120. The Hunting Festival (2)

Ariella spoke with biting sarcasm. Everyone knew that Edward was a Sword Master. From the look in Herwen’s eyes alone, it seemed as though he might cause trouble at the festival. He paid no attention to Ariella’s words, letting them pass in one ear and out the other, his gaze fixed solely on Larael. He longed for her to look at him, even just once. But Larael seemed utterly uninterested in him, as though he were beneath her notice. It was as if only she and Edward existed in their own world, leaving no room for anyone else. Herwen’s jaw tightened in frustration.

“Your Majesty, please return safely without injury.”

Larael clasped her hands before her chest as she watched Edward mount his horse.

“There’s no need to worry.”

Edward spoke casually, his fingers brushing over the ribbon tied to his sword hilt. What once had been a meaningless festival now felt like an entirely different event, simply because someone was cheering for him. With that thought warming his heart, Edward rode into the forest. At a short distance behind him, his knights followed. Each participant was permitted up to two guards, armed in case of emergencies. Still, those guards were forbidden to assist their lords in the hunt itself.

Larael watched until Edward disappeared completely into the forest before returning to his tent.

Herwen, who had been watching them, turned his eyes on Ariella once Larael had gone back inside.

“I’ll be off, then.”

His voice was curt as he addressed her before steering his horse toward the forest. Ariella saw him off, then lingered, staring at the tent Edward and Larael had entered. She started toward it, but after some hesitation, she changed her mind and instead made her way to Herwen’s tent.

Inside the forest, Herwen did not hunt. He wandered aimlessly, his eyes searching for someone. Now and then, another participant mistook his slow movements for prey and lunged out, only to realize who he was, apologize hastily, and vanish back into the woods.

After searching for quite some time, Herwen finally found Edward deep within the forest. Edward had already hunted so much that the game piled on the ground formed a small mound, too much even for his guards’ horses to carry.

“Your Majesty.”

Herwen called out quietly as Edward was putting away his bow. Edward turned his head and saw him dismount. With a stiff expression, Edward returned to arranging his bow and arrows.

“That ribbon reminds me of Larael’s hair,” Herwen remarked, his eyes fixed on the ribbon at the hilt of Edward’s sword.

Edward’s hands stilled. He glanced down at his blade. Seeing Herwen’s empty horse and his spotless appearance, Edward finally spoke.

“You haven’t caught a single thing, have you?”

“You know well enough—I have no talent for hunting or swordsmanship.”

Edward handed his bow to one of his guards, then strode over to Herwen.

“Did you come to me for a reason? If not, I intend to resume my hunt.”

“What reason could I have? Lady Nox pushed me into joining this festival, nothing more.”

Herwen gestured at the ribbon on Edward’s sword.

“And before the ball, I wanted to see you once. Since you wouldn’t grant me an audience, I had no choice but to meet you this way. When the ball is over, I hope to share a drink with you.”

“…Very well. I’ll make time for it.”

Edward gave a short reply before mounting his horse again. Still, he felt dissatisfied with the amount of game he had.

Herwen watched Edward’s back and sneered.

“Arrogant bastard. We’ll see if you can keep that promise.”

He stared after Edward for a moment longer, then climbed back onto his horse. Humming a tune under his breath, he turned his mount toward the forest entrance.

Herwen was the first to return to the base camp. He rode out as leisurely as though he’d merely gone for a stroll, declared his withdrawal from the hunt, and hurried off with Ariella, as if the festival no longer concerned them.

When word spread that participants were beginning to emerge from the forest, Larael could no longer sit still in Edward’s tent. Her pale complexion turned even whiter, her nose reddened from the cold, as she stood waiting anxiously for him.

“Your Highness, why hasn’t His Majesty returned yet?”

Sasha’s words only deepened Larael’s unease.

At last, as the day began to darken, Edward appeared from the forest. The moment she saw him, Larael ran to him. Recognizing her, Edward quickly dismounted.

“Larael, what’s wrong?”

He scanned her face and figure from head to toe.

“I’m fine. It’s just… Your Majesty didn’t come out of the forest for so long…”

“Larael, I told you there was no need to worry, didn’t I? Hmm?”

Edward spoke gently as he cupped her cheek.

“How long have you been waiting? Your face is frozen.”

“Your Majesty, there are many people here…”

Larael, her face caught in his hands, shifted her gaze back and forth as she spoke. Only then did Edward turn his head and take in their surroundings. Until now, most had only seen the proper, measured distance the two maintained at official events. This was the first time many were witnessing their affection so openly. Struck speechless, they simply stared until Edward’s eyes swept over them—at which point they hastily looked away and pretended to be occupied with something else.

Edward lowered the hands that had been holding Larael’s face and began proudly showing off the game he had caught. His knights carried the prey Edward had hunted into the clearing. Without a doubt, Edward had caught the most.

Beaming with satisfaction, he looked at Larael, who stared back at him wide-eyed at the sheer number of his kills. Seeing her eyes sparkle as they met his, Edward felt a deep thrill surge through him.

Taking Larael’s hand, Edward led her into the tent.

“Now that I’ve returned, stay inside and warm yourself.”

Leaving her there, Edward stepped back outside.

A self-deprecating smile crossed Larael’s lips. The ominous unease she had felt earlier seemed almost laughable now, and at the same time, she felt relieved.

“I really must have been too sensitive.”

Once all the participants had returned, the winner of the hunt was announced. As expected, the victor was Edward.

Clad in the dress adorned with the golden brooch he had given her, Larael returned to the imperial palace at his side, her bearing proud and confident.

***

The hunt behind them, the founding festival had only one highlight left—the masquerade ball, often called the true flower of the celebrations. Balls, both grand and small, were held across the empire, but each year a magnificent one was hosted in the imperial palace, attended by the central nobility in full force.

For this day, Genderi had poured all her skill and devotion into Larael’s gown. At last, Larael tried it on. The pure white fabric shimmered as if studded with stars that still held their light.

Joanna brought out the set Larael had chosen beforehand: the earrings and necklace of red jewels—Edward’s very first gift to her. Worn together with the gown, the earrings glowed brightly on either side of her face, shining vividly.

“It’s almost a shame to cover you with a mask,” Anais said, her eyes brimming with emotion as she watched Larael. She handed over the mask that had been prepared for her.

“It’s all thanks to Genderi and everyone here. I’m truly grateful.”

“Your Highness, please don’t say such things. Were it not for you—”

“Enough. We agreed not to speak of that again.”

At Larael’s gentle reproach, Genderi stopped short, nodded, and stepped back.

“Your Highness, would you turn around for me?”

At her request, Larael spun gracefully halfway around. Genderi examined her from behind with a meticulous eye. Though she herself had crafted it, the dress was breathtaking. She had poured her entire being into its creation, and she was certain she could not make another like it for years to come. The brilliant light cascading over Larael made her seem as though she herself had become luminous.

“Is there no way for Your Highness not to wear the mask?” Sasha asked regretfully, looking at the one Anais held.

“Exactly. Anyone would recognize you instantly anyway…”

Everyone likely thought the same. With her silver hair and crimson eyes—a rare and striking combination—there was no mistaking her identity. Still, as it was a rule of the masquerade, the mask was compulsory.

“If only we hadn’t lost that artifact…”