The transfer of power proceeded fairly smoothly. It was a testament to how thoroughly Michael had prepared in advance.

The royal guard, the palace garrison, and all other core military forces had fallen entirely into his hands, and the nobles of the capital swore their loyalty to him. Even the lords of the provinces, upon hearing that Michael had ascended as the new king, sent letters pledging their obedience rather than erupting in anger.

The only faction to show a lukewarm response was the nobility of the kingdom’s northern region, where Princess Cordelia’s maternal family resided. They did not openly condemn the bastard’s rebellion, but neither did they declare their loyalty to the new king.

Yet regardless of their ambivalent stance, Michael had secured every foundation he needed to become king. And so, on a clear spring day, he officially succeeded his father, who had abdicated, and ascended as the thirteenth monarch of the kingdom.

None of this news, however, reached Cordelia. Locked away in her bedchamber, she had no way of knowing what was happening in the world outside.

At least she was no longer going hungry as she had on the first day. After the half-brother’s loyal hound had come and declared that she and he were to be married, a palace maid had come every day to bring her water and food.

The maid was someone Cordelia did not recognize. No matter how persistently she pressed her for information about what was happening, the maid would not answer.

When Cordelia demanded in exasperation whether she was perhaps mute, the maid finally opened her mouth and replied with a blank expression.

“I’m sorry, Princess. I have been ordered not to answer unless the matter is strictly necessary.”

Cordelia was dumbfounded. And who decides what is strictly necessary? You? Staring at the maid in disbelief, Cordelia received a monotone reply.

“I’m sorry, Princess. I am only following orders.”

So whose orders are they, then. In truth, she didn’t need to ask. It was obvious. That arrogant bastard, that damned traitor, was clearly trying to isolate her.

Cordelia ground her teeth in frustration. But there was nothing she could do. The maid, infuriatingly composed, gave a small bow and withdrew, and the princess, alone again, buried her face in both hands.

“Ah…”

I want to get out. I want to see with my own eyes what is happening in this palace. If I can’t, I wish someone would at least come and explain the situation to me. Anyone at all, please…

While she pleaded and lamented and suffered, time passed, and on a day she did not know, the new king’s coronation was held. That news, too, never reached her ears.

The fifteenth day arrived. Cordelia was exhausted to the bone. She was even tired of lying awake in terror that her father might have died without her knowing.

That day too she leaned against the window, staring blankly outside. It had rained the day before, and the whole world was unusually fresh and damp.

The grass in the garden glittered in pale green, and somewhere a bright birdsong rang out. The world was so beautiful and peaceful, and she alone was cut off from it. Acknowledging that fact made her feel terribly alone.

“…”

The door opened without a knock. Even that rudeness had grown numbingly familiar.

She assumed it was the maid again and didn’t bother to turn around. But the next moment, a man’s low, deep voice reached her ears.

“Princess.”

Cordelia spun around. In her trembling eyes appeared a vaguely familiar face. It was that man. The new king’s loyal hound was wearing a rather fine uniform today.

“Come out.”

It was an abrupt command. Cordelia stood rooted to the window and did not move. Ian saw her stillness and let out a small sigh. He added with a bit more detail.

“I will take you to see your father. Come out.”

Cordelia’s eyes lit up. Her body moved mechanically at the word ‘father.’ Her father was the one person she could trust and lean on in this harsh world where every side had turned against her.

She walked toward Ian as though drawn by a spell, then suddenly caught herself and hesitated.

“…I want to change my clothes.”

She was still wearing the nightgown she had been in when she was locked up. Throughout her confinement she had had no reason to change and no one to help her dress, and so she had spent all this time looking disheveled.

But she was going to see her father for the first time in so long. She couldn’t appear this haggard and unkempt. She didn’t want to worry him. Even if she couldn’t dress as splendidly as before, she wanted to look as presentable as possible.

“Then change and come out. I’ll give you time.”

The man’s compliance was more willing than she had expected, and Cordelia felt a small flicker of hope. She added carefully.

“And… before that, I’d like to take a bath first, if that’s all right.”

The man blinked. Cordelia braced herself, certain he would refuse this time. But again came a fairly ready answer.

“I’ll have the maid bring hot water.”

Cordelia felt relief. Hard on the heels of relief came wretchedness. That I, a princess of this realm, must seek permission for something like this and hold my breath waiting for an answer.

But then again, she wasn’t even sure she was still a princess of this realm. She studied the man’s expressionless face with anxious eyes and spoke.

“What is the situation outside now?”

The man blinked again. His expression said he wasn’t sure what she meant. Cordelia clenched her fist briefly and then opened it, adding a more specific question.

“Did my father abdicate in the end?”

The terrible things this man had said when he came fifteen days ago came back to her. He had said the king would abdicate to the bastard and the princess would be wed to a traitor. It was the stuff of nightmares.

“Yes, he has abdicated.”

But those things were not a dream. They were real, and they were very much ongoing.

“Michael has now become His Majesty the King.”

Cordelia closed her eyes for a moment. Clinging to the hollow hope that when she opened them, everything would have returned to how it was before.

But hope was denied again, and before her eyes that hateful man still stood in solid reality. Cordelia opened her eyes wide and clenched her teeth.

“Was there a coronation too?”

“Yes.”

“…What became of young Lord Rodrian? Is he still missing?”

“He is.”

“And his family…”

“The women were not harmed. The duchess and the young lady are to be sent to a convent.”

“And the duke? What happens to Duke Rodrian?”

“He will stand trial along with the other traitors. A death sentence will likely be handed down.”

“What?”

Cordelia was aghast. Who exactly was calling whom a traitor? The fury was so overwhelming that for a moment she was struck speechless. She stared at the man’s revoltingly impassive face and parted her trembling lips.

“…Then, what about me?”

“You?”

“You said I have to… marry you. When is that happening?”

She had hesitated at length, unable to bring herself to say the word ‘marry,’ before finally forcing it out. The man’s brow furrowed briefly, then smoothed. He replied without expression.

“The wedding is scheduled for tomorrow.”

“What?!”

Cordelia forgot herself for a moment and cried out. It was that shocking an answer. The man stared at her with a flustered look, apparently not having anticipated quite such a violent reaction.

“I told you the exchange of gifts and the banquet would be omitted. A simple ceremony in the chapel―”

“Does that make any sense? How can a wedding, a royal wedding no less, be conducted in such a hasty―”

“Were you expecting a romantic proposal, then? Given that you’re being forced to marry me regardless?”

Cordelia was again rendered speechless. The man sighed quietly and added in his characteristically blunt voice.

“His Majesty has given the order. It has all been decided. Accept it.”

Cordelia remained silent. It was painful that the word ‘His Majesty’ on that man’s lips no longer referred to her father. A strange emotion crept into the man’s gaze as it rested on her.

“The wedding is tomorrow. We will hold the ceremony tomorrow evening and the wedding night will follow. Everything is prepared, so you need only be present.”

Pity. The name of that strange emotion was perhaps pity. Being pitied by the man who intended to take her by force was a wretched feeling. Cordelia’s lips quivered as she swallowed back her tears.

Ian watched the princess in silence, her face drained white, lips pressed shut, then turned and pulled the bell cord on the wall. The maid who had never once responded when Cordelia rang appeared almost immediately this time.

The maid entered, glanced briefly at the princess’s pale face, and addressed Ian with a polite bow.

“Did you call for me?”

“Yes, prepare a bath. And a change of clothes.”

“Understood.”

The maid gave a small bow and withdrew. Cordelia had no strength left to be angry at the insolence of not even being glanced at. She let go of her pride and sank down onto the bed. Then she covered her face with both hands, and seeing it, Ian felt a pang of worry that she was crying.