if I should be proud or worried.

 Chapter 156

    Chapter 156: Ch. 155: Red Carpet

    I¡¯m still sulking at the interruption as I enter my carriage in the long string of carriages lined up along the imperial pce¡¯s official entrance. The stars twinkle overhead, much like the crushed gems sprinkled over the iridescent silver fabric of the lovely opera dress and gloves Lady Arabe personally designed for me. I am in thest carriage, furthest away from the gates we are about to drive through. My father is obviously first, followed closely by the empress and the crown prince.

    So revenge on Augustus will have to wait if I even bother.

    It¡¯s weird, the mix of pride, annoyance, and wariness churning in my belly as a footman aids me in climbing into the cushioned interior. When Augustus had scolded me about having a boy in my apartments without supervision, he¡¯d not only felt like a real heir to the throne but a big brother as well. But the excitement of thising-of-age moment for Augustus does not pair well with the healthy helping of embarrassment as Elias watched our tiff with a knowing smirk. Just remembering that has me burying my face in my elbow-length gloves.

    ¡°Your highness, are you nervous?¡± Sage asks. In the faint moonlighting through the windows, she stares at me with an attentive, sweet expression.

    ¡°No,¡± I reply, straightening up with a smile. ¡°I¡¯m terribly excited.¡±

    ¡°As am I! To think that we would both enjoy our first opera together!¡± she ps. I¡¯m certain that underneath her false exterior, she is just as unenthused as I am.

    I tap at my chin. ¡°Tell me what you¡¯ve heard of the opera, anything will do,¡± I request eagerly.

    .....

    ¡°My aunt told me that lights shine like it¡¯s daytime in there, all facing the stage. The costumes are a work of art, the singing exceptional. She told me she shed a tear watching,¡± Sage answers with a wistful look outside the window. I ponder on how much she said is a lie.

    ¡°It sounds beautiful. It is a shame this is the sole outing we shall have as a family to the opera,¡± I softlyin.

    ¡°¡®Tis a celebration of the fine arts of the empire, your highness. While the imperial family attends officially once a year, you are wee to go more often if you so choose. You shall be able to enjoy this spectacle many more for years toe.¡± Her attempt tofort me goes in one ear and out the other. If she and her true mistress have it their way, I will only have a few more years to enjoy the opera.

    I nod like a bird pecking at wood, then dete. ¡°But...¡± I start, allowing my voice to trail off.

    ¡°But what, your highness?¡± Even Sage¡¯s bug-eyed blink is irritating.

    ¡°My sister. She¡¯sing today,¡± I admit. In fact, Julia is rumbling along to the Chrysanthemum Opera House in the carriage just before mine. As this is an official imperial family outing, much like the huntingpetition, Julia¡¯s presence is required. While I had been lucky enough to enjoy the Blessing Day ceremonies without her presence earlier this season, s, much like how the sun cannot shine every day of the year, the imperial family cannot spend every day of the year without one of its princesses.

    Julia¡¯s presence does not help with the annoyance that has been simmering in me all day. All it has done is remind me that my crazy half-sister basically got away with nearly murdering me without any real consequences.

    A warm hand suddenly grasps mine. Sage leans across her side of the carriage towards me with perhaps the most sincere expression I¡¯ve ever seen her muster.

    ¡°Family is family, your highness.¡± She manages to drop the sappy one-liner without budging, an Oscar-worthy performance indeed.

    Her grip is firm so I don¡¯t try to wriggle out of it.

    ¡°Are you close to your family, Sage?¡± I ask instead.

    ¡°Very, your highness. My sister and I, we fought often of course, but at the end of the day, we are of the same blood,¡± she says warmly.

    I squeeze her hand like we are friends and smile back. ¡°Did your sister ever try to kill you?¡±

    Sage opens and closes her mouth like a fish. ¡°More than once?¡± I add as she gapes in silence. She tries to pull her hand back but I hold on tight.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know how awful people can be, Sage. Sometimes, people can smile right in your face and have bad intentions toward you. Sometimes, those who are closest to you wish you the most ill. The most unpredictable thing in the world is the human heart.¡± I tap at my own heart for dramatic effect. ¡°Right here.¡±

    Sage seems a little bbergasted, before nodding along. So I decide to throw in a little bait to increase her interest.

    ¡°That is why I¡¯ve taken certain measures to learn of people¡¯s intentions before they can act to harm me,¡± I smugly add as if it¡¯s an afterthought and not a deliberate statement to entice her.

    ¡°Your highness... your highness? Whatever do you mean by that?¡± Sage squeaks, eager to hear me divulge more information. I can practically hear the caching of a slot machine hitting jackpot as she struggles to disguise her rabid hunger for intel as casual interest.

    I tease her some more, opening my mouth as if I¡¯m about to tell her about my spy operations before ¡®suddenly¡¯ bing enthralled with something outside my window.

    ¡°Oh, we must be close! Look at all the people!¡± I paste myself to the window, looking out at the throngs who have gathered to catch a glimpse of the imperial family.

    ¡°Yes, there are so many of them. But your highness-¡± she stutters, trying to reel the topic back to her desired subject.

    I pat my hair as if I¡¯m worried about my appearance. ¡°Tell me, Sage, how do I look? Has my hair held up during this carriage ride?¡±

    ¡°It has, your highness. But actually, you were just mentioning-¡± she starts to say, before she gets cut off by a knock on the window by a footman. There is no more use in begging, because it is time for us to enter the finest opera house in the entirend, sponsored by the imperial family.

    The sheer increase in volume as the door opens is almost overwhelming. I¡¯m still struggling to adjust to the public part of being a princess, even whilst ying the asional puppet role of the promised child for the Holy Church. Women wave handkerchiefs, men tip their hats. It¡¯s the evening, my first public outing with the family during the night, yet there somehow seem to be even more people now than during the daytime for an asion such as Blessing Day.

    ¡°The people of this empire have a true passion for the arts,¡± I faintly murmur to Sage as I struggle to keep my face from wincing at the onught of sound and attention. Get a grip, I tell myself, you¡¯ve done this before! You¡¯ve done this so many times and you¡¯re still acting like a rookie!

    I squeeze my hand in my glove and suck in a deep breath before waving at the gathered people. The lights erected along the carpeted walkway into the exclusive entrance for the imperial family shine against the flecks of diamond on my gloves of rare silk. It is surreal to reflect on the amount of danger and blood I¡¯ve survived to enjoy such opulence.

    As I am the youngest and thest to arrive via carriage, I thankfully do not have to spend too much time waving before rushing to catch up with the rest of my family ahead of me on the carpet. Julian shes his trademark, heartthrob grin, causing a woman to faint. Julia stays close to Empress Katya¡¯s side and sulks in a magenta dress with tulleyers so delicate they resemble a flower. The empress hugs her close, ying the part of a loving mother as she waves to the people. Then she turns and waves to me, beckoning me toe closer.

    Tell me, if a rattlesnake shook its tail at you, would you approach it or run?

    I fall still in the middle of the carpet and the empress smiles even wider, her red lips dazzling in the low light. It¡¯s a knowing smile, the kind your mom shows you she knows you did something dumb and she¡¯s just waiting for you to admit it. My insides twist out of sheer habit while my outside smiles lovingly back. I even crinkle the corner of my eyes for extra emphasis.

    Sage cannot follow me onto the carpet, instead staying on the fringe with the other staff who have apanied us. But if she were here, she would notice the fat drops of perspiration umting at my hairline and sense that something was wrong.

    ¡°Come,¡± a voice says suddenly. It¡¯s Augustus, having walked from where he was broodingly standing beside our father to approach me. ¡°The opera is a bore, but from the special imperial box we can stare down at everyone and judge them.¡±

    I cannot help the snicker thates out. ¡°Judge them on what? Their outfits? Their ability to dictate who their sister can and cannot spend time with?¡± In front of us, Julian casts an unreadable look in our direction over his shoulder before entering the quiet stairway that leads to the imperial box.

    Augustus taps his chin yfully, his dark formal suit a bing look with his tanned skin and dark hair. ¡°I was thinking more along the lines of determining which faction they are a part of and how much dirty money they are epting behind closed doors.¡±

    ¡°That does sound a touch more fun,¡± I admit. The names on lists Emma has presented to me over the years run through my head, organizing themselves categorically into those who partake in the Erudian Empire¡¯svish arts scene and those who do not.

    It¡¯s weird, but just thinking analytically helps me calm down, my breathing out more smooth and less choppy than before. The lovers of the opera amongst the nobility are typically associated with the Duvernay faction due to the empress having sponsored many of the stars who will perform on the stage tonight.

    ¡°I have something to tell you. About Julian and about... those who he associates with,¡± I whisper to Augustus suddenly, wishing to tell him about thendmine involving Julian that I stumbled upon recently. But my words get swallowed up as the door gets shut behind us and the wailing crowd disappears.

    ¡°What was that?¡± Augustus asks as we make our way up the stairs, bending his looming stature towards me.

    ¡°N-nothing. You look sharp tonight for once. You usually dress like a farmhand.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯d wager I fight better than one, at least. Take my hand so you don¡¯t slip,¡± Augustus instructs me, taking my poor attempt at humor in stride. ¡°This stairway hasn¡¯t been renovated in about 50 years.¡±

    I bite my lip, slightly annoyed that I didn¡¯t repeat myself. But my confidence balked when I recalled how Emma told me not to pry. Even though Augustus has grown a lot, I¡¯m not sure if he has grown enough to tackle whatever mysteries Julian has tangled himself in. This conspiracy, howeverrge it may be, is a stillke that no doubt hides many horrors beneath it. I¡¯ve studied enough politics to know that whatever it may be could be dangerous, even for a crown prince.

    But even if I don¡¯t want to seek out the truth behind this conspiracy, those involved in it sit amongst tonight¡¯s crowd, hungry for a show.

 Chapter 157

    Chapter 157: Ch. 156: Titanic

    ¡°Over there, that¡¯s Antonia. We met yesterday,¡± I tell my older brother as we peer over the crowd from our elevated box. Typically, there is assigned seating for events attended as the imperial family. But as it is rather difficult to see us from this perch once we sat down after our presence was announced to the packed opera house, there is more freedom in where we choose to sit, hence why I am beside Augustus and Julia is beside her mother.

    Augustus scrunched his face. ¡°Bourdain?¡±

    ¡°Yes. But they no longer share any connection,¡± I quickly point out. Much like myself, she never had any choice in who her father is.

    It¡¯s a touch dark but I can still see Augustus¡¯ smirk. ¡°Look at you speaking in her defense. You must already be good friends,¡± heughs. He is right in a way.

    We are in a room jam-packed with esteemed individuals from around the Erudian Empire, many still in town from the crown prince¡¯s disastrousing-of-age ceremony, yet I only notice the youngsters. Meanwhile, Duke Finn murmurs into the ear of his evening date, a recent debutante whose name I cannot remember but one who was prominently spoken of as the most eligible bachelorette of this slow social season. Janice, or more precisely, the fat jewel fashioned into a choker that adorns her neck, is burning my eyes with how much it glitters from the front row. I know she will be the talk of the town tomorrow. Chancellor Duvernay¡¯s seat is so close to our elevated box seat that I bet if I sat over the edge, it would be a bull¡¯s eye.

    ¡°Nonsense,¡± I spout shyly, turning my attention across the rest of the expansive house. ¡°That¡¯s Elsbeth over there. The host. She is kind as well.¡±

    ¡°Ah, to be young again when everyone was kind,¡± my brotherments.

    .....

    ¡°You are not even 20 years old yet,¡± I deadpan, raising an eyebrow. What is it with kids pretending to be older than they are? But rather than hearing whatever jovial response Augustuses up with, an unwee voice joins the idle conversation.

    ¡°Some people are older in spirit. Wouldn¡¯t you agree, Winter?¡± Julian suddenly pipes up. He has a strange smirk on his face, no doubt from butting into the conversation and alluding to a topic only he and I would ever know.

    I pull out a tried and true card from my middle school days, scrunching up my forehead and looking at Augustus in confusion.

    ¡°Did you hear that? It sounded like a bug or something.¡± I squint as if searching for a fly in the air.

    ¡°Very funny, Winter,¡± Julian chides.

    I snap my fingers in a eureka moment. ¡°There it is again! Such an irritating sound.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t pay it any mind,¡± Augustus says, trying and failing to bite his lp to hold a chuckle.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I tell Augustus firmly before my eyes slide to the annoying individual seated beside him. ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±

    The lights dimpletely, cutting away from a face that looks as untrustworthy as I had feared the first time I met him. I sometimes think back on those days, when I¡¯d spoken to Julian at the shrine and thought I had another ally in my corner. Instead, I¡¯d found a snake. A smart snake solely dedicated to his own desires and involved in events beyond my understanding.

    The curtains rise on the stage before us. A few minutes in and I can already smell a tragedy brewing.

    Two lovers from different social sses fall in love after a chance encounter, a noble daughter and a cobbler. She confesses her love to her father, but he rejects the cobbler in favor of a family friend with a son who¡¯d juste of age. They are betrothed against her will and the cobbler is forcibly conscripted into the army due to her father¡¯s influence. In order to be worthy of marrying his bride, the cobbler fights hard in the war, bing injured on enemy territory and presumed dead. The noble daughter takes his death hard and throws herself from a tower to her death.

    Meanwhile, he takes the chance to assassinate the enemy and bes auded victor. After the war, he returns a decorated general to his beloved¡¯s home. But all he finds are mourning shrouds and a grieving family. Right on the doorstep, he stabs the sword he used to kill his enemy into his heart, proiming that, ¡°To live without my love is like living without sight, sound, touch, or emotion. I am already a corpse, but for my beating heart.¡± He fell to the ground, bringing the local townspeople to weep at the sorrow of unfulfilled love.

    ¡°Bootleg Romeo and Juliet,¡± I snort under my breath, amidst sniffles from the packed opera house. I take off an itchy opera glove so I can scratch my face without mucking up the fine silk. The set changes and the male lead and female lead emerge once again amidst clouds and are dressed in white. Apparently, now they are angels in heaven, proiming that at least in Helio¡¯s realm, they may finally be together again.

    ¡°At least she is talented. What is her name?¡± I ask as the female lead disys an impressive vocal talent that I can appreciate from my days in my church and school choir.

    But Augustus is transfixed by the performance, his eyes baring a shiny sheen that I¡¯m all too familiar with. If this was enough to make him emotional, just imagine if he watched a sad movie from my world, like The Notebook or Titanic. There would be enough tears to fill up the fountain in Winnifred za.

    In boredom, I look across the row of seats in the imperial box. Julian looks simrly bored, although he¡¯s mastered the college stare of looking attentively while his head wanders off to God knows where. Julia clutches her handkerchief to her breast and sneaks loving nces at Augustus, causing bile to rise in my throat. Empress Katya attentively watches through a pair of gilded binocrs on a stick, but no emotions flicker across her face. She¡¯s just as good of an actor as the people on stage. Only one chair is empty, my father¡¯s.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to freshen up,¡± I say to no one in particr. ¡°Sage. Come.¡± I bark as I sweep out in my tinsel-colored dress, enjoying the cooler air of the narrow halls that connect all the elevated box seats like vines.

    ¡°Yes, your highness!¡± she chirps as she flies after me.

    ¡°Did you see my father leave?¡± I ask Sage conversationally.

    She nods like a woodpecker. ¡°Yes! He exited the box around 10 to 20 minutes ago.¡±

    ¡°And he¡¯s still not back?¡± I mutter to myself. Obviously, he did not just leave to go relieve himself.

    I¡¯m split between looking for where he may have disappeared to and just going to thedy¡¯s room as nned. On one hand, I¡¯m followed by a literal spy who will no doubt report whatever we find to the empress¡¯ ear. On the other... hold on. There is no other hand. I¡¯m getting ahead of myself again, hungering for a taste of danger after enjoying a period of tentative peace.

    I shake my head and stalk towards the rest room annoyed with myself. But true to form, trouble finds me. Or rather, I find trouble, in the form of a face I thought I would never, ever see again for the rest of my life.

    Lord Bromely. In the flesh.

    Lightning shes under my skin and I flinch, catching Sage by surprise. The darkened halls that still echo with song feature the men¡¯s room anddy¡¯s room only a couple feet apart from the each other. He leans against the wall beside the men¡¯s room, waiting in leisure as my heartbeat kicks into overdrive.

    I want to duck out of sight behind a velvet red curtain, but that would just signal to Sage that something is amiss. I see her eyes briefly wander to the older man, who is clearly standing in the hall as if waiting for something, but there is no sh of recognition.

    He hasn¡¯t spotted me yet. But there is no saying what could happen if he does notice me, and worst of all, engages me in conversation. Do I turn back? Do I keep going and pray for the best case scenario, that Lord Bromely pretends he doesn¡¯t know who I am?

    I draw arge nk when ites to my father¡¯s former mentor who turned him from a meek bastard son to the blood drenched conqueror he is today. Tracking his movements are near impossible with my still juvenile spywork, it¡¯s like the man has been a ghost ever since that day he tried to entice me at the Tower. ording to the webnovel, he and my father had a tumultuous end to their rtionship, one that resulted in him being ousted from his cushy government role and into a life on the constant run. Yet, here he stands, a picture of good health and calcted patience.

    ¡°Your highness?¡± Shit. I¡¯ve been still for too long.

    Lord Bromely rises from the wall as if he heard her voice and the walls begin to cave in on me. But the door to the men¡¯s room swings open as Finn strolls out.

    ¡°Your Eminence,¡± Lord Bromely greets in the deep voice that had hung at the edge of my dreams and nightmares, leaving both indistinguishable from the other.

    ¡°Thank you for waiting,¡± Finn, no, the Duke of Avernall, says with an easy grin that he had shed at me a thousand times at the Rose Pce as he shakes Lord Bromely¡¯s waiting hand. Hisdy friend is no where in sight. As if I am invisible, the two turn and disappear down the opposite end of the halls with obvious familiarity.

 Chapter 158

    Chapter 158: Ch. 157: Intermission

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t that Duke Finn I saw just now?¡± I say to Sage with a naive lilt to my tone.

    She nods obediently. ¡°However, I do not recognize who he was with, your highness.¡±

    Hearing the verbal confirmation from her releases some tension in my chest. I smile wanly and say, ¡°There are so many nobles sequestered in this capital. One could throw a rock out their window and identally hit an earl.¡±

    It¡¯s an old joke about how concentrated the center of power is in the capital, one that teases a grin from Sage.

    ¡°Will you still be going to thedy¡¯s room?¡± she asks, referencing my earlier excuse that I nearly forgot about.

    ¡°Oh? Oh, yes. Yes, I will. Keep watch. Don¡¯t let any riffraff in or it¡¯ll be your head.¡± My words sound like a joke, but only I know they aren¡¯t.

    I bite a nail as I do my business, my hands temporarily free from the excessively long opera gloves. Finn is no longer the easy-going knight of the royal guard whose intentions were unquestionable. Now he¡¯s a duke with his own politics and interests, and it appears some of those interests may fall in line with Lord Bromely, who leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

    .....

    It¡¯s like a taunt, for the old man to present right beneath my father¡¯s nose. The extent of his hidden connections and power are unfathomable, like an ancient tree with roots extending miles in every direction. If it were to be uprooted, would it cause the ground to be unstable and crumble?

    I¡¯ve paid enough attention in history ss to know that such an environment creates a fertile ground for rebellion and uprising. Instead of just myself being beheaded, the entire family could be put to the guillotine like in France. Or we could be mere figureheads like the British monarchy, trotted out like show ponies every now and then to please the public.

    But then again, the devil on my shoulder whispers in my ear, chaos breeds opportunity. Opportunity I should take advantage of while I still have the narrow window of opportunity.

    ¡°Goddamnit, why did I have to be a princess?¡± I curse to myself, burying my face in my hands. Why could I just be the beloved daughter of some rich but inconsequential nobleman? Why me?

    ¡°Your highness?¡± Sage knocks on the door.

    ¡°Not now!¡± I call back. My pity party has only just begun.

    I expect to hear her footsteps walking away, but she knocks again. ¡°Your highness, there appears to be a disturbance of some sort. It would be wise for you to return to the imperial box seat.¡±

    ¡°A disturbance?¡± In a sh, I finish up my affairs and open the door. ¡°What sort of disturbance?¡±

    Sage looks frazzled, her hands wringing at the fabric of her dress like she can¡¯t wait to run away.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t quite sure. But it would be good for us to leave as soon as possible.¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± I answer obediently. The small privy room was not the best setting for a proper pity party anyways. We emerge into the same hallways I¡¯d previously had the shock of my life, but there isn¡¯t a soul present. But as the door shuts with a click behind us, I can hear what Sage spoke of. It¡¯s muffled, but there is most certainly an altercation of some sort in the hallways ahead of us, one involving multiple people.

    Rather than turning heel and running away, I try to pick my way through the multiple sounds, which seem to just be muffled thuds and low curses. No weaponry has been unsheathed yet.

    ¡°You are not afraid?¡± Sage asks directly in my ear, surprisingly me out of my careful analysis of the fight. For someone who is secretly experienced inbat, Sage is quite good at pretending to be a timid mouse. It¡¯s almost like we¡¯ve swapped roles, her and I.

    ¡°I... am experienced in this sort of matter,¡± I tell her loosely. ¡°The fight seems to be winding down. Shall we go see what the matter was?¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound safe, your highness. I would advise that we return to the box as soon as we can.¡± The opera seems to agree as their singing swells to a crescendo that I can hear even from these back hallways.

    ¡°Do you ever have those moments,¡± I ask suddenly. ¡°Where you thought you knew someone and it turned out you didn¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°Your highness?¡± Sage stares at me like I¡¯ve sprouted another head on my shoulders.

    ¡°People are fickle,¡± I mutter bitterly, a bleach blonde Dukeing to mind.

    ¡°They can be, but it¡¯s always to your benefit to seek the good in others. That is what-¡±

    ¡°Your mother told you? Or your aunt?¡± I interrupt. The fight really is quieting down in front of us. ¡°I like you Sage. I really do.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, your highness,¡± Sage responds. I can practically hear her blush in her tone.

    ¡°I like you a whole lot more than Emma. You are more fun. You are smarter. You understand me in a way that she didn¡¯t.¡± I take her hand. The warmth of her palm permeates through the thin gloves and I faintly wonder if she¡¯s ever killed anyone with these hands that are still small like my own. ¡°I wish to have you be one of my attendants so you can attend more official events with me in the future.¡±

    ¡°Your highness!¡± Sage gushes. I¡¯m sure my every word is like music to her ears.

    ¡°But for me to make that kind of decision. I need to be sure that you are loyal to me. You understand don¡¯t you? I already know your heart is true to me but I just wish to be certain beyond any doubt. ¡± I pat the back of her hand slowly.

    ¡°What would you have me do?¡± she asks with an eagerness that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. ¡°I need you to...¡± I lean in and whisper mymand in her ear, delighting in the way her eyesically widen into circles.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± she squeals again, with far less excitement than the first.

    I give her back an innocent, clueless look of my own. ¡°Am I asking too much of you? Of course, of course. How could I have been so foolish to think we were so close-¡±

    ¡°No! I mean, it is not a problem for me fulfill your... request, your highness,¡± Sage ekes out, making a face like I just told her to chew broken ss. If only my request of her was so easy.

    We return to thedy¡¯s room, where I promptly knock over a decorative floral vase. The crash to the floor makes my heart jump as I anticipate that whiches next.

    ¡°Go on,¡± I urge. ¡°Pick it up!¡±

    She bends down and picks up thergest shard, one with a wicked pointed edge that draws blood on her exposed finger immediately. It¡¯s funny, how calm I am at the sight and thought of blood. Thest of my racing heartbeat dies down as I disy the kindest of smiles I can possibly muster. It¡¯s the one I show to the hoards I heal at the Grand Temple, the one I used to show maids so that they wouldn¡¯t mistreat me. I do not doubt its potency and effectiveness.

    ¡°Careful, Sage,¡± I sigh softly, taking her hand with all the tenderness a mother would use for her child. The cuts heel immediately and I even take care to wipe off the leftover blood with a towel.

    ¡°See? All better now,¡± I stare her dead in the eye, supplying false reassurance. ¡°Shall we go back out now?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± she chirps.

    It ispletely silent now. We march ahead, as if unafraid of what lies before us in the halls. I can hear Sage¡¯s breathe out faster and faster. Trained as she may be, I know she never expected this sort of situation when the empress told her to get close to me.

    ¡°Hey, look at me,¡± I call just before we round the corner where the aftermath of the fight awaits.

    I grab her face with both hands, her sweat seeping into the thin opera gloves.

    ¡°No matter what, I am here. Just follow my lead. And once we help, I shall see to it that you are rewarded greatly,¡± I promise. My right hand that still holds her head crosses its fingers, but she cannot see it and even if she did, Sage wouldn¡¯t know what that meant. Only Emma would.

    ¡°Sage?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°You are like a sister to me,¡± I tell her. And it¡¯s not a lie technically, depending on which of my ¡°sisters¡± you take into ount. Today, unfortunately, it is Julia, the one I truly dislike.

    Heavy panting meets the ear immediately. A figure is pressed to the ground, the gray hairs on his head informing me that it is Lord Bromely. Several members of the royal guard surround him with their swords, while Duke Finn presses him to the ground.

    I cock my head to the side in surprise as they turn to face me with simrly gobsmacked looks.

    ¡°Your highness?¡± Duke Finn asks, staring at me as if he¡¯s seen a ghost.

    ¡°What is this? Who is this?¡± I ask, casting wide eyes on Lord Bromely¡¯s figure like I¡¯ve never seen him before. I make sure to get it out before Lord Bromely can out the fact that we¡¯ve met and perhaps jeapordize my tenuous position within the pce. A few facts are confirmed for me in this few seconds of shock from all parties:

    A. Duke Finn is closely aligned with my father, more so than I had thought.

    B. Lord Bromely is very much a wanted man.

    C. My n still works in this surprising scenario, perhaps even better than I had imagined.

    ¡°Is that the princess?¡± Lord Bromely grunts from the floor. His head breaks free from the full body hold and swivels towards me, keen eyes seeming to read through me like a book. Too bad I¡¯ve got a twist chapter iing.

    ¡°You dare toy eyes on the princess, you criminal?¡± Duke Finn barks, pressing his knee even harder into Lord Bromely¡¯s spine. It¡¯s amusing to see him partaking in the same actions as the knights of th royal guard, only in a formal suit rather than his usual knight uniform.

    ¡°Princess, it may be best for you to return to your seat. This is no sight for a young child such as your self,¡± Finn warns again after punishing the lord for his transgression.

    ¡°There is no sight a child of the imperial family cannot handle. Is that not so, Winter?¡± Lord Bromely says calmly in a low voice from the floor. His tone is slightly muffled from his face being pressed onto the floor, but his words are unmistakable. ¡°You look far morefortable today than when I saw youst. But know this, you are no promised child. You are cursed, girl. Cursed.¡±

    ¡°Silence!¡± Duke Finn barked. mming the hilt of his sword onto Lord Bromely¡¯s head. But it just seemed to excite the old man even more.

    ¡°You will die, just like your mother!¡± he coughs before letting out with augh. ¡°But not me. I shall live forever!¡±

    ¡°Take him away!¡± Finn yells, causing the other royal guards to leap into action. Sage is skittish beside me, no doubt waiting for mymand for her to strike. But I am transfixed by every word pouring out of Lord Bromely¡¯s mouth. He is many things: kingmaker, advisor, former chancellor. But the lord has never struck me as a liar, even on that dark day in the Tower.

    ¡°Have you met him yet? I can see it in your eyes, he is close to you.¡± The lucidity fades from Lord Bromely¡¯s eyes, his word a feverish torrent escaping his lips and flooding my ears. ¡°Walking by you step by step perhaps under the mask of a close friend. If it isn¡¯t he who shall kill you, then your curse shall. And with that sacrifice, he shall bless his followers with eternal life. I shall live again! As the Devourer wills it, so it shall be!¡±

    He smiles and does something strange, no longer looking at me, but through me. Almost as if he¡¯s ascended to a higher ne or reached a level of consciousness that the rest of us are not aware of. But more critically, he will soon fall into my father¡¯s hands, which will not bode well for me at all.

    ¡°Your highness, if you could please step back?¡± A royal guard practically teleports to my side, all but ushering Sage and I down the hall that leads to the imperial box seat.

    ¡°Go.¡± It¡¯s so quiet, it sounds like an exhale when I mutter the word to Sage.

    ¡°How dare you offend my master the princess!¡± roars Sage with impressive fervor. ¡°Die!¡±

    Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was luck. Most likely, it was just her own skill. But with that battle cry, Sage obediently charged towards the aging Lord Bromely and buried the piece of vase deep into his chest. Just like I told her to. Sort of.

 Chapter 159

    Chapter 159: [Bonus chapter]Ch. 158: Order in the Court!

    THE COURT OF GOOD OR EVIL IS NOW IN SESSION

    ¡°Order in the court!¡± the judge bangs his gavel before turning to the witness stand a fixing a withering re on me. The courtroom is quiet enough to hear a pin drop before he dramatically clears his throat and begins his speech.

    ¡°Today, we, in the Court of Good or Evil, are gathered to judge whether Imperial Princess Winter Royberg de Erudian-¡± he begins in a monotonous tone.

    ¡°Or Maria Lopez for those who aren¡¯t caught up on thetest chapters-¡± I chime in helpfully despite his re.

    ¡°It¡¯s been 157 chapters. If they aren¡¯t caught on that your name is Winter, then that means they never got past the first chapter,¡± he corrects angrily.

    ¡°Hmph. Fake fans,¡± I turn my nose to the gathered crowd in the courtroom, prompting disapproving whispers and shes of a camera. I wink at them, before remembering that they can¡¯t see my eyes behind the dramatic, oversized pair of sunsses I have on for my trial today.

    ¡°Today, we are gathered to judge whether Winter is guilty of the crime of bing a viiness! She hasmitted one of the gravest of sins a female lead canmit, the unprovoked murder of an integral character, Lord Bromely. The coldhearted actions left many a reader chilled in the heart!¡±

    .....

    ¡°Him?¡± I snort. ¡°I wasn¡¯t actually trying to kill him, just frighten him a little by ¡°identally¡± having Sage stab him somewhere nonvital while he and Finn were talking. But how was I supposed to know that the good duke would be arresting Lord Bromely suddenly? And how on earth should I have predicted that Sage would go above and beyond by screaming those words and then going right for the heart?¡±

    The prosecutor shakes her head as if I¡¯d just called her a bitch to her face. ¡°Did you all see? There was no remorse from the princess, Your Honor, even though Sage knew exactly who Lord Bromely was and intentionally wanted to kill the man! None whatsoever! And if it was an ident, why didn¡¯t the princess even try to heal him? Please condemn her as Evil and give her the maximum sentence possible!¡±

    The crowd hums in agreement and the judge strokes his beard in thought.

    ¡°Wait. So you¡¯re telling me that kiss ass of a spy had a bone to pick with Lord Bromely? So that¡¯s why she killed him. What do you people take me for, a mindreader? Did you people forget she is a spy who is actively working against me?¡± I roll my eyes, but upon remembering that they cannot see my sarcastic actions, I kindly take off my sunsses and do it again for the people to see.

    ¡°Defense! What do you have to say for your client?¡± the judge barks as I get heckled by the crowd. I ssily stick my tongue out of them.

    Emma crosses her arms, looking imposing in her suit. ¡°She is Good!¡± she barks. ¡°My client is not a viiness! Not yet anyway.¡±

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t bat an eye if a kid from the slums died, why are you so damn worried over one rich and partially insane asshole? Ignorant hypocrites.¡± I mutter.

    ¡°Order in the court! Watch your crudenguage, Princess Winter. You are a female lead and you ought to act like one!¡± the judge scolds while pounding his gavel.

    I sigh loudly. ¡°Have you people even been keeping up? I never want to be the female lead in the first ce! I just want to live. And I¡¯ll do whatever it takes to do just that. Besides, didn¡¯t anyone ever tell you that life isn¡¯t ck or white? I myself prefer the shade, morally gray. Emma, let¡¯s go!¡±

    ¡°Your Honor, she left without permission!¡± the prosecutor, who significantly resembles Janice, yells as I leap over the witness stand and strut out of the courtroom.

    The judge lets out a heavy sigh, aging 10 years in a minute. ¡°Just let her be. There is nothing we can do now.¡±

    THE COURT OF GOOD OR EVIL IS ADJOURNED, BACK TO THE STORY AT HAND

    I¡¯m shocked. Finn is shocked. The guards are shocked. I¡¯m sure even the peeling wallpaper is shocked. Only Lord Bromely is calm, a look of peace immediately overtaking his features.

    ¡°Oh dear,¡± I faintly mutter to myself, barely hearing my own voice as chaos descends upon the narrow hallway. Sage yanks the makeshift de out of Lord Bromely¡¯s chest, and none too soon before she gets tackled by two guards at the same time. Yet I don¡¯t move, my body freezing like it is stuck in msses rather than jumping forward and saving one more person¡¯s life in the collection of hundreds that I have dragged from the mouth of hell.

    He gasps for air, then chokes on it. The calm is disturbed on Lord Bromely¡¯s face as the numbness of death contends with his body¡¯s fervent desire to survive. I watch. Sage watches. The guards move and shout,pletely at odds with us. The waged battle in Lord Bromely¡¯s body begins to lean in one final direction.

    No doubt drawn in by the noise, more royal guards shamble into the madness, quickly mobilizing to put pressure on Lord Bromely¡¯s wound and hold down the raving and rabid Sage. I shake my head, feeling the first gusts of what will no doubt be a violent storm descending upon me.

    Finn looks up from the melee, casting a disappointed and wary look in my direction as I¡¯m nudged back not too gently from the scene. I can already hear the barrage of questions.

    Why did you have your close servant try to kill him?

    If you weren¡¯t trying to kill him as you so im, then why try to cause him harm?

    Where do you know thete Lord Bromely from?

    Yes, thete Lord Bromely. Because with a smile on his face, the old man gurgles out onest breath before staring off in my general direction. No one asked me to heal him, probably because in their eyes I just tried my best to assassinate him. So now I¡¯m kind of, sort of, totally,pletely, and utterly screwed.

    ¡°Fuck.¡± I take a seat further down the hall and await judgment. My dress crinkles up in a pool of tinsel silver. There are now 2 paths of action thaty before me.

    1. The ssic ¡°deny, deny, deny¡±. Feign confusion, get Emma to expose Sage¡¯s connections to the Duvernay faction, and let this situation sort itself out. However, it will inevitably draw great suspicion and doubt to me while ruining the tenuous trust I¡¯ve built with Augustus. Augustus is my ace, the card I must hold onto at all costs. Losing him means losing my get-out-of-jail-free card that being friends with the future monarch represents.

    Losing your brother would mean more to you than that, the angel on my shoulder coos in a soft voice. Images of the disgust on the crown prince¡¯s face when he¡¯dst questioned my character are pulled up, along with the way my heart had hurt at the sudden gulf that had briefly opened up between us.

    You must be more soft and sensitive than I thought to think about your feelings right now, the devil scolded on my left, you have learned nothing all these years.

    2. The ssic ¡°just tell the truth¡± with a spin on what exactly pertains as the truth. I can exaggerate a little that he threatened me at the Tower and that I had Emma attack today out of fear. However, this might still appear to be fishy, for a docile little girl to suddenlymand her maid, who surprisingly possesses rarebat skills, to attack a man rather than just tell her family of the affront.

    ¡°It was years ago,¡± they could ask. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you mention this when it urred? Why wait until he was being taken in for questioning by the emperor? Were you intentionally trying to disturb an imperial investigation? That is a crime punishable by death, even for members of the imperial family!¡±

    I lean my head back on the wall and close my eyes, trying in vain to shut out the madness so I can think through my options. Digesting thest words of the madman shall be tonight¡¯s insomnia assignment, to be fulfilled either in a prison cell or my bed, depending on where my chipsnd.

    ¡°You can still sleep after causing this madness?¡± My least favorite brother is crouched beside me, the light amusement hanging from his lips at odd with the barking orders and running around urring around us.

    ¡°Julian,¡± I sigh, with none of the usual bite I tend to possess.

    ¡°He was useful. But you killed him,¡± the spare princements. With his blonde hair slowly starting to grow out, he is starting to resemble his mother more.

    ¡°What can I say? Shit happens,¡± I reply in a careless manner as if I dropped a te on the floor rather than identally assassinated one of the biggest figures in Erudian politics in the past 100 years. I don¡¯t want to let Julian know a thing.

    ¡°I want to know why,¡± he quietly demands anyway. ¡°I know there was a reason. There is always a reason with you.¡±

    ¡°Just consider it a bad calction.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he immediately refuses. Julian leans in closer searching my eyes. ¡°You didn¡¯t really want to kill him, did you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never been one for murder,¡± I say in lieu of a proper affirmative answer. ¡°Unlike you.¡±

    ¡°Hey, neither am I, alright?¡± he protests without skipping a beat.

    The prince who nearlymitted patricide has the good decency to look ashamed as I bring up his hijacked antics at theing-of-age ceremony that nearly cost our father his life. I can tell Julian is being honest for once, perhaps because I know that despite whatever nonsense he is up to these days, he hasn¡¯t got it in him to start killing people. Yet.

    ¡°I guess in both our cases, some circumstances spun out of control,¡± I gesture to the crime scene before us and Sage¡¯s resolute expression that is so at odds with her typical yfulness.

    Julian responds cryptically. ¡°So it seems. However, there is one difference. We both know that if you truly wanted to, you could have saved him and redeemed yourself in everyone¡¯s eyes. But you didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°No, I suppose I didn¡¯t.¡± And that is the crux of the matter.

    I did not. I did not want to.

    My second oldest brother lets out a sigh. ¡°Every time I think I¡¯m beginning to understand you better, you throw in a curveball.¡±

    ¡°You will never know me, old man.¡± The jab slides off him like water off a duck¡¯s back.

    ¡°You¡¯d best get started on thinking how you¡¯re going to exin this to Augustus and Father. Here they bothe now, looking official and important.¡±

    ¡°Jealous?¡±

    ¡°You wish, Winnie. You wish,¡± he chuckles. ¡°It¡¯s a shame. I like this opera.¡±

    ¡°How does it end? The opera?¡± I ask casually.

    He huffs out a breath of disbelief. ¡°You still want to know?¡±

    ¡°Might as well. It could be thest one I ever see,¡± I remind him.

    ¡°Well,¡± he clears his throat. ¡°If I recall correctly, Helio witnesses the pain of the two lovers and brings them both back to life.¡±

    ¡°Rebirth? How unrealistic,¡± I mutter at the tired trope.

    ¡°Is it?¡± my wayward brother counters as he rises from the ground. I know he is referring to our circumstances. His face morphs back into a look of shock and dismay, allowing for a royal guard member to lead him back to safety as if Sage will somehow acquire the strength of ten men, break free, and attack him.

    Indeed, my father and his younger lookalike arrive on the scene. I mentally narrate the conversation they have with Duke Finn, noting when both their eyes sh over to where I sit. Augustus¡¯ shock and distrust far eclipse Emperor Helio¡¯s, who nods curtly and strolls onto the scene while Augustus keeps looking at me incredulously. I almost don¡¯t me him. Within this hour, we went from talking about my new tea party pals to me being used of assassinating a traitorous but important ex-chancellor.

    But I had foolishly hoped that Augustus wouldn¡¯t be so quick to condemn me as everyone else has but infer that this wasn¡¯t entirely my doing the way Julian had. I have a brother who I cannot trust but believes in me unequivocally. And I have a brother who I can trust but has very little faith in me.

    I shrug, noting the disappointment that crosses his face at my nonchnt action. He looks at me like I¡¯m a disgrace. And he¡¯s not wrong. My whole existence and my entire life up until this point, has been a disgrace to many. They just pretend it isn¡¯t when it benefits them.

    Augustus and his disappointment are not thest of my family members to glimpse the carnage I identally caused, one that still bleeds like a stuck pig and stains the red carpet an even darker color. With practiced, elegant steps that belie her careful and noble upbringing, Empress Katya swishes into the narrow back halls in a way that wouldmand attention in any other setting.

    I watch her, but she doesn¡¯t watch me. The steps that could be counted on a metronome break their predictable pattern. She rushes forth to where the dead Lord Bromelyys, only stopped by the wall of royal guards who cordon off the scene but can¡¯t seem to slow the spread of blood snaking towards where I sit. The surprise on her face, it¡¯s real.

    I sit up, my full attention on her.

    The empress¡¯ lips press together in irritation, a hunger in her eyes that goes unfulfilled as she locks eyes with the body on the floor. They know each other. Well, it seems. Quite well.

    It¡¯s like no one notices the slip in her mask, before she tugs it back on a feigns a womanly weakness that has guards tripping over themselves to escort her back to the box seat.

    Augustus is barking orders to a knight of the royal guard. My father and Finn are once again discussing something intensely in the corner out of everyone¡¯s earshot. My half-sister, Julia, has probably been kept in the box seat and away from the bloody sight, a luxury that symbolizes the blissful bubble of ignorance Julia has been allowed to grow up in while I was cast out to the wolves.

    Fine, then. Option 1 it is.

 Chapter 160

    Chapter 160: Ch. 159: Immortali-Tea

    The first time Katya Duvernay had ever taken a life was when she was 11 years old.

    Her etiquette teachery sprawled on the floor, her eyes bugged out and wide. A tongue thick and swollen lolled out of her mouth, the body¡¯s sickly pallor further defiled by blue-ck veins that were visible through her skin.

    It was poison obviously. But not in her etiquette teacher¡¯s cup, but Katya¡¯s own. She had bribed one of the cleaning maids in her room, one of the younger ones who was frequently bullied and easy to manipte. Giving the girl a little sweetness in the form of leftover treats and the asional gold coin, it had been child¡¯s y to convince the maid to sneak to one of the unauthorized and unsavory apothecary houses that littered the slums and West Bend and purchase a deadly poison.

    Poisoning a person proved to be a delicate business, one that saw Katya pouring the little vial into her own teacup, before personally requesting that her teacher show her how to properly sip from the cup. The etiquette teacher had been much obliged to demonstrate until her throat began to swell up and the very blood in her veins began to burn her from the inside out like acid. The dramatic effects alone caused it to immediately became her favorite poison of choice from that day forth.

    A tarnished silver spoon that had been in the teacup, clear evidence of poisoning if the teacher had thought to check, tumbled from the teacher¡¯s convulsing hands. She¡¯d stared at Katya in shock, with Katya observing the entire process, noting the way betrayal and horror had given way to the body¡¯s urgent need to survive, which then gave way to death.

    In truth, the first life Katya had ever taken was indeed when she was 11, but it was not her etiquette teacher, but the maid who had been assigned to buy the poison. The etiquette teacher was just the second of that day¡¯s dirty business.

    However, no one noticed the little maid¡¯s death, who had been drowned in the pig slop like the lowly being she was.

    .....

    Her father had been summoned, just as tall and imposing back then as he still was today with the graying hair and wrinkling skin. In a mansion run with militaristic discipline and ruthlessness, his sharp eyes had quickly surveyed the scene and Katya¡¯s fake cries of nearly being poisoned, before ordering everyone to clear the room. She had denied that the death was her doing with every breath until Chancellor Duvernay pped Katya hard on her right cheek, leaving a mark thatsted 2 weeks and drew the amusement of her older brother.

    ¡°You¡¯re too sloppy,¡± he had spat in disdain, not sparing the body on the floor another look as he stalked out. Her father rarely spared a kind word to her. But she had learned to read between the lines and learn the valuable lessons he imparted.

    Katya could harm whomever she wanted, even those of rank, although she had to be a touch more careful with them than with the others. The Bryce family that the teacher had hailed from was a touch suspicious of her teacher¡¯s death, only quieting down from somepensation from her father and a little help for one of their unmarried daughters to marry above her station. Not a word of the unusual death was mentioned in her social circles, maintaining the immacte reputation that she had cultivated from the moment she could speak. A new and more subdued teacher was introduced mere days after the body had been taken out of her sitting room.

    That was the beauty of being a Duvernay; the ability to y God in almost every aspect of life.

    The House Duvernay had long held a firm grasp on the Holy Church, building up the national religion to the point that the imperial family needed to treat the church with respect in order to cement their legitimacy in the eyes of the people. The family had long been entrenched in politics since the early days as one of the few original Houses dating back to the start of the Erudian Empire. In fact, until the sudden usurp performed by the now Emperor Helio, the empire was named after the Erudian family but was truly run by the Duvernay family.

    There had been a vacuum opened in the political arena after the coup by a rogue bastard prince who was too difficult to control. The ensuing madness sent many well-entrenched political families in Radovalsk and across thend into a spiral. But House Duvernay who had fought alongside the original Erudian royal family in the days of chaos before the empire was established understood something most other nobility had forgotten in their days offort and excess: chaos breeds opportunity.

    Empress Katya Duvernay had met the man named Lord Bromely, originally amoner with no background, in the blood-soaked months following Emperor Helio¡¯s ascension. Extended members of the Erudian imperial family who did little more than party and leech off the empire¡¯s wealth through taxes were turning up dead through ¡°natural¡± causes. More territory was being acquired into the already sizeable empire at an astonishing rate, with neighboring kingdoms capitting quickly once they heard that the new conqueror emperor had set his sights on theirnd.

    ¡°You are the one they call Katya,¡± the odd man named Lord Bromely had stated, sitting across the table from her with a rare ease that few possessed before a Duvernay. He was entitled to it, having wrecked the family¡¯s ns by decimating the easy-to-manipte emperor and crown prince and recing them with a wild beast that bit everything that came near, save for his newly crowned empress and the Lord Bromely who smugly sat before her.

    ¡°I am,¡± she¡¯d confirmed lightly, taking a sip from her tea cup. They met, surprisingly, in the back room of a tavern that was leagues away from the posh East Bend restaurants and salons Katya had grown up in. Yet she did not pay her surroundings any mind, focusing all her attention on the man before her who could get her what she wanted.

    ¡°You have no sisters?¡± he inquired politely.

    Thoughts of scissors shing in a garden and a loud scream flickered through Katya¡¯s thoughts.

    ¡°Not anymore, unfortunately,¡± she replied, adopting a look of faint sorrow.

    ¡°Indeed. A shame for a life to be cut short so young, like a flower pruned in a garden before its time,¡± he sighed, throwing out the damning words like they were little more than his own thoughts on the matter. Yet they so aptly reflected what truly had happened in rear gardens of the Duvernay Estate 3 years prior, as if he were there watching her sister Beatrice scream and plead for her life. Katya had been thorough that time though, having be well versed enough to quickly dispose of any possible witnesses and disguise the death in such a way that even her father had thought it was a mere ident.

    ¡°I have long heard of your... sharp intellect,¡± Katya acquiesced to Lord Bromely. ¡°Hence why I have seen to it that we find ourselves in each other¡¯s presence.¡±

    ¡°You are too kind, mydy,¡± Lord Bromely chuckled, a friendly face at odds with whatevery underneath.

    ¡°Not as kind as you were to that fishing vige up north. What was it called again? Belen?¡±

    Theughter ceased immediately.

    ¡°Indeed. That was its name,¡± Lord Bromely agreed. A faint smile still hung on his lips, but it was frosty.

    ¡°Whatever could you have found there that was important enough to vanquish an entire vige to hide its value? It couldn¡¯t be the rumors of forbidden curses being practiced there and the such?¡±

    ¡°You pry into things you shouldn¡¯t, mydy,¡± the man warned, all traces of friendliness vanishing into thin air.

    ¡°Oh but I must. And I will continue to do so. You have two options. Aide me in getting rid of the current queen, preferably before she gives birth to an heir for the emperor, so that I may be empress. Or die. Like Beatrice,¡± she ordered calmly, acknowledging him for somehow knowing of her hand in her elder sister¡¯s death.

    There was silence for a moment. Katya¡¯s hand had tightened on the handle of her teacup in anticipation, the taste of victory already upon her lips. She was no longer the ipetent 11-year-old of yesteryear. Now she was a yer in the great game of power and she was ying to win.

    ¡°May I entice you with a third option?¡± the older lord finally proposed. He patted down his chest and pants as if looking for something, wearing homespun and simple clothes much like Katya so that neither of them would stand out.

    ¡°You may not.¡± The then teenage Katya contested scarcely before he closed his mouth. She was full of the heady confidence of youth at the time and was eager to press her advantage.

    ¡°I insist,¡± he pressed, clearly not intent on backing down.

    Katya huffed out a breath of air. ¡°Alright.¡±

    ¡°You are clever, young Miss Duvernay,¡± he began, although Katya was quick to brush away thepliment and hear the invisible ¡®but¡¯ in his tone. All of a sudden, she felt wary about what he had to say. ¡°But I did take notice of your investigating of my whereabouts. I was a touch offended that you would have so little faith in my abilities not to notice what you were doing.¡±

    ¡°You jest.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I do not, mydy. What do you know of forbidden magic in Belen Vige? Just rumors? Whispers here and there?¡± he tutted in a disapproving manner. ¡°You remind me very much of my young emperor. Too quick to jump.¡±

    At the time she had gritted her teeth at the insult, which had reminded her of her father¡¯s verbal disapproval. But upon reflection, Katya waster struck by the way he had spoken of the newly enthroned emperor like the bloody conqueror were his pet dog. A man who held an emperor in the palm of his hand, wasn¡¯t he very much like House Duvernay then, manipting things from behind the scenes?

    ¡°Your tea,¡± he stated simply. ¡°Or should I say, my tea.¡±

    Katya nched, as she had indeed switched their tea cups before he¡¯d arrived just in case they were treated with some sort of poison.

    ¡°You switched the cups, didn¡¯t you?¡± he inquired as he took his first long, leisurely sip. ¡°That¡¯s good. That is what I expected of you.¡±

    ¡°What did you put in it?¡± Katya demanded, her impable noble training stopping her from mming her fist on the table, or even worse, lunging across it to strangle him. She wondered if she could kill him with her bare hands or if she would have to shatter her tea cup and slice him with one of the shards.

    ¡°I can see the murder in your eyes, young Duvernay. But it is toote.¡± She could see the amusement in his eyes as if he were watching a local theatre troop¡¯s performance.

    Katya took a deep breath, then another. When she felt stabilized, she asked yet again in a more polite tone, ¡°What is in the tea, my lord?¡±

    ¡°Have you ever wondered why this new usurper emperor is so strong and has a presence so powerful it can kill? I know your family has tried to poison him at least once so there is no need to feign surprise,¡± Lord Bromely said. Katya maintained a nk expression, but despite learning more about her illustrious family¡¯s operations, she had not known such a detail and it irked her.

    He continued. ¡°You know the mythos. The god Helio granted the Erudian family his blessing in the form of their golden eyes. They cannot be duplicated with magic or medicine, a symbol that has passed on generation after generation and blessed the imperial bloodline. You also know that Helio had, forck of a better word, a counterpart.¡±

    ¡°The Devourer,¡± Katya cut in. She could tell that the old man was toying with her at this point, but she had lost so she had no choice but to sit through it.

    ¡°Yes. Akira the Devourer. Or Akira the Deceiver. He goes by many names and many faces, a dark part of Helio that managed to be its own entity. Akira is real,¡± Lord Bromely told Katya, a faint fanaticism sparkling in his eyes. ¡°And I have managed to bargain with him to implement his blessing upon the young emperor.¡±

    She didn¡¯t believe a wording from the old man¡¯s mouth, so she said the next best thing.

    ¡°The tea,¡± Katya repeated once again.

    ¡°You see, true power lies in time. It is a gift iparable to any wealth, pedigree,vish mansion, or jewelry in the world. Because no matter what, we will all grow old and die. Today, I have ensured that you and I shall both do so at the same time.¡±

    ¡°No antidote?¡± Katya guessed. It was a good poison, she could admit. Her keen tongue that could distinguish various poisons hadn¡¯t even picked it up.

    ¡°None,¡± Lord Bromely confirmed with a smile as if they were discussing the weather and not her life.

    It was a perplexing conundrum for a young woman to find herself in, even one as politically savvy as Katya Duvernay had already been at that time. But she was no ordinary girl, epting the fact of the matter with a promptness that impressed the emperor¡¯s most trusted advisor, although Lord Bromely did not admit it.

    ¡°How often will you give me the antidote?¡±

    ¡°Once a month. You will feel lightheaded and irritable until it is administered,¡± he replied frankly.

    Katya nodded, closing her eyes to digest the information. When they opened once again, they were nk, the terrifying emptiness that she had long mastered. She was not ustomed to any emotions outside of her asional bouts of anger, which is what made her such an exceptional talent among the younger scions of House Duvernay. Katya knew what she wanted and she always made sure she got it.

    ¡°Now that you have sufficiently seen to it that I am under your thumb, you must do your part and tell me how I may attain my wish of being empress,¡± she said, licking her dry lips before boldly taking another sip of the poisoned tea. ¡°And of this secretive matter you partook in at Belen Vige. Poisoned or not, I would be happy to leak to the new emperor that his most trusted advisor murdered an entire vige full of his loyal subjects for nefarious purposes.¡±

    Lord Bromely looked on at her actions with the same amusement as before, his entire temperament far more unrestrained and loose than before. He seemed to take her for a dewed kitten he could toy with at his will; such was the luxury of having a failsafe in ce. Someday, Katya vowed she would make him sorry for possessing so little wariness for her.

    Underestimating others was not a concept Katya was familiar with, whether the other party was as insignificant as a stable boy or someone hailing from another prominent House. If anything, she would bide her time, spinning a web around her prey so delicately and carefully that by the time they brushed by a thread, it would be toote to escape. She leveled her insidiously calm gaze on her next prey as he began to finally tell her that which she wished to hear.

    ¡°What would you do with infinite time, mydy? With not only the entire empire at your heel, but the Old Continent and the unexplored ones further on. The time to unravel the mysteries tucked away in the long-forgotten parts of history, to explore frontiers that may extend beyond this world but into other ones. You see, we dug up some of those forgotten bits in Belen, a vige that housed one of thest great warlocks centuries ago.¡±

    ¡°We?¡± Katya inquired. The newly ordained chancellor reached into his pocket, extending a delicate piece of jewelry that glimmered in the candlelight of the backroom.

    ¡°That is all I can say for now. But I do hope that as you prove your loyalty to us, you will be able to learn more about the greatest treasure that could ever exist. The treasure of infinite time, or in other words, immortality.¡±

    She flipped over the jewelry in her hands, a silver interlocking symbol that resembled the number 8 tilted on its side. The words she heard in her ears were shocking, to say the least, especially considering that she knew that the smiling tiger of a man would not lie about such a matter when he already held her life in his hands.

    ¡°Immortality and time. Dabbling in such magic is illegal,¡± she stated, although the fact did not perturb her in the slightest. Despite the incredible revtions the man had told her, Katya¡¯s interests did not align with such forbidden magic that could get her entire House killed. Irritation scratched at her as well as she realized he ignored her question yet again.

    It had reminded the then young Katya Duvernay of the way her father often ignored her words in favor of her brother, the one sibling she couldn¡¯t manage to get rid of.

    ¡°And once again, who is this ¡®we¡¯ you speak of? You failed to answer my question,¡± she demanded yet again. Like most noble girls, Katya was ustomed to ordering things from others, yet her imposing tone had no effect on Lord Bromely. He reached under the neck of his own shirt to reveal an identical ne. The unusual charm hung on his thick, worn fingers, dangling like a carrot meant to attract a rabbit. Yet he still denied Katya the carrot she sought.

    ¡°Our members are secret, but we are many, spreading across the empire like a gue,¡± Lord Bromely half answered and half did not. ¡°Wee to The Order, Lady Duvernay, the true rulers of the known world and the infinite ones beyond it. And as our first order of business, no pun intended mydy, we shall see to it that you are made an empress.¡±

    Katya let out a toothy, genuine grin, her first true smile in years. It was a gruesome thing to behold.

 Chapter 161

    Chapter 161: Ch. 160: Dog Sh*t

    Do you know that feeling when you crest over the edge of a roller coaster? Your stomach bottoms out and all your senses scream that you are in danger, but in actuality, your butt is firmly strapped into the well-regted ride with arge seatbelt across yourp to hold you in ce and you are perfectly safe.

    Or how about that feeling when you identally step in dog shit and it just won¡¯te off your shoe? That¡¯s exactly the kind of situation I¡¯ve found myself in.

    The untimely death of a certain Lord Bromely was kept under wraps, with the entire family filing out of the Chrysanthemum Opera House in our typical style of smiles and waves. But underneath, madness is brewing.

    ¡°Dead?¡± Emma marvels a few hourster from thefort of my luxurious pce dwellings, a golden cage that glitters even under the candlelight that surrounds us. ¡°By your hand, your highness?¡±

    ¡°Not quite. But it does appear that way,¡± I muse. Both Emma and Marie are still reeling from the events I¡¯ve just described to them. One isnguidly perched on the arm of a chair like a jungle cat while Marie paces around the empty spaces in the sitting room.

    ¡°If I may ask, why did you decide to stab him in the first ce?¡± Marie asks from the side. Emma says nothing, but I¡¯m certain she is wondering the same. I ponder my hotheaded decision as well, one that Sage agreed to far too easily in retrospect. A decision motivated by fear, frustration, and a dark greed that I¡¯d prefer not to acknowledge.

    ¡°It¡¯s... uh...plicated,¡± I simply answer. In retrospect, my n had rather childish and impulsive, borne of pent up emotions wreaking havoc on my mental state. ¡°But what¡¯s odd is that they¡¯d been fighting before I came. Why the heck were they fighting in the hall?¡±

    .....

    It¡¯s like I¡¯m holding a dozen puzzle pieces and all that¡¯s left is for me to put them together.

    The death of a key figure like Lord Bromely will be like a stone falling into still waters, sending ripples out far and wide. These waters run deep and now, whether I like it or not, the fish have all been startled. Am I the bait? And if so, just who am I meant to lure in?

    I frown to myself. I¡¯d rather be the fisherman than the bait. After all, the bait must be eaten for the fish to be caught.

    ¡°You seem awfully calm, your highness,¡± Marie remarks as she helps a serving maid unload hot chocte and biscuits onto a nearby table. Ironically, the biscuits that the chefs impably fashion into fun shapes fit for a young girl, are shaped like fish today.

    ¡°Well, I do have some practice in being falsely used of murder,¡± I dryly answer. Why do these false murder cases always happen before my birthday?

    Marie misreads my sarcasm for despair, patting me gently on the back tofort me. ¡°There, there. Don¡¯t mind what he said. You are not cursed, your highness. You are the promised child.¡±

    ¡°Of everything the batty old man uttered, I would say that was the truest,¡± I snort, although I do feel mollified at being babied a little bit. Since I was dragged into the pce, I can¡¯t seem to stop finding myself in all sorts of trouble, and Marie has been by my side for most of it. ¡°But a lot of what he said was nonsense as well. He spoke of the Devourer already lurking by my side and about how my death would be some sort of sacrifice.¡±

    Marie murmurs a short Helionic prayer of protection, shaking her head at the thought. I¡¯m much less phased as I¡¯ve been staring down the barrel of my mortality for my whole life with the possibility of everything ending when I¡¯m 16. Which begs the question, could the sacrifice he speaks of be in reference to my potentially iing death?

    ¡°What I¡¯m also curious about now is the connection between the empress and Lord Bromely. She appeared a touch distressed at the sight of his dead body. I did not think she possessed such emotion within herself.¡± I scratch my head, utterly perplexed at yet another puzzle piece.

    ¡°Sleeping beasts,¡± Emma mutters, too quietly for me to hear.

    ¡°What was that?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Sleeping beasts, your highness,¡± she repeats with a wary look, aptly using the analogy I taught her. ¡°You have awoken those sleeping beasts.¡±

    I know that Emma is referencing the strange conspiracy I had left unearthed a few short weeks ago.

    ¡°So it seems.¡± The mood in the room is quite somber as if someone died.

    ¡°What¡¯s next? You won¡¯t have to run away again will you?¡± Marie worries.

    ¡°Running away isn¡¯t an option anymore,¡± I tell my nursemaid, grimly thinking of the guard erected before the hidey hole I used to constantly crawl out of. Perhaps I¡¯ve swum in deeper than I can handle. These next few days and weeks will determine whether I sink or swim. ¡°However, running towards the problem may be...¡±

    My voice trails off and an urge I¡¯ve been trying to bury all evening rises to the surface.

    ¡°What if...¡± I drawl slowly as my mind calctes the risks and rewards, ¡°this is an opportunity?¡± After all, doesn¡¯t chaos breed such?

    Emma gives me a t stare, seeming to read my underlying intentions like a book. ¡°You wanted this.¡± Bromely out of the picture. Katya in distress. The social seasoning back in full swing right at this sensitive time.

    ¡°It¡¯s beneficial,¡± I say, not denying her im. ¡°But very dangerous. However, I ought to be a good bait and catch a few, big fish.¡±

    ¡°Very dangerous,¡± Emma corrects. ¡°It could be a trap. What happened to escaping from the capital in a few years time?¡±

    ¡°Escaping?¡± I let out a humorless chuckle, recalling the way the vase shard had sunk into Lord Bromely¡¯s chest like a knife through butter. ¡°Look at me, Emma. My likeness is painted for good luck. People travel thousands of miles just to be healed by my hand. There is no more escaping for me. Not in a few years time. Not... ever.¡±

    Facing the bitter truth has never been more difficult. But I can¡¯t keep clinging onto the dream that carried me through my first few years of hardship as a princes.

    My hands tighten around the tea cup as I grudgingly add, ¡°So since I can¡¯t leave, I might as well make my stay asfortable as possible.¡±

    ¡°What do we do next?¡± She doesn¡¯t know it, but the ¡®we¡¯ is incrediblyforting.

    I think of Augustus¡¯ disappointment, Julian¡¯s amusement, and Katya¡¯s distress.

    ¡°We first y the card people expect me to y. Deny, deny, deny,¡± I utter slowly. My stomach bottoms out like I¡¯m walking on a tight rope, teetering over certain death either by the hands of the empress or my own miscalction. ¡°Then, we¡¯ll bring in a new card they won¡¯t expect.¡±

    The only two people in the world that I can say I trust cock their heads to the side in confusion. But a few hourster, Marie is wrapping a nket tightly around my trembling form, while Emma puts a coldpress on my forehead.

    ¡°It¡¯s shock,¡± Marie tells Augustus¡¯ scowling face. Surprisingly, he¡¯s the first visitor I¡¯ve had after being caught redhanded at a crime scene that I indirectly created. ¡°The princess had a great fright fromst night and has been in such a state for hours.¡±

    I¡¯m sweating under the heavy nket, but remainmitted to my performance nheless. I stare off into the distance as if still reminiscing on the terrible murder I witnessed.

    Augustus steps around her,ing to the side of my bed and looming over me.

    ¡°Winter?¡± he calls, a thread of irritation in his tone.

    I stare off into the distance, allowing the shivers to rack my body fully.

    ¡°She is too young to handle such a fright. Even my nephew who has a few years on her would be devastated to go through such a tragedy,¡± Marie continues, wiping away a few tears from her already red eyes. I have to remember to give her a raise for her ster performance.

    ¡°No. She¡¯s different,¡± Augustus says as he takes a seat next to the bed. ¡°We¡¯re different.¡±

    Thest sentence he says directly to me in the bed.

    ¡°Which is how I know you are acting right now. The girl who held my letter opener to her neck and has seen the many faces of death at the war front would not be frightened by yet another one,¡± he sighs.

    ¡°Everyone out.¡±

    ¡°But, your highness, she-¡± Marie tries to politely argue.

    ¡°I need a moment alone with my sister,¡± he presses, cutting her off. I staring intently at the corner of my room so I cannot see them leave, but I hear the door softly click shut behind them.

    ¡°I thought I could count on you,¡± Augustus says quietly. I can hear nothing but his breathing and the constant tick of a clock.

    I thought I could count on you, I reply in my head. Outwardly, I continue shivering like I¡¯m in Antarctica. He¡¯s right by my side, but Augustus feels a thousand miles away from me. I suppose it¡¯s the numerous secrets between us, starting of course with the fact that I¡¯m not of this world.

    ¡°I just- I don¡¯t-¡± he stutters, before finding the word that encapsted all of them. ¡°Why? Why, Winter? You just killed someone! In cold blood! That is wrong¡±

    From his shock, one would not know that he has taken lives himself, but I suppose this hypocritically gentle nature is why he is destined to be the male lead. He sits there for a few more minutes, asionally shifting in his seat but saying nothing. A crick forms in my neck as I wait for him to say the words I know he¡¯s holding back. If I could, I would turn around and shake him until he said what was on his mind. But finally, Augustus thaws and cracks open.

    ¡°I looked into that man, the one that you killed,¡± he begins. My ears prick up.

    ¡°He... He was once very important to Father. But then, somehow, he fell out of Father¡¯s good graces and became a criminal.¡± The corner of my mouth quirks up at the tame description of Lord Bromely ¡®the Kingmaker¡¯.

    ¡°Apparently, he was once my godfather. Can you believe that?¡± he scoffs. I can believe it.

    Augustus lets out a long sigh. ¡°Actually, I¡¯m not that mad at you. It¡¯s just... I don¡¯t want you to be a part of this mess. I don¡¯t want you to get your hands dirty as well. That sort of burden should fall on me and me alone.¡±

    Iugh mirthlessly on the inside. My hands have been dirty ever since I stepped foot in the pce. If it weren¡¯t for my own significant efforts in trying to befriend Augustus, would he still feel this same misced guilt and duty towards me? Or would he have continued watching me sink into the quagmire of imperial politics along with everyone else?

    The crown prince and I sit together as his words marinate. But they have the opposite effect intended, only further sowing the seeds of my determination to take advantage of this current situation.

    ¡°Sometimes you just have to stop fighting,¡± Augustus cautions. ¡°It¡¯s okay not to fight all the time. That is the first thing you learns in a swordsmanship ss. Fighting should be ast resort, not the first. Speaking to you, not as your brother, but as a crown prince, there are others ways to go about getting what you want without engaging in such senseless cruelty.¡± This time I really do roll my eyes at his cheesy but well meaning words. He reminds me of the trust fund kids I saw at university, who did note from a life of hardship and could not possibly fathom why I preferred to study my butt off rather than party until I cked out.

    Fighting is all I¡¯ve done my whole life, both of them.

    Fight to do well in school so my mother¡¯s efforts wouldn¡¯t be wasted. Fight to survive in a new world that was and still is trying to kill me. I scoff and ite out like a cough. If I stopped fighting, I would drown or be drowned. Even when I¡¯m just minding my business, trouble just seems to like to park itself on my doorstep.

    Augustus has scarcely left, freeing me from my traumatized act, before my nursemaid reces his presence with her own.

    ¡°Your highness!¡± Marie rushes back in, dropping into a hasty curtsy before my surprised eyes. The urgency in her tone rms me as she is rarely so startled.

    ¡°What is it?¡± I wince as my sudden movement to look at her causes the crick in my neck to finally release.

    ¡°The empress!¡± she gasps out, her hands on her knees. ¡°She is here!¡±

 Chapter 162

    Chapter 162: Ch. 161: Champagne Problems

    ¡°How unexpected,¡± I muse as Marie frantically tucks my nkets under my neck. It¡¯s swelteringly hot, my full-length nightgown and heavy covers at odds with the fine weather outside. ¡°Let¡¯s see what she has to say.¡±

    Marie looks stunned. ¡°You won¡¯t... reject her presence due to illness?¡±

    Her confusion is valid. Due to Augustus and I being extremely familiar with each other, such an excuse would be as flimsy and ineffective as a straw house. However, for others whom I am less acquainted with, they would be forced to respect my request or risk being rumored to disturb the ill princess during her rest. There¡¯s an easy way out of this confrontation, but instead, I¡¯m choosing to run into it head first.

    I chuckle, casting a soft smile in the direction of my nursemaid. ¡°Didn¡¯t I say that I was leaving running away in the past? Besides, there must be a reason for her toe and visit. There is always a reason with my mother.¡±

    I mutter thest line under my breath as my attendants are already opening up my bedroom doors to allow for a single person to file in, her steps hardly making a sound.

    ¡°Winter.¡±

    ¡°Mother.¡± I bow my head respectfully towards her but don¡¯t move to leave the bed.

    .....

    A cid smile spreads across the empress¡¯ lips and she settles down in the seat that Augustus had vacated minutes before. Who would¡¯ve I would be met with such a surprising guest so soon?

    ¡°Marie, can you please give us a moment?¡± I request. I don¡¯t look away from the woman before me and only hear the door click shut with a finality that sends my senses into an adrenaline-fueled overdrive.

    There are now a few faint lines on her face as she begins to approach the tail end of her thirties. It makes her look more human, more real. But her startlingly nk eyes undo the effect. Eyes are the window to the soul, they say. Looking at the shimmering emeralds regarding me with the same calm of a jaguar sizing up its prey, I would say that Empress Katya has none.

    ¡°You knew about Sage,¡± she says. It¡¯s not a question. Thin hands that have never seen a day ofbor fold on herp, a winking ruby ring nearly the size of a marble showing my reflection. I look a little stressed.

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± I reply in a voice far calmer than I feel. I take a deep breath to release the gathering tension in my reclined body and none too soon before the conversation proceeds in a direction I couldn¡¯t have expected in a million years.

    ¡°I was thinking of tying the two of you to the same ship and convicting you of murder, but you would expect that and so would your father. He¡¯s already taken steps to prevent such,¡± she sighs in a half confession, half admission of sorts.

    This sort of Katya is new to me, but I don¡¯t let my surprise show on my face. I can¡¯t equate this sudden open honesty with the woman who had rendered my right hand useless, beat me, and nearly got convicted of poisoning almost exactly 6 years ago, to the day. In fact, it¡¯s so perplexing that it startles a half chuckles out of my mouth that sounds a bit more like a cough.

    ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡± I raise a brow, wariness weighing down my words.

    ¡°You remind me of myself. even more than Julia or Julian do,¡± she admits.

    The corner of my lip quivers, whether I want tough or shout, I¡¯m not sure. ¡°You have taught me a lot, Mother,¡± I respond weakly. This isn¡¯t a lie, I have been forced to learn how to survive in this ce courtesy of her many interferences.

    ¡°I have,¡± she agrees. We sit together for a moment in silence. I don¡¯t think we have ever done that before. The wind blows in through an open window, my sole salvation under the stifling heat of my nket that¡¯s part of my act. It teases a loose strand of blonde hair and gives the empress a carefree look, suddenly allowing me a glimpse of a past Katya.

    ¡°You are nothing like your birth mother,¡± Katya says, a surprising twist to the cliche ¡°you remind me of your [dead] mother/father¡± line that is overused in movies and books.

    ¡°You knew her?¡± I have little curiosity about the woman who brought the former Winter into this world, but I must pretend.

    ¡°Very well. Extremely well. I handpicked her myself, with some help.¡±

    ¡°Lord Bromely,¡± I state, fitting another jigsaw piece into the puzzle. Of course my father wouldn¡¯t somehow bed a random military ve. He had to bed the one nted by the empress and Lord Bromely. There are conspiracies within conspiracies involving my birth.

    She nods slowly. I don¡¯t know what to make of her admission and decide to y back the same shocking cards I was dealt.

    ¡°Why tell me this? As much as I may remind you of yourself, I am not your child. I am just your unfaithful husband¡¯s bastard daughter who stole away the promised child prophecy you wanted for your own daughter. You want me dead. You won¡¯t stop until I am dead.¡± I tear away the bandaid, revealing the fresh wounds that sit between. Wounds that fester and worsen by the day, by the hour. They¡¯re certainly infected by now.

    But whether the infection was by myself or the woman before me, only theing years will tell ¨C if I live to see them. For now, the two of us digest my words, although she shows little reaction to them. Meanwhile, beneath the heavy covers, my hands are clenched in tight fists.

    Well, one of them does. The fingers on my useless right hand can do little more than curl up and pretend, much like my bravado at the moment.

    ¡°At present, your continued existence is of interest to the Duvernay family,¡± she eventually reassures me. ¡°You shall be called upon soon. There is someone you must heal,¡± she adds.

    The role of a courier is one that the empress may have never expected for herself in a thousand years. That is the beauty of power and having something that everyone else wants, in this case, my abilities.

    I nod to myself, recalling that one of the conditions that Katya¡¯s older brother, Bishop Duvernay, had presented was for me to save someone of their choosing. It seemed like a foolish condition in my opinion, as I save thousands when I perform the role of the promised child on certain religious holidays. They could easily slip the person they desire into the long line and I wouldn¡¯t notice a thing. But when your enemies make an error, you¡¯d be a fool to go ahead and correct them.

    ¡°Continued existence...¡± I drawl. ¡°So no retaliation about the deceased Lord Bromely?¡±

    The next part of the conversation proceeds like rapid gunfire.

    ¡°None.¡±

    ¡°Who is this person I am to save?¡±

    ¡°You shall know when it is time.¡± She looks at the pretty, antique clock on the stand beside me then at the door, its delicate tick warning me that our time would soone to an end. I call back to an earlier topic.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t I remind you of my mother?¡±

    ¡°You look nothing like her.¡±

    ¡°But there¡¯s more,¡± I press.

    ¡°There is always more,¡± she confirms. Something finally shes in those nk eyes, but it vanishes before I can tell what it is. ¡°She could truly see the big picture. Better than myself even.¡±

    I hear that for the insult it is, my lips pressing into a line.

    ¡°Not big enough to escape my father¡¯s chambers.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± she chuckled in that knowing way older people are known to do. ¡°But he knew very well. Your father knew of it all. That¡¯s why he chose her to have you.¡±

    ¡°You jest.¡± I know she doesn¡¯t. But it¡¯s a knee-jerk reaction as my insides go numb.

    ¡°I am the mother of the empire. I do not jest, Winter.¡± Her casual demeanor irritates me and I bite the inside of my cheek, ready to strike back.

    ¡°Mother of the empire,¡± I repeat, an unkind grin cutting across my lips. ¡°Is that why you were able to set your husband up with another woman without remorse? Such sacrifice, no wonder you are the empress consort today rather than Augustus¡¯ mother. She chose love, you chose power. Has it been worth it?¡±

    Poisonous, deliberate words spill from my mouth in barely a whisper, but they send Empress Katya to her feet with an abruptness that shows me that my words must¡¯ve struck a nerve somehow. I add this to the very short list of topics I know the empress is sensitive about:

    Her ns to enthrone Julian.

    Her children.

    My father.

    My mother.

    And now, the former empress.

    My quiver of arrows that I can use to hurt the woman who has made much of my youth a living hell grows fuller. As for Empress Katya, she smiles wanly, knowing that I saw her slight gaffe. ¡°Doe to the next Ladies¡¯ Court. Your clever mouth is missed.¡±

    This time, I let out a chuckle of my own. ¡°As much of an honor as it would be, I¡¯m afraid I won¡¯t be able to,¡± I say.

    Katyaughs lightly, not having expected an affirmative answer from me anyways. As she leaves, some air hisses out between my teeth as a few of my longstanding worries slip away into nothing. I¡¯ve known the empress long enough to know that she is a woman of her word if you interpret them correctly. I won¡¯t face any retaliation about Lord Bromely¡¯s untimely death.

    ¡°Marie! I must toast this moment with something bubbly and lightly alcoholic!¡± Despite the jarring information I¡¯ve been dealt, I still feel giddy at having hurt the empress, even if it was but a scratch.

    But amidst my alcohol-ignited excitement from our conversation, I fail to ount for one critical factor in her words, that my existence was in the interest of ¡®the Duvernay family¡¯. Not herself. The Duvernay family. It¡¯s a key word choice I should¡¯ve realized considering how even my own interests are quite separate from that of the imperial family.

    In the future, I shall pay dearly for mistaking the two different interests as one.

    But not today. Today, I celebrate. With champagne actually. The drinking age is nonexistent in this world and era. I hold the ss in my left hand, the thin stem perfect for my small hands. However, momentster, I spit out light pink champagne all across my fine bedspread.

    ¡°My god!¡± I sputter as I cough some more. ¡°Marie, what did they put in this poor champagne?¡±

    I re usingly at the ss as Marie chimes in with a barely concealedugh, ¡°It¡¯s rose infused, your highness, a rare delicacy. It¡¯s a specialty imported from the east. But since you don¡¯t like it, I shall fetch a less exotic one for you to enjoy.¡±

    ¡°Now why would they ruin perfectly good champagne with roses? Are they mad?¡± I¡¯ve smelled enough roses tost me a lifetime, the smell having long infused itself into the very walls of the Rose Pce.

    Just thinking of my old residence puts off my celebratory mood and I set down the gossamer thin ss into a maid¡¯s waiting tray before it¡¯s spirited out of the room like it was never there. A thought urs to me as I¡¯m briefly alone, one that gives rise to the cynicism that has long been at home in my temperament.

    ¡°He fucking knew...¡± I mutter to myself in disbelief, as the full meaning of what the empress said about the emperor sinks in. I¡¯m sure she¡¯s back at her pce, getting thestugh as always. Reminding me once again that I am not and will never be her opponent.

    Herst shot feels like a punch in the gut and I curl up around the crumbling hole in the center of my chest, right on top of the stained bedcovers. I can feel both my own agony as well as the former Winter¡¯s pain. It¡¯s been a while since I felt her emotions. It serves to remind me that in spite of the myriad of injuries I¡¯ve felt in the years I¡¯ve healed people, nothing hurts more than an emotional wound. Nothing.

    ¡°If he chose my mother, then he knew that I existed. Somewhere out there. And he never even looked. Not until I was practically delivered to his doorstep... Why?¡±

    ¡°Did you say something, your highness?¡± Marie is out of breath, carrying a different bottle of champagne. The shimmering gold packaging of the exquisitely shaped bottle alone is luxurious enough to pay for a year¡¯s rent of Bianca¡¯s shack in the slums.

    ¡°Nothing important.¡± I pull myself together, the threads of emotions that hade undone carefully being woven back together as if nothing had happened. But internally I feel ill, the same illness I¡¯ve been faking all day. A chill settles in my bones, but I resist the urge to burrow under my covers.

    ¡°How about another ss?¡± I ask instead with a smile that my leaden cheeks struggle to hold. ¡°This time you should have one yourself too.¡±

    ¡°What are we celebrating?¡± Marie casually opens a bottle of champagne so fine that most nobles would delight in enjoying a ss on the rare special asion.

    ¡°The big picture, Marie. The big picture.¡±

 Chapter 163

    Chapter 163: Ch. 162: Phoenix Crown

    Step one in the manual of how to get away with murder: be the daughter of the guy who makes the rules.

    Step two: have said guy break those rules.

    The next morning brings news, Emma¡¯s whispers reaching my ears mere minutes before Harold, one of my father¡¯s few trusted servants,nds on my doorstep with the official announcement. He always looks small by my father¡¯s side, but within my sitting room where I tend to meet most guests, he isn¡¯t drowned in the size and grandeur of the room, carrying his own rather easily. It piques my interest as I realize I hardly know a thing about this servant who has toiled by the emperor¡¯s side for years without rising or falling in rank or station.

    On paper, that would mean that my father was dissatisfied with him. But the smart nobles and ministers treat Harold like a proxy of the emperor, his seemingly meek and distant persona juxtaposed by the fact that he is one of the few people who can be close to the emperor¡¯s aura. My understanding of my father¡¯s strange aura is limited, but anyone who can withstand it cannot be of little consequence.

    I wonder briefly how Elias would fare against my father¡¯s aura before shaking my head and ridding myself of the idea altogether. Instead, I refocus my energy on the man who has stopped his monotone speaking, a wry smile spreading across my lips.

    ¡°So I¡¯m free to go?¡± I ask, invoking poprnguage from my world that Harold would never understand. Lord Bromely¡¯s death will be ruled as a freak ident due to the dim lighting of the hallway, with Sage being charged for damaging imperial property by breaking the face. If nothing else, it is a creative spin on a cut-and-dry murder case with all obvious clues pointing my way.

    ¡°You were never confined within your quarters, your highness,¡± Harold answers.

    .....

    I snort but don¡¯t respond. ¡°Is that all?¡± He lingers, the ssic hover of a servant who has more to say. Izily rest my head on my hand, the epitome of a bored, spoiled princess who can¡¯t be bothered to listen to her father¡¯s servant.

    ¡°His Majesty wished to know what you desired for your birthday, your highness,¡± his wordse out as stiff as his posture, ever intent to uphold the pomp and glory befit of a pce servant.

    This time the chuckle cannot be stifled. The snickers fill the spacious room, like the delicate peals of bells I can sometimes hear when the wind is just right and the bell boy at the Grand Temple puts his back into his job.

    ¡°Does he really?¡± Technically my actions were disrespectful. But there is no audience to witness and something tells me my father will say nothing of it. As he says nothing of anything to me or about me.

    ¡°Yes, your highness,¡± he replies.

    I look down at the jewels on my fingers, one of them a ring fashioned in the shape of the Holy Church¡¯s sun.

    ¡°Anything I want?¡± I taunt, not looking up.

    ¡°Yes.¡± I suppose of anyone in the world who could make such a im, only an emperor could.

    Suddenly the game grows boring, like a good meal going cold.

    ¡°I want for nothing.¡±

    I rise abruptly from the soft sofa, ready to retreat to the inner rooms and be done with an announcement I knew of before Harold had even set foot through the door. If I¡¯m lucky, I¡¯ll be able to eat some ice cream to dispel the heat before Ms. Laroche arrives and scolds me for eating too many sweet foods in the morning.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± Harold calls from behind.

    I stop and look over my shoulder. ¡°Anything,¡± he repeats firmly in a way that catches my attention.

    ¡°What if I wanted Sarsaval?¡± I yfully inquire, lured back into the game against my will.

    ¡°The emperor would invade,¡± Harold says.

    I shake my head. Sarsaval would be too easy now, considering how they are still weak from the war and they¡¯ve lost the Traveler bomber who made the battle so difficult. A Traveler bomber whose death still perplexes me. But thinking of that whole fiasco makes me think of Julian, and thinking of Julian brings about an unquenchable irritation.

    ¡°What if I wanted your head?¡± I ask with the same tone one would ask for the weather.

    ¡°Then it would be yours, your highness.¡± Harold drops to his knees with his head bowed. If I held a sword in my hands and knew how to wield one, he would be dead in moments.

    ¡°Well, tell him I will think about his offer,¡± I sigh, retreating inside as if I didn¡¯t casually threaten to kill Harold a second ago. I was just kidding anyways, pinky promise.

    ¡°Can you believe that?¡± I say to Emma as I enter my bedroom where she was waiting for me. She¡¯s busy counting the gold in a hefty pouch a gave her, so diligent that her eyes are still pinned on her treasure as she curtseys in greeting.

    ¡°I can,¡± Emma surprisingly answers.

    ¡°Why?¡± I sit next to her and she throws a hostile look my way as she throws a protective arm over her money. Emma is the equivalent of a dragon hoarding its treasure from would-be thieves. ¡°Bloody hell, I gave you that money, why would I take it back?¡±

    ¡°Because today on the streets, there was another interesting rumor abound,¡± she says casually, although I¡¯m sure the rumor is anything but.

    ¡°Oh?¡± I exim, leaning in close. ¡°Do tell.¡±

    She spares a nce my way finally, something heavy in her gaze. ¡°It concerns the imperial family¡¯s honor.¡±

    ¡°Honor,¡± I repeat, finding the notion of my family having any honor quite droll. ¡°All the more reason to hear of it.¡±

    ¡°The people talk of His Majesty¡¯s birth,¡± she continues, her fingers rapidly flicking through coins like a seasoned merchant. ¡°They called him a bastard.¡±

    ¡°Not a lie,¡± I mutter under my breath.

    ¡°They spoke of how he was unfit to bear Helio¡¯s name and of how he was not meant to bear the Phoenix Crown. They say that it should¡¯ve been Crown Prince Wilhelm who bore the crown,¡± Emma finishes, using the shorthand term for the magnificent crown that my father rarely wears save for the asional state function and his own coronation.

    I rise from the chair, tapping my chin in thought as I venture to the bedroom window that overlooks the immacte green pce grounds.

    ¡°Treasonous words,¡± I offer.

    ¡°Mmm,¡± Emma agrees.

    ¡°Probably nted,¡± I add.

    ¡°But it grew on its own from there for a time.¡±

    ¡°The rumor¡¯s already dead? That¡¯s no fun,¡± I pout. ¡°It would take a lot to sweep away rumors such as that. Who served as the broom to get rid of them? Was it the people¡¯s undying love for their current crown prince? The people really love Augustus like he¡¯s their own son. Good looks will take you very far in life, take it from me, Emma.¡± I snap my fingers, marveling at my father¡¯s luck.

    All his children came out beautiful, even the psychotic Julia. Even me. No, I¡¯m not one of those attractive characters who have little idea of how pretty or handsome they are. I¡¯ve been well aware that if nothing else, this blossoming beauty of mine will be utterly devastating when I¡¯m older, should I be lucky enough to live that long.

    ¡°No,¡± Emma replies tly. ¡°It was you.¡±

    ¡°...Me?¡±

    ¡°Yes. If the emperor were unworthy of the throne and the Phoenix Crown, the promised child would not havee from his blood. Is your existence not proof of Helio¡¯s satisfaction with him? Simple reasoning really,¡± she shrugs.

    ¡°Simple reasoning indeed,¡± I sigh. ¡°No wonder he is so generous for this birthday in particr.¡±

    The empress¡¯ poisonous words attempt to sow their seeds once more, reaffirming that my entire existence was calcted from the start. So long as the emperor has a child who can wield the gifts of a god, who can point their finger at him and call him illegitimate? Say, he¡¯s so worthy of the throne that even his illegitimate children can be blessed by Helio!

    But rather than wallowing in self-pity like I can admit I am fond of doing, I toss my head back and let out a good bellyugh.

    ¡°He made good use of me then. I ought to return the favor by choosing a very good gift. What do you say, Emma?¡± I ask my closest confidante rather deviously.

    Emma shrugs again. ¡°Gold coins would make a perfectly good gift.¡±

    I stalk back across the room and smack her forehead. ¡°You and your gold! You¡¯d pluck my golden eyes right out of my head if you could.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare, your highness. I doubt they¡¯d be worth much.¡± Thest sentence she says under her breath, but in a room with just her and me, how wouldn¡¯t I be able to hear her?

    ¡°Insolent! Don¡¯t you know how much of a pretty penny these would fetch you on the ck market?¡± Ie in close, staring her down with the same obnoxiousness as people with blue eyes in my old world. ¡°You¡¯d be a millionaire, you hoarding dragon. A millionaire!¡±

    The doubt and disdain in her eyes wound me. But they also give rise to a good idea.

    ¡°What if I asked for a dragon, Emma? Say, we¡¯d get the best of both worlds, wouldn¡¯t we? Dragons protectrge hordes of gold. If I asked Father to tame one for me, I¡¯d get both coin and a new pet,¡± I rationalize as if dragons aren¡¯t a rare species that are notoriously difficult to find and capture.

    ¡°What is this talk of pets, your highness?¡± Ms. Laroche arrives without preamble or warning, causing both Emma and I to jump. Her gray dress stands in stark contrast with the white and gold decor of the room, calling into attention the fact that I am not in my proper ¡°school uniform¡± of a full ck skirt and white blouse.

    ¡°You misheard, Ms. Laroche.¡± My voice lightly quavers as she stalks in, her eyes taking in everything.

    ¡°I had been waiting for you toe to your lesson. But you didn¡¯te, so I thought I might seek you out here, your highness,¡± Ms. Larochements in her whipcrack of a voice, cleverly telling me that I am both veryte and in trouble.

    ¡°Um... were you? The time got away from me as I was taking care of delicate matters. Didn¡¯t it, Emma?¡±

    ¡°It did.¡± Emma discreetly tucks away her gold and quickly agrees with me. Ms. Laroche passes a disapproving look to her, before returning to me.

    ¡°See?¡± I say to her, smiling through gritted teeth as I recall how she¡¯d made me bnce books on my head thest time I showed upte to a lesson. And all the while my father watched on without a word. Typical.

    But surprisingly, Ms. Laroche doesn¡¯t pursue the topic. ¡°It will be your birthday soon. I won¡¯t be here to celebrate as my sister is giving birth and I must assist her. You would do well to remember that you are approaching adulthood and can no longer act as frivolously as you tend to, your highness.¡±

    I can read in between the lines and see that Ms. Laroche is giving me a pass for today. Even so, her words rankle as I curse my luck of having to repeat school a second time as if the first time wasn¡¯t hard enough as it was.

    ¡°Was my father in the study room before you came?¡± I ask after changing into my uniform. School is much less of a bother without Julia there and I¡¯ve grown ustomed to the silent emperor just lurking in the back as I learn about how his great-great-grandfather messed up a trade treaty and plunged the empire into a war with one of its neighboring kingdoms.

    ¡°He was. Let us return so that the emperor does not tarry from his work any longer than he must. I am certain he takes his daily tasks far more seriously than you do, your highness,¡± she condemns me in a barely veiled manner, her long steps carrying her far ahead of me. It is truly a gift to be so polite yet so deadly.

    ¡°I do not doubt that either,¡± I enthusiastically agree on the outside with a Cheshire cat grin. On the inside, I keep reminding myself to ¡®Just. Keep. Smiling¡¯. Sometimes I don¡¯t know whether I should appreciate or hate Ms. Laroche for always treating me the same no matter how my luck has ebbed and flowed over the years. But I know that her actions and words right now would pale inparison to the reaction that would be garnered if she knew of the murder trial I just dodged. Even though I¡¯m technically innocent, I know I would drown in a sea of her disappointment and contempt.

    ¡°Your Majesty.¡±

    ¡°Father.¡± We finally arrive at the study room, one of the repurposed rooms of the empress¡¯ wing I¡¯ve been given, considering how most empresses are done with their studies by the time they reside here.

    The drably decorated room, meant to inspire a bookish air with shelves of books and a faint scent of crisp paper, is further garnished with a stern-looking emperor. He nods, ready to carry on with his silent watch, but today is a little different.

    ¡°Father,¡± I repeat again to therge man sitting in a chair entirely too small for him in the corner. Ms. Laroche has offered several times to get him a better one, but he gives her a long look until she drops the matter. The emperor looks my way with his typical intensity and I¡¯m struck by how his dark hair is longer than I remember, falling almost halfway down his back. It¡¯s funny how the little details will jump out at you at random times.

    ¡°For my birthday, I would like a cupcake,¡± I request in my sweetest voice.

    ¡°Cupcake? A cup of cake?¡± Ms. Laroche repeats,pletely perplexed. ¡°Don¡¯t say such nonsense things to the emperor, your highness.¡±

    ¡°What is a cup...cake?¡± my father asks instead. His voice is soft, softer than usual.

    ¡°It is a small cake baked in a cup. You put buttercream on top and pretty, edible decorations. They are a delight to eat on birthdays,¡± I tell him carefully, using my hand gestures to paint a full picture.

    My father nods solemnly like I¡¯ve invested him with a serious task.

    ¡°Is there anything else you would like, Winter?¡± he generously offers.

    I tap my chin as if I¡¯m thinking hard before faking a eureka moment. ¡°Oh yes! And a dragon. I would really, really love a pet dragon for my birthday. You can do that, can¡¯t you? Since you said I could ask for anything I want.¡± I bat myshes, staring at my father like he¡¯s the greatest thing since sliced bread if that is even a thing in this world.

    For the first time in my life, I think I see a hint of regret in Emperor Helio¡¯s eyes.

    .....

 Chapter 164

    Chapter 164: Ch. 163: Cupcakes and Confessions

    It almost looks right. The frosting. The sulent sweetness of the cake. Even the specially made candle small enough to be tucked into the top.

    The me flickers on the wick, illuminating nothing on this fine day that doubles as my birthday.

    ¡°I¡¯m 12,¡± I say, looking down at my half-eaten cupcake. I pluck out the candle and perhaps out of habit, Finn immediately takes it from me and tucks it away god knows where.

    ¡°You are, your highness. Congrattions,¡± Finn says in an even tone, not allowing for the slightest hint of emotion to infiltrate his tone. The fox has fully grown into a politician, cloaked in a somber blue that is at odds with the impending summer.

    ¡°Do you know why I wanted to meet with you on this day?¡± I ask the newish Duke. He almost looks the way he used to, if I don¡¯t focus my eyes on the family insignia decorating what could almost pass as a navy blue royal guard uniform.

    ¡°I must confess, I do not,¡± he admits.

    I smirk to myself. ¡°Good word choice. As fate has it, I wanted to confess something to you.¡±

    .....

    ¡°I did not think you still held me in your confidence, your highness.¡± He sounds like the verbal equivalent of a door to the face.

    ¡°I do not,¡± I lightly toss his words back at him. ¡°Although I¡¯d like to think that I once did.¡±

    His expression finally softens. ¡°Then why are you here today of all days?¡±

    ¡°I get reflective of the past on my birthdays.¡± I pause to scoop up some frosting into my mouth. ¡°What, want some?¡± I ask as he stares at my crass behavior.

    ¡°I¡¯ve already eaten breakfast. What is it you wish to confess?¡± It¡¯s not amusement, but a darker expectation settles into Finn¡¯s features. I btedly realize that he expects me to confess to Lord Bromely¡¯s murder. Can you believe I¡¯ve almost already forgotten about that dead man?

    ¡°Before you get your hopes up, it¡¯s not about murder. I¡¯m innocent of that... debacle,¡± I say, waving the matter away my hands.

    ¡°Yes, the emperor saw to that.¡± It¡¯s obvious Finn was against my father¡¯s tampering with the case.

    ¡°Your Eminence,¡± I softly call, making light mockery of his new title. ¡°If you are so foolish as to still believe that I am the culprit of the murder, in the same way I was ¡°the culprit¡± of Sir Gregory¡¯s poisoning, you should renounce your position and retire to Avernall Castle as you are unsuited for this game.¡±

    ¡°A game?¡± He lets out half a chuckle from the corner of his mouth. ¡°Is that what we call murder under strange circumstances now?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s what we call a firstborn son who joined the royal guard as a tactic to get close to the emperor and now enjoys unprecedented prestige nearly rivaling that of a famous House,¡± I fire back without missing a beat. If it weren¡¯t for his young age at the time of joining and his natural charm, I doubt Finn could¡¯ve found a ce for himself in the elite battalion. I take a bite of cupcake to the sound of his silence.

    ¡°When you are free you should look into Sage¡¯s background. I am rather curious as to where the empress identally found a girl child who loathed the former chancellor enough to blow her cover and truly kill him. She hasn¡¯t said a word in the prison, despite how diligent the torturers down there can be.¡±

    ¡°You must¡¯ve bribed her very well.¡± It¡¯s an offhand statement, with no weight behind his words. He¡¯s listening.

    ¡°And I once thought you were clever,¡± I sigh. ¡°We are straying from the point.¡±

    Finn regards me for a full minute, as if to read my face like a book. Just when I¡¯m about to open my mouth and tell him that if he wishes to read, the Imperial Library is a 15-minute walk east, he opens his mouth.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t lying.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps the fox hasn¡¯t lost his touch,¡± I say in lieu of a simple yes.

    ¡°Fox?¡± His brow wrinkles as I finally let him hear the nickname I¡¯ve had for him since the moment Iid eyes on him in Bianca¡¯s shack.

    ¡°When you were younger you always had a devilish look and demeanor. I¡¯d imagine that¡¯s why we got along so well. But now you¡¯ve learned to sheath your ws. So boring...¡± I sigh.

    ¡°There can only be one fox in the hen house and I didn¡¯t wish to intrude on you, your highness.¡±

    I let out a huff of air that could pass off as augh before earnestly looking up at one of the first people I was acquainted with in the pce. We¡¯ve had enough conversational forey for me to delve into the real deal now.

    ¡°I¡¯m a Traveler, Finn. The very thing you were quick to condemn an unnatural. I¡¯m one of them.¡±

    His face twists into a myriad of emotions. A shred of tinum blonde hair, worn long like my father¡¯s, falls between his eyes but he doesn¡¯t notice.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t tell me this without a reason,¡± Finn finally says, tapping his chin and slowly looking back at me. His master poker face is back on, I can¡¯t even tell if he¡¯s disgusted, curious, or pissed. In a strange way, it isforting. I¡¯ve grown far too good at knowing what anyone is feeling at a mere nce.

    I shrug. ¡°Maybe I would.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you would,¡± he agrees, perhaps recalling my crazy crackhead energy that rears its head at the most inopportune times. Possessing a somewhat impulsive spirit has both saved me and brought me trouble countless times, a double-edged sword I¡¯m more than happy to wield.

    ¡°So how old are you?¡± he asks rather calmly.

    ¡°Older than my siblings. Older than you,¡± I smirk.

    ¡°That exins a few things,¡± Finn chuckles. I feel a weight fall off my shoulders. In a way, telling someone the secret I¡¯ve been carrying for more entire life and not getting met with revulsion, is the best gift I could ask for. But unfortunately for Finn, he is right.

    I did tell him this for a reason.

    It¡¯s almost as if Finn senses the lie in my words, for he stiffens and considers another good point.

    ¡°If you really are a Traveler...¡± he contends, ¡°Then you aren¡¯t really the daughter of the emperor. What other interests do you have? Do you covet that which you should not?¡±

    I sputter out augh. ¡°Just say it outright, Your Eminence. Am I not loyal to my father? Do I wish to overtake Augustus and take the throne?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that. Simply address me as you once did ¨C simply as Sir Finn.¡±

    ¡°You are no longer the Sir Finn of the royal guard. I am no longer that helpless Princess Winter. But... I will oblige.¡± I cast a cursory nce at the scenery. There is but a lone statue of my grandfather and some green foliage to be seen. This is a good spot to divulge secrets as any prying souls can be seen a great distance away with these open grounds.

    ¡°Do you not consider me a threat? To so generously relinquish this information to me without any warning or threats?¡± Finn asks, still suspicious.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so little of you, Sir Finn. Maybe I was tired of keeping a secret. Maybe I just wanted you to realize that like myself, most Travelers aren¡¯t looking to cause mayhem. They just want to survive in the strange new world they¡¯ve woken up in.¡± I speak in a taunting manner, although a hint of raw emotion still escapes.

    ¡°Survive? The bond between royal parent and progeny is already weaker than most, without being exacerbated by the fact that you are in fact, not his daughter. What if survival for you results in something worse for His Majesty?¡±

    His voice is less stern than before. But it is hard to say whether he is truly moved or not.

    The past few years have shown me that Finn possesses manyyers and many faces. That is why I want him on my side before I fully embroil myself in the politics of this world. Having a shrewd character would lend much security and credibility to my dealings. However, acquiring such a character requires the sacrifice of my greatest secret.

    ¡°That is the second time you nder me by iming I am not my father¡¯s daughter. Take care with your words,¡± I scold, not taking kindly to him insinuating that I wasn¡¯t the daughter of the emperor. I¡¯m not as offended as I appear, as his thoughts follow the natural progression one would expect following such a revtion. However, such ideas must be firmly squashed in the cradle, lest they grow to be terrifying rumors that I cannot unentangle myself from.

    ¡°My apologies, your highness. I misspoke.¡± He bows his head with his apology, but I steamroll past it to my next point.

    ¡°Think about it from my much smaller shoes, Sir Finn, if you¡¯d prefer to believe that I don¡¯t care for the emperor. What do I stand to gain in being disloyal to my father?¡± I carefully point out. ¡°I am his bastard, and a daughter at that, the youngest of his four known children. In what world can I inherit something that is not given to me by him? As he made me, the emperor can simrly unmake me. Cast me back to the streets, to obscurity. Or worse.¡±

    There is no need to borate on what ¡®or worse¡¯ means as the not-so-false rumors of the terrible deaths that befell extended members of the imperial family still roam the streets.

    ¡°You are the promised child, your highness. Although the emperor would never harm you, such an act would be condemned by the Holy Church,¡± Finn counters with less fortitude than before, my coarse words backing him down from his charged insinuations.

    I smile grimly to myself as the duke unknowingly echoes the exact reason why I had fought tooth and nail to acquire the promised child status for myself, even before finding out that the prophecy was true and I was actually the promised child. And although it is true that my father has technically never harmed me, his utter indifference during my early years and ourck of a rtionship has caused me great harm and hardship in this life.

    ¡°Understand this. My interests and my father¡¯s interests are one and same.¡± I firmly impress upon him. This is true, for the most part. Give or take a few key principles.

    ¡°I was born into this world. Lived as Winter since before I could speak. I am no different from anyone else, except that I came into this world with the memories of another life.¡±

    ¡°Not love? You are simply bonded by simr interests rather than familial affection?¡± Finn asks. He is not so na?ve to believe that, so I¡¯m not sure why he would pry. Chewing on myst bite of cupcake in an annoyed manner, I swallow fully before staring at him like he¡¯d just told me 2 + 2 = 5.

    ¡°I know you are a loyal subject so you need not respond. But can you truly look at the imperial family and think we are bonded by something like love?¡± I can¡¯t stop theugh thates out at the l-word, sounding like a jaded soul rather than an adolescent child.

    After being cheated on by my fiance and treated like trash by this family until I disyed some usefulness, I¡¯d be a fool to ce so much weight on a mere emotion that can change faster than the seasons.

    ¡°There is also marriage.¡± He looks me in the eye as he says this.

    ¡°What? Marriage?¡± The 180-degree turn our conversation takes is more jarring than a p to the face.

    ¡°If you were to be married, your interests would align with that of your husband¡¯s. There is no guarantee that whomever you will wed would have the same interests as the throne. So forgive me, your highness, but that still casts doubt on where you stand,¡± he concludes, sounding pleased with his reasoning. Sometimes I forget that I¡¯m in an era where women are essories to their fathers and husbands until moments like this.

    ¡°What if I were to wed you, Your Eminence?¡± I return with a verbal p of my own. ¡°Tell me, would my interests still be in line with that of my father? Would the interests of the duchy of Avernall still be in line with that of the empire?¡±

    I finish off my cupcake as Finn stands there in stupefied silence. I suppose it¡¯s not every day a kid you¡¯ve known since they were five jests about marrying you. Or maybe he also hears the Law and Order music thundering in the background.

    ¡°Well yed, princess. You are wise beyond your years,¡± he replies, throwing in a clever albeit backhandedpliment.

    ¡°If only my governess thought the same,¡± I grumble. ¡°Can you believe I have to go through school a second time?¡±

    We both share a quietugh. It feels good to have that reprieve from this charged conversation.

    ¡°That¡¯s a blessing, your highness. I look back on my school days quite fondly,¡± Sir Finn finally says, causing me to roll my eyes.

    ¡°But of course. Education fords such as yourself must be far more entertaining than the drivel I must learn. History, etiquette, philosophy, and music,¡± I drone, listing the dreaded subjects off on my fingers.

    ¡°I must know...¡± I look up at the royal guard I had once viewed almost as tenderly as I see Maria and Emma, his face both foreign and familiar. Politics and powerplicate and alienate rtionships in a way my humble existence in my past life kept me safe from. ¡°...Other than the opportunity to grow close to my father, why did you not attend the Imperial College?¡±

    ¡°If I tell you...¡± Finn leans in like he¡¯s about to share and I can¡¯t help leaning in as well despite myself. Instead, he throws another curveball into our chat. ¡°...You will never know what Lord Bromely spent his final days doing.¡±

    I peer up at him with an incredulous look, but he is sincere. ¡°I am a fair man. You divulged something to me. I must now return the favor. A gentleman does not owe favors. And you have given me quite a lot over the years.¡±

    ¡°A fox fancying himself a gentleman, what a joke,¡± I grumble under my breath, not paying much mind to hisst sentence that possessed much depth beneath its surface.

    ¡°What was that?¡± His bleach blonde brows lower suspiciously.

    ¡°Mmm nothing. Some cupcake caught in my throat. Do carry on.¡± I make a show of delicately coughing into my palm. In truth, I could really use some tea to wash down that delicious cake.

    He raises a brow, but carries on speaking with both hands sped behind his back. ¡°Lord Bromely was not very idle in his time away from the capital. He was digging through ice up north and skulking around the humid jungles in the east, hunting for secrets better left buried. For some reason, he seemed to think that the answery inside Travelers, once your existence was revealed. He was methodically butchering and carving his way through every single one he could get his hands on.¡±

    ¡°Killing them?¡± I feel sick, but I need proper confirmation.

    ¡°In a far more brutal way than the manner in which your maid did him in. In that sense, it is almost poetic that you were the one to deal the killing blow,¡± he acknowledges with a nod of his head.

    ¡°I told you that wasn¡¯t me!¡± I yell before noticing the cunning twinkle in his eye. Bastard. ¡°Don¡¯t hold out now. What was he looking for?¡±

    ¡°The man¡¯s quite dead now, so I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t ask him. I had been trying to gain his confidance over the past few years, but the incident at the Chrysanthemum Opera House put all of that to a stop.¡± Lies, but clever partial ones that can be hidden beneath a veneer of truth. I¡¯m grateful to receive an answer nheless.

    ¡°Look into Sage¡¯s background, if that is even her name. You may find an answer or two in there before she gets a taste of the same fate that befell thete lordship she obviously bore great ill will towards. It must be something close to home,¡± I muse aloud, like a teacher gently prompting her student towards the right answer.

    .....

    Finn all of a sudden hits me with a pensive stare. I squirm a little, standing my ground as I wait for the inevitable disgust and disdain to rain down upon me.

    ¡°What?¡± I wonder if I was a bit too slovenly in eating my birthday treat and now have cake crumbs pasted to my face.

    ¡°Tell me, princess. What makes you happy?¡±

 Chapter 165

    Chapter 165: Ch. 164: The Price of Happiness

    ¡°I...¡± My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.

    His words shock me, stunning me like a blindsiding punch. I¡¯m not sure.

    ¡°My sister is fond of croquet. She ys it often with her peers. She also ys with dolls, although I suspect you may find those a touch childish for yourself,¡± he chuckles to himself.

    There¡¯s a pause for me to respond, but I can¡¯t find any words. I¡¯ve been rendered speechless, prompting Finn to keep going.

    ¡°You ought to find something to content yourself with. Otherwise, you¡¯ll wind up like the deceased Lord Bromely. Forever chasing after an elusive goal you will never reach. Dying prematurely with unfounded dreams upon your lips. I don¡¯t know how you came to be in this world, but it is rare that happy people die young. I wouldn¡¯t hope to see your fate repeated a second time.¡± Like his ominous words, our conversation simrly draws to a close.

    To some, it may sound like he¡¯s cursing death upon me. But as someone who has felt the ice-cold touch of death¡¯s sickle many a time, I can see beyond the harsh words.

    ¡°...You¡¯re right,¡± I agree, conceding for the first time in the conversation. However, there is a distance the size of the Moor between me knowing the young duke is right and me rectifying the empty hole inside me. I rub my chest mindlessly as Sir Finn bows and walks away.

    .....

    ying croquet. Dressing up dolls. Idle activities for young girls who don¡¯t have to worry much beyond what dress they¡¯ll wear to their friend¡¯s birthday parties and what dessert to eat after dinner. I think back to the tea party of Elsbeth Laroche, which I couldn¡¯t even enjoy without the taint of court-fuelled drama.

    ¡°I¡¯m too old for that nonsense,¡± I mutter under my breath, finally walking away from where we had our conversation.

    But lying to yourself is pointless when you yourself know what you say isn¡¯t true. It rankles at me, even as Emma approaches from where she had hidden out of earshot to apany me back to my quarters.

    ¡°What makes you happy, Emma?¡± My voice is quieter than usual, but with nothing but the sound of leaves rustling in the wind and our own footsteps, the words are clear as day.

    She doesn¡¯t verbally answer but I see her pat the hidden pocket of her apron where she always carries around some of her bountiful gold.

    ¡°Why did I even bother asking.¡± I roll my eyes, but the amusement does lift my spirits a bit.

    We round a corner where some young maids-in-training, too low-level to even have duties within the main pce, toss a ball to one another giggling. But their revelry draws to a stop as a keen-eyed one with a good throw catches sight of Emma and I approaching. All signs of fun dissipate like morning fog. All of them rush to line up and curtsey, eyes obediently trained to the ground. They all look too young to be away from their parents, too young to be a part of this treacherously beautiful pce.

    ¡°Sweet treats. Anything yummy my mom makes really,¡± I mumble to myself, beginning to list off to myself things that have sparked joy in my heart during my past life. ¡°I like... I also like... hmmm.¡±

    ¡°I feel happy watching telenovs with my mom, even the cheesy ones with poor cinematography. I feel happy trying out new coffee shops. I feel happy when I y with the animals at the animal shelter. I...¡± My lips press into a firm line. ¡°I have to go back. I will go back.¡±

    ¡°Go back where?¡±

    I burst into a smile that isn¡¯t reflected in my heart. ¡°To my chambers of course! There are many gifts to unwrap!¡±

    ¡°You know what would make me happy?¡±

    Emma shrugs.

    ¡°Ruining a certain man¡¯s life and social standing. And getting a dragon.¡±

    A devious smile spreads across my face as I lean over and whisper something in Emma¡¯s ear. First, her eyebrows nearly reach her hairline, but by the end, if I¡¯m not mistaken, there is a faint grin hanging on her lips.

    ¡°You are a good princess, your highness. You are.¡± Her eyes shimmer and shine in a way that causes me to break eye contact first for once. There is a strange swirl of guilt and tion in her chest.

    ¡°I hope you can still say that in a few years. I truly do,¡± I can only respond as we return.

    There are dozens of gifts for me to work my way through as the sun rises to its zenith in the sky and slowly begins to crawl down in thete afternoon. Julian gifts me a pair of white horses whose coats glimmer in the sun. I distinctly know that I told thatd that I am not the biggest fan of horses, so I roll my eyes at his cheeky gift. The servant from his courtyard lets out a sigh of relief as I nod my approval, allowing for the horses to be taken care of somewhere out of my sight.

    I smile and p at the jewelry I¡¯m gifted, many of which I may never wear. Augustus¡¯ generous endowment of an ornate pearl set of jewelry does suit my fancy and I am vaguely delighted that he knows my tastes well enough to give me such a thoughtful gift. If only he could understand my struggles just as easily and why I do the things I do.

    The only gifts that truly touch me after those are the gifts from themon people, thoroughly checked and picked over by guards to prevent any bodily or magical threats from infiltrating the pce walls. Most are simple things, crudely constructed dolls, heartfelt letters, charms for good luck. I rub my thumb on a carved pendant meant to ward away evil, wishing it were so easy to rid my life with a handmade talisman.

    ¡°Pretty,¡± Emma says unexpectedly, her eyes drawn to the turquoise blue stone the pendant was made from.

    ¡°Very. And quite thoughtful of them. Help me tie it around my neck, will you?¡± I turn around to face the door, just as they are opened without warning and a young servant with a booming voice announces a surprising guest.

    ¡°His Majesty has arrived!¡±

    This is new.

    The emperor walks in, hands sped behind his back, silent as ever. He was a watcher, much like myself, who became a yer. The vignce never decreases, his eyes sharp as they survey the room in seconds without breaking his stride.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Emma and Marie curtsey before backing away to give us some privacy.

    ¡°Happy birthday, Winter,¡± my father intones to my somewhat surprised face.

    ¡°Um... thank you,¡± I smile hard to hide my gawkiness.

    I press my lips together, feeling more awkward than an audience member dragged up on stage to participate in the act. Do I smile? Do I act grateful to see him? I still remember the effort I put in a few years ago when I tried and failed to win my father over with my cuteness. So now, except for the rare asion (like requesting a dragon for my birthday), I hardly feel like cracking a smile around the man.

    Nheless, politeness wins out and I allow a thin smile to cross my face. Piles of wrapping paper are being ferried out of the room with great haste by maids, precious trinkets and toys to be carted off to no man¡¯snd as I have little use for them at my true age.

    I awkwardly clear my throat. ¡°Please take a seat... Father.¡±

    And he does. Right next to me. I can feel the sofa cushion depress under his weight. My hands bunch up the skirt of my dress before I can help myself, wrinkling the shimmery taffeta material. But I can hardly pay it any mind as two strong men wobble into the room with a chest that must weigh a lot.

    It thuds onto the finely woven carpet before my bed and both men bow before leaving.

    ¡°Open it, Winter,¡± my father suddenly says.

    ¡°What is it?¡± I ask, eyeing the ornate chest but not making a move towards it. I cannot imagine how it could ever pertain to what I had asked of the emperor the other day.

    ¡°Your gift.¡±

    My lips press into a fine line, but I approach anyways as I find myself stuck between a rock and a hard ce. The few maids who are still in the room, are huddled near the walls of course so that they aren¡¯t affected by my father¡¯s aura, are silent as death. My fingers scramble at the smooth surface of thetch holding the golden chest shut before I finally flip it up and am blessed with a sight I did not expect in the slightest.

    It both is and isn¡¯t a dragon. A shell, smooth and shiny, iridescent in a way that no man-made craft can replicate. It is an egg, a few sizesrger than my head and nestled in a red pillow like a treasure. I lose my breath.

    ¡°Woah,¡± I gasp despite trying my best to stay calm and collected. It¡¯s not everyday one runs into a literal dragon egg, after all.

    I reach out to touch it, the shiny spines as firm as steel under my touch. It is neither warm nor cold, instead a lukewarm temperature that feels alive under my touch.

    ¡°There is a chance it may never hatch. But if raised carefully under the right conditions, it may bear fruit,¡± my father says, suddenly standing over my shoulder.

    ¡°Right, right,¡± I respond, barely registering his words as I touch the egg again. Eventually, my sanity returns and I can all but hear my mother, Dolores, yelling in my ear to thank my father properly.

    ¡°Oh! Thank you, father! Thank you very much! I love it!¡± I stretch my arms out wide to disy how much I like it, gagging internally as I add, ¡°I love it this much!¡±

    The moment the wordse out, I want to throw myself off a cliff out of embarrassment. But thankfully, I have been temporarily spared the repercussions of my actions as another guest is promptly announced ¨C Elias, the little two-faced lord-to-be, whom I am far too kind to on ount of that night long ago when he¡¯d stopped me frommitting a fatal mistake.

    Today, he is wheeled in, not by his loyal butler Chester, but by a face I¡¯ve never before seen. Elias looks utterly unphased by the change of the servant who has been by his side longer than anyone else, smiling as he is rolled in.

    ¡°Your Majesty. Your highness,¡± he greets, switching back to the proper vernacr before my father. I grin, pleased by his visit.

    ¡°I wish you the happiest of birthdays, your highness. May fate always be kind to you.¡± I snort inwardly. Fate, or I suppose I should say, Peppermint, hasn¡¯t been kind to me, but now that I¡¯m a part of the story there is no way for her to manipte me ever again.

    ¡°Thank you, Elias,¡± I respond respectfully. If nothing else, with the emperor still in the room, it wouldn¡¯t do for me to go put the son of one of his most loyal retainers in a headlock. As tempting as it seems at the moment.

    Elias nods his head, epting my gratitude and simultaneously prompting the new face pushing his chair to bring forth arge box lined with holes.

    ¡°Your gift. Hopefully, it suits your interests,¡± Elias said, cing a special emphasis on interests. I¡¯m half distracted already, having seen something scurry within the confines of the aerated box. The butler ces the box on a table Marie hastily clears of any items, lifting the heavy lid carefully to reveal two snow-white bunnies chasing each other around.

    ¡°Oh my word!¡± I squeal, letting out that girlish scream that rises from the depths of a female soul when presented with a cute animal. It scares the bunnies, who suddenly stop their prancing around and sit straight up, like soldiers greeting theirmanding officer. They are cuter than words, cuter than anything I¡¯ve ever seen before, even my reflection when I was 5.

    ¡°This is perfect!¡± Instant forgiveness is invisibly bestowed upon Elias and he smiles knowingly. Rubbing my fingers through fur softer than my own bedsheets, I¡¯m met with a sensation of animal-fuelled euphoria I felt with my family pet dog in my previous life.

    ¡°Names! They need names!¡± I exim to myself, trying and failing to hold both of my precious new babies in my arms. They scurry back to the safety of their open cage and Eliasughs at me without a care.

    Btedly, I see my father¡¯s face has slipped back into the emotionless mask he performs with such ease. He couldn¡¯t be annoyed that I¡¯m fawning over Elias¡¯ gift more than his right? Then I shake my head at such a silly thought. An emperor such as my father would not be so easily incensed by the emotions of his partially estranged daughter. Not after all these years of me pleading and searching for an emotional response from him.

    What about the huntingpetition? The angel on my right shoulder asks. Her voice is weak as I¡¯ve been smothering her words out in favor of her darkerpanion. And what about when he cleared you of the murder charges without any doubt or hesitation? Maybe your father¡¯s lovenguage is-

    Lovenguage? The devil scoffs. Don¡¯t listen to that bullshit, Winter. The man barely cares. Maybe a little, but not nearly as much as she¡¯s trying to give him credit for. He would never have been here if you weren¡¯t useful. So just enjoy the good things you can get out of him while you can and be happy.

    To no one¡¯s surprise, I¡¯m more inclined to listen to the devil and my heart feels temporarily at ease once more.

    Is this happiness, Finn? It¡¯s hard to say. But I¡¯ll make do with whatever this is for now. Particrly when I findter that evening, tucked under the hand-sewn cushions for the bunnies, a book about forbidden magic.

 Chapter 166

    Chapter 166: Ch. 165: Eat Your Veggies

    ¡°Woah there, Angel! My hair is not food! Same with you, Devil.¡±

    I set down my overeager bunnies and they run across my bedroom floor in circles, more hyper than 5-year-old me on sugar.

    ¡°Is this what children are like?¡± I ask Marie as she instructs a maid to bring them carrots.

    She shakes her head ruefully. ¡°Children are much a little worse but just as delightful.¡± There is a wistfulness and affection in her eyes that I can attribute to her nephew. As someone who is well in her middle-aged years, I¡¯m happy that there is someone participating in Marie¡¯s life to a degree that I cannot.

    ¡°How is Lief?¡± Fluffs of rabbit fur float off of me as I give myself a good shake.

    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s marvelous,¡± she gushes. ¡°Quite taken with Radovalsk. I think he wants to settle down permanently in the city and never return to our vige, no matter how much I¡¯ve urged him to do so.¡±

    But I can hardly spare a thought on Lief as I think on an earlier exchange between myself and the best dressmaker in all of Radovalsk...

    .....

    EARLIER THAT DAY...

    ¡°I¡¯m delighted that you are here,¡± I cheerfully tell Lady Arabe as she curtsies in my presence.

    ¡°The pleasure is all mine, your highness.¡± Her fingers drop her skirt and I can¡¯t help but notice how thin they¡¯ve be, how weary she looks.

    It¡¯s like plucking a flower and watching it die prematurely, the lush petals shriveling and tumbling off. Its strong stem covered in thorny armor runs and withers, snapping within a matter of days so that the bloom hunches over like a senior citizen. It¡¯s a tragic sight, especially when magnified on the young Arabe who is a few years my junior if we are going by my real age.

    ¡°You are well?¡± I inquire, leading her to take a seat with me on the cushioned ottoman at the center of my dressing room. She nods but her hand feels ice cold.

    ¡°It¡¯s not good to lie, Arabe. Lying is a sin ording to the Holy Church,¡± I remind her, quoting the abominable ce in the hopes that it will encourage her to be honest. Ever since Sir Berrick, pardon my French, Lord Berrick now, returned from ying a dragon much like histe father-inw, he has been venerated and exalted by the people.

    In the past, there seemed to be ayer of immunity surrounding Lady Arabe once she¡¯d settled into her horrible marriage. On top of her father being a famous and praised knight, she also ran a luxury couturier beloved by the imperial family and the top echelons of nobility. But now, with both husband and wife of them on equal societal footing, he¡¯s been exercising his control even more than before. I cannot begin to imagine what she goes through living with that beast of a man. Every time I see her, her under eyes grow more hollow and her dresses grow looser faster than she can tailor them to her diminishing size.

    That animal she¡¯s been married to against her will deserves to be locked up in a cage and drowned. But unfortunately, like most of the worst beasts in society, he was lucky enough to be born rich and noble. The kind of people that are forged in the finery, opulence, and exclusivity of nobility are rarely the good sort I¡¯vee to learn, no matter how many fairytales there are about gentle princesses, charitable duchesses, and valiant princes.

    Arabe opens her mouth a few times, but no soundes out. Her bottom jaw trembles and it seems for a moment that she will cry. But nothinges out of her eyes. She just shakes and shakes, like a leaf caught in a fierce wind named Berrick.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, your highness. Just fine. Thank you for asking,¡± she whispers.

    I ce a hand on her knee. ¡°You don¡¯t always have to be fine. I know no one else may wish to see the truth of your marriage, but I am here for you. Truly.¡±

    ¡°I-¡± Her voice hitches, stick-thin fingers digging into the fabric of her dress. ¡°I was with child but... I lost it. That is it. Truly. It happens to many women, your highness. Although, I¡¯m sure t-that such you are in such good health you will easily carry to term.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Arabe,¡± I say sincerely, warming her hands with my body heat while simultaneously checking her for injuries. She did indeed lose a child, a faint pain rippling through my lower stomach in a way that is reminiscent of a period cramp from myst life. But I also feel the terrible bruise that sits atop the skin of her belly, the culprit no doubt of her miscarriage.

    I¡¯m filled with rage, a tea kettle about to blow. But I don¡¯t feel it would be right for me to try to wring the truth out of the despondent woman, especially when I just felt it on my own flesh.

    ¡°You know,¡± I begin to urge her, ¡°I meant it when I said that there is a way for you to leave. I am a princess. I do not lie. Most of the time.¡±

    Lady Arabe giggles softly at my joke.

    ¡°Lady Arabe,¡± I plea, taking both her hands so she can only look me in the eye. ¡°I want to help you. You don¡¯t have to agree, but, you don¡¯t have to condemn yourself to this forever.¡±

    ¡°You are so young... how are you so wise?¡± The older girl shakes her head in disbelief.

    Because I¡¯m actually older than you. ¡°Because I eat my vegetables,¡± I quip without missing a beat.

    She chuckles, giggles, then bursts into a flood of tears. The dam has burst.

    ¡°Leave?¡± Lady Arabe huped, her wave of tears slowly ebbing as hatred fills her eyes. ¡°More than wanting to leave, I want revenge. I need revenge.¡±

    ¡°Revenge?¡± I parrot. Such a delicious word, it tastes better than chocte as I savor it on my tongue.

    But my good friend mistakes my repetition for hesitation and withdraws from my touch.

    ¡°Forgive me, your highness. I overstepped,¡± she hastily says, growing pink with embarrassment.

    ¡°That sounds brilliant,¡± I finish my sentence, a gleeful grin overtaking my face.

    ¡°Your highness?¡± Lady Arabe blinks rapidly, confusion marring her rounder features that have lost some of their softness over the years.

    ¡°Make me a beautiful dress, Arabe. While you do that, I will tell you the best way to ruin a man. You have to attack his manhood,¡± I begin to lecture as she pulls out a tape measure in bewilderment. ¡°Both the literal one on his body and the figurative one embodied in his livelihood and reputation...¡±

    ¡°Your highness!¡± But measuring and dressmakinge second nature to Lady Arabe. Even as she gapes in shock at my barely veiled allusions to the male anatomy, her hands are still busying about her kit.

    ¡°Yes?¡± I drawl, hopping up from the ottoman and slightly startling her. She has be so jumpy over the years.

    ¡°Your highness...¡± she stares down at her hands. ¡°I¡¯m not worth your effort. Although I will treasure your care forever in my heart and work for you as long as I can. But I cannot in good conscience drag a princess into my family matters. On my dead father¡¯s honor, I cannot do such a thing.¡±

    I stepped up onto the elevated footstool I am always measured on. ¡°I¡¯ve grown haven¡¯t I?¡±

    The edge of my skirt, which is noticeably already a few centimeters higher from the ground than it should be even though I had this dress made at the start of spring, is brought to center stage as I kick it up in delight. My days of being a pocket-sized princess areing to an end.

    ¡°P-Pardon?¡± More rapid, confused blinking ensues to my delight. If you cannot already tell, I do love keeping people on their toes during a conversation.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you know, Arabe? I¡¯m not the same child who could easily disguise herself as a street urchin, hoping and praying that you wouldn¡¯tugh at a child revealing herself to be your endorser, Pandora, and being left to the whims of everyone in power.¡±

    It¡¯s partially a lie. I am still left open to the whims of some people in power. But the list is considerably shorter than it was back then and most notably, no longer consists of Peppermint.

    ¡°Besides I want a little revenge too. Lord Berrick has... wronged me in many ways,¡± I murmur, not wishing to share with Lady Arabe just how psychotic her husband is.

    She holds a few samples of fabrics to my bare arms to check how they would suit me. ¡°He has wronged many,¡± she agrees, thankfully not picking up on the darker undertones of my response. ¡°It is because he is aligned with the Duvernay family, so they shield him from many of the repercussions. They also arranged his marriage to me.¡±

    The corner of her lip curls. ¡°My father, he was not a very good father to me. But he gave me his name and brought us to a life not avable to mostmoner knights. But now that man,¡± she says of Lord Berrick, not daring to call him her husband. ¡°Has taken advantage of my father¡¯s good name to establish himself in the military and he is more than happy to discard it now that it has finished serving its purpose.¡±

    An arm curls around her belly protectively and I inadvertently gain a little context into how her child was lost.

    ¡°So you will ept my aid then?¡± I offer once again, the serpent offering Eve an apple. I can tell it is against her better nature, but I can also see that she has been hurt and stepped on one too many times. One simple yes and I will be able to enact my own vengeance through her as well.

    Amon misconception people have is that if you turn the other cheek often enough, the person harming you will stop. But that is simply not true. My youth taught me that. This marriage has taught Arabe that. If you want that person to stop, you must make them. By any means necessary. Short of murder, of course.

    ¡°I-¡± her voice hitches, her confliction literally choking her. But she rubs her stomach again and makes up her mind. ¡°I will. Thank you, your highness.¡±

    ¡°No. Thank you, Lady Arabe. It is a little selfish of me to push you towards a decision that is very hard for many women to make,¡± I sheepishly reply.

    In this era, it is quitemonce to suffer through an unhappy marriage rather than withdraw from it. I¡¯m sure Lady Bryce has been shedding many tears since her daughter sailed off with the rest of the Aidelish contingent across the Moor not long ago. But she is still living with the man who was happy to sell off his daughter in ce of me for the favors he received from House Duvernay in gratitude. I can¡¯t help but wonder if would she leave him if she knew of his bastard.

    ¡°If I don¡¯t do this, there will only be one way for me to leave this marriage. Out the door, through a coffin,¡± Arabe spat with a hollow look. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach that she is not saying this to be dramatic, but as someone who has borne witness to such a travesty.

    ¡°That won¡¯t happen,¡± I say firmly. ¡°Shall we go with the yellow?¡± My finger points at the swatch in question.

    ¡°You said that wearing yellow with your white hair makes you look like a giant daisy.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm. I did say that. Blue?¡± Her memory is just as sharp as her talent.

    ¡°You choose blue often.¡±

    ¡°True.¡± I mull over the remaining colors.

    ¡°Pink?¡± Lady Arabe offers.

    ¡°No pink. I¡¯m too old for pink now.¡± She not so stealthily swallows down augh, I can see that twinkle in her eye that people always dole on younger children but for once I am not vexed by the sight of it.

    ¡°What¡¯s left?¡± I indirectly request to see the rest of the swatches, only for my eyes to be snatched up by a color I¡¯m most familiar with. ¡°That one.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure, your highness?¡± Uncertainty swims in Lady Arabe¡¯s warm brown stare.

    ¡°Yes. As sure as I am that when we are through, you will walk away from the Berrick estate with half its fortune and your good name intact, while Lord Berrick will be reviled and spat by themonfolk,¡± I respond, effortlessly returning to the main conversation at hand.

    Even as I speak, I can¡¯t stop admiring the pretty amethyst color, a rare shade that somehow manages to resemble a certain someone¡¯s eyes.

    Arabe¡¯s lips press together with fervent excitement. ¡°I hope so, your highness. I certainly hope so.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t hope. Hope doesn¡¯t exist here,¡± I lightly scold, cing my hands on her shoulders. ¡°Only your willpower and however badly you want something exists. Your father managed to be a knight against the odds. And not only did he do that, he also became the first to y a dragon in hundreds of years and won his family a seat amongst the nobility.¡±

    I smirk to myself, already imagining the way the stunning color would contrast against my icy locks. ¡°A bastard could be a princess, a maid could be a countess. Anything is possible so long as you want it enough.¡±

 Chapter 167

    Chapter 167: Ch. 166: The People v. OJ Simpson

    Divorce trials are a tricky thing.

    True to any patriarchal society, the odds are far more in favor of a husband trying to divorce rather than a wife.

    Long grow the days, the sun¡¯s rays showering Radovalsk in warmth and good tidings. The seas were smooth, bringing in fine trade from across the Moor to the Old Continent. The Aidelish visit had been fortunate for many reasons: a marriage alliance had been forged between one of the empress¡¯s ¡°adopted¡± daughters and the kingdom¡¯s prince. Trade treaties had been shaken on and signed, bringing in a wave of unique goods that satisfy my temperamental interests. Today has brought before me a kaleidoscope possessing the most intricate craftsmanship I¡¯ve ever seen. It¡¯s almost as intoxicating as looking into Elias¡¯ eyes.

    ¡°Princess,¡± a familiar voice calls, using my title deliberately to get my attention.

    It works. I set down the kaleidoscope with a frown. ¡°How many times have I told you to use my name? Would you like it if I called you, Young Lord? Little Lord Wolfe, don¡¯t try my patience.¡±

    As if sensing my irritation, Devil, who has a ck patch of fur on his snow-white butt, scuttles over. I pick him up and my irritation disseminates.

    ¡°Looks like I chose well for my gift.¡± Elias looks on with a knowing grin, his chin propped up on his hand as he casually leans on the armrest of his wheelchair.

    .....

    ¡°Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself, Little Lord Wolfe,¡± I say, even though deep down I agree with him. My tone evenes out softer than I¡¯d intended. ¡°What did you think of the matter I had mentioned?¡±

    ¡°Of the divorce?¡± he asks.

    I nod, my loose hair dancing at the edge of my vision. It is technically improper for me to present myself before a man with my hair unbound like this, but there¡¯s no one around to scold me. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t work,¡± he responds without pause.

    My lips pull into a thin frown and I take Devil and myself to lean on the armchair closest to where Elias¡¯ chair sits.

    ¡°You underestimate the effect this divorce case could have,¡± I tell him. ¡°You underestimate me.¡±

    ¡°You, I most certainly don¡¯t doubt. But the case will have a negligible impact that will be difficult to capitalize on, even if you manage to sever the Berrick marriage and weaken the empress¡¯s grasp on power.¡±

    The grandfather clock on the far wall ticks in agreement. My frown deepens.

    ¡°Forget about the empress. What do you know of women, Elias?¡± I taunt, haughtily gazing at the boy before me. As clever as he may be, there are some things he has failed to consider.

    A haughty expression overtakes his face, tugging the corner of his mouth into a devious smirk. ¡°Enough.¡±

    The sight of the self-confidence on Elias¡¯ youthful face draws a surprised chuckle from me before I can stop it.

    ¡°You jest,¡± I counter. Devil nibbles at my fingers and I reach for the te of carrots a maid left in here an hour ago to feed him. His sister, Angel, is resting on the sofa opposite us.

    ¡°Loving, but vengeful when crossed. Devoted to the point of self-sacrifice. Repressed, by themselves but much more so by society. Capable of much more than most would give them credit for,¡± Elias flicks through his argument like a bored student reading bullet points off a slide, but there is a ring of truth to his generalizations.

    ¡°What did you do, read a romance book or two?¡± I ponder aloud, tossing a yful look in his direction.

    ¡°I have learned much simply but studying you,¡± His head tilts to the side, as if he were a scientist studying a specimen. ¡°You are, by far, the most intriguing person I have ever met.¡±

    He¡¯s always so good at looking sincere, the longer strands of his sandy-colored hair falling into his eyes and giving him a deceptively docile appearance.

    Unsure if I¡¯m getting Elias the trickster or Elias the friend, I fire back, ¡°Well you¡¯ve only met about 10 people so I will take that with a grain of salt.¡±

    ¡°Winter.¡± His voice is softer than a cloud, halfway between a whisper and murmur but still echoing with conviction. ¡°I mean it.¡±

    My heart trembles. ¡°Do you... want something from me?¡± I ask, stroking Devil¡¯s back to keep myself calm.

    ¡°Pardon?¡± His brows, the greatest resemnce to his father, arch up in confusion.

    ¡°Why are you being so nice? I mean you¡¯ve always been nice, but today, something is fishy.¡± The more I talk nonsense, the calmer I feel. But my word vomit takes me in an unexpected direction. ¡°You¡¯re not... in love with me, are you?¡±

    I mentally facepalm myself internally, while I sheepishly smile on the outside and feel my cheeks grow red with embarrassment. I must abort the mission before I make this moment cringey enough to keep me awake at night.

    ¡°I¡¯m just kidding! Oh god, your face! Wow!¡± I spit out a few secondster before he even has a chance to answer, doubling over and pretending like my stupid joke was funny. Don¡¯tugh at me, I know you¡¯ve done this before too.

    To my great pleasure, a lot of the situation seems to go over Elias¡¯ head as he fixates on the word ¡®love¡¯ and his thoughts circle around to an old topic.

    ¡°Speaking of love, you once asked me to help you search for eligible bachelors to potentially wed,¡± he orates slowly, rubbing his chin in thought.

    ¡°Why do you ask? Do you wish to rmend yourself as one?¡± I snort. I¡¯m not usually so annoying, I promise. But I find myself on pins and needles with the strange direction our conversation has been going on.

    ¡°No, I-¡± he protests. I shush with a finger to the mouth, his mouth.

    ¡°Then stop changing the subject,¡± I order. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what you do or don¡¯t know about women. I gave the matter some thought, after all I am asionally prone to make rash decisions based on my emotions,¡± I say, barely admitting to my hotheaded tendencies.

    ¡°But now that I¡¯ve thought about it, I don¡¯t want to use this divorce to get revenge on the empress. Sure, winning the case will briefly expose a chink in House Duvernay¡¯s armor when one of their growing strongholds in the army is crippled, but I don¡¯t doubt they¡¯ll find another young upstart to rise through the ranks of the army on their behalf.¡±

    Elias nods tentatively, urging me to continue.

    ¡°I just want to use this case to get a feel for the political arena. See who sides with who. See whose morals haven¡¯tpletely eroded under the weight of their faction¡¯s machinations. And of course, arrange my own revenge against Lord Berrick, excluding the empress from the narrative. It¡¯s better to start small with revenge,¡± I finish.

    Because once your fury calmed down, you remember that you aren¡¯t ready to face Katya yet, my subconscious chides darkly. I ignore it.

    ¡°All this, you hope to obtain from a divorce trial?¡± The twinge of disbelief in his tone was unmistakable.

    ¡°You would be amazed to what extent an unprecedented trial of this sort can reveal the underbelly of a political court,¡± I grimace, my mind dwelling on the famous French case from the 1300s where the wife of a minor lord was assaulted and the case managed to inte until it reached the king¡¯s ear and became a duel to the death.

    ¡°Sometimes, cases that call on you to make a judgment with your emotions and personal experiences in addition to thew have a way of transcending the entire matter it was borne, bing a reflection of society as a whole. That¡¯s all I want.¡± A casual shrug tries and fails to dislodge the heaviness in my tone.

    I wish I could quickly exin this matter by using the OJ Simpson trial as an example, but he¡¯s not from my world so he wouldn¡¯t understand. However, there is one clear connection between a French medieval duel to the death and an explosive ¡®whodunit¡¯ murder trial from the 90s, one that this divorce trial will possess as well: a wronged woman.

    ¡°It¡¯s not possible,¡± he repeated. But he looks less convinced.

    Meanwhile, I make my peace with not being able to fully exin myself to one of my oldest friends. There hangs between us the familiar divide stemming from my unique origins, one that will always hang between myself and anyone I meet in this world.

    I cate myself by remembering that when this trial is through, the repercussions will be felt and heard by many. This is my chance to quietly introduce myself to the cutthroat political scene that ripples beneath the idyllic image the city presents, to show the world that I am not just a puppet for House Duvernay to trot out in front of the masses as they wish and heal whomever theymand like a show pony performing tricks. I must show the world that in a subtler, less bloody way, I am indeed my father¡¯s daughter.

    ¡°They¡¯ll know you¡¯re behind it,¡± Elias adds, his expression unreadable. He doesn¡¯t attempt to sway me anymore, perhaps sensing my firm resolve as well.

    ¡°Of course. In fact, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if they¡¯ve already somehow caught wind of the impending divorce. They will try to stop it. Bishop Duvernay will no doubt give a sermon soon on the merits of fighting to make a marriagest and how Helio would consider divorce sinful as it spits upon the bond he has created between a couple,¡± Iugh. Religion is a powerful, maniptive tool in the wrong hands.

    ¡°Do you believe that?¡± he asks.

    ¡°Believe that Helio would say that about marriage? Of course not. They say my abilities, no, my giftes from Helio. I¡¯ve often wondered, why me? I mean, I did intend to profit off the prophecy in the first ce, but for it toe true and bestow this power upon me, I could not have expected it in my wildest dreams,¡± I briefly set Devil in myp and raise the unadorned hands I was born with before me. They¡¯re just two ordinary lumps of flesh, but in many people¡¯s eyes they are more precious than the gold a man could make a fortune out of, the gold that reflects in my very gaze with every blink.

    ¡°Old as he may be, Helio is still fond of his games and ve to his whims,¡± Elias wryly muttered, his face adopting that knowing expression one unconsciously has when they speak of someone they know well.

    ¡°You speak as if you know him,¡± I chuckle, lightly amused.

    ¡°I do in some ways, better than you might think,¡± he replies thoughtfully.

    ¡°Bollocks,¡± I counter. He has always had the most interesting sense of humor.

    But Elias looks down at hisp, his face hidden away. ¡°There had been a time when I¡¯d once believed that if I prayed hard enough and were pious, my legs would be healed and my father would... would recognize me and forgive me for killing my mother. I prayed and prayed in the small chapel of my ancestral home, kneeling on these useless legs until even they could feel the cold seeping in from the floor. I would fast for days at a time and let servants eat my meals in my ce until I fainted from weakness. Any and every religious and magical text we possessed, I read them. And yet, nothing changed.¡±

    There was a somber shift in his mood, but underneath it, I sensed a rare emotion from Elias. Anger. True, burning rage, the kind that nips at your belly every second of the day and chases after your heels like a rabid dog. I¡¯ve recognized the same within me before.

    ¡°I tried so hard to be the very image of Helio. But it seemed I could never be good enough to be seen by him... or by my father,¡± he smiled sardonically to himself. The sudden sh of white teeth looks razor sharp as if he¡¯s actually a wolf wearing the skin of a boy. But just as quickly, the frightening appearance fades away and leaves a bitter sorrow in its wake. There aren¡¯t any tears falling, only because he¡¯s cried them all out ages ago.

    My legs lift me up and carry me away from where I¡¯d been seated before I even know what I¡¯m doing.

    ¡°Hey, hey, hey. Look at me,¡± I set down Devil and grab Elias¡¯ face with both hands. My thumbs rub back and forth on his warm cheeks. ¡°Fuck Helio. And fuck your dad.¡±

    ¡°Is that another one of your made-up swear words?¡± His mouth is a bit squished by the force of my grasp so I loosen it a bit. There are faint red marks on his tender skin and some terrible part of me feels a touch of pleasure at leaving my mark. But it¡¯s buried away quickly alongside my other demons.

    ¡°It¡¯s not made up, people say it here too and it¡¯s considered quite crude. But yes, it¡¯s one of the rudest ones,¡± I confirm, making an idental slip of the tongue regarding my rebirth that I don¡¯t pick up on in the heat of the moment. ¡°We don¡¯t need either of them. People like you and I, we make our own way. Ok?¡±

    ¡°Ok.¡± Up close, I can see that his amethyst eyes sparkle with unshed tears, the rippling water in them making them shine brighter than actual gemstones. The awareness of our proximity creeps over my slowly like a chill, lulling me out of our sudden emotional connection. I notice several things at once. Several strands of my silver-white hair have fallen around us like a curtain, blocking the world out around us. And Elias is the prettiest boy I¡¯ve ever seen in both lives, truly.

    ¡°Elias, I¡¯m sorry I-,¡± I let go like I¡¯ve been burned, backing away from the wheelchair.

    ¡°Winter, wait-¡± Something warm grabs my wrist, the feeble-looking boy possessing greater strength than I could¡¯ve imagined and stopping me in my tracks so thoroughly I tumble forward. My hands catch myself on the arms of Elias¡¯ chair just as the doors to the sitting room are opened without warning, to the serenade of Marie¡¯s loud protests.

    ¡°Your highness, please wait!¡± she cries. It¡¯s as futile as using an egg to stop a rock.

    Augustus stands at the mouth of the room, an unfamiliar expression overtaking his face as he stares us down. A hand rests on therge sword sheathed at his waist, one that he has grown into over the years so he no longer looks like a boy pretending to be a man. Today, Augustus looks like my father. He looks like Emperor Helio.

 Chapter 168

    Chapter 168: Ch. 167: Isted

    Sometimes, offense makes for the best defense.

    ¡°Did you hit your head on something and forget how to knock?¡± I ask pointedly before my older brother can draw breath to speak. I take my time to rise to a standing position and pin Augustus with a hard re. ¡°Well, what¡¯s the purpose of your presence?¡±

    ¡°Only to pay you a visit,¡± he says innocently. But I can sense frustrationing off him in waves. It¡¯s unfocused, floating around him like a miasma or my father¡¯s aura.

    ¡°No doubt you have something to inform me about or, more likely, you will scold me about something you wish I had informed you of in advance,¡± I carry on as if Augustus hadn¡¯t said a word.

    ¡°So you are aware.¡± A lone eyebrow perks up in usation. His tone cools off, icier than the north winds at Elias¡¯ family home.

    I grin to myself, eager to usher my young friend from the premises as I can smell a fight brewing. ¡°Elias, I¡¯m afraid our time hase to an end. Do pay me a visit another day,¡± I say cheerily, pushing his chair towards the door.

    ¡°Perhaps he won¡¯t,¡± Augustus snapped. He looks down at Elias with a displeased smirk. ¡°You are both getting to that age where you must seek ymates amongst your own gender.¡±

    .....

    ¡°Elias?¡± I repeat, ready for him to leave before this pustule of an unavoidable argument bursts and drags Elias into our mess.

    ¡°Take care, your highness.¡± He wheels himself out the rest of the way, with Marie thoughtfully holding the door open for Elias and casting a worried nce my way before exiting as well.

    ¡°And yourself, Little Lord Wolfe,¡± I smirk, waving him off yfully until the doors shut and my smile melts away.

    Facing my brother with a sarcastic smirk, I answer his earlier question. ¡°Am I to choose this new friend amongst the group of girls who didn¡¯t say a word in my defense when young Lady Bryce had keeled over in a dead faint that would¡¯ve ruined my reputation? I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not spoiling for choices.¡±

    ¡°There were a few you stated you had friendly rtions with,¡± Augustus protests in reference to our conversation at the ill-fated opera performance that urred the next day (I really get no breaks huh?). His heavy footsteps betray his poor temper, although he keeps it reigned in for the most part as he tosses his heavy sheathed sword onto the sofa, startling Devil.

    ¡°Friendly rtions, absolutely,¡± I acquiesce. There had been a spark of promise between myself and Elsbeth and Antonia. Although they belong to their own noble families and houses with their own calctions, we all hail from simr backgrounds and elite upbringings. ¡°But bosom friends, no.¡±

    ¡°Then seek out new ones, there are thousands of noble girls in the capital. I can summon a few to the capital for you to choose from. But I¡¯m certain there are more people out there other than that... boy...,¡± he says through gritted teeth.

    ¡°Dearest brother, don¡¯t you already know?¡± I hiss. I¡¯d still been standing near the door, but rush back to where he sits stewing in entitled anger. ¡°There are few people for me to choose from. We are isted, this imperial family of ours. In some ways, it makes us strong. In others, it makes us weak. There is a curtain between us and every other noble family in thend.¡±

    I pause, not for dramatic effect, but because I know the surprise my next words will induce. But every word from my lips is true and I know that Augustus must be aware as to why there is no extended family around to protest my father¡¯s somewhat illegal seizure of the throne.

    ¡°Your true allies are few and far between, especially since most of our extended family were... removed from the picture by our father. Don¡¯t ask me how I know. I do. Grant me the mercy of not subjecting myself to a dishonest friendship where I must always wear a mask.¡± The way I do sometimes with you right, I think to myself.

    Augustus releases his look of shock and heaves a long breath, his arms finally uncrossing as he settles down heavily on one of the sofas. ¡°I know, Winter. All this I know.¡±

    He does know. True friends are not something a crown prince can easilye by.

    ¡°It must be strange, realizing that the throne you are set to inherit is more brittle than you could¡¯ve imagined. Father could not have predicted this debacle when he inherited the throne all those years ago. No wonder royal families were so focused on reproducing,¡± I sigh, plopping down next to him. I would give a million dors for there to be several more capable imperial family members who could slow down the encroaching of House Duvernay on imperial power.

    We stare out front as if watching an invisible television. Our tiff ended sooner than I thought, overshadowed by the looming truth that hangs over our necks like a sword. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, but as the proverbial neck and shoulders, Augustus and I are feeling the weight as well.

    I hear him shake his head, but don¡¯t look over to see it. ¡°Not strange, frightening. House Duvernay, they have more sway than I could¡¯ve ever imagined. I do not know how father has kept them from swarming the entire government like locusts to a field of crops.¡±

    The disgust drips off his tone.

    ¡°Through Mother, of course,¡± I inform him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t call her that,¡± His anger, which had been simmering down, rises anew. He pins me to where I sit with cold eyes, but I return the favor.

    ¡°That¡¯s what she is in the eyes of thew,¡± I point out coldly. ¡°Whether we like it or not. And there was a time when I saw her much more often than you.¡±

    ¡°If my mother hadn¡¯t passed...¡± Augustusments, burying his face in his hands. Before they were hidden away, I could see that his eyes longed for a woman he could not even remember.

    ¡°You would be dead. And I would not exist,¡± I finish for him. His are turn red with usations, so I exin myself.

    ¡°House Duvernay was on the verge of rebelling in the years after Crown Prince Wilhelm¡¯s untimely death. Removing the heir to a throne they consider unjustly won would¡¯ve been their first order of business.¡± I chuckle to myself as if the idea of rebellion is a humorous one.

    ¡°You¡¯re smart, Augustus. But you think like a warrior. A proud and honorable one,¡± I pause and give him a dubious look. ¡°Do you think your enemies will y by the same rules and mentality you limit yourself with?¡±

    I¡¯ve doled out one too many pointers to my old brother and I can all but hear his ears snap shut from my knowing words. ¡°You know what? I won¡¯t take lessons from someone who¡¯s half a babe herself.¡±

    My years of studying political science and marketing, along with my unwee internship into the brutal side of court life rear their ugly head. Before I know it, I¡¯ve stood up and gotten right in Augustus¡¯ stubborn face.

    ¡°Well take it from someone who has starved until she could count her ribs and someone who used straw as a teething toy rather than a gold-ted pacifier,¡± I verbally jab. ¡°You aren¡¯t hungry enough for this game. Not like Father. Not like me. You are the weak link that could end the entire imperial family forever. Thest generation to carry our proudst name, Erudian!¡±

    The weight on the sofa disappeared, Augustus was on his feet so fast I barely saw his movements. He¡¯s livid. Furious. Cheeks red, eyes narrowed, a powder keg that has finally blown.

    ¡°I will hear no more of this! I came to inquire why you would act like a busybody and work behind the scenes to get a divorce filed against Lord Berrick. Don¡¯t know you that he is so loved by the people right now? I am not the blind fool you think I am, I can tell this is part of something grander to chip away at House Duvernay¡¯s presence in the army through the Berrick family. And the same way I can tell so easily, everyone else will too. The case will probably never even reach court and now you¡¯ve just ced a target on your back,¡± he spits.

    ¡°All you men think alike.¡± I can hear the echoes of Elias¡¯ argument in Augustus¡¯ disapproving tone and swat at the air as if an annoying fly keeps buzzing around me. ¡°Sit back down, I don¡¯t want to argue. All we¡¯ve done is argue with each othertely. It isn¡¯t good for one¡¯s health.¡± I ce a cool hand on my forehead, grounding myself against the raging sea of emotions that threaten to drown us both in its wrath.

    ¡°Are you feeling unwell? Shall I summon an imperial physician for you?¡± In a sh, sometimes I forget that he¡¯s been training since he could walk and is speedy on his feet, he is by my side and cing the back of his hand on my forehead. It¡¯s hotter than my own skin.

    ¡°Anyone but them,¡± I grumble darkly, thinking back to the hectic days on the warfront when I was halfway certain that sometimes they intentionally didn¡¯t heal dying soldiers so that they could log the full extent of my abilities. I don¡¯t like those imperial physicians. And I sure don¡¯t trust them.

    ¡°Besides, I¡¯m perfectly fine.¡±

    I don¡¯t know the extent of the healing abilities they¡¯ve been gifted and allowed to use. Within the confines of the rigid system of an empire thatrgely forbids most forms of magic, individuals blessed with even an ounce of magic only have the choice to study to be a battle mage for the Holy Church or an imperial physician under the imperial family. This effectively concentrates the legal presence of magic to 2 sole parties, my family and House Duvernay.

    One party has shown their hand, with the might of the battle mages demonstrated on the battlefield. The other hasn¡¯t, as any video game yer knows that healing abilities are often discountedpared to fighting abilities. But if you told me that the imperial physicians were weak and useless at magic inparison to the battle mages, I would urge you to look again. Something tells me that they just might be my father¡¯s secret weapon in this silent war against House Duvernay.

    For that and that alone, I don¡¯t trust them.

 Chapter 169

    Chapter 169: [Bonus chapter]Ch. 168: Professor Winter

    ¡°You have few allies in court, if any at all,¡± I inform Augustus after he¡¯spleted a cursory inspection and given me a clean bill of health. If anything, I¡¯ve grown chubbier and fuller as ofte. Thanks, puberty.

    Augustus lets out a sage sigh, like air escaping a tire. He speaks with the tone one would instruct a young child with when he says, ¡°That is not true. Allies are different from friends, Winter. There are many in court who do side with Father and I-¡°.

    I brutally cut him off. ¡°You are Father¡¯s son. Not Father himself. None of them owe you the loyalty they¡¯ve shown Father, even if honor and sworn oath dictate that it should be passed on to you. You must earn it for yourself.¡±

    ¡°And the divorce trial of a noble couple will help me aplish that?¡± he asks, the sarcasm thick in his tone.

    ¡°Leave it to me,¡± I smugly say with a slight smile, patting him lightly on the shoulder. Reading the old tome on divorcew revealed more than a few interesting tidbits and loopholes I cannot wait to exploit. This case will be ground zero, drawing the lines in the ground and showing Augustus who he can trust and who he must befriend in theing years.

    ¡°There you go again, acting like you¡¯re older,¡± Augustus chides, standing up and promptly reminding the two of us just who is older (on the outside).

    ¡°I am, on the inside,¡± I mutter with a self-assured expression before lecturing him with a satisfied expression. ¡°As I have just disyed, age has little to do with the wisdom one can umte in life. It would do you some good to pick up a few books from the imperial library when you have a chance.¡±

    .....

    ¡°Oh, learn to quit while you¡¯re ahead, dear sister!¡± He¡¯s had enough of my deliberately obnoxious talk. The world flips upside down, with Augustus tossing me on his shoulder and tickling me until I squeal in surrender.

    ¡°I give up! I was wrong! You are wiser than me,¡± I gasp out betweenughs. My vision reorients itself as I¡¯m relinquished from his unique form of torture, random giggles still bubbling out of my mouth.

    ¡°Besides. The appeal has been filed. The case shall begin its run a fortnight from now. There is no stopping it,¡± I point out with a dark glee.

    Augustus still looks skeptical. ¡°There is a possibility that the judge could make a ruling before it even reaches a court ofw.¡± He cites aw that allows for a judge to preemptively pass judgment on cut-and-dry cases to prevent taxpayer money from being wasted on useless cases.

    ¡°But this isn¡¯t so simple of a case. Have you ever heard of the Steinway Addendum?¡± I counter.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard that name before,¡± Augustus says after a period of thought.

    I¡¯m not surprised. ¡°It¡¯s an old addendum, from over 200 years ago. You see, back in the day, there was a problem of desertion.¡±

    ¡°Desertion? Of the army?¡± I know that Augustus¡¯ mind instantly flits to the definition of a soldier leaving his post in battle with themander¡¯s permission and an invisible question floats over his head.

    ¡°Of marital property, ironically. There was a war at the time. And when the husbands had left to fight, some of their wives who didn¡¯t want to wait around for them filed for divorce on ims of their husband deserting their marital home.¡± I can¡¯t help but apud that level of cleverness internally as I slowly begin exining to Augustus my winning strategy.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t their fault for abandoning the home,¡± Augustus protests.

    I shrug. ¡°Perhaps. But when it¡¯s aw, what can the judge do but grant it? Of course, it would not make for good morale if soldiers fighting a war for the empire returned home to find themselves short a few limbs and a wife. So Harold Steinway, the chancellor at the time,¡± Augustus snaps his fingers as he finally recalls the name, ¡°Came up with a proposition. Only wives who owned their property outright were allowed to file for marriage desertion. Unfortunately, as most women did not own their marital homes, this stopped the practice right in its tracks. It also prevented many husbands from allowing their wives to own half or all of their marital homes, a custom that has prevailed to this day.¡±

    ¡°Such an absurd happenstance. What a wise solution.¡± My brother¡¯s lip curls in distaste.

    I smile wanly, knowing that there is little way for me to exin to Augustus how damaging this addendum was for women¡¯s rights. ¡°Not quite. What do you know of propertyw?¡± I say,unching into the second portion of my grand exnation.

    Augustus cocks his head to the side, staring at me like I just started speaking to him in Spanish. ¡°You truly are well-read,¡± he marvels. If only he knew how much of my youth was spent reading as I was cooped up in the Rose Pce and tiptoeing around the imperial pce.

    ¡°In addition to history, understanding property rights andndws are quite critical to understanding politics,¡± I tell Augustus quite smugly, more than happy to make use of a bachelor¡¯s degree I was literal weeks from obtaining officially. Am I still bitter about dying before obtaining it? Yes, of course.

    ¡°Just carry on with your point,¡± he says with an eye roll.

    ¡°Do you know that ording to an ancientw that has been in ce since this empire was just one mere kingdom amongst many, if your parents passed away before you are of age, your property automatically belongs to the crown?¡± I ask.

    ¡°No...¡±

    I smirk to myself. Of course he wouldn¡¯t know. ¡°Lady Westmont¡¯s-¡±

    Augustus tries to cut in. ¡°Technically she is to be called Lady Berrick, now-¡±

    ¡°Lady Arabe Westmont,¡± I emphasize forcefully,pletely dropping her marital name, ¡°lost her esteemed father, the great knight, Lord Westmont, a few weeks before she debuted at hering-of-age ceremony. Which means he passed away before she was of age. ording to Erudianw, that means that her property belongs to the imperial family until she files to reim.¡±

    ¡°Why was such a strangew implemented in the first ce? No one would allow their government to own their homes,¡± Augustus scoffs in obvious disbelief.

    ¡°Protection. Oftentimes, greedy rtives would try to forcibly inherit thend in ce of the orphan. Thisw allowed the crown to step in and protect the property from vultures until the child was old enough to inherit. No one would dare im someone else¡¯s home for themselves if I were protected by the highest power in thend.¡±

    ¡°Why did we stop?¡± The crown prince shakes his head. ¡°Such a policy would still be useful today.¡±

    ¡°Such aw was slowly forgotten over time. The empire¡¯s simply grew too big for the crown and its delegated officials to step in on every single property dispute. But don¡¯t worry, YOU,¡± I stab a finger in his chest. ¡°Will bring that policy back in full force with this case.¡±

    I can see the wheels turning in his head, as my astute brother immediately picks up on the underlying intentions beneath my proposal. ¡°You mean to make me a political yer in the court and increase my poprity amongst themon people.¡±

    ¡°Do you know what one of the biggest unspoken scams being run in the empire at the moment is? It is to have a family killed save for one young child and then have a distant ¡°rtive¡± rustle up some doctored papers and inherit the familial property in ce of the child. Even if the scam is eventually unearthed, by then the falsely inherited property has been sold for a profit and the ¡°rtive¡± long gone for the next scam.¡±

    This is just one of the many interesting tidbits Jack has told me in the past about what happens beyond the elite circles of the capital.

    Augustus looks perturbed at the revtion. ¡°This has never been brought up during court discussions.¡±

    ¡°Why would it be? There is no culprit to point a finger at. The dishonestly acquired home was sold honestly. Even if there are minor nobles at court who are aware of this scheme urring in their territory, it seems like one of those problems that can be easily swept under the rug.¡± The scammers are smart, never touching people with true connections to power or nobility. As such, it is truly not in the interest of the few nobles aware of the property scams to put a stop to the thieving.

    ¡°Truly insidious, those minor nobles,¡± Augustusments. He pats Devil¡¯s head, who has been staring at him without blinking for the past few minutes. Traitor.

    Nheless, I let out an amused huff. Those worthy of my brother¡¯s true disdain are the ones who fill our halls regrly during balls and imperial events, not the low-tier nobility who must answer to higher-ranked lords anddies.

    ¡°What the nobility of old eventually realized about that propertyw is that it gives power back to the imperial family. Technically, we own the empire, but only on a grand scale. Thend is mostly divided amongst dukes and lords and viscounts who run it as they see fit, so long as they pay taxes on time and provide soldiers when needed. Here¡¯s an easy question for you,¡± I begin, tossing a carrot at a surprised Augustus. I jerk my head at Devil, who¡¯s been rubbing his head on Augustus¡¯ leg for the past few minutes and motion for him to feed my baby.

    ¡°Pop quiz!¡± I yell, surprising Augustus nearly enough to drop the carrot. ¡°When one owns enoughnd in a certain territory or province, what rights are they granted?¡±

    His head of shiny ck hair jerks up with immediate understanding. ¡°Those who own arge enough portion of thend are allowed to join the council of the noble who owns the territory and cast their vote in territory-rted matters.¡±

    ¡°Bingo!¡± I cheer. I spot Angel about to pee on the carpet and scoop her up, cing her on the litter box I had specially made for such matters. ¡°Not on the fancy carpet, sweetie. I don¡¯t want my room smelling like piss.¡±

    ¡°In order to maintain our tenuous bnce with the Houses and extended nobility, imperial family members without a im to that specific territory through marriage ornd ownership aren¡¯t allowed to interfere in their matters. Even Father¡¯s hands would be tied if he went to the Mulworth duchy for example and started implementing smaller-scalews for that region. But if the imperial family were to temporarily own enoughnd in a certain province or territory...¡± Augustus trails off, already picking up what I¡¯m putting down.

    ¡°Byw, and believe me I checked to make sure, we could interfere in their matters in a way we have never been able to before.¡± I finish his sentence with a devious grin.

    ¡°As you are well aware, Augustus, the imperial family has lost a lot of its political sway in key territories due to the loss in our numbers.¡± Oftentimes, the territories that princes and princesses inherited or married into became allied with the imperial family, allowing for the crown to build a faction of its own. ¡°This is a way to make up for it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s brilliant!¡± Augustus yells, overenthusiastically shoving a piece of carrot into Devil¡¯s mouth and making him squeak. ¡°Sorry, little fellow. But still, Lady Arabe and Lord Berrick do not reside at the Westmont property. They live at the Berrick Manor on Mistway Avenue.¡± He names a popr street for noble homes in East Bend famed for its cherry blossoms in spring.

    I nod in agreement before serenely pulling out my final card. ¡°As you know, on a government-issued marriage license, you must list where your marital property resides. Lady Arabe was the one who formally filled out the form on the day of their marriage. What address do you think she put down?¡±

    If this were a game of poker, I just pped down an ace andpleted a royal flush, pun intended.

    ¡°But by that same logic, she could also be used of deserting the marital home. Doesn¡¯t she live in the Berrick Manor with Lord Berrick?¡± Augustus is quick to think through potential obstacles and problems.

    ¡°After a... difficult experience Lady Westmont recently had, she left in the dead of night a fortnight ago to return to the Westmont home.¡± I keep my response vague and short.

    ¡°What sort of experience?¡±

    ¡°Must you be so nosey?¡± I snap. ¡°Just know that it wasn¡¯t the pleasant sort any woman would ever wish to experience within the confines of a marriage.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t seem at all enthralled with the idea of marriage,¡± Augustus muses with a thoughtful look. There is no judgment in his gaze, not that I had expected any. In the webnovel, Augustus was famously anti-marriage until he fell in love with the female lead, ra, while investigating my death.

    ¡°I know it¡¯s a duty for this family,¡± I sigh. ¡°But frankly, I¡¯m not certain I¡¯ll live long enough to experience it. And even if I do, it could be a political, loveless match, like Father and Mother. Which actually doesn¡¯t bother me. What would bother me is if I lose my power and independence through it. I cherish both of those more than life itself.¡±

    I would greet an early death at age 16 with a smile on my face over the possibility of spending decades with someone who would treat me the way Lord Berrick treats Lady Arabe.

    ¡°Speaking of death so often is ill luck for someone as young as yourself,¡± the crown prince warns, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth.

    ¡°Well, I uttered no falsehoods. I coulde down with a bad case of the bloody flux. Do you know how many of those cases I¡¯ve cured? Terrible disease. Hacking up bits and pieces of your lungs until you drown in your own blood. I¡¯ve felt it. Or I could be forcibly separated from my life,¡± I grimly point out.

    ¡°Assassinated,¡± Augustus corrects concisely. ¡°You are neither the emperor nor are you the crown prince. You are not even the next in line after that. There is little for you to fear.¡±

    The several attempts on my life would beg to differ, but I don¡¯t tell him that. I don¡¯t tell him many things, only that which he must know.

    In the brief lull of conversation, I think back on my old foe, Peppermint. Although I¡¯ve ¡°taken¡± my fate in my own hands by tying myself inextricably to this world with the threads of gold only Aria can see, I still fear that I am now a puppet on strings, bound to whatever maniacal fate Peppermint has set up long before me. Justifiable paranoia has found a home in my sleepless thoughts every night as I go through inconsistencies and peculiar instances I¡¯ve encountered.

    The empress¡¯ hatred of me is both understandable and inexplicable. If I were a prince, it would be justifiable, but sometimes her motives feel like overkill for a bastard princess like me. Then of course, way I¡¯ve had to fight tooth and nail just for a bit of respect and an honorable ce in this imperial family. If a twist of fate hadn¡¯t granted me healing powers, the grass over my grave would be up to my hip by now. It¡¯s as if even without Peppermint¡¯s direct interference this new world was already set to hard mode from the start. And any gamer knows that hard mode rarely has a happy ending.

    ¡°It could be fate. It could be manmade. Either way, I have never been destined to enjoy good things for long before they¡¯re taken from me. But I hope I can see you vanquish your enemies and build up your strength before I go.¡± It goes without saying who his enemies are. Wergely share the same ones.

    ¡°Is someone after you? Have you made an enemy of someone you shouldn¡¯t?¡± There is a tender care in his matching golden gaze that I¡¯m unustomed to, making me want to leap off the sofa and run out of the room. Life in this cruel world has almost convinced me that I don¡¯t need any sweetness, even as a part of me eagerlyps up the crumbs of genuine concern I¡¯m being shown.

    I look away silently, knowing there is no way I can exin my circumstances without being beheaded and burned at the stake. The real curse of being a Traveler is never being able to open your heart to others and be honest.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me. Worry about yourself,¡± I mumble, too embarrassed to keep looking him in the eye. ¡°You said so yourself. You¡¯re the crown prince. Many people will always be after you.¡±

    Having finished feeding Devil, Augustus ys with his sword, the phoenix sigil of our family carved into the hilt.

    ¡°What happened to House Steinway anyways? I know they weren¡¯t one of the major houses, but they did manage to have a chancellor in their family lineage,¡± hements. He traces the phoenix¡¯s beak with a finger, before wrapping his hand around the hilt and taking a swing at an invisible enemy.

    I grimly recall what I read in my books, his crisp strikes and parries almost poetic when apanied by my next words. ¡°They¡¯re dead, Augustus. Every one of them.¡±

    ¡°How?¡± His sword stops mid-swing and he looks back at me.

    ¡°You would be better off asking Mother about that,¡± I sarcastically reply in a t tone.

    The mood is dismal and unresolved, but I feel closer to Augustus than ever before as he teases Devil and we can spend time together like ordinary siblings. And in this strange yet hopeful way, our brief argumentes to an end and the trial begins.

 Chapter 170

    Chapter 170: Ch. 169: Operation Blue Balls

    ¡°She really wore all ck?¡± I lean on the balcony, admiring the night sky beyond me. The candles that light the outdoor hallways look like pinpricks from this distance.

    ¡°Like a woman in mourning, your highness. When the judge inquired about her dark clothing, she replied that she was mourning the child that her husband had killed,¡± Marie replied with a smile in her voice. She stands at the cusp of the wide French doors of my chambers that lead out to the balcony, maintaining a short distance between us.

    I nod approvingly, turning around to face Marie. ¡°Just as I told her.¡±

    As a woman, and especially as a princess, I am not able to bear witness to the trial. A strange game of telephone between Marie¡¯s nephew, Marie, and myself has been enacted since the trial began a week ago, three weeks since my heart-to-heart talk with Augustus.

    I reach out to take Marie¡¯s hand, gratitude causing me to squeeze it tight in appreciation. ¡°Thank you for your help, Marie,¡± I say warmly, walking us both back inside. My bed covers rustle as a cool breeze eases up the heat that still lingers in the evening.

    She squeezes back. ¡°It is both my and my nephew¡¯s pleasure, your highness,¡± Marie reassures me.

    ¡°He¡¯s a goodd,¡± I remark. I¡¯ve never met him, yet he was so willing to lend his aid in this instance.

    .....

    Marieughs, amused at how I speak of the older boy like my junior. ¡°Yes, he is!¡±

    ¡°I shall see to it that he is properlypensated for his assistance,¡± I tell her in a firm manner. It¡¯s a heavy promise I intend to keep.

    ttery makes Marie¡¯s already ruddy cheeks grow redder. ¡°There is no need for such,¡± she hastily says.

    ¡°I must insist. You¡¯ve been with me from the start and you have never wavered. Let me show my appreciation to you, alright?¡± I urge. Nina silently enters and closes the French doors to the balcony, before exiting my room altogether. When I make eye contact with her over Marie¡¯s shoulder, she tucks her head down in fear. Good.

    ¡°Your highness...¡± Marie¡¯s touched.

    ¡°Still, I do wish I could listen to the trial with my own ears,¡± I muse wistfully, reopening a can of worms.

    ¡°You are not allowed, your highness, remember?¡± Marie says in an almost stern manner.

    ¡°Oh, I know, I know...¡± I pout, tugging at her sleeve so she knows I¡¯m just ying.

    We¡¯ve had this conversation, several times actually, with Marie talking me off the ledge on every asion. It¡¯s a futile desire of course. There is no way out of the imperial pce without permission and I don¡¯t have Jack¡¯s wiles when ites to escaping. In fact, I have a sinking suspicion that every time I escaped out of the pce, somehow, some way, the emperor always knew.

    A not-so-short figure slinks into the room, long and lean from hours and hours of training and practice. She¡¯ll soon need a new maid¡¯s dress, this one has already be too short around the ankles. Emma¡¯s eyes are vignt as ever, flitting over the corners and windows of the room before settling on me. She curtsies, shutting the door without a sound behind her. We still don¡¯t see each other as often as we used to, but not for the same reason asst time when we had faked an estrangement so the empress can try to bribe her.

    ¡°Emma,¡± I call affectionately.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± the robot, I mean, Emma replies.

    ¡°You¡¯ve tanned. It looks good,¡± I lovingly gush as if my praise aren¡¯t falling upon deaf ears. She spends much of her days out of my sight now, a choice I understand well. Beneath her hunger for gold lies another, a love of the outside.

    ¡°It is good to be out of the pce,¡± she answers, but this time, there is a faint devious glint in her gray eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it is,¡± I grumble, staring down at the invisible chains that keep me from leaving. If you told me she said that innocently, I wouldn¡¯t believe it. But Emma¡¯s hidden snarkiness has always been something I love about her.

    She has changed in these few years, blossomed even. Perhaps our time on the warfront nted a seed. Who knows? But with a great majority of my days confined within the pce, I know that this kind of life is not for Emma. So like any good friend and boss, I shifted her out of my department to another when I have a considerable number of people: the imperial kitchen.

    Getting poisoned during my first week at the pce taught me the importance of having my own eyes and ears in the ce my meals get made. And sneaking Emma out of the pce was proving difficult with the security blocks that had been erected, so it made sense to provide a more viable way for Emma toe and go as she pleased.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to see you, official inspector of pce goods.¡± I greet Emma with a mock salute.

    She salutes me back, a learned technique from me that always gives Marie the giggles.

    As the imperial kitchen has learned over the years, it isn¡¯t simply good enough to inspect goods when they¡¯re being brought into the pce grounds. Many of them require extra inspection while they are still in the possession of the sanctioned merchants, undetected inspection.

    For such a role that requires great discretion when investigating, there is no better solution than a child. Emma now finds herself weaving through bushels of corn to check for blight and secretlyparing the cost difference between the same goods when sold to the pce versus the public. The oue has led to the discovery of poisoned products before they even entered the pce grounds and has helped cut back on the imperial kitchen¡¯s spending significantly.

    ¡°I was just discussing with Marie some new methods of sneaking out of the pce to listen to the trial myself,¡± I tell Emma cheerfully. Behind me, I can all but hear Marie facepalm herself.

    ¡°Does Lief not provide urate testimony, your highness?¡± Emma trots in, light and airy on her feet. She has gotten scary good over the years. The coin that I pay her instructor, Robbie Chensworth, is not light, but it has yielded incredible results. I once saw Emma slice a fly in half with her pinky. Really.

    ¡°He does, I¡¯m sure,¡± I say, quick to give Lief his flowers. ¡°But there is a certain thrill in witnessing such a spectacle for myself. Did you not say that there is little themon people speak of besides this?¡±

    Emma nods. ¡°That is true.¡±

    I grin in delight. ¡°I knew it.¡± I¡¯ve seen the papers and the gossip rags, the hand drawn pictures that show a stoic Lady Arabe facing off against her estranged husband. Lord Berrick barely fits on the witness stand, his bulky frame exaggerated in some of the pictures to a cartoonish effect.

    ¡°But whose side are the people on? Arabe¡¯s or that brute?¡± Marie¡¯s smile fades a bit at my question.

    ¡°I cannot speak on what happens beyond the pce walls, but I have heard much about the case and it isrgely skewed in Lord Berrick¡¯s direction,¡± she admits.

    My lips press together, but I¡¯m not discouraged. ¡°Unfortunately, that is to be expected. What of those beyond the pce walls?¡± I turn to face Emma.

    ¡°Simr.¡± Emma echoes Marie¡¯s response.

    I p my thigh in frustration, an action diminished by the petticoats beneath my skirt. ¡°It¡¯s amazing how killing a dragon helped his reputation so much. If only the people knew what he was really like!¡±

    ¡°There would be false outrage, but ultimately, the people wouldn¡¯t care, your highness. What he does and worse have happened to women in Red Houses and brothels for ages.¡± Emma says her longest sentence yet, with every word out of her mouth packed with a truth that still rings true in my modern world.

    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± I grumble. ¡°People have always willfully turned a blind eye to the wrongs a man does if the end results can be justified. I don¡¯t even have the right toin ¨C it is because of this tendency that father¡¯s ascension to the Phoenix Throne was met with so little bacsh from themon folk.¡±

    ¡°Still, Lord Berrick has yet to reach thete Lord Westmont¡¯s fame and acim, your highness. Although he did y a dragon, it was done with the assistance of a battalion of battle mages from the Holy Church and supported by a talented few among the royal knights. Lord Westmont is fabled to have done it himself with a single rusty de and great courage,¡± Marie chimes in, trying to lift my spirits.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± I feel slightly mollified by that fact, a fact that I helped publicize amongst the people at the start of the trial so that there would be less fervent defending of Lord Berrick.

    ¡°I had hoped it wouldn¡¯te to this, but it means I will need to introduce anotheryer to this trial,¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, your highness?¡± Marie and Emma both say at the exact same time.

    I think back on the promise I had made to myself amidst the rage at Lord Berrick¡¯s transgressions and threats against me. That I would one day take his pride, his career, and his manhood.

    ¡°If the grounds of his abuse against Arabe aren¡¯t enough, then there is another one that will,¡±

    Emma¡¯s eyes widen, aical look on the stony-faced girl. ¡°Your highness, you aren¡¯t speaking about Operation Blue Balls, are you? Is it not too early for such measures? The Steinway Addendum hasn¡¯t even been introduced yet.¡±

    ¡°What are blue balls? Are they a new toy you requested?¡± Marie¡¯s head looks between the two of us, waiting for someone to spill.

    ¡°Yes, I am speaking about Operation Blue Balls. It is time, Emma.¡± I rub my hands together with glee and only stop short of cackling like a mad scientist.

    Fear washes over Marie¡¯s face perhaps from her years of knowing me, tugging her mouth into a perfect O. ¡°By balls, you cannot be speaking of a man¡¯s...her regions? Right, your highness? Right?¡±

    I fake yawn. ¡°I¡¯m weary from the day¡¯s activities. You are dismissed for the evening. Once again, I must thank you both for your assistance.¡±

    ¡°Your highness! W-What do you speak of? What are you going to do?¡± Marie reluctantly looks over her shoulder, her feet slow in carrying her out of my room.

    Emma calms. She approaches me and takes my hand. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± I smile to reassure her, before saying quietly under my breath for just her to hear. ¡°I want to ruin him.¡±

    My promise to myself and Emma still echoes in my head the next morning when I awaken earlier than usual to a knock on the door. I groan, fearing that it is Ms. Laroche arriving extra early for the asional morning etiquette lessons she likes to spring on me when I¡¯m still groggy and disoriented.

    As a part of the several intricate rules and regtions the upper crust must live by, some of those include how to conduct oneself from the moment you awaken in the morning. As one can imagine, having my governess breathe down my neck as I try and fail to elegantly conduct my morning routine is extremely maddening.

    I shove my head under a pillow, my voiceing out muffled. ¡°It is too early for lessons, Ms. Laroche! I don¡¯t want to do those morning lessons again! I quit!¡±

    The knock on the door sounds again, but no one speaks.

    ¡°I said, I quit! I will run away with Emma and Marie! You will never hear from me again!¡± I roar.

    It goes without saying that I am not and have never been much of a morning person, particrly when the sky outside is still stuck in the dark purple-gray tones of dawn and the world is still gripped in the quiet calm of the early morning hours.

    There is another knock. Thest vestiges of sleep wither away and I roll my eyes hard. A few choice swear wordse out of my mouth, but I manage to calm myself down enough. My loud, brash words just now will no doubt be reflected in some creative punishment Ms. Laroche wille up for me, and I have no desire to add to my burden.

    My footsteps are light, my rage swallowed into my empty belly as I allow a pleasant smile to ovee my face. Whether it¡¯s believable or not matters little anyways. I pull open the door, only for my carefully crafted disy of teeth toe crashing down.

    ¡°Father?!¡±

 Chapter 171

    Chapter 171: Ch. 170: Janice¡¯s Leftovers

    Janice felt a fat hand caress her waist, a frown curling the corner of her red lips before she remembered to smile properly.

    ¡°My love,¡± she cooed, taking the count¡¯s hand. She had been overlooking the extensive grounds of their capital manor, her eyes scaling the shrubbery and garden that only came second to a few in Radovalsk. Unfortunately, she had seen better in the pce and found that thevish home she had moved into did not impress her as it once did.

    ¡°You look so beautiful when you are lost in thought,¡± the count professed, adoration thick in his eyes.

    Janice was certain that if she opened up his head to look into his mind, there would be little else other than herself within it. His old wife was long forgotten. Count Koberg was firmly wrapped around her pretty fingers. But once in a while, deep in the night afterckluster lovemaking with the now obese Count, she wondered if he would like her as much if she looked like her old self. The girl who had run away from the vige seeking greatness and had won it at a great price.

    The bodies buried beneath the garden both she and her husband were gazing at were not few. But Janice needed more. Ever since her first with Sir Gregory, Janice had found herself hungry, no ravenous, for something more. Satisfied, something Janice rarely ever was. Sometimes, it took everything in her to keep from drinking the life force right out of her husband¡¯s body.

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking about that case,¡± Janice mused, ufortable in their silence. She moved indoors, where an early lunch had been prepared at her request. She wasn¡¯t hungry for the sulent cuts of meat and fine wine that had been set out though. Janice hardly had an appetite for such ordinary foods anymore.

    ¡°It¡¯s preposterous. The judge shall wrap it up in less than a week¡¯s time.¡± The count quickly waved off her concerns with his typical overconfidence that while annoying, had yet to fail him in his business dealings.

    .....

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Janice conceded, although something in her told her it would not be so simple. ¡°But what if it doesn¡¯t?¡±

    The count¡¯s eyes were already on the china te loaded high with every dish on the long table, how could he care about such matters? ¡°It won¡¯t, darling. Now, let us eat.¡±

    The bad feeling remained in Janice¡¯s stomach. ¡°If I ask nicely, would you make sure she loses? Just to be certain?¡±

    Count Koberg appeared flummoxed. ¡°Why?¡±

    Janice pouted even more, leaning on the table so her generous decolletage would enticingly appear on disy.

    ¡°I just don¡¯t like that Lady Berrick. She looks down on me, I can tell.¡±

    The few times they had met, Janice could feel the disdain in Arabe Westmont¡¯s eyes. The newly titled Lord Berrick was a touch inhumane. She could see it in his eyes as they possessed a feral aura like a beast that couldn¡¯t be tamed. It reminded Janice of what she saw within herself, the beast that had taken up residence within her flesh with a hungering desire for life itself. Suddenly, Janice felt like she could see age spots on the back of her hand.

    ¡°She must think I am hideous and old. Do you think that of me, my love?¡± Janice asked, not noticing how her hands dug into the count¡¯s meaty forearms and made him wince.

    ¡°Gentle, darling. Save that for the bedroom,¡± heughed in a lecherous way. ¡°You are the most beautiful woman I¡¯ve ever seen. That is why I knew I had to make you my wife.¡±

    Janice had to hold herself back from rolling her eyes. ¡°Well, your beautiful wife must freshen up before she eats. Don¡¯t wait for me, alright?¡±

    She stalked out of the room before he could answer. Storming up to her chambers, Janice rubbed at therge jewels that adorned her neck to calm herself. She was a countess, Countess Janice Koberg. She possessed great wealth and fortune, her every snack and meal was finer than the finest feast from her vige. Countless people had to bow their heads in her presence and she was treated with greater respect than she had ever been privy to in her life.

    But none of it wouldst if she could not fulfill Akira¡¯s desire to cultivate the emperor and his daughter¡¯s rtionship, before striking a brutal end to it. She very much looked forward to thetter. However, the former was proving to be difficult to establish. She herself had never been close to her father, as her mother had been her married father¡¯s mistress.

    Janice chewed at her thumbnail in irritation, which was already short and torn from previous frustrations. A knock sounded on the door.

    ¡°Come in!¡± she snapped, her patience low. A meek-looking maid floated into the room.

    ¡°The Count is wondering when you will return to join him for the meal,¡± the girl sheepishly informed Janice. She reeked of sweat and fear. It tantalized the beast inside Janice. Even if the count was deliriously clueless, she knew what the servants whispered about how often they were having to hire new workers.

    ¡°Soon, of course,¡± she crooned. Janice turned to face the other direction, all but licking her lips. ¡°But first, the sted dress is making me hot. Will you help me remove it?¡±

    ¡°R-Right away, mydy.¡±

    Janice cocked her head to the side, the jeweled pins in her hair swinging with the movement.

    ¡°Can I call you Sarah?¡± she asked with her back still turned to the girl.

    ¡°Y-Yes, mydy?¡± the girl stuttered.

    It was a delightful sound, one that made up for theckluster hunt. But Janice ended up having to remove the dress herself after an impromptu meal, which was rather difficult for her to do with the manyces and strings.

    Felix came at night and only at night. The count had left in the early evening to look over some merchant ships that had arrived bearing rare goods from the Old Continent, leaving a bored Janice behind. But with Felix¡¯s arrival, she immediately perked up from where shey on her bed.

    Thecy nightgown she wore was thin and left little to the imagination. With her hair unbound and feet on disy, it was little surprise that Felix¡¯s face grew as red as a tomato. He had snuck into the mansion through a secret passage Janice had installed not long after she¡¯d gotten married. Getting to her room was the hard part, as Felix would have to evade prying eyes and climb up the ivy-covered walls of the home to make it to Janice¡¯s room. But Janice liked to make it a difficult pursuit. With every ache in his limbs and the rushing exhration in his veins, Felix would understand that of the 3 masters he served, she mattered above the rest.

    ¡°Felix.¡± Her voice was breathy, yet husky, teasing his ears and coaxing out a red color onto his cheeks once more. It was so easy for her.

    ¡°M-Mydy,¡± His eyes traced over the chestnut locks that tumbled down her skin, lovingly meeting her spellbinding gaze in utter worship. That was what Janice liked about Felix, the fact that he knew that she was his superior in every aspect. In his eyes, she no longer felt like a vengeful subus, but a god.

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I told you to call me in private, Felix. Call me like you used to.¡± She blinked her eyes in a seductive manner, lulling Felix deeper into her thrall.

    ¡°Apologies, Janice,¡± he wheezed out, transfixed by her sight.

    Janice smiled to herself. Men were so easy to manipte with her wondrous new face. A cool breeze floated into the room before Felix shut the window behind him, so that their shared presence felt even more intimate.

    ¡°Tell me news of the princess,¡± she urged as Felix fought to keep his eyes from wandering up the leg that enticing dangled off the edge of the bed.

    ¡°It is difficult to obtain news of her,¡± Felix admitted. ¡°As you know, she and my master are no longer on speaking terms.¡±

    ¡°Your master?¡± Janice challenged with a frown. Her leg stopped swinging and Felix looked mildly put out.

    ¡°The second prince,¡± Felix quickly corrected.

    ¡°Well, he must know something. Tell me something. Anything,¡± she hungrily urged.

    ¡°The princess reportedly received dragon eggs for her recent birthday. Princess Julia was incredibly jealous and went to go ask Prince Julian for an egg as well but she was quickly chased out. Recently my master has been spending more and more time by himself and sneaking out of the pce. It is difficult to keep track of hisings and goings.¡± Thest bit came out petntly, but Janice did not pay attention to his words,tching onto the first part of his response.

    ¡°Dragon eggs?¡± Janice could barely swallow down her gasp. Dragon eggs made her freshwater pearls and 20-carat diamonds seem asmon as a random stone one might find on the ground. Once again, she had to keep her annoyance in check, focusing on her pressing task at hand.

    ¡°Only the emperor could¡¯ve given them to her,¡± she quickly concluded.

    Felix nodded, confused by her happiness at his confirmation.

    ¡°You consider this good news? I would have thought that you wished for nothing good to happen to the princess. And her building a rtionship with the emperor is good for her.¡± Felix scratched his head in confusion.

    ¡°Well, you think too much!¡± Janice barked, before remembering to soften her voice. ¡°I want them to be as close as can be. I want her to be cherished, to be the pearl of the empire.¡±

    ¡°But... why?¡±

    ¡°Others will naturally covet the good things someone has.¡± Janice was speaking from experience. ¡°I want the princess to have it all so that it is all the more sweeter when everything is taken away. She has taken much from me. It is only right for me to return the favor.¡±

    The venom in her voice took Felix by surprise. But he knew very well where it stemmed from and didn¡¯t let it appear on his face.

    ¡°But what of the empress?¡± Janice focused on yet another one of Felix¡¯s ¡°masters¡±.

    Felix huffed in annoyance. ¡°She has not called me to her as ofte. Not for a few months.¡±

    ¡°She will soon enough. Her son¡¯sing-of-age ceremony is approaching. When she does, tell me all that she asks of you and anything she tells you,¡± Janice sharply ordered.

    ¡°Yes, Janice,¡± Felix said reverently. Basking in the worship that still hung in his eyes, Janice got a bit bolder.

    ¡°Between the empress and I, who do you think is more beautiful, Felix?¡± she taunted.

    ¡°You by a thousandfold,¡± Felix pledged. Janice basked in his words, never one to grow tired of hearing praise for herself.

    ¡°My leftovers are under the bed. Can you please assist me in disposing of it?¡± Now that all the good information had been wrung from Felix¡¯s mouth, she was ready for him to leave.

    But before he could reach for the stiff arm that stuck out from beneath the bed, a warm hand pressed against the center of Felix¡¯s chest. Felix let out a sigh of happiness at her touch, perhaps assuming Janice would not bother with their little game that night.

    ¡°You know how dear you are to me, don¡¯t you, Felix?¡± She brushed her hand over his cheek, but didn¡¯t go as far as she had in the past. Now that she had climbed to the heights she had climbed, from a dirty brothel to a Red House, to a mansion in East Bend, she no longer felt the need to please Felix as well.

    Nothing was good enough for Janice. Forever unsatiated, always salivating at the next thing out of her reach. She had seemingly gotten it all: beauty, wealth, and a title. All for a low cost forever being sustained on people¡¯s vitality rather than food and the eventual death of someone she already hated. And yet, Janice was deeply unsatisfied.

    Don¡¯t ask me why. Some people are just like that.

    She was restless after teasing Felix and sending him off with her trash, flopping onto her bed and staring at thevish curtains that hung down around the canopy bed. Janice wanted more. Walking to the window ledge where Felix had disappeared, Janice gazed out at the night¡¯s scenery, specifically where the imperial pce glittered in the distance. It was the most beautiful structure in the entire empire. An ode to glory and wealth, glistening in gold and opulence. When Janice held out her hand, the pce sat within it as if her own personal treasure.

    Nothing that the count gifted her could match its greatness. But unfortunately for her, such a treasure belonged to another. Her hand slowly curled into a fist. This would not do. This would not do at all. She knew it was strange that the object of her ire was the princess rather than the empress she had been appointed to serve as ady-in-waiting. But sometimes, like most emotions, hatred did not make sense. The princess¡¯ clever mouth and hungry determination despite her low birth had been enough to curdle the ugly stirring of emotion within Janice¡¯s belly.

    ording to Felix and the few people she had managed to bribe in her tenure as ady-in-waiting, the emperor and the princess were not as frosty as they were in the past. But the warmth that the pair shared was more like the tepid sunshine on a cool spring morning rather than the blisteringly hot summer rays that had bathed Radovalsk in its warmth for the past few days. Their rtionship hit a teau of sorts and in the years since Akira had assigned her this arduous task, she had little notion or clue how to go about aplishing such a goal.

    ¡°What if I lose this luck...¡± she worried, looking at the back of her hands. Even in darkness, her vision was perfect, like a cat. She could see no lines or age spots on the unblemished skin. However, she hadn¡¯t forgotten how they¡¯d looked that first time in the pce when she had partially sated herself on Sir Gregory¡¯s life force. Such fear drove her, for as much as Janice desired more, she loathed the idea of losing it all.

    The mental image of herself as an old, wizened thing caused her to wince. Losing her seductive beauty was not an option. Her lips drew into a determined grimace as she suddenly had an inkling of what might bring the emperor and the princess into the close bond that Akira desired. A proper adversary.

    ¡°Princess Julia is no longer grounded, but even with the empress¡¯ influence, she is more unfavored than a bastard,¡± she mused to herself with a devilish grin.

    There was no one else more suitable. For as Janice understood well herself, envy was one of, if not the greatest motivator. Suddenly, she looked forward to the typically dull Ladies¡¯ Court more than usual.

 Chapter 172

    Chapter 172: Ch. 171: One Chaotic Day ¨C The Dawn

    The darkness of dawn had not yet waned when Bishop Duvernay left his humble quarters in the twisting maze behind the Grand Temple¡¯s glittering interior. Knelt in the nave, the section of the church where the many pews spread out across the lustrous pearl-tiled floor, was a woman cloaked in ck.

    ¡°Sister,¡± the bishop greeted. ¡°You honor me.¡±

    cid green eyes, so unlike the icy blue chill of the bishop¡¯s own gaze, looked up from prayer. However, the empress remained kneeling.

    ¡°It is not honor thatpels me to arrive. The time is ripe for me to grab someone in her inner circle without the princess ever being wiser,¡± she announced inly yet elegantly.

    Bishop Duvernay walked around the altar to the pews, considering Empress Katya¡¯s words deeply.

    ¡°Good. I had told you that cing someone by her side would be ineffective.¡±

    ¡°It was not entirely ineffective,¡± Katya mused in an unphased manner. ¡°Nina has given us interesting tidbits over the years.¡±

    .....

    ¡°But she sits on the outside looking in. It¡¯s like watching a family eat dinner from outside their home and trying to guess at their conversation,¡± the bishop replied in a jolly manner that was most unlike how most perceived him.

    ¡°I did not take you to be so inclined to humor,¡±

    ¡°I am not,¡± Bishop Duvernay assured his sister. ¡°I am inclined towards acquiring this promised child you had promised would be in my grasp years ago, yet eludes me to this day.¡± A glint of obsession glittered in his eye, but it was regimented and controlled, like a fanatic devoted to a cause.

    ¡°You ought to have made more demands of her when you did have her in your grasp.¡± Katya slowly rose from the pews, giving her disguise of a simple dress a good shake. Although the sibling appeared alone, if Katya were to make a single hand gesture, her brother would be shot with arrows in the next breath.

    ¡°And have her leap into the fire altogether?¡± The bishop shook his head in amusement. ¡°Faith must be slowly cultivated otherwise it shall be firmly rejected.¡±

    ¡°You shan¡¯t make a believer of her. But I will allow you to have her alive, as you requested.¡±

    ¡°Her death benefits you very little. Don¡¯t fall into the trap of rampant emotions,¡± he paused. A knowing glint filled his eye. ¡°You know father doesn¡¯t like it when you make decisions based on emotion. It¡¯s a-¡±

    ¡°-A weakness.¡± The empress sighed, speaking in tandem with her brother. ¡°I know that. Do you?¡±

    Her inquiry seemed innocent, but the elder brother knew the venomous flower he had grown up with and immediately understood what she alluded to. The mask of a jovial man of the Holy Church fell away, leaving very little in its wake.

    However, neither sibling went further, allowing an eerie calm to hang between them.

    Katya broke the silence first. ¡°The nursemaid truly believes that Lief is her true nephew. The evidence of anything contrary was removed long ago. Tonight we shall act and ¡®take¡¯ Lief away. I am curious to see how far this nursemaid will be willing to go for her only family.¡±

    ¡°Naturally she will do whatever you demand if Lief yed his part correctly. As Helio wills it, her love of family will burn bright and true,¡± Bishop Duvernay agreed.

    ¡°It is amazing, the lengths that people will go to for their family,¡± Katya mused. ¡°I seek to give my son an empire but he rejects it.¡±

    Most would assuage their sister at such an admission, but House Duvernay did not breed ordinary individuals.

    ¡°You are lucky the patriarch is ill. Otherwise, he would have killed you and had our young cousin be the new empress. The emperor is still young and has time to father a son who would serve our House¡¯s interest.¡± He spoke this in a matter-of-fact tone as if he were discussing the weather as opposed to the death of his own sister.

    Katya let out a thin smile, not bothering to counter her brother. It was just his usual scare tactic and one that held less water than the usual ones. Katya wasn¡¯t a young girl solely supported by her family anymore. And even if it were out of spite, the emperor would not allow House Duvernay to further extend their will upon the imperial family. One Duvernay empress was more than enough for him.

    ¡°You earned 3 saved lives from Winter,¡± she stated. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you used any to save our patriarch? I thought you would do anything for family.¡±

    Bishop Duvernay did not react, but his younger sister was not done speaking.

    ¡°Unless... it is an unusual ailment that gues the patriarch. Perhaps he dabbled with something he shouldn¡¯t have and is now tasting the consequences.¡±

    The bishop did not bother to deny it, but he did not attempt to confirm her words.

    ¡°He shall recover one day,¡± her brother answered with great confidence.

    ¡°Only if Father wills it. I must know. Who are you more loyal to? The Church? Our father? Or our grandfather, the patriarch? Choose wisely, not all the ears in this church belong to me,¡± Katya uttered. Their father had served as the interim patriarch of House Duvernay for many a year and those who still remembered who they owed their true allegiance to had been dwindling, especially amongst the younger generation.

    ¡°I am loyal to our House,¡± Bishop Duvernay wisely responded. He looked down at his sister, still as beautiful as ever in her simple garb and humbled disguise. ¡°Are you?¡±

    Katya drew her cloak tight around her form, all but disappearing from view. ¡°Our sigil is that of a thorny rose. Does that inspire loyalty to you?¡±

    She didn¡¯t care to hear his response, slipping around her taller sibling to walk down the central aisle and out of the Grand Temple. There was no need for her to fear her husband waking up without her by her side, so her return was leisurely and slow as she ambled her way to the secret exit with her hidden guards.

    The rose was the king of all flowers, more vibrant and beautiful than the rest and protected by sharp thorns. She and her brother had long served as one of the many thorns that protected their house. But such an arrangement could notst forever. There were many more flowers within the garden and each one sought to take away the rose¡¯s favor.

    ¡°When you see Lief in the courthouse today, pass him this note,¡± Katya instructed to the figure dressed in ck that all but materialized by her side. There were just a few brief words, undecipherable to all except those who understood. When Lief read it, he would understand what needed to be done.

    The bait that she hadid out years before, it was time to catch the fat fish that had bitten at the end of it. Katya hummed to herself in anticipation, a habit she had lost in her youth that had recently been rekindled. There was no use going back to sleep at this early hour, as there was to be a meeting between herself and herdies-in-waiting regarding an uing event.

    Katya¡¯s carefully coordinated and conducted morning ritual went as usual. But as she held up earrings to her face in the candlelight to decide which one to choose, Katya spotted something unusual.

    ¡°What is... that?¡± she asked slowly. All movement within the spacious bedroom ceased.

    Lte, who had been holding the jewelry box, was closest to the empress and thus could not escape from answering. But still, she dug in her heels against the inevitable. The scars on her back had yet to heal from herst punishment.

    Lte leaned in with a dramatic squint. ¡°I cannot see what it is you speak of, Your Majesty.¡±

    Behind her, Kora shook her head at Lte¡¯s foolishness. What the empress had selected Lte for was not her cleverness, but her ability to execute her dirty work effectively and brutally. But today, neither of those abilities would save her.

    Empress Katya lightly tapped at the forehead wrinkle she had discovered, her face unreadable as she waited for Lte¡¯s answer. Not even a breath could be heard.

    But suddenly, Katya did something out of character. She smiled, which was rare for a woman who only smiled in public settings to maintain her benevolent image.

    ¡°Rx. Do you think I am someone who would punish you over a mere wrinkle?¡± she stroked at her forehead. ¡°I am getting old. It is inevitable.¡±

    It was now that Lte finally dared to draw breath, spying an ideal moment for her to brush up on her favor. She wasn¡¯t sure why, but she had felt the empress be more distant towards her, favoring Kora for secret tasks and finding fault with herself often. It had weakened her image in front of the other maids, causing the lowly ones who had always been cowed by Lte¡¯s fierce temper to develop an attitude against her.

    Didn¡¯t they know that she was one of the empress¡¯ favoritedy¡¯s maids? Didn¡¯t they know how superior she was to them?

    As someone who had served others her entire life, Lte had long derived her pride from the favor bestowed upon her by her master. She did not like the quiet and diligent Kora whom the empress seemed to find more clever than herself.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± Lte proudly said as Katya set the earrings she held in her hand back in the jewelry box Lte held and searched for a different pair. ¡°You are as beautiful as ever. The most vibrant rose in the garden. The crown jewel of the empire.¡±

    The empress¡¯ hand seemed to curl around a stunning pair of ruby earrings in agreement, but her words did not.

    ¡°Really?¡± Katya asked almost innocently. In the background, Kora shook her head and quietly ushered the other maids from the room. But, like a thirsty man failing to notice the serpent in the river he drinks from, Lte¡¯s desire to regain the empress¡¯ approval made her blind to what others saw clearly. And that did include the lone figure trembling beneath the empress¡¯ bed in fear of being discovered by her mother.

    Lte nodded eagerly. ¡°Yes, Your Majesty!¡±

    ¡°The most beautiful...¡± the empress continued. ¡°More so than thedies of my court? More so than Countess Koberg?¡±

    Her voice was as soft and even as ever, but Lte was finally beginning to sense the danger that had befallen her.

    ¡°Of course, Your Majesty!¡± What else could Lte say?

    ¡°That¡¯s not true. Janice is younger and prettier. I have yet to know why the emperor forced her to be one of mydies-in-waiting,¡± Empress Katya shook her head, her blonde, undone locks swishing in the candlelight. Outside, dawn had set its course, soon to render the candle useless. But by then, perhaps Lte too would be just as unneeded.

    Without an audience to witness her shame, Lte dropped to her knees. Her treatment over the past few months had reduced the little backbone she once had to nothing.

    ¡°Your Majesty, have I erred in some way?¡± she begged. Her knees quivered, too weak to hold herself upright. Lte could hardly draw a breath.

    ¡°Why do you ask?¡± the empress inquired, impervious to the fear that emanated from her maid like a bad odor.

    ¡°I-I seem to have displeased you in some way. For which, I greatly apologize, Your Majesty,¡± Lte profusely apologized, bowing deeply since she couldn¡¯t curtsey with a jewelry box in her hands.

    ¡°How long have you been in the Sunset Pce?¡±

    ¡°10 years, Y-Your Majesty.¡±

    ¡°And what have you learned in that time? Or better yet, what haven¡¯t you learned in all this time?¡± The empress began to put on the ruby earrings, which glistened like crystallized blood in candlelight.

    Lte wasn¡¯t aplete stick in the mud. She could sense that the empress was referring to a previous mistake she had done, but she had made many. Her cruel torment of maids in the pce was well known and she had learned well from the empress in matters of tormenting others physically.

    Still, Lte fretted. Could it be about the maid whose eye she had removed with a hot poker? Or the pretty flirt of aundry maid she had permanently disfigured out of jealousy?

    ¡°P-Pardon, Your Majesty?¡± she all but whispered.

    The empress shook her head with a faintugh. ¡°You haven¡¯t changed, haven¡¯t grown. What use are you to me? You¡¯ve be a foolish burden.¡±

    If Lte wasn¡¯t gripping the jewelry box as tightly as she was out of terror, she would¡¯ve dropped it on the carpeted floor. Meanwhile, Kora finally detected the faint movements of a person beneath the bed. For a moment she froze, ready to warn Empress Katya of an intruder. But then she noticed it, the way that the way the empress¡¯ mirror was positioned in a way that allowed her full view of the person beneath the bed, while they couldn¡¯t see her gaze. The empress knew. Which meant it had to be someone the empress was familiar enough to allow in her personal chambers without suffering severe consequences.

    The list was short and there was only one reasonable guess: Princess Julia.

    A warning, the sharp Kora realized. The empress is sacrificing Lte as a warning to Princess Julia, telling her to stop her youthful foolishness and start behaving like a Duvernay. And poor Lte is too stupid to know. No wonder the empress chose her.

    Lte¡¯s thoughts ran around her head like a dog off a leash ¨C there was no controlling them. But amongst the thousands of thoughts overflowing in her mind, not one of them hade to the speedy conclusion Kora had reached. Working for the empress, Lte had never expected to live a long life. But she had thought she would die with honor, in service to the empress, never at what appeared to be a whim.

    ¡°Your Majesty?¡± Lte¡¯s voice broke, cracking into several different octaves.

    ¡°Bring my needles,¡± the empress told Kora, looking away from Lte. Lte knew those poisoned needles well. She¡¯d seen them at work on Princess Winter¡¯s hand. The girl¡¯s strange countenance had kept the poison from severely crippling her beyond rendering her right hand useless. Lte knew she wouldn¡¯t be as lucky.

    ¡°Please. Please, Your Majesty,¡± she gasped out, falling to her knees. For some reason, she could barely draw breath, as if her mistress were strangling her instead of calmly putting on the day¡¯s jewelry. She knew pleading wouldn¡¯t work, but she had not expected to die that morning when she put on her maid¡¯s uniform. She couldn¡¯t ept it.

    ¡°I have served you so faithfully! I-I have done everything you have asked of me w-without fault!¡± The hand that had fed Lte and tacitly encouraged her own violent behavior had poetically turned against her.

    Empress Katya dabbed at her lipstick. ¡°Then you should have been able to realize where you¡¯ve erred.¡±

    ¡°I cannot. Please tell me! Please! Don¡¯t deny me, please!¡± A sob broke up herst plea.

    There was a power that came with controlling the life and death of others. The way they stared as if the floor had fallen out beneath them and begged so pitifully. Many spoke of mothers and fathers. But Lte had none of those. She had only ever had the empress. Because of that, Lte knew she was done for.

    The soon-to-be-dead maid did not try to run. She knew what the empress did to runners. They aroused the fun of a hunt. And Lte knew that as terrible as the needles would be, nothing would be worse than arousing that sickening side of the empress that enjoyed the taste of blood and fear.

    She also knew her pleas were nothing but the buzz of a fly in the empress¡¯ ear, so eventually, she sat on the floor and let out a long breath, one of herst. She was 26. Unmarried. Unloved. No one would mourn her.

    The morning light was beginning to crawl through the window, illuminating the floor before the bed. She saw a hand tremble beneath the massive frame carved of rare oak, frail and small like a child¡¯s. Only one child would dare enter the empress¡¯ room.

    .....

    Kora came back, bearing the devices of Lte¡¯s death. The older maid¡¯s lips were pressed in a thin line, but other than that, she did not show any emotion. Lte always thought of Kora as a boring prude, but as she took herst breaths, she suddenly wished she had been more like the quiet maid. Less fawning, more diligent. At the very least, she wouldn¡¯t then be a sacrifice.

    ¡°I understand, Your Majesty,¡± Lte whimpered, unable to look away from the light emanating behind the empress. Would the light reach where she knelt in the half-darkness or would she die first?

    ¡°I understand, I understand, I understand.¡± The words kept slipping out of her mouth like pearls from a broken ne. Every time she repeated it, the hand beneath the bed jumped as if it were shocked with electricity.

    ¡°Good,¡± the empress replied. Her pretty smile had returned once again. She looked over the needles carefully, taking her time to make her choice. ¡°Give me your hand, Lte. I will be quick.¡±

    Lte closed her eyes and held out her right hand. And as one monster died, a new one was born.

 Chapter 173 - 173 Ch. 172: One Chaotic Day - The Morning

    173 Ch. 172: One Chaotic Day ¨C The Morning

    ¡°Good morning, Father,¡± I greet, my demeanor instantly humbled.

    I can see a sheepish face behind my father, that of my annoying two-faced attendant whom Emma recently reported is back in the empress¡¯ pocket.

    His hands are sped behind his back. But the emperor¡¯s face, usually stony and carved from ice, looks a touch warmer.

    ¡°Get dressed. There is somewhere for us to go.¡± He is not a man of many words when ites to me and soon sweeps out to one of the outer rooms of my western apartments. I often forget that we actually live quite close to one another, literally within the same building, until moments like these.

    After my father and the few members of his protective retinue that followed him inside exit my rooms, I¡¯m left with a bewildered Marie who just rushed in with a face puffy from sleep and the few attendants who have been on standby throughout the night on duty. As part of their task, one of them should¡¯ve informed me of my father¡¯s arrival the moment he so much as approached my side of the central pce.

    ¡°You failed to inform me of my father¡¯s arrival,¡± I say under my breath as I sweep past Nina, the head attendant. ¡°Go get punished once my father and I have left for the day.¡±

    ¡°Yes, your highness.¡± Her false pitiful face makes me want to swing a fierce punch at her face, even if that would mean that by tomorrow, the pce and the entire capital would be abound with rumors of my cruelty.

    I¡¯m amazed at her stupidity. But in a way, this is what I wanted. I kept her close to free myself of rumors of being harsh to those who serve me and on the off chance that the empress would entice her back to her services. Who would¡¯ve thought that Katya would be stupid enough to do so?

    I catch myself though, giving Nina¡¯s back a critical eye. I cannot give in to hubris and overestimate myself. The empress is no fool and she rarely does anything without reason. So it begs the question, why would she reuse a discarded pawn? I narrow my eyes as an insidious thought urs to me.

    .....

    Was this a tactical maneuver meant to draw my suspicions away from another potential spy close to me? Even closer than Nina?

    ¡°Your highness,¡± Marie calls from the bathroom, dragging me out of my thoughts. ¡°Your bathwater has been drawn.¡±

    I smile at her, which she can probably hardly see in the half-darkness of the early morning and the sputtering candles that line the hallway outside my room.

    ¡°On my way,¡± I sing back, still reeling from the surprise from this morning that has woken me up far more effectively that the ckest cup of coffee. Getting ready much earlier would normally make me miserable, but the anticipation of what is toe leads me to be ready within half an hour.

    Marie helps me tug on matching gloves to my cloak despite my protests.

    ¡°It¡¯s too hot for gloves. Do you really think we are leaving the pce?¡± I ask her, curious how she deduced such a thing.

    She nods firmly. ¡°Only a few of them followed since we are inside your chambers, but beyond your rooms, there are enough guards on standby for him to leave the pce for an outing.¡±

    ¡°Your eyes and insight are sharp and true,¡± Ipliment, finding her reasoning quite sound.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± Marie blushes from ttery. I cannot help myself anymore! I go in for one of her bear hugs, more addictive than sugar or any drug. That perpetual emptiness within my chest abates for a few heartbeats, briefly scared away by the warmth.

    My father appears in the doorway and Marie backs away for her safety.

    ¡°I¡¯m ready to leave,¡± I say, uneasy at the way his gaze lingers on Marie for a beat too long. He nods curtly, his long legs carrying him far ahead of me as we depart the central pce. Perhaps out of habit, we pass the halls outside his own apartments, a ce I had once avoided at all costs just a few years ago.

    The outdoor hallways supported by marble hallways are a maze long mastered by both the emperor and I. Even if it weren¡¯t for my father and his guards¡¯ loud steps, I would be able to navigate my way to the gates with a blindfold on. We pass by the hedge outside of Sunset Pce and I hear faint speech within it. No doubt they are preparing for the Ladies¡¯ Court that is to be heldter today. No matter where Emperor Helio is taking me, I¡¯m sure I will find it far more delightful than my first andst Ladies¡¯ Court. Still, curiosity bites at my heels and urges me to speak.

    ¡°Where are we going?¡± I ask my surly-looking, ck-d father as the footmen ready step stools and the coachmen check the reins for the horses.

    ¡°Out.¡± A man of few words, my father.

    ¡°Tell me where. I¡¯m curious,¡± I insist in a rare performance of petnce. My bottom lip sticks out and there is a hint of a whine in my voice. I do genuinely wish to know. I¡¯ve run through a thousand possibilities in my mind, but none offer a usible exnation for why my father would appear before my room so abruptly on a weekday when he should ordinarily be meeting with government ministers and running the country.

    My father looks down at me, his shadow obscuring my smaller figure so I am standing in the dark even though the blue sky is shining overhead.

    ¡°You will like it,¡± he answers simply.

    I should¡¯ve known it wouldn¡¯t be so easy to coerce an answer out of an emperor. But still, the corner of my mouth quirks up against my will as I¡¯m helped onto the carriage, a discreet thing that projects an image of us simply being well-to-do citizens rather than royalty. We shall ride the same one today. I¡¯m not sure if we¡¯ve ever done that before.

    He leans an elbow on the window sill and stares outside the whole time, leaving me to stare at him unabashedly the whole ride. Sometimes I am still stupefied at the thought that this man is my father. It has always felt like such an abstract idea. A desire I¡¯d once had in my youth, my real youth, and one I had put to bed in my past life. I¡¯d lied to myself time and time again that I was perfectly satisfied with my mother and had no need for another parent. And yet, in a cruel twist of irony, I have been given the secret desire I had held in my heart as a child and stripped of the parent who had truly loved me.

    I look away and gaze out at my own window.

    ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± I jerk upright and stare out the window. There are peopleing and going along with a sprinkle of sturdily constructed buildings that belie our location to be one that is reasonably well off. But I do not know Radovalsk well enough to ce where we might be at the moment. My flower-selling days did not take me much further than a few blocks beyond the iron-wrought gates of the pce.

    ¡°Hm? Oh,¡± I slide out of my seat, where my father helps me down the steps in lieu of a footman.

    I cannot help but look around in wonder, curious about what this surprise was meant to be. Then I see it. Just behind where the carriage is parked, a mahogany brown, 2 story building bearing the construction stylemon for government-funded structures looms over us.

    ¡°The trial,¡± I exhale, connecting the dots. My stomach twists up in knots rather than glee. ¡°I cannot be seen here.¡±

    ¡°We won¡¯t be. Come,¡± my father responds. He hops up the stairs two at a time.

    The trial must be in session for there are few people outside yet I can hear the din of overly curious citizens inside. Upon entering the significantly cooler building, my father leads me past the front desks down a narrow corridor. We take a left and a right, our steps padded on carpeting. Only one guard follows us, but I know the others are hidden nearby, maybe even less than a stone¡¯s throw away. We encounter no one, which allows my raised, nervous shoulders to settle down a bit.

    ¡°Where is Lord Amarelius?¡± I ask as we walk, making not-so-light conversation. My informants have let me know that he left the capital just under a month ago, for unknown reasons.

    ¡°Away. As the captain of the royal guard, his duties can take him beyond the pce walls quite often.¡±

    ¡°For this long?¡± Suddenly my father is moving aside a trashcan in the hall, carrying it a few steps away and setting it down without breaking a sweat.

    ¡°If I tell you, you will not get the opportunity to listen in on the trial you orchestrated.¡± He knocks on the wall, a hollow sound ringing out of the rich wood rather than the heartier sound one would expect.

    ¡°So you approve then. Of Lord Berrick¡¯s humiliation and castration?¡± I ask gleefully. Although half of that excitement stems from the fact that my father¡¯s knocking swiftly bears fruit as something clicks in the wall and a sweet little door swings open just like it did for Alice in Alice in Wondend.

    ¡°Castration?¡± My father repeats in a disgruntled voice.

    I smile dubiously and walk into the little room my father has prepared for me. This miniature listening box hasfortable padded seats in a royal blue color. It lines the wall like a booth, with a table at its center piled high with sweets. On the opposite side of the petite door I had entered through, there is atticework window of sorts. Thousands of small perforated holes in a square shape allow me to look into the very courtroom where the divorce trial is urring. I know that from within the courtroom, it must simply look like an air vent or something equally discreet.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I smile warmly at my father, instantly gettingfortable as I survey the prime position this box was set. It¡¯s just between the witness stand and the crowd, allowing me to hear all testimonies perfectly as well as the idle gossip from the crowd. I won¡¯t be able toe every day due to lessons, but there is nothing like the unexpected pleasure of suddenly gaining the privilege to watch Operation Blue Balls ur with my very own eyes.

    While I bite down into a croissant, I can see that Emperor Helio is inching his way out, ducking down due to the low ceiling as he tries to escape and probably return to his work. But now that I¡¯ve been presented with such a prime opportunity, how can I deprive him of such an entertaining show?

    ¡°Sit. Please,¡± I add when I can tell my one-wordmand doesn¡¯t have the intended effect. I have to walk the line between familiarity and respect carefully in a way I haven¡¯t done often enough in this world.

    He shakes his head. ¡°I am busy.¡± As if on cue, a knight of the royal guard holds open the door from the outside. I¡¯m sure the emperor has a lot on his te, but I¡¯m not a quitter.

    ¡°Let us at least remain long enough to pass lunch together in here,¡± I offer instead around a mouthful of pastry. ¡°I do not think I have had the pleasure of doing that with you.¡±

    He tugs his mouth to the side, staring at me like I¡¯m a curious trinket he is trying to fullyprehend. It invokes a memory of the past when I¡¯dst seen such an expression from the emperor. Unbidden, my mind conjures up the image of my father beheading a man and then forcing me to heal him in order to study my healing abilities. The intrusive thought causes me to wince.

    ¡°Are you unwell?¡± A warm hand suddenly rests on my forehead and I jump.

    My tongue trips over itself as I struggle to reply. ¡°Yes, I mean no, I¡¯m perfectly fine. Well, if you must go... then I understand. May Helio¡¯s light guide you.¡±

    I look up and stare at the t golden eyes that had forced me to heal 3 men on the verge of death, staining my hands and dress. I¡¯d washed my hands for days after that, although I doubt he knows that or cares.

    It is like a flip has switched. Suddenly this cute little listening spot is cramped and ustrophobic. I want to leave and put some distance between myself and the man I now call a father. I pat my chest and force myself to smile, although it is admittedly more strained than it was a moment before.

    It¡¯s as if there are a thousand voices in my head screaming for me to leave, screaming for me to return to the pce. My breathing quickens and my other hand that isn¡¯t patting my chest is squeezing the fabric of my dress. I had thought I put these feelings to rest, this unnecessary and unexinable panic that asionally seizes me without warning. I cannot have another freak-out in front of the emperor.

    ¡°I think... I think I just need some water. I will be right back! Don¡¯t enjoy the show too much without me!¡± I throw over my shoulder as I rush out of the little room into semi-fresh air.

    The guard looks mildly surprised as I barrel past him and disappear around the nearest corner. But I don¡¯t have time to perform a proper, polite exit. My back presses against the wall, the back of my bo hitting the wallpaper as I lean my head back as well.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I whisper. ¡°I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m fine. You¡¯re alright. Why are you acting like this? You are fine, Winter. A+! A-ok.¡±

    My hand beats on my chest like a metronome. I exhale a few calming breaths, surreptitiously checking the corner to make sure neither my father nor the guard followed me. Maybe if I tell myself enough times that everything is ok, it will be.

    Even if deep down, I know that everything most definitely isn¡¯t.

 Chapter 174 - 174 Ch. 173: One Chaotic Day - The Afternoon

    174 Ch. 173: One Chaotic Day ¨C The Afternoon

    We sit in awkward silence, looking anywhere but at each other. My father¡¯s eyes peer through thetticework, his expression unreadable. I fumble with my fingers.

    ¡°Are you mad I took too long in the restroom? I couldn¡¯t find it,¡± I murmur sheepishly, breaking the silence first.

    The pastries sit on the table forlorn.

    ¡°No,¡± he responds, curt as ever. ¡°What is it you wished for me to see?¡±

    It¡¯s a well-timed change in subject and mood, and none too soon, as I see Lady Arabe garbed in ck take the stand.

    The crowd¡¯s mutters reach my ears.

    ¡°All ck? What bad luck,¡± someone tutted.

    ¡°The esteemed Lord Berrick can do better than this woman.¡± Titters followed thement.

    I wonder what my father thinks of their words. One unspoken part of being at the top position of running a nation is that at the end of the day, it¡¯s all just a poprity contest. Often times in a presidential race, the better-looking and more charming candidate will win, even if they are running on a weaker campaign. An unpopr sovereign will be ousted by the revolutionary who people adore.

    .....

    Emperor Helio has clearly always understood this to some degree. Like royal families in the modern era, he has cultivated a certain celebrity around him, which is made far easier due to him being ridiculously good-looking and having a family that is just asparable in looks. Empress Katya is a model to all women, both in appearance andportment. Augustus and Julian are the teen heartthrobs of their generation. Even that hateful Julia got her fair dose of good looks and has the adorable face of an up-anding child star.

    As for myself? Not to brag or anything, but I¡¯m also no slouch in the looks department. It¡¯s called being self-aware; I¡¯m definitely not one of those clueless female leads who have no idea that they possess jaw-dropping beauty. I still get surprised by the face of an angel that stares back at me every time I look in a damn mirror.

    But regardless of how gorgeous I am, being royal is a house of cards that is only maintained by good public sentiment. The people don¡¯t know about how the cold-blooded emperor murdered his entire family for the throne. They just know the seemingly humble emperor who has donated eye-wateringlyrge amounts of money to the refugees created by the recent war with the Sarsavalians. They know that he and his wife weed in his bastard child as if she were one of their own and as a result of their good deed, Helio revealed her to be the promised child with healing abilities. He even went so far as to take the name of Helio for himself, the god that a majority of the people in this empire worship fervently. My father should add the name, King of PR, to his list of many titles.

    Having grown up in the modern world, I always wondered why the kings of old were so quick to eliminate good ministers and loyal generals who were popr amongst the people, even if those individuals didn¡¯t show any dissent against the king. But the view from the Phoenix Throne is different when you are looking down from the top rather than gazing up from the bottom. At the top, everything looks like a threat. And the fast-rising Berrick family, which has the pedigree and the backing of one of the most powerful Houses in the Erudian Empire, most definitely qualifies as a threat against the crown my father bloodied himself to obtain.

    ¡°She was going to win the trial anyways, wasn¡¯t she? Even without my interference?¡± I ask knowingly. Beyond our secret viewing screen, Arabe lifts her ck veil, where her pretty, tan face looks paler than normal and pitiful.

    I understand his desire to leave a ck mark upon the good name of Lord Berrick. Even though I know him to be a psychotic, cruel, and pedophilic asshole, the rest of the empire only sees a valiant nobleman who has married the daughter of a beloved folk hero and also performed the rare feat of killing a dragon. If he lost this divorce trial, which is already in his favor as they are exceedingly difficult for women to win, people will still hail his good name.

    But... in the same breath they bring up his impressive feat of ying a near-mythical beast, they will also speak of how he mustn¡¯t be a very good man with the way he treated his former wife, the precious sole child of thete Lord Westmont. They will now ponder his character. Did he y the dragon to help the poor people in the Eastern provinces out of the goodness of his heart or just for the glory of being able to brag about his abilities?

    And in this way, the emperor will remain the undisputed favorite amongst the people, with the crown prince in a close second.

    ¡°Yes,¡± my father answers after a long pause. ¡°But I am still curious to see how your involvement will y out.¡±

    ¡°You aren¡¯t mad I got involved?¡± I press. In front of us, the questioning from Lord Berrick¡¯swyer bes more intense and Lady Arabe quivers as if she is about to waver and break.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Good. I only intend to make the verdict far more convincing and eptable for the people.¡±

    Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him give me a strange look, but I¡¯ve already settled down with my invisible popcorn, ready to enjoy what is toe next.

    ¡°Lady Berrick,¡± awyer begins to ask in disdain, with a particr emphasis on her marriedst name that she detested. ¡°To be given a marriage by the mother of the empire is an honor very few people in this world receive. Do you look down on Her Majesty, and by extension, the imperial family who have molded this empire into a safe and prosperousnd?¡±

    He drags heavy charges into his question. If Lady Arabe doesn¡¯t answer carefully, she couldmit the crime of speaking ill against the imperial family. I can hear my father straighten in his seat from the question. It is clear he also didn¡¯t expect Lord Berrick to obtain such a cleverwyer.

    ¡°No!¡± Lady Arabe quickly denies, the wording out sharper than a knife. She doesn¡¯t want to give the gossip rags even an ounce of hesitation.

    ¡°It was a great honor to receive the empress¡¯ favor in the form of this marriage! When I filled out my marriage documents before the wedding, I was full of joy and pride, overflowing with gratefulness that myte father¡¯s sacrifice had brought such a blessing to me in the wake of his absence.¡±

    She pauses to wipe her eyes with a handkerchief, a faint smile hanging on her lips as if recalling a fond asion.

    ¡°However, as well-intentioned as the empress and the imperial family were, the way people appear on the outside is not always the way they appear on the inside,¡± Lady Arabe continues ominously. ¡°Few understand this better than myself. For as the most exclusive couturier in Radovalsk, I see sides to people that few others will ever bear witness to. Insecurities areid bare before me and when I¡¯m done, sometimes my clients don¡¯t even recognize themselves.¡±

    ¡°Objection, your honor! My client¡¯s wife is straying from the topic at hand! She seeks to defame my client¡¯s honor!¡± Thewyer cuts in, not wanting Lady Arabe to cultivate an ounce of sympathy amongst the listeners beginning to get riveted by her words. The spell is broken and the cloud of disdain hanging over the courtroom returns.

    ¡°How shameful it is to go to the witness stand, swear upon Helio Almighty to tell the truth, and then proceed to tell a lie,¡± a woman in the audience titters behind a fan that matches her dress. I can¡¯t help but roll my eyes. If my eyes aren¡¯t deceiving me, she is wearing one of Arabe¡¯s clothing designs. However, her words ignite a tide of discontent, one that thewyer capitalizes on.

    ¡°Your Honor! Requesting that if the information Lady Arabe divulges are proven to be words of deceit, that this case is immediately dismissed from court!¡± he crows. Triumph already sits upon his heavy brow like a crown.

    ¡°epted!¡± the judge agrees, whacking his gavel to quiet the crowd.

    Beyond our secret viewing space, the pale Lady Arabe presses her lips together, her face wan. It¡¯s clear she is holding back some sort of information but from the perspective of the public viewing audience and gossip reporters, they just assume it is something incriminating with regards to herself rather than her husband. The disdain increases.

    Lord Berrick just sits in his seat opposite the witness stand, his face unbothered as if he too were a member of the viewing audience rather than a direct participant in the trial. I grimace at the sight of his face, the anticipation of what is toe next filling me with dark glee. After all, even a force as great as a tide can change its direction without warning.

    ¡°Too afraid to speak, Lady Berrick?¡± thewyer prods after Lady Arabe has sat quietly in her seat for a few seconds too long. In his victorious eyes, she is a cornered prey just moments away from showing him her belly in surrender.

    She whispers something, too quiet for even the judge by her side to hear.

    ¡°Louder please, Lady Berrick!¡± thewyer prods.

    ¡°Lord Berrick! Is! IMPOTENT!¡± she yells back, emphasizing every syble so that her words are unmistakable.

    Shocked scoffs echo through the crowd, along with the sound of people choking in the middle of spewing their vitriol. The corner of Lord Berrick¡¯s mouth amidst his unbothered expression begins to melt into an ugly frown.

    Rage burns within his eyes and from our unique vantage point, we can see his hands grab onto the table in front of him and squeeze until his knuckles turn white and the thick wood begins to buckle. Lord Berrick mutters something in the ear of his shell-shockedwyer, prompting the man to awaken from his surprised stupor and jump to his feet.

    ¡°Your Honor! She nders my client!¡± Then something seemed to ur to him, for he triumphantly stared Lady Arabe in the eye as he uttered, ¡°If my client, the esteemed Lord Berrick, is impotent, how was herte child fathered? Could Lady Arabe have dallied outside the marriage? Has she sullied the Berrick family name?¡±

    Lady Arabe ms her ck handkerchief onto the stand in anger. ¡°You dare to question my virtue?¡±

    ¡°Only in response to your own ims,¡± thewyer shrugged.

    Lady Arabe gave Lord Berrick a long hard look as if she wereing to terms with a difficult decision. Then she turned to the judge and spoke, although her voice could still be heard throughout the crowded room.

    ¡°I did not wish to say this in the presence of the good people of the empire, but Lord Berrick, cannot... naturally... partake in bedroom matters. He is aided with... substances that most would consider illegal. I was not an unfaithful wife, just a bitter one,¡± she admitted in a sorrowful tone.

    The gasp that rings through the room is loud enough to wake the dead. Lady Arabe presses her advantage.

    ¡°There is a way to prove my im, Your Honor. May I continue?¡± she asks in a demure tone as if she hasn¡¯t just dropped a bomb on this deceptively simple divorce trial.

    ¡°Your Honor-!¡± thewyer tries to jump in.

    ¡°Permitted.¡± The judge whacks his gavel again.

    She pped her hands together in satisfaction, looking very much like a housecat that had caught the mouse. Meanwhile, Lord Berrick is like a raging bull trapped in a cage, his fury so palpable that his formerly confidentwyer is too afraid to stand too close to his own client.

    ¡°He can prove his virility, or I suppose hisck thereof, before us all in court. Before your very eyes, Your Honor, just like the old ways permit.¡±

 Chapter 175 - 175 Ch. 174: One Chaotic Day - The Late Afternoon

    175 Ch. 174: One Chaotic Day ¨C The Late Afternoon

    I¡¯m smiling wide enough to split a lip as anticipation keeps my eyes glued to the y taking ce beyond thettice screen. All the parts have been assigned and every actor has been ying their role to perfection.

    Stage left, near the front of the stage, are the main characters: a smug soon-to-be ex-wife, an irate soon-to-be ex-husband, and a stony-faced judge who is probably enjoying the show he¡¯s an unwitting part of just as much as I am.

    From center stage, in stumble two Red House workers,pensated very very handsomely by me and about to work thest job of their career before suddenly retiring from the profession and moving to the countryside.

    With a spotlight on her, the female lead of our y begins to orate a text that I personally discovered myself from the imperial library. She clears her throat, appearing timid to the audience although her clear voice was anything but.

    ¡°Your Honor, there are many clear stiptions in thew about what constitutes as grounds to divorce a wife. Infidelity. Disrespect. Mistreatment of spouse or inws. Failure to bring forth a child into the marriage. Shall I list them all?¡±

    ¡°As a judge, I am quite familiar with thew, Lady Berrick,¡± the judge stiffly pointed out.

    ¡°Please, call me Lady Westmont,¡± she said in response to his faint sarcasm.

    The crowd stirred at her maiden name, but more than that, they were fascinated by the two women who had been brought to court and now stood only a short distance away from Lord Berrick who looked like he wished to tear out the throat of any man who made the mistake ofing too close.

    His hands are in fists. I remember how those baseball mitt hands had wrapped around my ankle and dragged me back under the hedge to hell a few years ago. And the way, more recently, they had tucked themselves away behind his back as he had made untoward advances towards me. Even as a princess, I couldn¡¯t escape some of the greatest pitfalls of being a woman. So I am going to make sure he suffers greatly for his transgressions.

    .....

    Lady Westmont continues her speech in an unhurried tone so that the gossip rags and newspapers that are covering this trial can write down every word.

    ¡°As I stated, Lord Berrick is impotent. This is one of the few grounds that would allow a wife to divorce a husband. I intend to prove that today. While manyws in our beloved empire have morphed and changed over the years, this oft-forgotten one has not. My lord,¡± she now addressed Lord Berrick. ¡°You must prove your virility before the court. I have brought you some assistance. Pleasemence when you are ready.¡±

    Conversation explodes once again.

    ¡°Your Honor!¡± thewyer shouts, now fighting to be heard above the hubbub.

    ¡°Order in the court!¡± A gavel smacks down twice and the yells before whispers that can¡¯t be stamped out by a mere gavel.

    ¡°Your Honor,¡± thewyer repeats with a sputter. ¡°I must object. This is... absurd!¡±

    The eloquent man who had rallied the crowd and perspective against Lady Arabe is no more and the judge sees it.

    ¡°Absurd? I do not believe that is a valid objection. And this is indeed one of our archaic foundingws that has yet to be overturned,¡± he decrees. There is a shimmer of respect in his eyes, probably appreciation that Arabe had performed diligent research rivaling that of aw student at the Imperial College.

    ¡°Hear, hear!¡± someone shouts from the crowd, garnering augh.

    One of the beauties leans across the table. In a loud, flirtatious tone, shemands, ¡°Run me through like you did the dragon, my lord!¡±

    It¡¯s saucy and inappropriate, but an utter delight to watch. The gossip rags scribble every word down, their eyes shining as if they¡¯ve just discovered lost treasure. This scene is just as tititing now as it was when I was watching the inspiration for it in the show, The Borgias.

    ¡°I will not do this here.¡± Lord Berrick pped the table. ¡°It is unbefitting for a man of my standing.¡±

    ¡°In doing so, you will acquiesce to the charges that Lady Westmont has levied against you. Is that your desire?¡± the judge asked in a booming voice. He was a man and to that effect, he was a touch sympathetic to the charge Lady Arabe had brought to the table against Lord Berrick. There were few men who would enjoy the title of ¡®impotent¡¯ to be ced upon their head, let alone a nobleman of great standing.

    ¡°Perhaps he really can¡¯t lift his little lord,¡± a brave soul titters somewhere in the middle of the seated crowd.

    A bolder person chimes in with, ¡°A casualty lost to the dragon during a fierce battle, no doubt. Gone, but never forgotten, least of all by his wife.¡±

    Many people lose the battle against theirughter, a contagious disease that spreads throughout the audience and infects everyone.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m damn sure his little man can still fight... with some help,¡± someone snickered insidiously as theughter dies down. ¡°The question is, what kind of help did he get? I¡¯ve heard of sorcery that could make a eunuch into a full man for a night. But that would be against thew.¡±

    The theories within the room whipped back and forth like a ping-pong ball, each spection most outrageous than thest. Public sentiment is very much like a game of table tennis, whipping back and forth between twopetitors. Just minutes ago, people were jeering at Lady Arabe. But with a clever flick of her wrist, she had flung the me back onto her husband.

    He has a choice: prove his virility in the most degrading manner known to man in front of a gossiping crowd OR bear the shame and embarrassment of needing mildly illegal medicinal assistance to sleep with a woman.

    Neither option is good for a man of his status. Simply being in this position wasn¡¯t good for his status. The Berrick family had only begun to rise in prominence in recent years andcked the manpower and wealth of other noble families, but they were still a family that had been around for a good century or two, blooming well within thefortable shade House Duvernay provided their allies.

    But a scandal like the one Lord Berrick was beginning to find himself in was still enough to damage their fragile petals that had barely begun to stretch out. A catch-22, that¡¯s what this is.

    A cracking sound echoed through the courtroom. The desk had given way crumbling to pieces. Papers upon the desk flutter into the air as if carried by invisible wings. Amidst their flurry, Lord Berrick stands up, all 6 feet and 6 inches of himself, and stalks out of the courtroom. Lord Jasper Berrick opts for no choice and a decision is made for him.

    ¡°Let it be noted that the defendant has left the courtroom, thus acquiescing to the charge the intiff has levied against him. The court is adjourned for today!¡± yelled the judge.

    ¡°The case can¡¯t already be over, can it?¡± A younger gentleman asked an older man who seemed to be his father.

    ¡°Of course not, you fool. There are more charges to be contested in theing days.¡± The man correcting his son then shook his head in disbelief and let out a low whistle. ¡°I had doubted her. But my old mother is right. Even Akira¡¯s wrath cannotpare to that of a woman scorned.¡±

    Everyone in the courtroom trickles out, until it¡¯s just me, my father, and my now audible crunching. Another nce at the public seating proves that I was wrong. There is one soul left, a young man scarcely out of his twenties but still possessing the kind of face that clung to most of its baby fat. He had the endearing look of someone old people would naturally adore. He looks around the empty courtroom with a smile and whistles to himself as he leaves. It¡¯s a tune I¡¯ve heard before, but I, for the life of me, cannot recall where at the moment.

    ¡°These are delicious,¡± I tell my father, showing him the half-eaten cookie in my hand in an attempt to lessen the silence. I could feel a faint surprise emanate from my father at the height of the beautiful disaster that today¡¯s trial had been. But now, he is like a stillke with barely a ripple. I don¡¯t know if he is delighted... or furious.

 Chapter 176 - 176 One Chaotic Day - The Evening

    176 One Chaotic Day ¨C The Evening

    Despite the shocking news that Emma whispers in my ear, I manage to keep my reaction to a minimum of one eyebrow quirking up.

    ¡°Dead?¡± I repeat as if her words weren¡¯t crystal clear. My mind shes to a razor-sharp smile that had thoroughly enjoyed watching my hand get turned into a pin cushion. I don¡¯t feel bad at all.

    She nods, settling her head on the bed pillow across from me. We are both in matching nightgowns,rgely at my insistence, and a few cake crumbs surround her little mouth. It had been a fun attempt at a sleepover, a rare fixture from my youth I¡¯d thoroughly enjoyed. But much in the same way I always had to say goodbye to my friends in the morning and head home to my less idyllic reality, this sleepover has simrly fallen apart at the seams.

    ¡°I can¡¯t say it¡¯s a shame, but... it was certainly unexpected,¡± I point out. ¡°You¡¯ve been holding this in all evening haven¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Emma moves an empty ss that had once held lemonade from the lightly stained bed covers to a nightstand.

    The death of a pce maid is typically no cause for concern, but it was clear that Lte was the Empress¡¯ dog and far closer to her than others. Both Lte and Kora were the people whom the empress used to administer her will throughout the pce and the horror stories of Lte violently lording above other maids and servants have long haunted the marble corridors of the imperial pce for years. So why now? Why kill her now?

    ¡°She wouldn¡¯t kill someone for no reason, your highness,¡± Emma adds.

    ¡°Exactly. There is usually always a reason. We just haven¡¯t determined it yet.¡± I sit up in bed, the sugara wearing off as my thoughts begin to sprint in every different direction.

    ¡°If she isn¡¯t already asleep, please find Marie and ask her to fetch us a candle. I will stay up all night if I have to, just to figure out what my dearest mother is up to.¡± I prop my head on my chin, working my way towards premature wrinkles as I screw my head up in thought. I¡¯m missing something, that¡¯s what my instincts are telling me. There is a piece to this puzzle that I¡¯m not seeing. I can barely hear my bedroom door shut behind Emma, so focused am I on untangling the mystery before me.

    .....

    Meanwhile, just a few rooms away, someone else is having a reckoning of their own.

    ¡ª¡ª¨C

    In Marie¡¯s hands, the crumpled paper slick with tears had nearly be unintelligible. But it made little difference. Every word was hammered into her heart as if someone had taken a stake to her chest. A heavy hand fell onto the vanity, causing perfume bottles to shake and fall. Marie fearfully looked at the door, but no one approached. Few roamed around the princess¡¯ quarters at this hour and most of the attendants who were posted near Princess Winter¡¯s bedroom door were too busy fighting off sleep. No one woulde and find her.

    ¡°Lief, my poor L-lief...¡± she moaned. Her jaw shook, heavy with guilt. But Marie knew if she gave in to the weight, she would start sobbing uncontrobly. Her younger sister, who she had not seen since her youth had entrusted her son to Marie and now Marie had just lost him.

    She did not need to leave her post and rush to her quaint home by the docks to see if the words in the secret letter a lowly sweeping maid had shoved into her hands were true ¨C the empress was many things, but a liar she was not.

    In truth, Marie knew this was her punishment. She was not deserving of true happiness, and yet the past few years had brought much joy and light into her modest and simple life. First, there was the young princess, who reminded Marie of the baby daughter she had once lost many moons ago. Then a few yearster, her chubby-cheeked nephew strode into her life, whose good nature and chipper tone was so reminiscent of her sister¡¯s.

    It was cruel, what the crumpled note asked of Marie. She, a mother who had lost her sole child, had taken two more under her wing only for a wicked choice to be presented to her: choose which one will die.

    Lief or Winter? The princess or her nephew?

    If she chose Winter, Marie knew she would never see sweet, kind, innocent Lief again, who had only gotten involved in the messy pce business at her request. He was a young soul just starting the journey of manhood, Lief did not deserve to have that cruelly cut short by her own foolishness. But Marie was under no delusions of what would happen if she chose Lief. If she chose Lief, the little princess who had lifted her spirits and given her a reason to breathe again would slowly yet surely be snuffed out, none the wiser that the one responsible for her premature death was someone she had trusted since her rocky youth. She would have to betray one to save and protect the other. What a heavy burden this was.

    Her knees weakened. Still clutching the desk, Marie slowly sank to the floor. She wished nothing more but for the ground to swallow her up, to take her life instead and leave both children alone.

    Even in her haze of sorrow, Marie could still hear the somewhat muted footsteps slowly approaching. It stopped at each door in the long hall, opening it and then rapidly closing it again. This could only be Emma, who loathed to call out people by name and instead just found them with her own efforts. She was two doors down from Marie, so Marie had little time to cover her tracks.

    She shoved the note in her bosom, the paper corners stabbing her just like her guilt did. Rubbing the tears from her cheeks, Marie hoped her face and eyes weren¡¯t red enough to be seen in weak lighting as the door swung open and Emma ducked her head inside. Emma was no longer as small as before. The girl had sprouted up like a green bean since the new year had begun. Her figure was now long andnky, possessing the kind of grace that only the well-trained royal knights possessed. The stone-colored eyes that slowly blinked were as cid and gray as ever, but her face was bing lean and angr as the baby fat began to melt away.

    ¡°Emma,¡± Marie called out, grateful that her voice didn¡¯t crack. ¡°How can I help you, darling?¡±

    For a moment, she feared that Emma would somehow know to ask her about the note. Then the young maid¡¯s hand would reach into her apron pocket where a de was hidden and press it to Marie¡¯s throat demanding answers. Despite her distress and as much as she was devoted to the cause of Princess Winter, Marie knew she could not let Winter know about the threatening note. Not because the princess was too young to understand, but because she knew that despite Winter¡¯s newfound manpower, she would not be able to retrieve Marie¡¯s nephew so easily. The empress would never be so careless as to let Winter get ahold of his whereabouts so easily, let alone free him.

    In fact, a dark, fearful part of Marie was afraid that all the information that Winter had gathered about the Duvernays and Empress Katya thus far was because that was what Katya wanted Winter to know. Nothing more, nothing less.

    But instead of a dagger to the throat, Emma¡¯s eyes softened and the guarded look she always carried slightly receding but not fully. The girl probably slept with one eye open. Still, Marie hated how her chaotic thoughts suddenly warned her to be especially careful against letting Emma know about the note tucked in her bosom.

    ¡°Her highness will be staying up tonight. Please bring her a fresh candle to her room, the current ones are all out of wax,¡± Emma quietly requested. She did not ask what Marie had been doing in the dressing room.

    ¡°Oh, yes, of course!¡± Usually, she would engage Emma in a little conversation, asking the girl if she had eaten or how her daily task had gone. But Marie knew she couldn¡¯t uphold the fa?ade of being perfectly fine for too long so she hurried past Emma out of the dressing room and went to perform her task.

    Behind her, she didn¡¯t see Emma pick up the few perfume bottles that had fallen over when Marie had smacked the desk with a thoughtful expression. But even if she had, it wouldn¡¯t have made any difference.

    There was a special storage closet for wax candles in the basement floor of the central pce, so that way the summer heat wouldn¡¯t affect them during the daytime. Marie made her way down the stairs to the closet in a daze, her feet moving with a mind of their own after repeating these actions thousands of times. In the past, there had been no special storage closet. Despite being stuffed into the fine Rose Pce, the princess had lived like anything but a princess within it. Marie would have to carefully wrap the few candles they received every month in old newspapers and put them under the princess¡¯ bed or deep in her closet to prevent them from melting. When they ran out, they would recycle the wax and fashion sloppy candles out of them so that Winter could read her books deep into the night.

    Marie thought they had left those desperate days behind. But as she descended to the lowest floor step by step, she now felt as if they had never escaped the quicksand that was the Rose Pce, where the opulent pink decorations and finishings seemed to mock them as they struggled to survive.

    ¡°Helio, give me guidance. Please,¡± she begged under her breath. ¡°Who must I choose? Who must I lose?¡±

    Of course, there was no answer. Marie was not much of a believer anyways. It was hard to believe when she had personally witnessed the corruption of the Holy Church that had rotted the faith from the inside out. But unbeknownst to Marie, that seed of rot nted by House Duvernay had already taken root within her heart and would soon begin to sprout.

 Chapter 177 - 177 Ch. 176: Just Desserts

    177 Ch. 176: Just Desserts

    Sometimes, in the midst of political machinations, it is important to find a moment of normalcy. But even so, I can¡¯t help but tap my finger on the vanity impatiently as Marie messes up one of my signature hairstyles for the second time in a row.

    ¡°Maybe I should reach out to them and cancel,¡± I propose as the lc hair ribbon is tugged out of a loose braid. ¡°Or maybe I should invite Elias instead.¡±

    ¡°No, to both, your highness.¡± In the mirror, I can see Marie tut in disapproval. She has been a little offtely in small ways, the forgotten shoe here and a messed-up hairstyle there. It¡¯s been a week since the shocking trial verdict, which means the mes of gossip have not yet abated. Lord Berrick has declined from appearing in court since that day, which has made the following charges far easier to slip in undetected. I cannot help but smile to myself as I think of how the subtle n Augustus and I implemented to quietly take backnd, and by extension, true power, into imperial hands. I may not like this family, but unfortunately, as a member of it, my fate is very much tied up in how well we are doing.

    The Duvernay hold great sway over many of thendowning nobility who collectively are the true seat of power in the Erudian Empire. It¡¯s about time we chip away at that properly. But as fun as it was to n, I know it will be an utter bore to watch those minor stiptions and rules get twisted and manipted in a divorce trial, maybe even worse than watching paint dry, so I am choosing to abstain from watching. Lief has also been relieved of his duties but for some reason, when I told Marie, she did not appear as relieved as I thought she would be.

    ¡°Are they still due to arrive at one?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Lady Bourdain and Lady Laroche are due to arrive soon. It was you who nned to invite them for tea thus it would be utterly uncouth of you to disinvite them on a whim,¡± she reasons with me.

    I let out a long sigh. ¡°No, you¡¯re right. I¡¯m just¡­ not in the mood to pretend everything is alright.¡±

    A sh of understanding dances through Marie¡¯s eyes even as she questions me. ¡°But did the trial not go as you desired, your highness?¡±

    ¡°Well, yes. But the trial isn¡¯t even over. And I haven¡¯t hacked away at enough roots for the tree called House Duvernay to never recover. If my axe is discovered, the tree can still easily recover.¡±

    .....

    I can all but see the question mark hovering over my nursemaid¡¯s head.

    ¡°¡­I don¡¯t understand. The roots?¡± Marie inquires.

    ¡°The foundation,¡± I simply exin.

    The rose motif I found by the shrine in the older part of the pcees back to mind with a vengeance. House Duvernay is nearly as entrenched in the empire as the imperial family. Their vine of thorns is firmly wrapped around our necks, simultaneously strangling us and feeding off of us in order for the Holy Church to survive. In fact, if nothing else, they¡¯ve grown tighter in recent years. By performing a coup and killing off a good portion of the imperial family, my father¡¯s rise to power has inadvertently fed the rose¡¯s thorns even more blood.

    ¡°How does the axe factor into this though?¡± Marie further asks, poking away at my analogy. She is awfully inquisitive today, but in all fairness, since her nephew has been involved, she has been a lot more concerned regarding the nitty gritty than she used to be.

    ¡°Tell youter!¡± The third time proves to be the charm and Marie has finally created a suitable hairstyle to be seen by outsiders. I know that Julia has a full stylist team that assists her in getting ready, a team that must be gathering dust as she hasn¡¯t been out in a long time and was only recently ungrounded. But I am a bit simpler and prefer the assistance of Marie and Lady Arabe.

    I let out a huff of disappointment at the thought of hanging out with 2 literal children who do somewhat behave their age. ¡°I really should¡¯ve just invited Elias instead.¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t do, your highness.¡± There¡¯s something in Marie¡¯s tone that catches my attention, like a hangnail caught on a stitch of clothing.

    ¡°Oh?¡± I murmur, silently urging her to borate. The air grows heavy around us.

    Marie clears her throat. Her official tone is very at odds with her usual demeanor, it¡¯s as if someone is speaking through her.

    ¡°Elias is no longer allowed toe to the pce. You are a young woman, only a few years from youring-of-age ceremony. It won¡¯t do for-¡°.

    ¡°Was it my mother?¡± I interrupt, a touch uncharacteristic for me since I typically try to treat everyone around me with that 21st-century courtesy. But there is a buzzing in my head that won¡¯t go away from the moment she uttered those words.

    ¡°...¡±

    ¡°My father?¡± I press, ultimately hitting the nail on the head. Marie looks away in difort.

    ¡°His Majesty deemed it so a few days ago,¡± she confirms.

    I smile to myself, one that is all teeth and apanied by very little charm. ¡°So now he wants to act like a father, hm?¡±

    The white-haired girl in the mirror begins tough.

    ¡°Ha. Ha ha.¡± She doesn¡¯t sound amused at all though. In fact, if you listen closely, she sounds like she is trying not to cry.

    ¡°That won¡¯t do. That won¡¯t do at all,¡± the girl in the mirror and I mutter to ourselves.

    A foreign, fiery emotion nearly takes ahold of me, the kind that would give me the courage of 100 men and make me do something crazy like burn a building down with the same smile still on my face. But I push it back down in a ce where it bubbles and burns, threatening to overflow at any moment.

    No, it¡¯s not heartburn. I fear this is something much worse. This ¡®thing¡¯ grows steadily year after year, threatening one day to swallow me into the bottomless pit of rage that I know sits at the very bottom.

    Without my notice, my breathing has sped up and I have to forcefully slow it down. I am not the kind of person who gives in to her baser emotions. I¡¯m better than that. My mother, my real, true mother, raised me better than that. I release my viselike grip on the back of my seat and rise to my feet as if nothing has happened, even though my aching palm and racing heartbeat both say otherwise.

    ¡°Well then, shall we greet my guests?¡± I cheerilyp my hands together and Marie as well as my less-than-faithful head attendant standing by the doorway jump.

    Nina, Nina, Nina. Naughty Nina has fallen back into her old ways of serving as the empress¡¯ eyes and ears. The remainder of my poor mood is swept under the rug as I think of how to take advantage of this discarded chess piece that has surprisingly been reused ording to the secret note Emma found under her bed.

    ¡®Will you be able to?¡¯ The devil on my shoulder croons. ¡®You are too merciful with your traitorous maids. The first one is now a countess. The one before still works at her current position with the generous sry you give all under your service.¡¯

    It¡¯s right. Nheless, I wait for the angel¡¯s rebuttal, a call from my conscience, urging me to be better than my opponents. I hear nothing from it, nothing at all.

    Guests at the central pce are typically deposited in a small reception hall and that is where I find Antonia and Elsbeth. Their eyes are nearly as wide as the saucers each of them holds with the sort of delicate care that suggests a childhood spent rigorously training in manners. Judging by how they are able to hold the tea cup without dropping it out of PTSD, their governesses must be nicer than Ms. Laroche.

    ¡°Antonia! Elsbeth!¡± I call out with a wider-than-normal grin in an attempt to cover up my adult-like mannerisms. They both brighten as I rush into the room but don¡¯t forget themselves as they curtsey simultaneously.

    ¡°Your Highness!¡± They chirp. ¡°It¡¯s an honor.¡±

    Antonia, in a darling chestnut gown thatpliments her skin tone and shimmers in the sunlight like gold, lookspletely at ease in the finery of the pce that is none. Elsbeth¡¯s voice holds a tremor, but she follows through with her etiquette seamlessly.

    I haven¡¯t seen either of them since that fateful day at the opera, but they look just as carefree, well-fed, and happy as any other girl hailing from a noble family ought to be. I do envy that, although I don¡¯t let it show as I wave for them to sit back down and carry on with their refreshments.

    ¡°The honor is all mine, to host my new friends in my home. Shall we go to the garden? I¡¯ve had the pce chefs prepare a delightful assortment of treats from all over the empire. Whoever can correctly guess which province, town, or city each dessertes from, or gets thergest number correct, might win a secret prize I specially prepared,¡± I announce with a boisterous attitude better suited for arger asion than a dessert tasting. But when you are young, there are few asions bigger or better than an excuse to eat something sweet.

    ¡°How fun!¡± Shy Elsbeth surprisingly exims first. She clumsily ps her hands together in delight, nearly spilling tea on herp.

    ¡°What a novel idea! You¡¯d both best watch out,¡± Antonia boasted with pride. ¡°My mother delights in traveling all over the empire and I¡¯ve tasted my fair share of delectable wonders.¡±

    Antonia has always looked like the sharper one between the two, I have little doubt that the victory shall be hers. Linking my arm in each of them, I surprisingly find myself enjoying this pretense at youth. It¡¯s a cosy that has begun to feel like a second skin the longer I wear it.

    I¡¯d forgotten how astoundingly easy to make friends when you are young. When I was at the tail end of my college years, I was whisked away into this dumb webnovel that has turned out to be far more dangerous and frightening than the romanticedy it was portrayed to be. But still, I remember how hard it had been for me to make anysting friends as a young adult outside of my then-fianc¨¦, Jonathan, and my childhood bff-turned-betrayer, Hallie.

    Ever since I awoke as a baby, my solepanion in times good and bad has been loneliness. I can truly count the number of friends I¡¯ve made on one hand ¨C Marie, Emma, Julian for a brief span of time, Ethan, and Augustus on asion. That list grows shorter when you remove Marie and Emma from that list, as I often wrestle with the uneven nature of a rtionship where one party is technically at the beck and call of another.

    So that makes up a grand total of 2 friends: Augustus and Ethan. And they are both boys that I can¡¯t have any girl talk with.

    ¡°You eat like an oaf!¡± Antonia boldly dered as Elsbeth miraculously shoves an entire eir into her mouth with one bite.

    ¡°I do not!¡± she insisted around a mouthful of custard filling. ¡°Your Highness, do you think I eat like an oaf?¡±

    ¡°Of course not! Anyone who says such a thing...¡± I lower my voice mischievously, forcing both of them to lean across the white garden table to hear me. ¡°Must be an oaf themself!¡±

    The two girls titter so long and loudly that Elsbeth nearly chokes on her food and we have to take a moment to pound her on the back. Their udylike guffaws could be ttery or just the average 12-year-old¡¯s sense of humor. I don¡¯t particrly care either way. It makes for a light and airy asion, like a chill si you put on TV that you can enjoy without any serious emotions.

    But of course, even with Peppermint sessfully kept away from meddling with my life, this world was once the setting of a clich¨¦ romance story. Hence why, when a familiar face decided to crash my tea party, you will all be delighted to know that I was quite prepared.

    ¡°Julia!¡± I exim, dropping my eir onto my te in fake shock. Antonia and Elsbeth go quiet, a wise decision considering the whispered rumors they¡¯ll no doubt have heard or been warned about by their mothers.

    ¡°So very kind of you to join us on this lovely day. Marie, if you could bring out that chair I left for her? I wouldn¡¯t want my dearest sister to be ufortable,¡± I finish, ying the part of a weing host with ease.

    What I didn¡¯t prepare for, however? A kind, polite, and dare I say, changed Julia.

    Her ringlets are as tight as ever, although they spill down her back now as her hair has grown considerably. The blush-colored dress and bo she wears lends to her sweet appearance, one that burns my eyes as she rushes forward to grab my hands with near-unnatural speed.

    ¡°It would be my pleasure, Winter. My greatest pleasure.¡± Her grasp is tight, but not too tight. Her eyes are round, her golden pupils t and unreadable. Her smile actually resembles a smile, not the baring of teeth she used to sh at me in the past. This is not Julia. This is someone, something new.

    And I do not care for it at all.

 Chapter 178 - 178 Ch. 177: A Rose By Any Other Name

    178 Ch. 177: A Rose By Any Other Name

    Identity. An eternal questionpressed into a single word.

    What makes you¡­ you? Nothing is constant about a person. Our appearance grows and changes over time. And so does our personality or persona. In the span of 10 years, a person could bepletely unrecognizable from their past selves both in the way they look and the way they act.

    It looks like Julia. It sounds like Julia. But if it weren¡¯t for her familiar, albeit slightly more mature appearance, I would not recognize this girl to be my dreadful half-sister. Yet I know it is still her in there.

    But then again, did I ever really know Julia? Did I mistakenly dismiss her as a low-level goon of the final boss, Empress Katya?

    Although tittering can still be heard in the sequestered garden we are all seated within, only if you were to look upon us would you see the truth. The brittle smile Elsbeth sports is on the verge of cracking. Antonia¡¯s eyes, keen as ever, sh as she looks between myself and Julia. I¡¯m giving the performance of a lifetime, as every nerve in my body is forcing me to remain calm and unperturbed to any onlookers.

    Yes, I want my appearance to say, I love dining with my psychotic, murderous half-sister!

    Instead, I raise a pretty champagne flute of freshly pressed juice and actually say, ¡°Cheers to friends, both new and old.¡±

    I want to vomit right after I say that, even as the noble girls I invited gratefully bow out of their tepid conversation with Julia and quench their thirst. Next, I¡¯m going to be going around saying ¡®live,ugh, love¡¯ or something corny like that.

    Who am I? A young girl, only in appearance. A liar, more often than not. Cindere, except the shoe does not fit. And there doesn¡¯t seem to be a happily ever after waiting on my horizon.

    .....

    I do know what I am not: the sort of princess who got pretty fairytales written about her. No, no, no. I¡¯m the sort that gets written about in the fables used to scare children into being good little boys and girls.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± someone asks. I look up to find 3 pairs of eyes blinking curiously at me and btedly realize that I am still holding onto my drink without having taken a sip.

    That¡¯s an identity crisis for you; you won¡¯t see iting until it¡¯s tucked in bed right next to you, snug as a bug.

    ¡°Yes, of course!¡± I giggle.

    The sses are lightweight, by my special request so that my weakened right hand may be able to hold them for brief amounts of time. But the clock strikes 12 and my luck runs out. Trembling like a twig, the flute of juice slips from my fingers, dramatically knocking onto the table before spilling its contents onto the grass below.

    ¡°Oops,¡± I chide myself yfully. ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a sign that our time in the garden hase to a close. Shall I show you both the grand prize that Antonia will be taking home today?¡±

    Antonia lights up right away, the allure of a prize held at a distant location tugging her out of her nosey temperament. Eslbeth, in the same breath, sulks, setting down the jam bun she had been about to start eating.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I get for my Mama always telling me not to eat sweets. Now I don¡¯t know any of the popr ones,¡± she pouts as she slides off her seat. Of the four of us present, she is the tallest and her feet easily reach the ground.

    ¡°Nina?¡± I beckon my beloved traitor. ¡°Please escort them in advance.¡±

    Meanwhile, Julia is in no hurry as her gaze follows the slow-spilling liquid. She carefully watches thest of the orange-yellow brew drip away before she looks up to meet my own inquisitive stare. The girls are gone, there is no need for her theatrics any longer.

    ¡°So¡­,¡± I lean back in my chair and sh Julia an indifferent smirk. ¡°You¡¯ve decided toe out and y.¡±

    I almost miss the days when she used to simultaneously ignore my existence yet get enraged over it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean,¡± Julia shrugs in a cavalier way. I look in her eyes for the familiar rage and standoffishness, but it¡¯s gone missing. ¡°Shall we go join them?¡±

    I don¡¯t press the issue, her nonresponse told me all I need to know. ¡°After you,¡± I urge, dropping the subject altogether. Julia leaves without another word, disappearing in the direction of my other young friends without another word.

    She¡¯s changed. Or perhaps, she has be someone she was always meant to be? After all, with a mother like hers, she was bound to smarten up sooner orter. However, in the webnovel, the nearly adult Julia was still dazzlingly maniacal and stupid. So this must be yet another change from the unpleasant butterfly effect that my transmigration into this world triggered.

    I rub my chin, slowly ambling after Antonia, Elsbeth, and Julia.

    ¡°So many people to consider. So many hidden pieces to the puzzle,¡± I muse aloud as Marie walks by my side and my attendants trail at a distance behind me. Cold sweat dots my back, but it¡¯s not from thefortable heat of the winding path through the gardens near the central pce.

    I¡¯m overwhelmed, you see. I feel like I¡¯m trying to conduct ten different conversations at the same time.

    Jack, my sleeper agent of sorts, whispers in one ear the poems of this world¡¯s esteemed equivalents of Shakespeare and Oscar Wilde to Emma¡¯s great irritation. He prepares diligently to serve as my eyes, ears, and mouth in the male-dominated political arena of the Erudian government, but until then I must ensure that his identity is never discovered.

    In the other ear, I hear Emma¡¯s deadpan tone, reciting to me the secrets and desires of not only the current noble ss, but their progeny as well ¨C the deviant desires of a Southen noble¡¯s heirs, the gambling addiction secretly crushing a famed merchant family, a duchess who has dalliances with a youngmoner man she has trapped in a ve contract.

    But I can still hear the other voices. Some of them I recognize, some of them I don¡¯t. One or two may even be my own, urging me to do awful, terrible things.

    Our brief journey takes us not to the small treasury room of the exquisite goods I¡¯ve acquired but to the stables. There are two stables on the pce grounds, the ones where the general horses used tomandeer imperial carriages reside and the one where the horses personally owned by the imperial family reside. Within here are the two fine horses that Julian had given me for my 12th birthday. Turns out they are Ferghana horses, the very breed emzoned on the logo of the Duchy of Mulworth who hate me to death after the incident in my youth with Sir Gregory Taylor.

    I hadn¡¯t realized this when I had epted the gift and I was less amused when I did eventually learn. But my real mother had always said, ¡°waste not, want not¡±. So I am regifting one of these beasts to an owner who will appreciate them far more than I ever will. If I recall correctly, these girls are still within that precious ¡°horse girl¡± age demographic.

    ¡°No,¡± Antonia gasps out with a hand on her heart. ¡°Tell me it isn¡¯t so.¡± Her eyes sparkle brighter than a cartoon character as my horse girl hypothesis is proven correct. Elsbeth bites her fist, envy dusting her cheeks in a blush red.

    ¡°Oh Antonia, how I envy you so! A pure white Ferghana! More precious than gold!¡± the young Laroche girl cries. Julia stands at the back, hopefully done with today¡¯s antics as she watches the scene quite calmly. Although Ferghana horses are rare, she is also of the imperial family and no doubt has one such beast saddled somewhere in this stable.

    ¡°Your highness, I cannot ept,¡± Antonia regains control of her manners and gratefully curtseys in my direction.

    ¡°Please, I insist. Fear not, I have another I can still ride.¡± I wave away her curtsey. The horse huffs and I swear it gives me an unfriendly look. I shrug back. Who told it to be the gift and symbol of not one, but two of my enemies?

    ¡°She has two Ferghanas...¡± Elsbeth shakes her head in shock after muttering that under her breath.

    The stablehand standing to the side steps forward at this time, eager to please.

    ¡°Your highness,¡± he calls out in an ingratiating tone, ¡°Would you like to take a ride upon your steed?¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°No, let Antonia have a go at it. It belongs to her now.¡±

    ¡°It has no name?¡± Julia speaks up for the first time from the back. Both Antonia and Elsbeth turn to face me in surprise. I suppose I was too optimistic to hope Julia would just shut up and tag along.

    ¡°No,¡± I respond curtly, before realizing it coulde off as rude. I begin to pat its soft mane to fully paint the picture of a mindful animal lover.

    ¡°I have too much respect for this horse to so rudely impose a name upon it. Besides, a name is not what defines a person, let alone a horse. My name is Winter, but by any other name, would I not be the same person?¡±

    When I look up from my little speech, it appears to be a little too effective, with twin looks of awe between Antonia and Elsbeth. Julia innocently looks on from the back, like a snake retreating back to its hole.

    ¡°When you speak words of poetry whilst your white locks matches the horse¡¯s coat, I find that my heart begins to flutter, your highness!¡± Elsbeth coos with her hands clutched together.

    ¡°Take care not to let it escape the confines of your chest, for you¡¯ll find that amongst the many staff of the pce, none are more adept at catching a runaway heart than me,¡± I chide while yfully scratching Elsbeth like a rakish yboy intent on seducing a young maiden.

    ¡°Oh!¡± she gasps. Even the hue of the ripest tomato could not mimic the color of Elsbeth¡¯s face. I must admit, she is quite fun to tease. And our interaction has sessfully defused the miniature bomb that Julia introduced.

    A stool is produced, upon which the heir of the Bourdain and Grace families hoists herself onto the freshly prepared saddle on the white horse¡¯s back. She is not surpassed by the majesty of the rare horse, with herself hailing from a background that few in the empire canpare to.

    ¡°How do I look?¡± Antonia¡¯s youthful glee is palpable as she poses on the back of the snow-white steed, valiantly waving an invisible sword into the air.

    ¡°Gant,¡± I respond. She gives me a cunning look from where she is perched, with the reins still in the grasp of the stablehand.

    ¡°Why were your words sweeter with Elsbeth than they were with me, your highness? i won, didn¡¯t I?¡± Lighthearted jealously coats her tone.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid you have already eaten all the sweetness I have to offer,¡± Iugh, referencing the desserts we all just binged on.

    ¡°Touch¨¦!¡± she chuckles. Her poufy skirts make riding more difficult than usual and she shifts forward on the saddle. However, that little movement suddenly sets off the horse. It bucks violently, its reins nearly slipping from the stablehand¡¯s grasp as Antonia lets out a shocked gasp that sounds more like a wheeze.

    The mood evaporates like morning dew on a summer¡¯s day. Marie grabs me, suddenly pulling me back from the horse, while Elsbeth stumbles back and falls on her bum in a buffet ofcy petticoats.

    ¡°Stop! Stop!¡± The stablehand sharplymands, straining to hold the leather reins while patting soothing patterns on the horse¡¯s neck and side.

    Antonia¡¯s brown face slowly leeches of color as she grits her teeth and clings on for dear life. In spite of the pandemonium that has suddenly ensued, I must give her her flowers for disying the sort ofposure that surpasses her tender age.

    ¡°Let go of me, Marie,¡± I say softly as the stablehand¡¯s usual coping mechanisms prove to be useless. He shouts for apanion to bring a rope and a crop to forcefully subdue the horse before Antonia is bucked off.

    ¡°But, your highness-!¡± she hisses, her arms still wrapped protectively around me.

    ¡°It¡¯s ok.¡± After a faint tremble, the arms fall away and I¡¯m free to walk toward the bucking beast.

    ¡°Shhhhhh,¡± I croon as I reach out and ce a hand on its side. While I do know my healing ability works on animals, I rarely use it on them. As I let out a sigh and do something that is easy as breathing for me, I can instantly feel why the horse acted up. The saddle has been tampered with and a nail was nted under its thickyers. It¡¯s a short one, hence why it only pierced the horse once Antonia shifted on its back. But the crux of it is that the nail was nted near the front of the saddle, where Antonia is clutching its neck for dear life. Her salvation is its agony.

    ¡°Antonia,¡± I call out. ¡°Be a dear and lean back for a moment.¡±

    The horse bucks again at that moment, causing me to stumble before I catch myself. I can hear Marie and my attendants gasp behind me.

    ¡°But I¡¯ll fall!¡± she cries, her nerves unwinding as the horse fails to cease its erratic movements.

    I look up at her from the ground with what I hope is a trustworthy smile. ¡°I won¡¯t let you.¡±

    Underneath it, I hope she can hear what I¡¯m truly saying as the sharper one between herself and Elsbeth. Trust me. Follow me. And I¡¯ll never let you down.

    Her fingers are entangled in the silvery white mane of the Ferghana horse, her jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle through theyer of baby fat that still covers her delicate features.

    But then like taking a breath, she just lets go. Her chestnut eyes still locked on mine, I see her straighten out her back without fear, finally allowing the short nail to burst free from the horse¡¯s back. In a heartbeat, the wound is healed as if it were never there.

    And the horse quiets down to the docile thing it had been minutes before.

    The stablehand holding the reins marvels at me and when I look over my shoulder everyone else does too. Except for one: Julia. Something dark slithers in her gaze. Envy, perhaps?

    I have no doubt that whoever trained these horses before Julian acquired them did their due diligence as it is still a gentle beast despite the sudden scare. But the fun is over and Antonia is eager to disembark.

    ¡°Take care when getting off,¡± I instruct Antonia as one of my attendants helps her shimmy off the horse that stands so still it¡¯s like a statue save for the arrogant whip of its tail. ¡°For even the most docile of creatures bes deadly if you rile it up enough.¡±

    But as I speak to Antonia, I look not at my shell-shockedpanion, but to the new person that my dear sister has be.

 Chapter 179 - 179 Ch. 178: Forbidden Knowledge

    179 Ch. 178: Forbidden Knowledge

    My fingers trail over the word FORBIDDEN, embossed in a foreboding red across the ck leather book cover.

    Although he isn¡¯t here, I can just imagine the self-righteous smirk he¡¯d have on his face as he quietly asks, ¡°So you like it?¡±

    ¡°A gift within a gift?¡± Emma asked, seated in the corner of the room while tossing a thick bag of coins up and down.

    ¡°Mhmmm,¡± I hum in confirmation. ¡°It made for a fascinating read.¡±

    Recent nights of insomnia have been assuaged with a well-ced candle on my bedside table and me, huddled right beside it with the book in myp. I¡¯ve seen Marie¡¯s suspicious nces at the used candle that¡¯s down to its nub every evening, but I¡¯ve been quite hush hush about the book, even with her. I was even going to keep it a secret from Emma, but in true Emma fashion, she discovered the heavy tome within 2 days of my birthday.

    ¡°Do you know why magic is forbidden in the Erudian Empire, save for imperial doctors and battle mages?¡± I ask Emma.

    She predictably shakes her head no. I pat the couch pillow beside me, inviting her to sit for a brief storytime.

    ¡°The short answer: magic is just too unpredictable and powerful to control. It¡¯s like wrestling for control against a snarling and raging beast with your bare hands.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of feats such as that being performed in the circus, your highness. It is difficult, but not impossible,¡± Emma reasons.

    .....

    ¡°Indeed,¡± I agree, ¡°But what if there are two animal wranglers and the second wrangler¡¯s goal is not to control the beast? What if, instead the wrangler is trying to rile up the beast as much as possible before setting it on the watching crowd? Give me one of your coins.¡±

    ¡°Y-Your highness?¡± A rare stutter graces Emma¡¯s speech. She fails to catch her pouch and it falls on herp with a loud clink.

    I refrain from rolling my eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to steal from you, it¡¯s for the exnation. A coin toss.¡±

    Emma looks at me. I look back at her. Within the refined confines of the sitting room, a showdown reminiscent of the Wild West takes ce.

    Later rather than sooner, a single gold coin is clutched between two maincured nails.

    ¡°Heads, is the good wrangler trying to get the beast back in its cage.¡±

    ¡°Heads?¡± Emma inquires, confused by the expression.

    ¡°My father¡¯s head is on the coin. Hence, heads,¡± I briefly exin. ¡°Tails, the opposite side of the coin, reprsents the bad wrangler, who wants to incite the beast to prey upon the crowd. If I were to throw this coin into the air, there would be a 50% chance of either sidending face up.¡±

    ¡°50% chance of facing the good wrangler and 50% chance of facing the bad wrangler,¡± Emma elegantly summarizes.

    I nod. ¡°Precisely. So tell me Emma, would you take the chance of facing ¡°good¡± magic and wrangling the beast back into the cage or face ¡°bad¡± magic and have the beast feast upon you.¡±

    ¡°I just would not attend the circus altogether.¡±

    ¡°Bingo!¡± I jump up as she reaches the crux of my exnation. Emma jolts back; I Initially assume it¡¯s from shock, but in my joy I had dropped the coin and she catches it perfectly in the palm of her hand before it disappeared to join its brethren within her purse.

    ¡°And that is why magic is banned. Because there is too high of a probability of forbidden magic being used for nefarious purposes within the empire. But this empire was established and conquered with magic by my very first rtive who was blessed with Helio¡¯s magic. So in the end, thepromise that was reached is that there can only be marginal amounts of magic allowed for healing and for the followers of Helio within the Holy Church.¡± I take a bow after my neat little exnation.

    I seem to hear a cheer from my captivated audience, but it¡¯s actually just the sound of Angel knawing on the bars of her cage while Devil is off getting groomed. Emma has her typical nk look, although she follows up with a question.

    ¡°You learned that from this book?¡± She points at the forboding tome.

    ¡°Not quite. I... I figured it out myself,¡± I lie. My mind drifts back to the note tucked under the front cover of the book that was secretly gifted to me alongside my precious bunnies. The paper was of fine quality, carrying a faint scent that I couldn¡¯t quite ce yet was simultaneously synonymous with Elias.

    I wonder if he is well and I feel a pang of hatred for my father.

    ¡°It¡¯s an odd book,¡± Emma concludes. ¡°Do you know where he got it from?¡±

    ¡°...No...¡± I trace the words on the front cover, making it to the letter D before Emma suddenly leans in, sniffing the book like a golden retriever.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I squeak, pulling the book into my chest and clutching my invisible pearls.

    Emma¡¯s sensibilities are not as delicate as mine. She has a pensive expression. ¡°It¡¯s an old book. That type of resin hasn¡¯t been used on books in at least a century.¡±

    ¡°First of all, how do you even know that?¡± I flip it over in my hands, admiring the shiny leather finish that looks brand new. ¡°And second of all, it certainly doesn¡¯t look it!¡±

    ¡°You should burn it now that you have finished reading it,¡± Emma¡¯s focus falls back to her coin pouch. ¡°Something about it feels dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Knowledge is often dangerous. But enough about this book that¡¯s probably illegal,¡± I announce, setting it to the side. ¡°It has taught me many, many interesting things that I¡¯m certain will bore you half to death.¡±

    ¡°Not three-quarters to death?¡± Emma raises 3 fingers.

    ¡°Pardon me?¡± I wonder if I should smack the top of her head with this book to bring some sense back into her.

    ¡°Why only half? Why not a quarter? Or perhaps, one-eighth?¡± The joke slowly dawns on me as a mischievous light fills her gray eyes.

    ¡°Oh you think you¡¯re funny now, do you?¡± I chide Emma with a knowing look. But before I can not so gently give her a piece of my mind, someone frantically knocks on the door and bursts in before I can even open my mouth.

    Emma is up in a sh, tossing the coins to the wayside as she leaps over the coffee table in one bound and positions herself between the door and me. Her hand goes under her apron to the hidden pocket that holds my dagger (honestly, it¡¯s her dagger at this point).

    A breathless attendant bursts into the room. It¡¯s not Nina, but one of the other silent women who follow me around and makes me look far more important than I feel I am.

    Emma detes, pulling her hand away from the pocket although her unfriendly look remains.

    ¡°That was quite discourteous of you,¡± Emma scolds. Her voice is as passionless as ever, but to the trained ear, a faint current of anger runs through her tone.

    The girl falls to her knees, the asional gasp for air interrupting her speech. ¡°Apologies, your highness. I was sent here by Nina to report that the Head of Staff, Marie, has been detained in a courtyard west of Sunrise Pce.¡±

    Sunrise Pce? Empress Katya¡¯s domain?

    I shoot up to my feet. ¡°By whom?¡± I coldly interrogate as if I can¡¯t already guess who would dare.

    Her voice chases me out the door. ¡°By Her Majesty! She seemed to wish harm upon Marie!¡±

    Down two flights of stairs and past a set of bewildered manservants who open up the main entrance door of the central pce, that is how far my feet take me before I¡¯m fully cognizant of moving. But it¡¯s when my unathletic self feels the familiar strain in my chest and my breath starts toe out in spurts that I begin to digest what was said to me earlier.

    Ie to a full stop, prompting Emma to slow her jog. Irritatingly, she is not even the slightest bit out of breath.

    ¡°Why Marie?¡± I gasp out with my hands on my knees. ¡°And why now?¡±

    I¡¯ve almost taken it for granted, the immunity that Empress Katya has seemingly lent those truly close to me. She did seem to want to woo Emma away for a while, but has for all intents and purposes given up on that as well. So why this today? Katya rarely does anything without a reason.

    ¡°Hey, Emma?¡± I ask without turning around. ¡°Do I have anything worthy of stealing in my room? Anything that would interest someone like my mother?¡±

    She pauses for a beat, no doubt cataloging the worth of everything in my apartments.

    ¡°Excluding anything that she could acquire for herself, only your dragon egg or secret book would hold any interest to me.¡± Emma counts on her fingers, satisfied with her answer.

    ¡°Go back to the room quickly. Make sure that attendant doesn¡¯t leave until Ie back. I have a bad feeling.¡± I stalk onward towards my destination while the familiar pitter-patter of Emma¡¯s feet fades into the distance behind me. I hope she is far swifter than I am.

    The path stretching out in front of me is more familiar to me than the back of my hand, a favorable circumstance as my head continues to run in circles as I try to make sense of things.

    ¡°If there was really a problem, Nina would¡¯vee herself, rather than send one of her underlings, or technically, one of my underlings,¡± I muse aloud. ¡°But perhaps Nina would¡¯ve made me too suspicious and then I wouldn¡¯t havee as swiftly as I am.¡±

    Two servants move from the path and bow, I quickly excuse them from their greetings and take no notice of their bewildered expressions at seeing me move about by myself.

    ¡°And to detain Marie like this?¡± I scoff. ¡°Such a haphazard strategy feels a touch more heavy-handed than anything my dear mother would do.¡±

    ¡°There is something I¡¯m not considering...¡± I conclude as I am spat out into a quiet, sun-dappled courtyard.

    With my hands clutched behind my back and sporting an unpleasant expression, I hope that my imposing presence can make up for what my diminutive heightcks.

    My jaw clenches tight as my eyes settle on the person seated in the courtyard in a cavalier manner. A ball is tossed up and down from his palm and a familiar smile burns my eyes as I try and fail to raise the corner of my mouth into a smile.

    ¡°Julian,¡± I call out. ¡®Seeking greater things¡¯ I believe he imed when Ist saw him. What a bucket of lies. But I should¡¯ve expected that.

    ¡°Winnie,¡± he drawls out familiarly. I remember when I used to cheer up at that stupid nickname.

    ¡°What is it you want that made you think it fit to detain my head of staff and attendants, save for the one back in my chambers who I suppose is in your pocket?¡± Something about him rxing in awn chair after summoning me halfway across the pce causes my words toe out more sharply than intended.

    ¡°In my pocket? I missed your charming idioms,¡± Julian chuckles. He looks so much like Julia, Empress Katya really birthed a pair of twins a few years apart from each other.

    Without his leave, I go to Marie and help her to her feet. Her body trembles, but she is strong enough to stand. I hadn¡¯t noticed earlier, but at the mouth of the courtyard where I just entered, 2 tall guards prevent anyone from exiting.

    ¡°Very sloppy work I must say,¡± I continue in an unbothered tone, wiping off invisible dust from Marie¡¯s dress. Our proximity helps my anger as I feel my rage take a backseat and allow me to drive. ¡°But I¡¯ve long known that a good portion of your purported intelligence was simply an overinted ego hiding behind your silver tongue.¡±

    ¡°Careful,¡± he chides. The smile wanes, the very opposite of a sunrise.

    I re down at Nina. She trembles on the ground still with the other attendants.

    ¡°Get up already,¡± I bark. ¡°As frightening as these big men may be, they wouldn¡¯t dare harm you.¡±

    ¡°Y-Yes, your highness,¡± the attendants chirp, stumbling up to their feet in unison. I¡¯m almost curious about what sort of training has made them do everything in sync.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like repeating myself, Julian. What is it that you want?¡± I slowly turn to face my second oldest brother, wishing to swing a fist at his face if it weren¡¯t for ourical height difference.

    He truly chose a good time to strike. Augustus is off dealing with a drought issue in an eastern province. Our father is currently supervising a medal ceremony for the knights of the city watch. And obviously, I can not go running to his mother for help.

    Julian smiles and catches the ball. It¡¯s bright yellow, just like the ball of light above that is working very hard to give me a sunburn.

    ¡°I have heard that you are in possession of a certain book that I happen to be in need of myself.¡± It¡¯s not a request. It¡¯s a demand.

 Chapter 180 - 180 Ch. 179: The Illuminati

    180 Ch. 179: The Illuminati

    I consider telling Emma to run him through with my dagger, but she isn¡¯t here, unfortunately. Instead, I fall back on an old ssic quote from Catholic school while we sit in the quiet luxury of his considerably stripped-down apartmentspared to my own.

    The bare furnishings include a softmbskin rug beneath our feet, a vintage set of armor propped up near the wall, and andscape painting from an artist who was especially popr a few years ago.

    ¡°Ask and thou shalt receive,¡± I recite aloud. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you ever thought about asking nicely, hmmm?¡±

    My older brother¡¯s smile broadens as he sits up in the low lounge chair he sits in across from me. The chairs must be imported from the Old Continent, with a brass finish on the bow-like legs that is unlike anything I¡¯ve seen in Radovalsk.

    ¡°Matthew. Chapter 7, verse 7, correct?¡± he crows with pride.

    ¡°So you were a god-fearing man. I couldn¡¯t tell.¡± I purse my lips at the irony.

    ¡°My momma wouldn¡¯t have ever let me get away with skipping Sunday school.¡±

    ¡°Mine neither. Catholic school?¡± I lob at him.

    ¡°From grade school until graduation. You?¡± he tosses back.

    .....

    ¡°Middle school and high school. You must have been a Southern boy,¡± I remark. Having gone to a university in the Bible Belt of America, his educational background sounds very familiar to many of the ssmates I encountered in college.

    He puts his hands up like he¡¯s been caught red-handed. ¡°Guilty as charged.¡±

    ¡°I must admit, I have not really felt your Southern hospitality. Your ¡®momma¡¯ would be disappointed.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not around anymore,¡± Julian sighs.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve gone and found yourself a handy recement.¡± It¡¯s an unkind, unsympathetic response that brings an end to our ruminations of the past.

    No doubt left with a bad taste in his mouth, Julian doesn¡¯t dance around his demands anymore. ¡°About my request.¡±

    ¡°What about it?¡± I ask, deliberately obtuse. ¡°You sound like a madman, detaining my staff for a fantasy.¡±

    Julian chortles, bringing up his ankle to rest on his knee in a picture of feigned rxation. ¡°A fantasy? Really?¡±

    His smile melts away as he seems to realize something, leaving behind a cold, stark mask that is far too old for his still teenage face.

    ¡°Out! Everyone out now!¡± he barks fiercely at the few staff who linger by the walls and had served the refreshments before us just now.

    As everyone scurries out like rats exposed to the light, Izily pick at my nails, which are covered in a light pink varnish.

    ¡°Looks like you thought yourself far more clever than you actually are.¡± I flick away an invisible piece of dirt.

    Julian glowers from across from me and this time I cannot stop my own taunting smile from emerging across my face.

    ¡°How did you know?¡± he asks. I can hear the rest of his unspoken question: How did I know that he had intended to lure me out of my chambers and have my wayward, spy of an attendant steal my secret book from under my nose while I run off to save Marie?

    ¡°You gave it away, idiot. Mother would never go out of her way to punish servants so audaciously without there being an underlying desire. You would¡¯ve been better off choosing someone less clever, like Julia. And even then...¡± my voice trails off and I smirk as I think of my newly changed half-sister.

    I have no doubt that Emma managed to stop the thieving attendant, but this crazy episode has proven her point from less than an hour ago about how dangerous my book is ten times over.

    It would be wise for me tomit the important sections to memory and get rid of it sooner rather thanter, after all, I am not at a loss at how tantalizing some of the information within its heavy leather cover truly is.

    Julian taps his finger on his chair in frustration. I¡¯m sure his thoughts are going a mile a minute in his head, but the silence is ufortable so I offer up my own question.

    ¡°So how did you hear about the book? That traitorous little attendant of mine didn¡¯t even know about it, I never read it around her,¡± I point out, no longer bothering to pretend the book about forbidden magic doesn¡¯t exist.

    ¡°Does it matter?¡± His nonchnce causes my fake inquisitive act to bristle into a fiercer, very real rage.

    ¡°Fine. Then you¡¯ll just have to satisfy yourself with nothing you good-for-nothing, lousy, lying delinquent!¡± I rise halfway to my feet, so eager am I to grab the front of his shirt and shake some sense into him.

    Instead, I settle for the next best thing and Julian is treated to my wagging finger in his darkening face. ¡°You are a real son of a bitch, you lousy piece of shit.¡±

    I¡¯ve never cared for the term ¡®son of a bitch¡¯ as I¡¯ve long considered it an insult with a misced target. But in this case, it feels quite apt. As I¡¯ve learned once again today, like mother, like son.

    Julian lets out a long sigh and throws his hands up in exasperation.

    ¡°Enough!¡± he shouts in my face, before taking a moment to collect himself and continue in a softer tone, ¡°What do you want for it, Winnie? How much will it cost?¡±

    I let out a dryugh to hide my irritation that grows like an unstoppable wave. ¡°So when good old-fashioned theft doesn¡¯t work, now you want to be honest and bargain? I bet you were a businessman in your past life.¡± I slink back to my chair and fall into it with a disbelieving plop.

    Julian knows how hypocritical he looks at the moment so he doesn¡¯t respond, but his tapping foot betrays his own anger. Having said my piece, I take the chance to take a good, long look at the man Julian has nearly be.

    My half-brother, although he barely deserves that title, seems incredibly out of sorts on this fine day. The uncharacteristic actions from him these past 2 or so years have finallye to a head and although I said I would look the other way, it clearly will not be a good idea to remain clueless about his shenanigans.

    ¡°So now what?¡± Julian gripes as my hard, usatory stare doesn¡¯t let up an inch.

    ¡°Now you will tell me why you want my book so bad. And now,¡± I smack my chair for emphasis, ¡°you will tell me what the hell you have been up to during these past several months!¡±

    Julian¡¯s lips press into a thin line so tight it would require surgery to pry them open. There¡¯s something evasive lurking on his face that is rather simr to my own.

    Preparing for the worst, I can¡¯t help but whisper, ¡°Is it drugs?¡±

    ¡°What? No!¡± Julian looks offended. ¡°Are there even drugs here?¡±

    ¡°Julian, I don¡¯t think there is a single universe where humans haven¡¯t found a way to create an addictive drug out of nature¡¯s bounty.¡± I roll my eyes, hard.

    I know that Julian has not paid much attention to the lives of those who aren¡¯t affluent and well-connected nobility, but I¡¯ve heard from Emma the strange new drugs that have slowly begun to eat away at the slums I¡¯d once lived in years ago. I¡¯ve seen for myself the ravaging effects they can have on the human body time and time again when theye to the Grand Temple on the rare asions I am present. But I suppose unless it¡¯s affecting his wealthy brood, he wouldn¡¯t care about such things. The lying boomer must¡¯ve been a rich, stuck-up asshole in his past life too.

    Something flickers in Julian¡¯s eyes, although I can¡¯t tell what part of my statement triggered his deep thoughts. ¡°Well, I would never,¡± he emphasizes in a softer tone.

    ¡°Ok then, what is it? It must be something bit with how secretive you¡¯ve been. Tell me.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± Julian crosses his arms over his chest like a stubborn child.

    ¡°Why? Because if you told me you¡¯d have to kill me?¡± I sarcastically retort.

    It¡¯s a poor attempt at humor, but an ufortable silence permeates the air, causing it to fall t in a frightening way. I look at the dying carcass of my joke on the ground, then up at Julian in utter shock as he meets my disbelieving gaze with his unwavering stare.

    ¡°Wow...¡± I let out a low whistle. My eyes fall away from his to hide the embarrassing emotion that wells up even though we buried our once close rtionship long ago. My body¡¯s been submerged in ice even though the summer heat that snuck into this spacious living area is sweat-inducing.

    The past me that had lectured Augustus so self-righteously that family takes a back seat to political interests in the imperial family is getting a lesson of her own today.

    ¡°You know, no matter how much you¡¯ve pissed me off, I would never dare harm you in that way,¡± I point out, my voice less forceful than I would have preferred. I sound like I¡¯ve taken a hard hit in the gut when I¡¯m supposed to be the one dealing out all the punches today.

    Have I been too good? Am I too nice? All along, I¡¯ve always thought that I am handling my opponents with the same ferocity and cunning they have shown me, and even that frightened me greatly. But now I¡¯m looking up and realizing that I have more ground to make up than I thought in this race I¡¯ve been thrust in against my will.

    I need to do more, be more. Be worse. Be like Katya.

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be because I want to. It would be because I don¡¯t have a choice,¡± Julian says through gritted teeth, cutting through the haze of my torrential thoughts. I almost gasp for air as my oppressive, mocking thoughts relinquish their grasp temporarily.

    There¡¯s an ugly insinuation that lingers between his word like a snake in the grass, slow to reveal itself although I can feel the underlying sense of danger. Will I let it bite or will I strike first?

    ¡°Ridiculous. There is always a choice,¡± I argue, testing the grass and trying to get the snake to reveal itself. I pray he isn¡¯t suggesting what I think he¡¯s suggesting: a type of rare, forbidden magic that operates like a contract, forcing those who break its use tomit something unthinkable either to themselves or others. What kind of insane madness has Julian gotten himself into?

    ¡°No Winnie, there isn¡¯t.¡± There is a finality to his eyes that is jarring to witness. I can see red rimming his drooping eyes, a sure sign of no sleep, and he looks like he¡¯s lost a little weight.

    I take a wild swing at the snake with my half-formed hypothesis. ¡°It¡¯s a cult, isn¡¯t it? This sounds like the Illuminati. You don¡¯t have to answer, just keep being quiet if I¡¯m right.¡±

    Julian looks around the room as if searching for peeping eyes or secret eavesdroppers. Having dismissed all the staff in the room before our tiff, I find his actions rather eerie. The seconds tick by and the frantic swivel of his head calms down.

    But he says nothing.

 Chapter 181 - 181 Ch. 180: Disobedience

    181 Ch. 180: Disobedience

    Empress Katya had to take a moment topose her rushed breathing before she shooed away the frightened attendants that stood before one of the many rooms in her son¡¯s private abode.

    It had changed since thest time she saw it. There was a new painting in the hallway leading to this particr room and the running carpet she had specially selected years before was nowhere to be seen.

    His apartments always seemed to be changing every time she saw them. Just like her son. A constant, shifting kaleidoscope of desires, but not a single one of them included the throne.

    With her breathposed, Katya entered the room in the small, measured steps that did not ruffle her full skirt, just as she had been trained. Although her appearance was unbothered, her own heart was in turmoil.

    The opposite could be said of her son. His shirt was untucked and his short, gold locks akimbo. It was clear that his thoughts had taken him far from his body.

    ¡°Julian,¡± she uttered. The empress entered the room close to the wall to her right, like a predator scouting the perimeter. Two cups of tea that were no longer steaming sat on a small table, the sole evidence that her husband¡¯s bastard daughter had been there.

    Her son was roused from his thoughts, blinking in surprise at the sight of Katya. It was indeed rare when she came to his abode, having sent him from her pce to live alone when he was young to build his character.

    ¡°Mother, I didn¡¯t know you wereing,¡± Julian admitted. He wiped his mouth for nonexistent crumbs, onlyter to realize his unkempt appearance and show a modicum of embarrassment.

    ¡°There is no need to be ashamed, I have seen you in diapers,¡± the empress told him in a mellow voice.

    .....

    A distant look came upon Julian¡¯s face as if he too could somehow rte to that sentiment. ¡°Indeed that would be the case,¡± he murmured with a strange smile she could not decipher.

    ¡°What would be the purpose of your visit?¡± he asked as if he did not already know.

    ¡°You and your father¡¯s other daughter, you two are friendly again?¡± she asked, taking a seat where Winter had sat a few minutes prior. The seat still held a hint of warmth and a faint scent of fresh flora.

    Julian¡¯s mouth twisted into a wry grin, one that Empress Katya had seen many a time on her own father. ¡°I would not say that.¡±

    ¡°Then what is it you discussed?¡± Her instincts told her that the two of them would not meet for something as asinine as catching up on old times. Such casual interactions tended to run dry at an early age when one was born and raised in the seat of power that the imperial pce represented.

    ¡°¡­I cannot tell you.¡± His eyes twisted away and darkened as if recalling something unpleasant.

    ¡°Why?¡± Her tone was not forceful, but if those acquainted with the empress had heard it, they would¡¯ve broken a sweat in terror. Empress Katya¡¯s head gracefully leaned on one hand as her eyes pinned themselves onto her son, intent to catch any and every micro expression.

    Julian was quite adept at hiding his thoughts and emotions. But naturally, she was better.

    ¡°Mother!¡± he yelled in frustration. ¡°Can you please just- not- I mean-¡°. Julian stumbled over his words as he rose from his chair rather abruptly.

    He looked over a shoulder, revealing a neck that was red with anxiety, a rare sight for the unppable second-born prince.

    Suspicion stirred in Katya¡¯s belly. Perhaps she had left her son to his own devices for too long. Katya understood that pushing him towards an unwanted throne could often prove to be more detrimental than effective. She had almost naively hoped that a few years without her steering the wheel would help Julian realize that the best and only path before him led to him donning the Phoenix Throne and sitting upon the throne.

    But s, why did her son seem to wander off on a new path of his own making? And more importantly, why was he so hesitant to disclose any of it to her?

    Katya sat upright, abandoning the rxed image she had previously put forth. Although she was often quite soft for her children, she did have to remind them every now and then of the role they had to y within the imperial family. A little blood was a meager sacrifice to set them back onto the right path she had so diligently paved for them.

    ¡°The fine Ferghana you gave her, I heard one was given away.¡± The empress seemed tounch into apletely unrted topic, but for Julian, it rang rm bells.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he grunted.

    ¡°When one of her friends had tried to ride it, it nearly bucked the little girl off its back.¡±

    Julian didn¡¯t respond, but his narrowed eyes showed that he too was aware of the incident.

    ¡°What if next time, it is Winter on the back of that horse? And there is no stable boy at hand to assist?¡± the empress proposed casually.

    The second prince knew his mother well enough to know a threat when he heard one.

    ¡°What?¡± Julian spat, turning to cast a disbelieving look at his mother whose arms were folded on herp in an elegant manner and whose voice

    ¡°My son will not talk to me. I can only assume that someone led him astray,¡± Empress Katya dispassionately concluded.

    The brother and half-sister were no longer close, something the empress was grateful for as she watched how Winter had quickly taken to Augustus¡¯ side after fighting with Julian. But she knew that Julian did still somewhat care for Winter, at least enough to tell his mother what she wanted to know so she wouldn¡¯t dispose of Winter so soon. In the future, of course, it would not be so easy to stop her.

    Julian shook his head, letting out a humorless chuckle as he replied, ¡°How can you say something like that?¡±

    Empress Katya let out a long sigh. He was smart, but a touch too sensitive. ¡°Don¡¯t act like a child. You are no longer a boy.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t had mying-of-age ceremony yet,¡± Julian sharply retorted.

    ¡°But you are of the age to do so.¡±

    ¡°Barely!¡±

    ¡°I can tell there is much I need to know of. You will tell me what I wish to know.¡± The ¡®or else¡¯ was loosely implied within her calm threat.

    There was loud breathing in the room, Julian¡¯s, as he pondered what to do. But he was indeed his mother¡¯s son and sharper than most. As his breathing slowed and his rationale returned, an absolutely crazy notion urred to him.

    It started as a mere hunch on his end, the mildest of suspicions and the wildest of guesses. But Julian felt that his all-knowing mother could already be privy about what had be his greatest secret. He came close to his mother¡¯s chair and knelt, so he could look at her properly with sorrowful eyes and said to her, ¡°You know why I cannot.¡±

    Then he sat back on his haunches and watched her digest them.

    There was a flicker of confusion in Empress Katya¡¯s mind before she began to categorically go through any and all options that could silence a prince of the Erudian empire so effectively.

    In a way, it reminded her of a game she used to y with her long-dead sister as a wee child. Her older sister, by then skilled with a needle and thread, would begin to embroider a handkerchief with an image, and Katya¡¯s job was to guess what it was before the image wasplete. She never lost. And in the same manner, Katya was able to understand exactly what her son was referencing after several tense seconds.

    For the first time in many, many years, Katya felt her stomach drop in fear.

    ¡°You-¡± she started to say, her voice nearly ricocheting out of her control. She reigned herself back in, but the seed of dismay in her belly had borne fruit. The empress looked down at her prince, the wonderful child she had paid such a high price for, and she couldn¡¯t help butugh andugh andugh. The sound tumbled from her mouth like pearls off a broken ne.

    ¡°Mother?¡± Julian stared as if she had grown another head. In his entire life, he had never seen his mother disy humor beyond a slight crook of her bow-shaped lips or covering the faintest of smiles behind a gloved hand. But just as quickly as theughter started, it stopped.

    ¡°And so it goes,¡± Katya sighed to herself. She had intentionally turned a blind eye, allowing for The Order¡¯s tendrils to grow and ensnare the capital further. If she had known that one of them was wrapped around her son¡¯s neck, she would not have been so lenient.

    ¡°This is what you¡¯ve upied yourself with these past few years? I leave you to your devices and this is what you amount to?¡± The empress¡¯ disappointed gaze sent a shiver down Julian¡¯s spine, particrly after his mother¡¯s brief, unhinged reaction.

    She was indeed disappointed, not with his knowledge of the shadowy group, but his overinvolvement. It would not do for a future emperor to be bound by such a poisonous oath that could take his life. Her fear was gone, all that was left was the cold calction that had never failed her as she pondered what her son¡¯s next steps should be.

    ¡°How does it serve you? What have I always told you, Julian? Never do anything that doesn¡¯t serve you or your interests,¡± Katya repeated one of the few, critical life lessons she had thought she had sessfully drilled into her sharp son, a son that seemed to grow duller with age, rather than wiser.

    ¡°You mean, your interests, Mother,¡± Julian coldly corrected. He pointed his finger in the general direction of the central pce, where Winter had disappeared back to. ¡°In seeing me sit upon a throne I¡¯ve told you time and time again I do not desire.¡±

    The culmination of her life¡¯s efforts stubbornly said such words to his mother¡¯s face. She had heard those words all his life, except this time his voice held the deep timber of a boy newly anointed to manhood andvishing in the taste of youthful rebellion. It signaled to the empress that perhaps, Julian truly did mean those words after all.

    A more emotional person would have cried or yelled at this realization. But Katya recognized that neither would procure an optimal oue. She could now see the image in the embroidery now, a way that allowed her son¡¯s wayward path to merge with her desired one.

    ¡°Did you tell her? Did you tell her about your newmitment?¡± Katya cleverly circled back to her original question, the reason why she had even made the journey out of Sunrise Pce.

    Brief panic shed through Julian¡¯s eyes. ¡°You know I physically cannot.¡±

    And there it was. A mistake. Katya¡¯s son, who usually chose his words with greater care than the pce chefs chose their ingredients, had said one word he should not have.

    Physically.

    So it seemed Julian had divulged The Order¡¯s existence to some extent, but in a roundabout way that would not get him punished by the rules of the cursed oath he was forced to take. However, his emotions were high and he had not noticed his own error. As a result, Katya decided to y the role of a good mother and not embarrass her child over his youthful mistakes. Instead, she would silently clean up his mess for him.

    One day, Julian would thank her.

    ¡°You joined The Order for power.¡± Katya quit pressing him on the matter regarding Winter, as she had already gotten the answer she desired.

    Julian jumped at her speaking its name aloud. ¡°H-How can you-?¡±

    ¡°We are both inducted and bound by oath. As such, we may discuss The Order freely,¡± she patiently exined.

    ¡°The... Order...¡± Julian whispered, one hand over his mouth as if he could hold in words that had already been uttered. With Katya¡¯s exnation being proven right, Julian did not hesitate to fire back at her.

    ¡°No, I did not. I joined for knowledge. I joined for magic. I left behind the trappings of power long ago. It has never brought me happiness.¡±

    There it was, the strange sorrow that asionally punctuated the air when Julian spoke. She did not know where it stemmed from and always passed it off as one of her son¡¯s quirks. But his emotional moment was a good chance for her to take hold of his hand.

    Julian¡¯s hand wasrge, a great dealrger than Katya¡¯s, and lightly covered in the blond hair he had inherited from her. How quickly he had grown.

    ¡°You speak like an old soul sometimes,¡± she lovingly chided. ¡°But you are young and have much to learn. When you are born into a family such as this, there is no choice. You will see, in good time. I will make you see.¡±

    Empress Katya could still feel the wall of resistance her son put up to her words, but it was thinner than it was before. She would knock it down if it was thest thing she did. Somehow, Katya would make him understand that under her guidance, she would help him attain everything he had ever desired and more. But today¡¯s disobedience would never be tolerated again, even if he was her beloved child.

    However on the outside, she treated Julian to one of her rare smiles. ¡°Come. There is someone you must meet.¡±

 Chapter 182 - 182 Ch. 181: Aria the Comedian

    182 Ch. 181: Aria the Comedian

    The crack of a wood and iron wheel against cobblestone sounds more normal to my ears than rubber car tires on asphalt concrete. Today I sit alone in the carriage; Nina has been relegated to clinging onto the narrow outdoor tform on the outside of the carriage, which I¡¯ve heard is rather ufortable when you are in a skirt as opposed to the practical pants the footmen wear. I see very little point in paying attention to Nina¡¯sforts when she would so quickly entreat the very person she swore she never would.

    Besides, she would just spend the entirety of the carriage ride staring at my face in an attempt to discern my thoughts somehow. Her curiosity today when I told her to dress me for a sudden outing to the Grand Temple was palpable, hanging in the air like a thick fog. But it is quite warranted. For the first time, I have not been hailed by the Holy Church.

    There were no priests garbed in their dark cloaks with a faint sycophantic aura surrounding them as if they would break out into loud worship at any moment. No special summons on pieces of paper that cost more than a home in the poorer areas of the capital.

    Today I am attending of my own ord, without any of my usual kicking and screaming.

    Unspoken curiosity finally gives way to words.

    ¡°Y-Your highness?¡± Nina whispers from above. There is a small window above the rear-facing seat of a carriage, where the footman or maidservant who is outside can speak to the upant.

    I look up to see Nina¡¯s eyes peering down at mine through this little window and give her an unfriendly look. Pins and needles, that¡¯s how ufortable I want this flip-flopping attendant to feel when she interacts with me.

    ¡°Why do you attend the Grand Temple today? I saw nothing about this in your schedule.¡±

    ¡°Nina.¡±

    .....

    ¡°Your highness,¡± she answers.

    ¡°When did it be a servant¡¯s ce to question where her master goes? Must I answer to you now as I answer to my father?¡± My voice is brusque and harsh. I almost falter, unustomed as I am to speaking to my staff in such a manner. But I harden my heart and continue.

    ¡°N-No, your highness.¡± Nina¡¯s voice quakes.

    ¡°Even Marie and Emma did not question my decision today. And yet you would be so presumptive as to think you can do so in their ce?¡±

    Nina sucks in a deep breath for courage. ¡°As your head attendant, assisting you in keeping your schedule is part of my duties. Today is your free day from lessons and you chose to attend the Grand Temple of the Holy Church. I was unsure if I had missed something earlier and wished to rectify my error.¡±

    ¡°Yes, that should be the case,¡± I partially agree. Why didn¡¯t I notice her silver tongue earlier?

    Emboldened, Nina continues to speak.

    ¡°I am d you understand, your highness. This is why-¡± Her budding wings of confidence are immediately clipped as I cut her off.

    ¡°Is this why you were unable to spot a traitor in your midst?¡± I break eye contact with her, referring back to how Julian was able to ce a spy amongst my attendants. She doesn¡¯t deserve anything more than my back and my icy voice.

    ¡°All those years ago, I only had but one request of you. Be loyal.¡± I smack the fine leather seat to emphasize thest two words.

    I can hear Nina audibly swallow above my head as she rifles through her book of pretty-sounding excuses for what drivel to feed me next.

    ¡°I-I remember, your highness. And I have done so to the very best of my ability. To serve you is my purpose. But while I know what drives my heart,¡± Greed drives your heart, I think snidely to myself, or perhaps some misced pride. ¡°I cannot begin to predict what lurks in the heart of the attendants under me.¡±

    Not bad. But today I am impossible to please.

    ¡°You are the head attendant. Don¡¯t you know how to take responsibility?¡± I hiss, faint anger creeping into my tone.

    ¡°I am sorry, your highness!¡± Nina cries out.

    While overall contrite, the apology is so hollow it could ring like a bell if I were to knock on it. To her great fortune, I don¡¯t press any further this time. I pretend to ept the real traitor¡¯s apology,rgely because I can see the Grand Temple is quite close by.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright...¡± I sigh.

    Sort of.

    I¡¯m not quite done punishing her yet. ¡°It¡¯s a heavy burden, being the head attendant. You shan¡¯t carry it alone any longer.¡±

    Nina is not a stupid girl and can hear what I¡¯m insinuating.

    ¡°Your highness?¡± she panics.

    The carriage rocks as wee to a standstill. Outside the window, I see the quiet back entrance of the Grand Temple that I¡¯ve long be ustomed to. It¡¯s the perfect analogy for my identity and life.

    With my family, on Blessing days and holy festivals, we arrive at the dazzling front entrance and wave to parishioners and citizens alike. But on other asions or formal religious ceremonies, I¡¯m ushered in like a dirty secret through a discreet door the youngest and lowest acolytes use. Perfectly fit for a royal bastard.

    ¡°Help me out,¡± I order Nina. She stood frozen at my words, butes back to life, jumping off the stand with a wobble anding to help me down the stepdder. Her arm trembles as she assists me in exiting the carriage.

    Once my silk-slippered feet kiss cobblestone, I look at Nina.

    ¡°I am elevating another attendant to take on a portion of your duties. There will now be 2 head attendants with both of you reporting to the head of staff, Marie, as usual. Understood?¡± This is not a proposal or an offer that Nina can reject.

    She swallows hard, her face contorting like she had just swallowed a fly. But Nina nods quickly.

    ¡°As you wish, your highness.¡± Nina drops into a curtsey. When she rises, any hint of displeasure has been wiped from her face.

    I can understand why the empress wanted Nina now. She truly is clever and quick on her feet.

    But how valuable will Nina still be to Empress Katya if she is constantly battling another attendant for proximity to me and for insider knowledge of all my schedules or appointments? I can¡¯t stop the faint grin that splits my otherwise solemn face.

    Diffusing a bomb would be easier than this careful task I¡¯ve undertaken of carving the traitorous Nina out of my life without arousing the empress¡¯ suspicions. Otherwise, tomorrow, she may find herself a new spy even closer to me than the current ones are.

    The halls are cool, if not slightly damp with a faint scent of mildew. I know the path by heart, but a mousy-lookingd still leads the way.

    When we arrive at one of the many pantries the temple stores goods in, a smile bursts onto my face as I see Aria.

    ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure?¡± Aria asks. Augh lingers in her voice as her unseeing blue eyes meet mine. I¡¯ve managed to convince her not to address me by my title, a demand that isn¡¯t farfetched considering that the rank and title of High Priestess is nearly equivalent to my own.

    ¡°Perhaps I just wanted to see you?¡± I shrug

    We move from the immediate pantry to a smaller room where the alms given to practitioners were kept. There were stacks of bread, mana, like the kind that I had eaten meal after meal for months on end at the warfront. The sight of the familiar food holds my attention for a beat, causing Aria to chuckle.

    ¡°Perhaps you came to see the alms rather than me,¡± she dryly says.

    ¡°Ha! You have a future as aedian if you ever decide to leave,¡± I say. I pull out a chair for Aria, a crude, wooden contraption that looks flimsy but is surprisingly sturdy, before pulling out one for myself.

    ¡°I can never leave.¡± Aria¡¯s tone is serious. I look at her, waiting for a flicker of anger, despair, or resignation, but there is none.

    ¡°But you don¡¯t want to,¡± I propose after careful observation, ¡°do you?¡±

    Aria just smiles in acquiescence.

    ¡°What do you like about this ce? There¡¯s always something dripping, you have to live humbly, and you are a living talisman for the bishops to manipte.¡± I wave my arms up at the ceiling, which is short enough that my father would have to crouch to enter.

    ¡°I meet the most fascinating people every day. And I see things about them that they would never tell another soul, things they may never even know about themselves,¡± she exims, her face lighting up with wonder.

    ¡°You¡¯re talking about the threads,¡± I state matter-of-factly.

    I wonder if I have more of them tying me to this world than before. After all, a little extra protection from Peppermint¡¯s meddling would be nice. If I can go the rest of my life without having them try to set me back on the course of death, that would be one less problem I have to deal with.

    Surprisingly, Aria shakes her head. ¡°Those are just part of what I see now. Part of the bigger picture.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± I find myself intrigued. There¡¯s a certain slyness to Aria¡¯s gaze that I¡¯ve never seen before. She¡¯s always possessed a distinct worldliness to her, detached yet omnipresent. But now, awareness lingers on her brow and tugs at her smile. She¡¯s grown up quite a bit, just like me.

    ¡°How do I know there are no hidden ears?¡±

    ¡°Naturally, I would see them,¡± she says in apletely serious, deadpan tone with her blind eyes staring back at mine. I manage to hold in myugh as Aria reclines partially in her chair, the crisp white priestess robes spilling onto the floor. In the past, the robes used to swallow her whole but now she wears them with style.

    ¡°It took you a while to respond to my message.¡± A hint of usation is woven into Aria¡¯s words.

    ¡°I had a lot of things to consider,¡± I parry. The mystery letter that arrived over a fortnight ago in my bed chambers has also been a source of my recent consternation. It had burned to a crisp shortly after I¡¯d read the words on the pages as if it had never been there at all.

    ¡°And now?¡±

    I lean forward. ¡°What is it you want, Aria?¡±

    ¡°A world, in Helio¡¯s image. No war. No hunger. No hatred,¡± she says. Aria speaks the way a lot of the priests involved with the Holy Church speak, a perplexingbination of deference, pride, and humility.

    ¡°Pffff!¡± Theugh sneaks out before I can help it. ¡°S-Sorry. That was rude.¡±

    ¡°Worry not. I already know it will never happen,¡± Aria sighs in resignation. ¡°But first, punishment. Come closer.¡±

    If you are wondering how hard the High Priestess of the Holy Church can flick one¡¯s forehead, I can assure you that her hands are still too weak to cause much pain.

    As I rub the middle of my forehead, I cannot help but wonder what has forced Aria to this painful realization so soon.

    On one hand, it¡¯s good that she¡¯s woken up to how the world works. But on the other, I cannot help but feel a burst of mncholy. We have a lot of simrities, Aria and I. We¡¯re both extremely young, isted from our families, and used as props by the Holy Church to line their pockets and increase their power.

    Unlike me however, Aria is actually still a child, or a minor more technically. If she were in my past life, she¡¯d be navigating the halls of high school for the first time and her biggest worry would be deciding what to wear for a homing. Instead, Aria has to learn how to leverage herself in an environment that could chew her up and spit her out with ease.

    For me, my greatest fear is death. For her, it is to live as someone or something she is not. At least, that was what she had written in that note.

    I can understand now, why parents are so keen on hiding from their children the ugliness of the world around them. For this is no sadder sight than the innocence of a child lost. When I had first met her, despite the gravitas of her heavy duty as a priestess, there had been a levity to Aria¡¯s spirit. Now, whatever youthful vibrance that was left in Aria is long gone.

    I think I surprise her when I take her hand in mine, holding it with the left and patting it with the right. Her brown hands are smooth, her nails cropped neatly. At least they aren¡¯t treating her badly in the physical sense. As I perform an impromptu inspection, Aria looks pensive.

    ¡°Do you know what I see right now when you hold my hand?¡± she asks, pinning with her usual piercing stare.

    ¡°What? More threads?¡± I smirk. I let go of her hands and resist the temptation to tease one of the pretty, ck cornrows that goes down her head and onto her shoulders before being tied off with shimmering gold beads.

    ¡°Darkness.¡±

    ¡°Is this revenge forughing earlier?¡± I ask, half expecting Aria the Comedian to make another reappearance.

    ¡°No, really.¡± Aria¡¯s eyes narrow and suspicion shes through them. ¡°Think carefully, Winter. Who have you be close to as ofte?¡±

 Chapter 183 - 183 Ch. 182: Hamsters and Death

    183 Ch. 182: Hamsters and Death

    There isn¡¯t a hint of a joke in sight, so I think seriously. The list of people I spend time with is rather short and I mentally peruse through everyone I know in a brief minute.

    ¡°No one¡­ new honestly,¡± I conclude with hesitance.

    Aria also reluctantly epts my answer. ¡°Then something has changed. This may be from someone you know and care for.¡±

    Iugh humorlessly. ¡°Believe me, that is a small list and I know them all too well.¡±

    ¡°Mayhap it is someone you would never suspect. But mark my words, this darkness, if it¡¯s not removed from your life, leads down one path and one path alone: your death,¡± Aria promises. The concern on her face is unmistakable.

    Death. A chilly terror creeps up my shoulders, turning my blood into ice. There is no one more persistently chased by the Grim Reaper than myself. But with every passing day, I grow more and more tired of running.

    Everywhere I turn, no matter what I do, the threat always lurks. My chest constricts and I can hardly draw a full breath. My hands identally grip the embroidered birds on the skirt of my dress as I panic, a gift lovingly sewn on by Marie and ruined by me in seconds.

    ¡°Do you ever sometimes think that all of this is futile? Like we¡¯re just hamsters running in our wheel in the same ce?¡± Bitterness sours my tongue.

    ¡°Ham... sters? What? Is that a type of food? Or an insult?¡± Genuine perplexity draws her dark brows together as she struggles to make sense of myst sentence. But her silly face is also a life raft as her rational considerations free up my chest enough for me to draw a full breath andugh.

    .....

    ¡°It¡¯s just a bit of ng. Pay no mind.¡± I wave away my gaffe.

    ¡°Language is one of Helio¡¯s great yet confusing gifts,¡± Aria preaches with a wise expression.

    ¡°Tell me about it,¡± I echo. I cannot imagine the trouble I would¡¯ve found myself in if I¡¯d been reading a webnovel tranted from anguage I don¡¯t know. But death is universal, no, multiversal. It transcends space and time entirely. This makes me wonder, just how far does whatever Julian is involved in go?

    ¡°There is something afoot,¡± I suddenly whisper. My mouth is dry and I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m making a mistake.

    ¡°There is always something afoot.¡± But I can see Aria sit up and pay attention.

    I open my mouth a few times but no soundse out. There is little doubt in my mind that if what I say next enters the wrong ears, I could be disappeared. It wouldn¡¯t matter that I¡¯m royalty. It wouldn¡¯t matter that I¡¯m the promised child. Today, there would be a Winter Royberg de Erudian. Tomorrow, there would be none.

    Still, Aria deserves to know. With her position and standing, coupled with the fact that she is growing out of a child they can easily manipte, not knowing would leave her vulnerable in a chess game of ruthless adults. And if whatever this group is could bring such a look of fear into the steadfast Julian¡¯s eyes, it could be catastrophic for Aria to not know what she¡¯s up against.

    ¡°It may involve many, many powerful people. And magic.¡± She seems unmoved, so I further emphasize, ¡°Forbidden magic.¡±

    From Aria finallyes a reaction in the form of a loud exhale. ¡°They y with something they don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°I know. And I¡¯ve seen it. I think- I think I¡¯ve even interacted with it,¡± I breathlessly admit. I too can barely wrap my head around this. It¡¯s like entering a random door while ying a video game and suddenly unlocking a secret, max difficulty level.

    But it makes sense. The strange purple energy I¡¯d encountered in Julian when he was unconscious and in my father at Augustus¡¯ing-of-age ceremony. That means they have ties to the Sarsavalian War. That could also mean that this conspiracy extends beyond the empire¡¯s borders and involves powerful entities all over this world.

    ¡°You are well acquainted with your histories, no?¡± Aria replies.

    ¡°Naturally.¡± I¡¯m confused by the sudden change in conversation, but she veers back to the topic at hand.

    ¡°Do you know why certain types of magic were deemed forbidden? Do you know why we, unlike those in the Old Continent, close ourselves away from it?¡± she asks.

    ¡°It is not from the fear of usurpation?¡± I recall an old text that tells of how forbidden magic became ¡®forbidden¡¯ after a coup in the early days of the empire assisted by mages.

    However, something about the way Aria asked heavily implies that there is more to the story. History is written by the victors after all, allowing them to mold the past into a narrative of their choosing.

    ¡°There are two sides to all magic, for bnce,¡± Aria begins to exin. ¡°Like a coin with 2 sides. When one faces the light, the other faces the dark. If the magic facing the lightes from Helio, from where do you think the magic that faces the darkness hails?¡±

    ¡°From Akira?¡± Her silence is my answer.

    ¡°Careful with names. People oft forget, but they hold their own power,¡± Aria warns.

    The shadows seem to fall upon Aria¡¯s face more heavily at this moment, obscuring her brows and part of her expression. Aria and I are seated less than 2 feet apart, but the distance feels like a thousand. Our positions and what they represent, we may never cross them to be true friends. This is the High Priestess, I think to myself, not your buddy. But perhaps, arade.

    ¡°Fine. The Devourer,¡± I sputter. The sobering realization has stolen away my eloquence. ¡°But... But I always thought-¡°.

    ¡°That he wasn¡¯t real?¡± This time, the pity lingers in Aria¡¯s eyes, aplete role reversal from a few minutes ago when I wasmenting her stolen childhood. Aria rises to her feet, towering over my seated form. She tuts under her breath.

    ¡°You are still na?ve in some aspects. Do you think that because I represent the light, represent Helio, that I am good?¡± The High Priestess crosses her arms over her chest. ¡°People kneel at my feet, they think a prayer from me will solve their problems. Their mouths praise my name. In their eyes, there is me and me alone. They are seeking the High Priestess of the Holy Church. A representative of their faith, the living and breathing idol. But they do not know that I am not the Aria they believe in. Tell me, am I still good?!¡±

    She almost yells herst words at me, but I can tell that they aren¡¯t just for me. They are for anyone and everyone who has ever turned her into a god. I would know, I¡¯ve said the very same myself.

    ¡°We are¡­ products of our environment.¡±

    Some sense returns to her blind eyes and she blinks rapidly. Yes, it¡¯s just me Winter, sitting before her, rather than a congregationing to watch her mass with bated breath.

    Aria detes a little, settling back down in her chair with a thump. ¡°Ah, sometimes I forget that you too know what it is like. Promised child... and yet the world has stripped you of your opportunity to be just that ¨C a child.¡±

    It¡¯s as if she is reading my thoughts from just a few minutes prior. With eyes unseeing, I still cannot help but marvel at what Aria can see and understand.

    ¡°Light can kill much in the same way darkness can. Too much light, too much heat,¡± Aria shakes her head. ¡°It will burn you alive. Darkness is necessary to bnce that. But the consequences for too much darkness are far more dangerous than the consequences for too much light.¡±

    A young boy suddenly opened the door, causing both of us to jump. He¡¯s got an empty basket in hand and it¡¯s clear that he came to collect some alms. At the sight of the two of us, he drops to his knees.

    ¡°Apologies, your highness, your eminence! I deserve death!¡± he yells.

    ¡°Run along,d,¡± Aria says with a good-naturedugh.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be finished soon. Do return in a few.¡± I know that there could be consequences for the boy if we really do obstruct him from fulfilling his task.

    ¡°Are you scared, Winter? Scared of the unknown?¡± Aria asks once the door closes once more and the boy¡¯s steps fade away.

    ¡°Always,¡± I admit, throwing my hands up in amenting sort of way. ¡°But it keeps me going in a way. I wouldn¡¯t be here otherwise, responding to your strange request.¡±

    A smile pulls at Aria¡¯s cheeks. ¡°So then what is your answer?¡±

    ¡°You asked me if I will support you in ousting Bishop Duvernay from power. Allow me to reassure you: your goal is my goal. I want what you want. To wrest some control of this Holy Church we serve so diligently into our own hands.¡± Excitement creeps into my tone without my notice.

    I even show her my own hands as I speak, so small and empty, and one of them almost entirely useless outside of aesthetic purposes.

    ¡°And what of those you mentioned, the ones who seek the darkness? That can not be tolerated,¡± Aria says. I can tell she still doesn¡¯t take this threat seriously enough.

    ¡°I know very little outside of their existence. But I know they are everywhere, tangled within the upper echelons of our very society and tucked away within this Grand Temple that we sit in right now. I know that they can¡¯t be underestimated. We will have to be careful.¡± I stress thest sentence as I see a determined light shine in Aria¡¯s blue eyes.

    She is brave and she is smart, but even I know that we will have much more growing to do before we can even entertain uprooting the deeply sowed roots of chaos and corruption that have embedded itself in every crevice of the empire.

    ¡°One cannot fear when acting in the righteous name of Helio,¡± she predictably responds. There goes that religious inflection in her voice again. I¡¯m realizing that I do not care for it, though I naturally say nothing.

    Aria is young and pious, neither of which is a crime. But the dangers of religious fanaticism are not lost on me. Politics and religion are naturally intertwined; one cannot exist without the other. However, when their delicate bnce is disrupted, the death and persecution that follow can be devastating. We should be careful. I should be careful.

    Human faith can move mountains and build empires, or destroy them.

    ¡°No. But we are not god, just man,¡± I urge. ¡°Men can bleed. And it was with great irony that while I can heal nearly every injury or illness known to man, I cannot heal so much as a papercut on my finger.¡±

    ¡°Do not fear, Winter. I will be cautious.¡± Aria nods in agreement. She looks slightly sober from before. Perturbation draws her mouth into a tight frown. Thankfully, for now, Aria can still be swayed by me. But what about when she¡¯s older?

    ¡°I know you will.¡± I hope she will.

    A sigh of relief escapes from me as I step outside, suddenly finding beauty in the humble entrance I must sneak through to enter when I¡¯m on my own. I¡¯d once possessed a fear that the good-hearted Aria would be eaten alive by the Church in an eerie mirror of my own fate. But there is fight in her. She¡¯s a reminder I desperately needed, to face my future bravely even as the odds stack up against me.

    If I aplish nothing else, I do hope I can help clean up the Holy Church. House Duvernay, I promise, this shall be your first stronghold to fall.

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