“Hmm. Even five years ago, you weren’t this practiced, I think.”

He knew what he wanted to do with her. Holding her felt like holding the stem of a newly budded flower; she was so fragile that even the slightest pressure would break her and cause her to wilt.

It was a strange sensation: his blood raced, his senses sharpened, and his hands went cold as if he had dipped them in ice water. It was intensely satisfying yet unbearably foul all at once.

“Have you been practicing in the meanwhile? With many men?”

“What… does that mean?!”

There was only one way for him to release the wild, incomprehensible feelings boiling inside him: to trample on the woman in front of him. She looked at him with foolishly bright love in her eyes, and her hand trembled. He had to show her her place.

“Your laugh is always so cheap. It could be bought for a copper coin.”

He neither cherished nor respected her, he never loved her at all. So why hesitate? Cedric allowed the malice within him to take over.

As expected, Anita’s face drained of color. She was so easily frightened, pathetic. The faint blush that had softened her earlier expression vanished, leaving him perversely satisfied. However, an inexplicable irritation soon followed.

“I only say this because you smile so easily at everyone. You act cheaply and then pull that face as though it changes how people see you, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t.”

He spoke carelessly, each word deliberate in its cruelty. Fixing his gaze on her exposed pain, Cedric began to tear into it, shredding it apart.

“Or perhaps, you mean to change husbands?”

“……”

“Even an idiot would know what sort of ties exist between me and Gerard.”

“……”

“If you don’t wish to hear that the Crown Princess dallies between brothers, lifting her skirts for both, then learn to behave.”

“……”

“Do as you were told when you arrived: sit quietly and keep still as if you were dead.”

“……”

“Do you understand?”

The insult twisted her stomach. Her body went rigid, her step faltered, and she lost her balance as she turned in time with the music.

Cedric moved smoothly, stepping in close enough to steady her before anyone could spot her mistake. He guided her effortlessly through the final movements. Yet her body, once fluid, now moved stiffly; the grace had been stripped away.

Like a master puppeteer, Cedric pressed his hand against the small of her back, forcing her to move. When her tear-damp eyes lifted to meet his, he smiled beautifully, cruelly.

Clap, clap, clap.

Thankfully, the music stopped. As the dancers froze, applause rippled through the hall. Eager to free herself from Cedric’s grasp, Anita instinctively stepped back, but his hand remained firmly on her waist. With effortless control, he prevented her from retreating any further, drawing her closer as he inclined his head towards hers. He was fully aware of the countless eyes watching them.

All around them, young ladies gasped and sighed at the sight of the Crown Prince and his bride, who were still entwined even after the music had stopped. They appeared to be the epitome of newlywed devotion.

“Smile, there are eyes everywhere.”

Anita lifted her gaze to the crowd. Applause roared around her, filling her ears until they rang. Her stomach turned and she felt sick. But she couldn’t.

So she forced a smile, curving her lips as was expected of a loving bride, and played her part with every ounce of strength she had left.

Cedric lowered his gaze towards her, tightening his grip as he guided her forward. His movements were fluid and elegant, but he showed no warmth in the way he led her. Although her head was spinning, Anita could not frown or falter; she simply followed wherever he led her.

“Your Majesty.”
“Crown Prince.”

Cedric brought her before the Emperor. With a carefully crafted smile and a flourish of formality, he bent one knee in greeting. The Emperor’s expression was far from pleased. Nevertheless, the Empress’s face beside him was even stiffer, making her husband’s displeasure seem mild by comparison.

“There’s an order to these proceedings,” the Empress remarked dryly. “Thanks to the Crown Prince, the music has stopped. I imagine some were still waiting for the next dance.”

Her tone was laced with disdain. But Cedric was not one to flinch at his stepmother’s barbs. Gripping Anita’s hand tighter, he returned the Empress’s gaze with a faint, mocking smile.

“Your Majesty the Empress, forgive my display. But as His Majesty desired a perfect wife for me, I find it difficult to hide the joy of our union.”

He spoke loudly enough for everyone in the hall to hear him. Before she could reply, he turned and pulled Anita with him, so that they were both facing the crowd.

“Behold.”

Without warning, Cedric raised her hand high. The ring on her finger caught the refracted light, scattering it like shards of glass.

“Glory to Laxion!”
“May this union bring peace and prosperity between Laxion and Callithea!”
“Blessings upon Callithea!”
“May the Goddess’s grace be with Their Highnesses!”

A storm of applause and blessings filled the air. Whether sincere or not, the nobles from both nations joined in, swept up in the feverish spectacle. Even the Empress, her eyes narrowed with suspicion, clapped politely.

But Anita’s chest felt tight. For some reason, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that she had become an ornament, something to be displayed rather than cherished.

‘It hurts.’

Her hand ached in his grip, but she couldn’t show it. She could not afford to. Despite the dull ache in her chest, she forced a bright smile, grateful at least that a lifetime of royal training had taught her to smile on command.

As she stared straight ahead, Cedric suddenly turned towards her. Before she could react, before she could even widen her eyes, his cold lips brushed her forehead.

This bold display of affection drew louder applause. But when Cedric whose eyes met his bride’s with mock intimacy whispered a barb laced with love, he drove a thorn in deep.

“Finally you prove useful.”

Useful. The mask that Anita had been wearing cracked. If he hated her so much, why put on this show in front of everyone? Earlier in the evening, he had barely looked her way.

The question prickled, sharp as the pain that ran through her. Then Anita caught a strange glitter in his eye – cold and keen, and nothing like the sparkle of the jewels adorning the other guests. It was a flash that should never have been visible here.

Then she saw a familiar face.

‘Arthur of the Derita house.’

He was a retainer of her cousin, Count Yuz, who was of modest standing, but had a long lineage. He was the younger son of a baron. Although she had not been close to him, she had spoken with him while travelling with the count. He was a devout follower of the Asteria faith, and his knowledge and conviction were notable.

“Arthur, your face looks awful today. Are you well?”

“…Forgive me, Your Highness. It is only seasickness. A pill will settle it.”

“But you’re sweating… You were sighing a moment ago. Is something wrong?”

During the voyage to Laxion, she had noticed him looking pale and worried at times. But what she saw now was even worse: his skin had turned the colour of funeral earth, and his lips were trembling blue.

‘A small… dagger?’

She should have been the one to rush to his side, to help him yet she could not. Anita recognized the glint at his waist and, following his gaze, felt her breath catch in horror.

‘No!’

There was no sound; her scream was trapped in her throat. Only five steps. Arthur had drawn a tiny dagger, raised his arm, and thrown himself forward.

His target was unmistakably Cedric. Anita’s throat closed. News of the attack spread instantly.

“Aaah!”

Just as Arthur crashed to the floor with a dull thud, someone lunged forward, blocking Anita’s view.

“An assassin!”

“An assassin tried to kill the Crown Prince!”

Hidden among the crowd, the soldiers surged forward to shield the royal family, pushing the guests back and swiftly forming a circle around the Emperor, the Empress, the Crown Prince, the Princess and the Second Prince.

Anita stood frozen to the spot, staring blankly at the back of a knight until her gaze met that of the fallen Arthur through a narrow gap. His face, already contorted, twisted further in agony.

He was completely restrained now. One of the knights that Anita recognized — Cedric’s aide, Dian — pinned Arthur’s arms behind his back and pressed him to the ground with a knee.

“For the Goddess!”

Every gaze snapped towards the would-be assassin. Despite the pressure on his throat, Arthur’s voice was hoarse and strained, but everyone in the hall heard him. A gurgling breath followed, then a dreadful sound.

“Kh—agh!”

His body convulsed violently, and black blood poured from his mouth. Dian realized his mistake too late and eased his grip. The man’s limbs went limp. The assassin who had tried to kill the Crown Prince had taken his own life.

The hall fell deathly silent. No one dared to breathe.

“What is the meaning of this!”

Bang!

The Emperor’s voice shattered the silence, roaring with fury as he slammed his fist against the armrest. This was supposed to be a sacred celebration: a feast to bless the union of two nations. Yet, before the eyes of every noble present, the Crown Prince, the groom and the future of Laxion had become the target of an assassin, a guest no less.

The Emperor’s outrage swept through the hall like a storm, and everyone bowed their heads in fear. Even the Empress, robbed of words, lowered her gaze.

The Emperor turned towards her. His face was flushed crimson, his entire frame trembling with anger. He leveled a cold, cutting stare at her. Caught in the blaze of his wrath, the Empress struggled to breathe; indignation tightened her chest like an iron clasp.

“Your Majesty.”

In the suffocating silence, Cedric finally spoke. Surrounded by knights, he faced his father. His face was pale. The Emperor’s expression twisted with anguish at the sight of his shaken son.

“You and Her Majesty must move to safety first. There may be others working with him.”

His composure did little to hide the faint tremor in his voice, a ripple of the shock he still hadn’t shaken off.

The Emperor gave a slow, heavy nod. Then, with a voice like thunder, he commanded:

“Guards protect the Crown Prince at all costs. And hear this well: this matter is not to be treated lightly. Ministers, uncover the mastermind behind this, now!”

Finally, the courtiers came to their senses and bowed deeply in unison.

The knights moved first to escort the Emperor and Empress away, and then turned to shield the Crown Prince and Princess.

“This way, Your Highness.”

Dian appeared suddenly beside Cedric.

He nodded once, then let go of Anita’s hand. His voice rang out cold and clear, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I will move separately from the Crown Princess. Dian, see that she is escorted properly.”

Anita stared at him, hollow and dazed, but Cedric had already turned away, leaving the hall with his guards in tow.

“Your Highness, allow me to escort you.”

Dian bowed to him as she continued to gaze at Cedric’s retreating back.

The memory of their first night together flashed through Anita’s mind and she was briefly frozen with fear.

“…The assassin was from Callithea, wasn’t he?”

“He said it was for the Goddess, just like last time. Why are there always zealots…?”

“Why must His Highness suffer such things for taking a princess from Callithea?”

“He was trying to make peace, but look what their people do. Truly thankless.”

The whispers carried clearly through the hall, perhaps too clearly. Their sharp, merciless tones pricked her skin. Anita’s face turned as pale as ash.

“Your Highness.”

Dian called softly.

At last, Anita nodded slightly and forced her heavy feet to move. Yet even as she left, the whispers clung to her like tenacious shadows, biting and impossible to escape.