1. Not Interested, Thank You

Blair Mervish bit her lip, eyes restless as she stared out the window.

Through the clear glass, the garden beyond was alive with blooming pink roses. In a few days, those roses were destined to be gathered into a magnificent bouquet and placed in the hands of the newly chosen princess consort.

Of course, that wouldn’t be her.

The bouquet’s recipient had been decided long ago.

Anais Brienne. She was the daughter of the most distinguished ducal house in the Kingdom of Eiron, a woman of striking beauty, and soon to be princess consort.

“Really, has she ever called us this early before?”

A brown-haired woman seated on one side of the parlor sofa grumbled, dressed lavishly despite the early hour.

“Who knows. The princess consort selection is tomorrow, after all. I wonder what reason the queen’s palace could have for summoning all of us.”

The woman across from her answered between bites of an apple galette. At that, the brown-haired woman snapped in a sharp voice.

“Not all of us. Anais isn’t here. How irritating, honestly. Acting like she’s already princess consort or something.”

“You’d do well to watch your tongue, Miss Selina. We don’t even know what this is about yet.”

A golden-haired woman seated in the most ornate chair at the center of the parlor spoke in a graceful voice.

“Oh, it’s obvious, Olivia. They’ve called us to settle what becomes of us frons now, haven’t they.”

“……”

“There’s been no official announcement yet about who the princess consort will be!”

Unlike the golden-haired Olivia, who said nothing, the woman with the galette cried out in a slightly flustered voice.

“Does that really need to be said. We were Anais’s bridesmaids from the very start, no matter how you look at it. What’s even the point of selecting frons if it comes to this. Don’t you think, Blair? Say something.”

Selina spoke with a mocking lilt, twisting a lock of her lush brown hair around her finger.

“Well, it’s not as though they could simply not select frons at all.”

Blair answered flatly.

Frons. In the Kingdom of Eiron, there was a custom that a prince with succession rights must take a princess consort before ascending to the throne. To that end, several candidates were selected, brought to reside in the royal palace for a set period, and evaluated for their suitability.

These candidates were called frons, and they were objects of admiration among noble ladies and objects of desire among men. The title implied that any one of them would be worthy of becoming princess consort, or even queen of the kingdom.

And so, even without being chosen as princess consort, the title of frons alone was enough to mark a woman as the most coveted bride in the land. It was considered a great honor for one’s family.

Why that should count as a family honor was beyond her.

Blair let out a quiet sigh.

All four women in the room, herself included, had been selected as frons six months ago. Tomorrow, the official announcement would name which lady had been chosen as princess consort.

Of course, there was no one who didn’t already know it would be Anais.

“Well, I suppose that’s true enough. Haah, since the princess consort is out of reach, I might have to settle for the eldest son of House Olland. What about you, Blair?”

“Oh, I’m not sure. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Is that so? You never seemed particularly interested in the princess consort position, so I wondered if you had someone else in mind.”

Even under Selina’s probing question, Blair kept her gaze fixed on the window and answered absently. That wasn’t what was occupying her mind right now.

The strange tension hanging over the royal palace. The fact that the frons had been summoned together at this early hour. And Anais Brienne, who had yet to appear. Something felt wrong.

Just then, a commotion drifted in from beyond the door.

“Her Highness the Queen approaches.”

At the attendant’s voice from outside, Blair turned toward the door with a tense expression.

“We pay our respects to Your Highness the Queen.”

“As radiant as ever, Your Highness.”

Greetings tumbled forth one after another toward Queen Rhea, and Blair quietly dipped her head in a bow as well. But the queen did not acknowledge a single one of them.

Blair cautiously studied the queen’s expression. The queen rarely let her feelings show, making it difficult to know what she was thinking, but this time was different.

Why does she look so pale. What on earth has happened.

Queen Rhea, her complexion visibly ashen, slowly swept her gaze over the four frons gathered in the parlor. Her eyes were sharp and cold, and no one dared to speak, each glancing uneasily at the others.

After a long silence, the queen broke it and parted her lips with effort.

“It must have been abrupt, being called at such an early hour. I had something urgent to say, which is why I asked you all to gather.”

The queen’s voice, always steady and composed, trembled almost imperceptibly. The unsettling sight of it made everyone hold their breath and stare at her alone.

Even so, the queen struggled to continue. Her lips moved several times before she finally forced out words that were nearly impossible to believe.

“Miss Anais Brienne…… met with misfortune last night.”

Her gaze dropped low, settling into a heavy stillness. Blair and everyone else in the parlor fell into stunned silence.

But only for a moment. Selina asked in a strained voice.

“Misfortune, Your Highness? What do you mean by—”

“…… It appears she ingested robetaine.”

“R-robetaine? But that’s a poison — why would she—!”

Even Olivia, who almost never lost her composure, pressed a trembling hand to her lips. Tilda, who had been eating the apple galette, was so shocked she could only blink.

“…… Are you saying someone gave Miss Anais robetaine, Your Highness?”

Blair, too stunned to fully process the queen’s words, asked with a blank expression. Queen Rhea gave a slow nod.

“A thorough investigation will be needed before we know more, but someone mixed robetaine into the water Miss Anais drank every day.”

“Th-that can’t be. Who would do something so horrible—!”

“What is Miss Anais’s condition?”

“Surely not……”

Voices tangled together, laced with fear and panic and disbelief. Without realizing it, Blair clasped her hands tightly together and repeated the words in her head.

Please. Not that. Anything but that.

But the queen closed her eyes and shook her head.

“By the time she was found, it was already too late.”

Blair’s mind went blank. Anais Brienne was dead. The very Anais Brienne who had been set to be named princess consort tomorrow — dead. Why did a bad feeling never turn out to be wrong.

“Under normal circumstances, the official announcement of the new princess consort was to be made tomorrow.”

The queen paused, letting the silence stretch.

She seemed to hesitate over whether to say aloud the obvious — that Anais had been the one chosen. In the end, she decided against it.

“Given this unforeseen tragedy, the announcement will be postponed for the time being.”

The queen pressed her lips together firmly and added.

“And while security throughout the palace will naturally be reinforced, each of you must take particular care for your own safety. This may be an attack targeting the frons.”

With her words delivered, the queen left the parlor with a darkened expression. The remaining frons wore faces of utter bewilderment.

“I can’t believe this. Poisoned.”

Selina murmured.

“Who could have done such a thing. To lay a hand on House Brienne — you’d have to be out of your mind to even try……”

At Tilda’s words, Olivia, who had been visibly unsettled, rose from her chair.

“I should take my leave. Please, everyone — take care of yourselves, as Her Highness said.”

Her face drained of color, she left the parlor as if fleeing. The moment the door swung shut behind her, Selina narrowed her eyes.

“Hmm. It seems Miss Olivia has something weighing on her conscience.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Tilda asked, looking genuinely confused, and Selina lowered her voice.

“As Miss Tilda said — who in the world would dare touch House Brienne? The only one with any chance of pulling it off would be Marquis Lorentz, Miss Olivia’s father.”

“What? Surely not.”

“I’m saying it’s the most plausible possibility. Our families certainly wouldn’t, nor would Miss Tilda’s. And Miss Blair’s household…… well, that goes without saying.”

Selina’s perpetual rudeness was grating enough, but Blair didn’t react. It wasn’t as though Selina was wrong, and who had poisoned Anais wasn’t what mattered to Blair right now.

What mattered was the fact itself — that Anais, who had been set to become princess consort, was dead.

“So what happens to us now?”

Blair finally spoke. The abrupt question from someone who had been silent all this time left Selina looking baffled.

“What do you mean, what happens? We stay in the palace for now. It’s terrible what happened to Anais, but a new princess consort still has to be chosen, doesn’t it?”

The corners of her mouth curved into a faint smile as she said it was terrible, and her eyes gleamed with n*ked want. The sight of that greed turned Blair’s stomach. She moved toward the parlor door.