In Razhan, everything is determined by the law of the strong preying on the weak. According to this logic, “Equila” is not a title passed down through bloodlines. Any warrior of Razhan could challenge their leader, and if victorious, they would become king—the new Equila. Thus, it was only natural that the Equila was the strongest warrior in Razhan. Perhaps for this reason, they had little interest in establishing dynasties.
The reason Razhan desired a princess was simple.
[What man would refuse you? You are the noble Thessalia and so beautiful at that.]
The triumph of seizing what was once unattainable.
Before the war, Razhan had been persecuted as barbarians. They both revered and hated Velarez. Their simultaneous desire for and readiness to kill the princess of Velarez stemmed from this contradiction.
Daphne barely managed to speak in a calm voice.
[Hearing you say that puts me at ease. However, I have not yet… menstruated.]
[That is not a matter to worry about.]
Feeling her barely composed lips tremble, Daphne shut her mouth tightly.
[Enna is Thessalia. Thessalia’s will is Enna’s will. In everything, there are exceptions.]
Backed into a corner, Jeffrey casually dismissed the temple’s rules. The fear she had harbored became reality.
[This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you as well. Isn’t that so?]
Jeffrey was now convinced that Daphne’s body bore a fatal flaw. It was unusual for a woman approaching twenty not to menstruate.
[You must answer.]
Daphne barely nodded in response. In the next moment, Jeffrey grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face the city.
[Look at our people.]
The city, ravaged by a long war, came into view. Outside the palace, the scene was devastating. Not even a shadow of its former glorious prosperity remained.
[They worship us. Shouldn’t we respond to their faith? It is your turn.]
[…….]
[We will save them in the end, Daphne.]
Daphne turned her head to look at Jeffrey. When their eyes met, Jeffrey softened his gaze affectionately. Then, he removed his hands from her shoulders.
[Let’s go down and have tea. It has been a while.]
Jeffrey’s steps seemed lighter than before, his mood unusually buoyant. But soon after, he furiously kicked a guard who had sneezed in his presence.
The guard’s screams for mercy pierced the air, but no one intervened. No one could. The soldiers, staring at the ground, carried an air of death around them. They appeared listless, as though resigned to their fate, seemingly aware that Enna would not protect their lives. They stood at their posts only out of obligation, devoid of any remaining faith.
Once again, blood was spilled today. The stench of iron filled the air. Daphne wrinkled her brow and closed her eyes. It was impossible to determine where things had gone wrong—or even how far back the rot had spread.
Perhaps it would be better for this entire city to burn to the ground, Daphne thought.
***
Jeffrey called for Daphne when the banquet was at its height.
As Daphne appeared with her face veiled, an eerie silence briefly descended upon the lively banquet hall. Jeffrey extended a hand toward her.
[My beautiful sister. Come closer.]
Daphne cautiously stepped into the grand hall. With each step, the attendants busily adjusted the long hem of her dress, while the guests’ leering gazes clung to her.
From behind the semi-transparent veil, Daphne quietly moved her eyes. She recognized a few familiar nobles and the faces of some brothers she had not seen in quite a while. On one side of the hall were rugged warriors with sun-darkened skin and long braided hair—Razhan’s warriors. Bathion was nowhere to be seen, perhaps due to the late hour.
The guests, appearing drowsy with drink and incense, wore dazed expressions. Then Daphne realized with a chill that she was the only woman in the hall.
Tensing, Daphne shifted her eyes forward. On the dais, lounging sideways on a glossy animal pelt and sipping from a goblet, was Jeffrey. His gaze seemed to meet hers. And seated next to him was…
Equila.
Daphne reflexively swallowed hard. Equila always came to Velarez in person to claim his bride, his “sister.” About a year ago, she had seen him from a distance when he came for Sione.
A fearsome appearance. Sun-darkened bronze skin. A massive build, like an eagle with its wings spread wide. His tightly braided reddish-brown hair was so long it nearly reached his waist, and his scanty tunic revealed his vividly muscular physique. Sitting beside the slender Jeffrey, he seemed even more immense. His gaze, dissecting her intently, was unrelenting.
Daphne was terrified, yet at the same time, a surge of hostility made her head spin.
The man who had killed three of her sisters. And Jeffrey, casually drinking with him as though nothing had happened, was utterly incomprehensible. Rage began to pump through her veins.
However, charging at Equila here would only result in her being seized by guards, unable to even scratch him. She couldn’t begin to imagine how the mad Jeffrey would deal with her if she caused a scene. Daphne forced her eyes down to the floor.
[Sit beside me.]
Jeffrey’s hand guided the reluctant Daphne. When she took her seat, Jeffrey gave a slight gesture. The eyes that had been glued to Daphne quickly dispersed, and as if on cue, the banquet resumed.
A smoky scent—the incense Jeffrey favored—filled the air. Though she had touched nothing, Daphne felt her head grow hazy. The laughter behind her, the mix of languages from various nations, further disoriented her.
Had Sione been brought here like this? She tried to recall but could not. Anxiety churned in her chest as she struggled to anticipate what might come next. She held her breath, finding solace only in the veil that covered her face. Then, Jeffrey abruptly addressed her.
[Daphne, come closer to your brother.]
Daphne hesitated before kneeling and inching closer.
[More.]
Reluctantly, she moved another step.
[Good.]
Daphne ended up sitting right next to Jeffrey. Consequently, her distance from Equila, who had been seated apart, also closed. Amid the smoky scent, a strange odor reached her—a damp leather smell mixed with a peculiar fishy scent and a sharp metallic tang. It was Equila’s scent.
As her brow instinctively furrowed, Jeffrey beckoned her with a finger. Taking the cue, Daphne leaned toward him slightly.
Without warning, Jeffrey lifted her veil. Caught off guard, Daphne froze. Jeffrey whispered in an amused tone,
[You must smile.]
He sounded as if he found her awkwardness endearing. Daphne hastily forced a smile, though it must have looked clumsy. Unbothered, Jeffrey gently tilted her chin, turning her face.
Inevitably, Daphne’s eyes met Equila’s. His face drew closer, exuding a fishy scent that made her flinch while maintaining an awkward smile.
[…….]
His glossy eyes scrutinized her up close. A thick, large hand reached toward her. At some point, Jeffrey’s hand had left her chin, but Daphne felt unable to move. She hated to admit it, but at that moment, she was paralyzed.
[Touching her is forbidden. At least for now.]
Jeffrey’s firm voice caused Equila’s face and hand to slowly retreat, though the reluctance in his movements was evident.
[Return to your seat.]
With Jeffrey’s permission, Daphne moved back to her place like a ghost. Blinking several times, she began to regain her senses.
Meanwhile, Jeffrey and Equila chatted amicably, their conversation appearing to revolve around whether she was to Equila’s liking. Daphne’s mind went blank, unable to focus on their voices.
What on earth is happening?
The thought was fueled less by fear and more by anger.
[Didn’t I tell you, Equila? This one is far more docile and will suit your tastes perfectly.]
Daphne’s eyes involuntarily trembled, unable to fully mask her agitation.
***
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