Chapter 11
“The photo in the newspaper looked great.”
These were the first words King Alexander Maximilian spoke as dinner began later than usual. It was a clear indication of what was on the king’s mind these days—his only son’s marriage.
“It’s a shame to see that girl go. She’s too good just to be a princess consort.”
The king’s regret was evident as he referred to the charity event photos taken at Gretha City Hospital.
The Arsenian princess, whom Alexander had once envisioned as his future daughter-in-law, was from an esteemed noble family and had known the twin princes since childhood. He had always thought she would be perfect for the role, so her marriage to someone else was a disappointment.
“It’s time you decided on a match as well,” he said gently to his son.
Arthur, who had been eating quietly at the far end of the long dining table, paused for a moment. He stared at the white flowers arranged in the oval centerpiece, recalling the report from his aide about the Deutschen Kingdom’s Princess Ariana Stuart, whom his father seemed to favor.
“I will follow your wishes,” Arthur replied calmly.
“What kind of answer is that? We only want your happiness,” Alexander said sincerely.
While political marriages were a duty for royals and nobles, Alexander was willing to accept anyone Arthur desired, if only his son expressed a preference.
Hoping for support, the king glanced at his wife seated to his left. Dressed in a somber black gown, Queen Maria silently continued her meal. Just as Alexander was about to speak to her, Arthur’s low voice interrupted.
“I understand. I recognize the necessity of it,” Arthur said, his tone devoid of emotion.
Alexander shook his head, troubled. Arthur’s tragedy at a young age had robbed him of his joy, leaving him almost emotionless. Watching his son, the king was struck again by sorrow.
“Soon, it will be…” Alexander trailed off, his voice breaking.
Maria also froze, her gaze fixed blankly on the air.
“…Ehiry’s Memorial Day,” he finally said, taking a deep drink from his glass.
The name “Ehiry” brought a heavy silence, like an open wound being cruelly prodded.
Arthur set down his utensils and took a sip from his wineglass. Despite its quality, the wine tasted bitter.
The dining room, once grand, felt like a desolate ruin, left in the wake of grief. Arthur’s pale blue eyes slowly scanned the table until they rested on an empty chair.
Arthur observed his mother for a moment before speaking evenly, “I will handle everything with care.”
His expression was calm, but a flicker of something indecipherable passed over his face as he ran his fingers along the rim of his crystal glass—a habit of his when deep in thought.
The upcoming memorial for Ehiry Luciano Maximilian, the former crown prince, returned every winter like a shadow.
In the vast, silent space, the faint clinking of cutlery resumed, filling the void. Arthur resumed eating, tasting nothing as he forced down the food with another sip of wine.
Winter had not yet ended.
A carriage sped down the snow-covered avenue toward Bern Palace, flanked by rows of gas lamps casting long shadows. The luxurious coach barely swayed despite its speed.
Still, it felt less comfortable to Christine than even a common carriage, and the elegant blue satin gown she wore didn’t help. But what troubled her most was her pounding heart.
Christine took a deep breath and looked out the window. The carriage was passing through the grand golden gates of Bern Palace. For a moment, she froze in awe.
The brilliant lights from brass lanterns dazzled her, and the palace itself, bathed in golden splendor, was majestic like a mountain range. The warm glow spilling from dozens of large windows and the colorful lanterns decorating the expansive gardens created a scene of pure wonder.
“So, such a world exists…” she thought.
For a brief moment, she forgot her fear of seeing Duke Deimos again, as well as the warnings from Nora.
This was a world far removed from the dark alleyways of Westwall.
“The crown prince himself mentioned your name,” Count Guno’s words echoed in her mind, causing her heart to race once more.
The image of a large hand offering a gardenia and the piercing blue eyes like the sea flashed before her.
Christine shook her head, trying to dispel the voice of Daisy teasing her:
“If I were a man, I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off you either. Of course, I’d fall in love at first sight. Christine, please, marry me!”
It felt like Daisy was whispering directly into her ear. Christine’s heart threatened to burst from her chest.
“Straighten your back. And your shoulders too,” the elderly woman seated beside her scolded.
She was a distant relative of Count Guno and had been enlisted to teach Christine court etiquette. Though their lessons had lasted only half a day, she had called Christine a promising student. But now, facing the palace itself, Christine’s mind had gone blank.
“I can do this,” she muttered, wringing her gloved hands nervously. Her finger throbbed where it had been cut by shards of glass earlier.
“There’s no time for nerves. Be bold,” the woman said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Christine replied, taking a deep breath.
The carriage came to a halt in front of the radiant palace.
There was no turning back now.
Christine’s eyes grew determined as she waited for the door to open. She would prove the crown prince’s choice was a wise one.
A pianist in a black tailcoat approached the grand piano beneath a crystal chandelier. Known as the “Devil’s Hand,” he was a world-renowned virtuoso and a graduate of the Royal Academy of Music.
The Arsenian princess, a former pianist herself, admired him deeply.
Gasps of excitement and applause erupted as he bowed slightly, placing one hand on the piano.
“I thought he was on a tour of the New World!”
“Indeed! What a surprise to hear Sir Mansfield tonight.”
This was yet another example of the Bern royal family’s exceptional hospitality.
As the pianist began, the room fell silent, the melody washing over the audience.
Arthur’s gaze, however, was fixed on Duke Deimos, seated beside Princess Charlotte.
The scandal of an affair with a young mistress…
Such a rumor would ruin Duke Deimos, destroy his reputation, and doom any hope of reviving the Veloff dynasty. Arthur could ruin him anytime—but he wanted more than just the duke’s disgrace.
He studied Deimos intently, noting the slick black hair and cold green eyes that gleamed like a snake’s.
Deimos lived for one thing: the restoration of the Veloff dynasty.
He would stop at nothing—not even the murder of his young nephew.
Arthur’s twin kidnapping had been meticulously planned, with no traceable ties to Deimos.
Princess Charlotte, however, suspected nothing. She simply smiled, blind to her husband’s ambitions.
The pianist reached the crescendo of his performance, and the room erupted into applause.
Arthur glanced at the door behind the pianist.
Soon, it would open, revealing the “surprise” he had prepared for Duke Deimos.
