Chapter 34
June 14.
Returning from her outing, Noble Consort Rahellin stopped in front of her chambers.
Rahellin stared intently at the doorknob with an odd expression, then ordered everyone nearby to leave.
“Everyone, withdraw.”
At her gesture, everyone in the corridor left, and after checking once more that no one was nearby, Rahellin crooked a finger.
Pale-pink powder fluttered from the tips of Rahellin’s slender white fingers, and the handprint stamped on the doorknob began to emit a faint light.
‘The Empress.’
Rahellin’s black eyes narrowed. She had left behind only jewelry for disguises, just in case, but the fact that someone had entered her private space always displeased her.
Rahellin hurriedly sent a maid to fetch Charles.
“What is it, Mother?”
Charles appeared in Sampleu with a thick book tucked under his arm.
“…Please.”
As befitted someone from the Kingdom of Madak, Rahellin could use magic, but only simple, low-level spells.
To avoid the traps installed in the bedroom, she had to rely on Charles’s help.
“I don’t see any unusual traces.”
Reassured by her dependable son, Rahellin entered her room, threw off the heavy hood weighing down her shoulders, and sank onto the soft black sofa.
Charles sat on the empty sofa as well and opened the book he had set aside.
“Is that book really so interesting?”
Intrigued by the odd title ‘Imperial Botany,’ Rahellin spoke up.
“Plants are very useful, aren’t they? They’re pretty, and they can be used as medicine, too. Come to think of it, I recently acquired some gladiolus bulbs you might like, Mother. I’ll have the gardener plant them by tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Charles.”
The Noble Consort’s eyes brimmed with affection as she looked at Charles.
Rahellin had given birth to three children, but to her, only Avril and Charles were truly her children.
Ever since Roen harmed Avril, Rahellin had regarded Roen as the foul-smelling spawn of a devil.
“By the way, Mother, why did you go out today?”
When the maid came in with tea, Charles set down the book he had been reading.
“One is bound to feel stifled if one stays inside the palace all the time.”
Ever since she had confided her secret to Roen and suffered a great betrayal, Rahellin had kept Avril’s identity hidden from Charles.
“Wouldn’t you feel lonely going alone? Next time, please take me with you.”
“If the opportunity arises.”
The Noble Consort’s eyes narrowed once again as she chatted warmly with her son.
The maid serving the tea had been bothering her from the moment she entered. Perhaps she was new; every step of the process, from measuring the tea leaves to steeping the water, was unusually flustered.
“What do you think you’re doing? Are you telling me to drink this ice-cold tea?”
As if he had noticed her displeasure, Charles raised his voice.
“I-I’m sorry.”
The maid’s face turned deathly pale at Charles’s reprimand. Charles picked up the teacup and poured its contents at her feet.
“Apparently, you take me for a fool. Did you think I didn’t even know how to brew tea?”
Charles’s actions grew increasingly severe, but Rahellin did not stop him.
Charles had been looked down on by the palace servants since childhood simply because he did not have violet eyes.
Although the prince’s behavior was rough, the way he threw his weight around now was far better than how he had acted when people called him a black cuckoo’s chick.
While Charles was tearing into the maid, the Noble Consort lifted the teacup and moistened her lips.
‘These tea leaves have an unpleasant aftertaste.’
Compared to the things in the Empress’s palace, everything in Sampleu was lacking in refinement.
‘It seems it’s about time she stepped down from that position.’
The corner of the Noble Consort’s mouth lifted slightly behind the teacup.
***
“My birth mother—in other words, the Noble Consort—believes I killed Avril.”
Blanc’s voice was filled with pain.
While everyone else was still reeling from the shock, Fulcare alone calmly sorted out the situation.
“First, the child Celine took in about thirty years ago was Avril, the Noble Consort’s hidden child. Second, the Noble Consort believes Blanc was the one who murdered Avril ten years ago. So the Noble Consort….”
Fulcare trailed off, but what his words meant was clear enough without further explanation.
“Speak freely. I’ve known for a long time that my father and mother aren’t normal.”
Blanc was smiling as if none of it mattered.
“The fact that Celine hasn’t been mentioned until now means neither the Empress nor the Noble Consort can have known her identity…. These Kardu fellows really do have an exceptional information network.”
Fulcare clicked his tongue with a 'tsk' as though he disliked the current situation.
“Then we should make sure to properly protect the believer first.”
While Fulcare, Iseria, and Theodore discussed arrangements for Celine, Vieta fell into deep thought.
Her gaze remained fixed on Blanc. He was smiling brightly, but the smile that pulled unusually at the left side of his face was the one Blanc wore when he was troubled.
He was practically shouting with his whole body that he wasn’t all right, and Vieta bit her lower lip, distressed.
‘Blanc said he was attacked three years after Avril died. I was summoned in the year Blanc was attacked, so….’
That meant Avril had died about ten years ago, in the year Blanc turned fourteen. Vieta’s heart ached at the thought that he had suffered the Noble Consort’s abuse during such a sensitive period. She had thought Blanc’s personality was unusually timid and gentle compared to Gavin and Charles, but now she knew there had been a reason.
“…Are you really all right?”
Vieta whispered to Blanc, who was sitting right beside her.
“I’m really fine. I have to be.”
“The crown prince has to be strong,” Blanc murmured softly.
“What if you’re weak? I’m here, aren’t I? Our kids all have what it takes, so don’t worry. We can easily protect you.”
Vieta wanted to comfort him with something warmer and more sensitive, but she had to blame her poor vocabulary once again.
At Vieta’s words, Blanc blinked several times, then turned his gaze toward empty space.
“…Thank you.”
How long had it been since someone had offered him words of comfort?
He had rarely known comfort; whether in the Imperial Palace or in Madak, he had often spent the night wide awake, afraid that someone would come to harm him. Several times, he had nearly lost his life to an assassin’s blade.
Even so, Blanc had always had to pretend to be calm. It was the fate of one born a prince.
He had long since cast aside tears, but for the first time in ages, Blanc wanted to sob aloud.
*
Iseria had been summoned into the subspace as well to protect Celine from the Empress and the Noble Consort. They had concluded that Iseria, who had the Guardian Tree, would be the best person to look after Celine.
The remaining problem was how to protect Celine until Iseria arrived in Bingsho.
“My partner should arrive in Bingsho in about a week…. We can’t leave you here alone until then.”
“I’ll stay behind.”
Vieta said it casually. Blanc had to leave on the pilgrimage, and Fulcare had to protect Blanc, so that left only her.
“But Lady Vieta, you have to protect Lord Blanc.”
Celine, who had been listening to their conversation, cautiously spoke up.
“…Is it dangerous if I stay here?”
“Not exactly, but you would have to remain here alone. Even if we came often, you would be alone for that long….”
When Iseria trailed off, Celine pointed at Giselle and Noe.
“If staying awake alone is the problem, make me like those people too. They’re alive, right?”
“Yes, they are alive, but…. Are you really sure?”
Iseria showed her concern. Protecting Celine in the goddess’s subspace until her partner arrived would be best, but even seven days—short as that might be—would mean forcibly taking that much time from Celine’s life.
“I was as good as dead anyway. It won’t hurt much, will it?”
“You might feel a little dizzy when you wake up, but it won’t hurt.”
Fulcare answered while running a hand through his hair.
“Then put me to sleep too.”
As if to tell them not to worry, Celine smiled broadly.
***
Laura carefully packed up even Vieta’s luggage and returned to the lodgings.
She had only vaguely suspected it until now, but today’s events had made it certain.
Vieta was not an ordinary person.
Still, it didn’t matter. Laura hadn’t approached her in the first place because of the medals pinned to her shoulders or chest.
Vieta was simply so pretty and kind—and so diligent—that Laura could not help being drawn to her. Forming a connection with someone like that was a great joy for Laura.
Laura laid the envelopes out on the bed, then organized the clothes they had bought that day.
Although she usually liked organizing things, she would have to leave to board the carriage home as soon as they arrived in Ahan, so it seemed best to pack her things in advance.
Knock, knock.
As she neatly folded the daring clothes that showed off the bride-to-be’s boldness, something black knocked on her window.
“Huh? What is it?”
At first she thought it was a crow and ignored it, but when it continued loitering outside the window, even the good-natured Laura began to feel irritated.
“Ah, seriously, you damn bird!”
Just as Laura, annoyed by the continued noise, flung open the window, a black cloak swept over her.