“One flower?”

Shartiel widened her eyes at the sudden rose and accepted it.

She thought about whether there had ever been an occasion for her to receive a rose from him, but nothing came to mind—she hadn’t even lifted the curse yet.

“They say one is supposed to give only a single flower.”

“Tch, and yet with all your wealth, you give me just one?”

Could it be… that something made of gold was hidden inside the petals?

Perhaps… an engagement ring? Or maybe a betrothal ring?

‘A simple silver ring without jewels wouldn’t cause the commoners to feel resentment.’

With the air of someone about to check the pistil inside the bud itself, Shartiel pried the rose open.

“What are you rummaging for?”

“Haha. The flower really is beautiful.”

Tch, it truly was just a flower.

Disappointed, Shartiel cupped the rose in her hands and lifted it to her nose.

At the faint, fresh fragrance, the nerves that had been taut for hours seemed to melt away.

“Indeed. Beautiful.”

Carleon gazed at Shartiel as she inhaled the scent, his cheeks tinged with rose-red.

***

That evening, the woman who had caused the disturbance at Saint Medela Clinic was immediately imprisoned by the city guard on charges of fraud.

It turned out that her child had indeed died.

However, the child who had died was her firstborn, who had passed away a month earlier. The one she had received medicine for from Bibi was her second child.

After that incident, perhaps out of guilt for having doubted the priestesses, people began to treat them with greater courtesy and kindness.

Though they didn’t have much, and so could not give costly gifts, they would bring wildflowers or leftover fruit to the priestesses, who received them with bright smiles as though they had been offered precious jewels.

In the hearts of the people, the priestesses—and Shartiel—began to take root.

Meanwhile, Ares came to see Shartiel every day.

“I hear you’ve been meeting the First Prince daily?”

On their way to the Empress Dowager’s palace after prayers, Ares let his displeasure show in the palace garden.

“And yet I also meet you every day, Lord Ares.”

Shartiel gave a light laugh as she took his hand.

Matching her pace, Ares walked slowly beside her, putting on the appearance of an affectionate lover.

There were many eyes watching.

If rumors spread among the palace staff, talk of the two being lovers would only become more firmly entrenched.

‘Still, it’s better to make it certain.’

Just before reaching the Empress Dowager’s palace, Ares suddenly stopped and wrapped both of Shartiel’s shoulders warmly.

“Lord Ares?”

“I don’t like hearing your name mentioned together with another man’s.”

When Shartiel, embarrassed, tried to push against his chest, he only held her tighter, pressing her head against him.

“I love you. Allow me to call you by an affectionate name. I shall call you Tiel.”

He had heard her call Carleon “Leon” during the hunting tournament.

And furthermore, that man had called her “Tiel.”

Whether it was truly a pet name or not, the fact that it was something shared only between the two of them gnawed at him.

“I love you, Lord Ares. But please, just call me Shartiel.”

With a voice that always tickled his heart, she lifted her head to look up at him.

“Why?”

“I dislike being called by such names that commoners use so casually. Please, call me Shartiel.”

She wrinkled her nose all the way up, as if she truly detested that trivial name.

“So be it—my Shartiel.”

Ares tucked her head back into his chest.

‘You heard that, didn’t you, Carleon? Shartiel despises that name.’

Sensing Carleon’s heavy footsteps turning sharply in the opposite direction behind them, Ares pulled Shartiel’s pink hair tighter against him—so that she would not see Carleon’s retreating figure.

***

“Nanny, I need stomach medicine.”

“Again?”

That night, as Shartiel put a sleeping pill in her mouth and drank water, her nanny Erica’s heart ached.

‘What kind of dreadful nightmares must she be having, to weep so sorrowfully in her sleep…’

The first time she had witnessed Shartiel tormented by nightmares, Erica herself had cried more than her mistress.

“You already take sleeping pills—how can you also drink stomach medicine every night?”

Instead of handing her the stomach medicine, Erica sat Shartiel down on the sofa and gently rubbed her back.

‘Pretending to love Ares twists my stomach every time.’

Shartiel gave an awkward smile at her nanny’s touch, then suddenly remembered something.

“Did you fix it?”

“Yes, just a moment.”

Erica, who had been pressing Shartiel’s back with her palm, went to the top drawer of the desk and pulled out a small blue box, handing it to her.

“I’ll deliver this right away.”

“Right now?”

“Yes. The Harvest Festival is just around the corner—if not tonight, it may be hard to meet.”

Shartiel hurried her nanny, quickly changed into black clothing, and tucked the box into her bosom.

***

Carleon, gloomy since the afternoon, still radiated a dark aura even after preparing to go out, suffocating those in the room.

Though seated on the sofa with documents in hand, even the black inked letters could not hold his attention.

‘Ha! She whispers “I love you” so easily to that Ares b*stard!’

The affectionate sight of Shartiel with Ares kept drifting across the papers, no matter how many he turned, like engravings that would not fade.

And then—

“I dislike being called by such names that commoners use so casually. Please, call me Shartiel.”

The way she had softened and sweetened her voice.

The way she had smiled with her eyes.

As if to say, “If you ask for my heart, I’ll gladly hand it over.”

‘So “Tiel” was something that trivial? Something so worthless?’

Perhaps. After all, it was a name they had used when hiding their true identities—it could be seen that way.

And anyway, he had only kept her by his side for the sake of revenge, for the greater cause. There was no reason to be disappointed.

‘Do not trust women. Never believe the sweet whispers of a beautiful woman… D*mn it!’

Frustration boiling over, Carleon suddenly sprang to his feet.

“Your Highness, shall we depart now? If we leave at this moment, the timing should be just right.”

Donovan Lakil, who lacked any sense in such matters, checked the grandfather clock and stood up to follow Carleon.

“Indeed. Let us go now.”

Carleon, pretending not to think of Shartiel at all, handed the crumpled documents in his grasp over to Donovan Lakil.

Then he made to step toward the door.

But at that moment, a sound came from the terrace.

“Ahhh!”

“Seems you’ve given up on being a saintess and switched to thievery instead.”

Shartiel, who had been trying to sneak in through the terrace, threw both hands high into the air at the sword Carleon suddenly thrust out.

“Your Highness.”

With a sheepish smile, Shartiel lowered her gaze, silently urging him to put the sword away.

When Ares had suddenly mentioned the name “Tiel” earlier that day, she had guessed that Carleon might have been watching her and Ares together.

It was also about the time Carleon would usually visit the Empress Dowager’s palace.

‘Hey! You promised not to interfere with my act!’

That was one of the conditions of her contract with Carleon.

Until the Harvest Festival, she would pretend to love Ares to keep both him and Victoria preoccupied with her, to put their minds at ease.

“You absolutely must not get jealous.”

“Ha, jealous? Do you really think that word fits me?”

Carleon had shown confidence that he would not be provoked by it.

And yet here he was, pointing a sword at her!

“Where are you going?”

Still with her hands raised, Shartiel asked in a playfully sweet tone.

What else could she do? The sword was still poised at her throat.

“To meet the nobles. Thanks to certain rumors about affairs being spread around, they’re all uneasy.”

Even as Carleon lowered his sword, his voice carried a sarcastic edge, as if he still intended to scold her.

“Let me come with you. I just so happen to have something to say.”

Rashid, still inside the room, shot her a look of deep displeasure, but Shartiel lightly ignored it and entwined her fingers with Carleon’s hand.

“Together?”

Carleon’s voice softened considerably, his anger seemingly fading.

“Yes. If I go with you, I can help ease the nobles’ anxiety a little.”

“Very well. But since it’s dangerous, stay right at my side.”

“I have my own secret guards, you know. None other than the Saint Knights.”

Having achieved her aim, Shartiel released her fingers from Carleon’s hand.

Unlike his calloused palm, the back of his hand was quite smooth.

Yet the feel of his much larger fingers interlaced with hers had been strange and unfamiliar—the rough joints pressing against her own.

It felt as though, with the slightest clench of his fist, she would be like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web—trapped, and devoured in an instant.

“I am the strongest of all.”

Looking down at his now empty hand, Carleon pulled hers back, forcibly laced their fingers together once more, and strode out of the room.

***

The place where the meeting was to be held was said to be the birthplace of Carleon’s mother, the late Empress Grace.

As the last heir of the Berkhan family, Empress Grace had, in preparation for contingencies, entrusted this estate and a considerable sum of money to Duke Illus.

“It is an honor that the Saintess has come with us. Everyone will be pleased.”

Duke Illus, wearing a surly expression, cast a harsh glance at Rashid standing behind Carleon, then extended his hand to Shartiel.

“Thank you for the warm welcome. I wished to offer the others even a little reassurance, and so I came with His Highness.”

Entering the conference hall alongside Carleon, Shartiel steadied her breathing to withstand the gazes that would inevitably fall on her.

‘No matter how they look at me, I must endure it.’

Only by enduring those gazes now could she also endure greater scorn in the future.

“Saintess! How wonderful to see you!”

“Lady Melissa?”

“We meet much sooner than I thought.”

While enduring the disapproving stares of noblemen old enough to be her father, Melissa waved cheerfully and called to her.

“Lady Melissa, do mind your dignity.”

“Oh my, so young Lord Rashid is here as well. But please, call me Young Countess, not Lady. I am here in my father’s stead, after all—representing the northern warlords.”

From the way she squared off with Rashid, it seemed the two did not get along particularly well.

“Young Countess Melissa, it is a pleasure to meet you again.”

Shartiel quickly made her way to the chair Melissa indicated she should take.

Briefly, she wondered if there was any woman Rashid actually liked.

“For the time being, there will be no rain in the South. Therefore, please refrain from proposing that we hold a rain ritual before His Majesty.”

Before the meeting began, Shartiel addressed the nobles.

The drought in the South remained unresolved, and high-ranking nobles, including the Ten Great Houses, had been pressing the Emperor almost daily to provide a solution.

“And you suggest we simply sit idly by? Do you realize that dozens of people starve to death in the southern provinces every single day?”

The nobles clicked their tongues, scolding the Saintess for being so heartless.

“If you continue to press the Emperor, he will send Prince Carleon to the South. At this critical time, when he must unite the nobles and win the people’s hearts, we cannot afford to have him absent from the capital.”

“Ha… Then what is to become of the southern people?”

At Shartiel’s words, Duke Illus and the others let out heavy sighs.

And all the while they sighed, people in the South continued to starve to death.

“Instead of a rain ritual, send relief supplies. In the name of Prince Carleon. And send more than Ares does.”

“But how can we possibly donate more than the temple itself? We have already given a great deal from our own pockets.”

The drought had lasted no less than three years.

The saying that even kings cannot overcome poverty was proven true, for the southern region swallowed up relief supplies like a black hole.

No matter how much was given, it was never enough.

“Please endure just a little longer. The end will come soon. And before long, the Empress Consort will instruct that candidates for Prince Carleon’s consort be selected. Include Cordelia among them. Ah, and of course, Young Countess Melissa as well.”