He used to think those words were sincere, since he rarely stayed in the capital Craine. Peon stared blankly at Beatrice before suddenly asking.
“Then will you come to Lusenford?”
“…What?”
Beatrice, who had been trying to reinforce the taboo as usual by piling burdens on Peon about the humiliation she currently faced in Craine, was dumbfounded for the first time.
“You’re right. I’ve neglected you for too long. Let’s go to Lusenford. It’s time.”
It would be better to send that innocent Kaela away across the sea, leaving only the foolish himself and Beatrice to wallow together in hell.
She was the one who should die alongside him if need be. This time, Peon was determined to bear the full weight of his sins himself.
“I’m sorry I’m too late, Beatrice.”
The handsome grand duke’s face as he apologized was filled with only a chilling coldness.
“I’ll speak to His Majesty the Emperor right away. I’ve been too negligent.”
“No, Peon, wait a moment!”
What was he saying? Going to the terribly cold Lusenford where snow falls? Beatrice honestly had no desire to become its Grand Duchess, even if the Duchess of Monde welcomed her going there.
“Why are you suddenly saying that? I, I can only stay in Craine! His Majesty would stop you. You know that too.”
Craine. The city at the cutting edge of fashion, the epitome of wealth and glory that she craved.
Beatrice gazed not at Peon, but at the Emperor as the pinnacle of power driving him. To her, Peon was merely a tool to reach the Emperor. But that tool smiled darkly.
“For now, I should at least make the request, Beatrice. I’m sorry. I’ve been busy. Let’s talk later.”
The broad shoulders draped in a pitch-black cloak swiftly turned and swiftly left with no chance for her to hold him back. Perhaps the taboo not only restrained Peon but made him overly fixated on her. This was a big deal. Beatrice stood pale, struck by shock.
****
Even with major events, the preparation was usually the most enjoyable part, while the actual event tended to be less fun.
Kaela felt the same way. Directly hosting a diplomatic delegation welcome after so long was most fun during the preparation–once it started, it was just tiring.
She formally smiled while occasionally glancing around, searching for a glimpse of shimmering silver hair or jet-black upright hair.
Unable to hide her annoyed gaze, Beatrice came over and asked Kaela where the hell Peon was.
As a co-host of the event, Kaela could not help but know Peon’s whereabouts, while Beatrice could not dare ask the Duke of Ostein about Peon’s location.
‘I was always the easy target.’
Peon and Beatrice were older than Kaela, so they had already become close. The Empress had brought over the daughter of a debt-ridden friend to keep the solitary Peon company while playing.
Around the time Kaela was born, the Emperor had given up on having an heir from the Empress and started producing illegitimate children, but Kaela only ever followed Peon around, not those other children. Peon must have found the princess who trailed after him like a little cousin quite bothersome.
She shouldn’t have done that. The memory of chasing after her beloved oppa in childhood became an embarrassing recollection in Lusenford that she didn’t even want to recall.
As the Empress’s illegitimate child who grew up constantly wary, how could Peon have treated Kaela, the Emperor-approved daughter of the Duke of Ostein, any differently? In the face of that harsh winter, the princess’s puppy love was nothing but a nuisance.
At the same time, being around Peon’s age, Beatrice saw Kaela as completely harmless.
It was simple. Kaela was weak towards Peon, and Peon was weak towards Beatrice.
Moreover, the highest-ranking princess was also the youngest and, above all, kind-hearted. The hierarchy naturally fell into place. No matter how hard Kaela tried, she could never breach the established bond between Beatrice and Peon.
‘No, precisely because of those tender feelings, the two of them must end up together this time.’
It was not a wish for Peon’s happiness, but a curse from the utterly drained Grand Duchess of Lusenford.
A spiteful thought–you experience it too, since you acted so capriciously. An inexcusable pang of guilt struck her just for having such vile intentions.
Did they meet? What kind of conversation would they have if they did? It would undoubtedly be a dialogue filled with some special, unbreachable bond between just the two of them that Kaela could never comprehend.
Throughout the four years as Peon’s wife, Kaela never shared any such intimate connection. Even when imprisoned as a conspirator who killed her father, she could not properly voice any resentment.
How foolish.
“Your Highness.”
“Your Highness.”
Hiding her intense self-loathing behind a smiling face, Kaela turned towards Prince Elkanan. As the prince was reputed to be an exceptional diplomat for meticulously using Cranian honorifics, she had to address him flawlessly.
“Is there anything you need?”
“You have gone above and beyond in your attentions, leaving nothing lacking. I only hope Your Highness has not overexerted yourself on our account?”
The conversation that began like that smoothly transitioned to the well-being of both royal families, the recent weather in both countries, and then to boating.
Kaela was properly playing the role of hosting dignitary, as anyone could see. She had no issues dealing with royalty of noble birth and the wisdom of seasoned diplomats.
Having shaken off Beatrice, Peon observed Kaela from afar upon his return. The woman whose smile had gradually disappeared in Lusenford to the point he couldn’t recall when he last saw it–she was smiling now. Weakly smiling with a face that had regained some plumpness.
Peon narrowed his brows as he quietly watched. Weakly?
“…Kaela.”
As he reluctantly approached Kaela, Prince Elkanan welcomed him cheerfully.
“Ah, Your Highness the Grand Duke. Please join us. We were just discussing sea music used in boating with Her Highness the Princess. What composers are to your taste, Your Grace?”
“The only sea music I’ve heard recently are the shanties sung by the invading Bainlanders, so I find it difficult to answer.”
The Grand Duke of Lusenford, for whom boating itself was a luxury, replied gruffly. He had already fixed his gaze solely on Kaela, not Prince Elkanan.
“Ah, you mean the northern raiders who travel by ship to pillage. I’ve heard the damage is severe.”
“Yes.”
By deliberately giving a curt response, an awkward silence briefly fell, allowing other elderly diplomats to swoop in and spirit Prince Elkanan away during that gap.
After immediately handing off Prince Elkanan like that, Peon lowered his voice to speak to Kaela.
“You’re unwell.”
