“Cedric!”

At last, the name burst from Anita’s lips. She had held it back, buried beneath fear and restraint, but the flood of emotion had finally forced it out.

Cedric turned sharply at the sound. He had meant to reprimand her for daring to utter his name, but stopped.

Her face was deathly pale, as though she might collapse at any moment. Yet despite this, her voice, heavy with all the feelings she had buried inside, sounded pleasant to him.

Instead of warning her again, he slowly rose to his feet. With practiced ease, he reached out towards the tear-streaked face he had grown so accustomed to that it now bored him.

“Ah, I see. You’ve found a way to stand, now that there’s room enough not to kneel.”

His long fingers brushed her cheek, pressing at the tears clinging to her flushed lashes. He paused for a moment, feeling the warmth of her skin seep faintly into his cold fingertips, before withdrawing his hand.

He took out a handkerchief, wiped his damp fingers, then returned to his quiet indifference.

“How fitting. Callithea’s princess might not be worth a single coin these days, but Laxion’s crown princess — who will soon become empress — is far more valuable. After all, the circumstances are quite different.”

The idea of sharing the same space with her, which had previously seemed tedious and unpleasant, suddenly seemed irrelevant.

Blood rushed through his body and a prickling heat spread to his fingertips. This strange, restless excitement made Cedric linger for a moment longer, almost aching to wound her again, before he forced himself to step away.

“No matter which brother ascends the throne, you’ll be the future empress.’ So wait. When that time comes, you can do as you please. You can help your homeland or not. As for selling your jewels or anything else you claim to own, you’ll have to wait for that, too. For now, I cannot permit it. If it were to become known that you had done so, you might be accused of divided loyalty or meddling in politics, which would cause me inconvenience.”

Until the very end, he could not resist twisting the knife. He mocked her until her heart was left bleeding, reveling in the low, mean sense of superiority one feels only towards someone too weak to fight back. He knew it was base, yet the taste of that dominance thrilled him.

“Then stay here as long as you wish. I can at least grant that much to my consort.”

With his hand on the doorknob, Cedric addressed her as his consort for the first and only time that evening, before leaving the room.

Thud.

The sound of the door closing drained all of Anita’s strength. Her legs trembled beneath her and she could barely stand. But she held herself up, refusing to collapse.

If she sat down, she knew she wouldn’t be able to get up again. She had to leave this room, this air and this man — and she had to do it as quickly as possible.

··· ✦ ···

Cedric lingered outside, listening, until the door closed. But the sound he had half-expected — quiet sobbing — never came. Annoyed by his own disappointment, he clicked his tongue.

He started to signal to the attendants, who were watching him in silence, when he noticed the handkerchief in his pocket. It was stuffed in awkwardly, with a corner sticking out. He had crumpled it carelessly after wiping his fingers, and seeing it now irritated him.

He took it out, intending to throw it away. Yet, for some reason, he didn’t.

Instead, he shoved it deeper into his pocket and continued walking without looking back. With every step, he could feel the faint, unpleasant weight of the fabric pressing against his leg.

Unable to bear it, he muttered under his breath, his voice low and sharp: “Empress, indeed… She’ll be gone long before then.”

··· ✦ ···

In southern Callithea, the fertile lands had fallen completely to the rebels. Seris Castle, once dazzling and seductive, surrounded by red pomegranate trees, had been engulfed in flames, and black smoke billowed from the ports.

The wealthy and long-standing House of Davria had been annihilated. The Countess of Davria, a royal cousin of the Emperor who was notorious for her corruption, met a particularly miserable end.

“Spare me! Please, anyone, save me!”

“Death to the witch who’s drained our blood!”

She fled with her husband and sons, but lost them all before she was captured. She was tortured mercilessly and ultimately hanged and burned alive from the watchtower.

Her hair, which had once been as red as the pomegranates that filled her lands, turned to dry straw and scattered into the wind like a handful of ash.

“Their heads! Cut off their limbs! From their boiling blood will rise our bread and our wine!”

As the Countess writhed in agony, the mob pelted her with stones, dirt and weap*ns. The scene was so brutal that even some of those present began to silently question whether the rebels’ justice was truly just.

Yet the flames showed no sign of dying down. Long-simmering hatred and poverty fueled the blaze of vengeance, which raged out of control.

Soon, Laxion received a letter announcing the deaths of Callithea’s royal family and nobles. Although Anita had been deliberately kept from hearing about most other matters, she received this news about the tragedy in her homeland more quickly and clearly than any other message.

··· ✦ ···

The annual Empress Ines memorial was approaching. As always, preparations were being made under the Emperor’s command and no exceptions were permitted. Although the ceremony itself was still a week away, black velvet banners had already been hung throughout the palace, and excessive ornaments had been quietly removed.

Everyone within the royal grounds, whether servant or noble, wore modest, dark attire.

Anita, dressed in a deep navy gown, stood by the window and watched the rain falling in soft, steady sheets.

The gown’s high neckline and restrained design were austere enough to resemble a priestess’s robe. Yet, for once, no one whispered that she looked plain or ‘too Callithean’. Everyone was dressed the same.

“So this is the princess I’ve heard so much about. Such a lovely, sweet-faced girl! It’s no wonder Cedric fell for her at first sight!”

Empress Ines, the Emperor’s first consort and Cedric’s mother, was a woman whose name was rarely spoken without sorrow.

Although Anita had only met her once, long ago, she clearly remembered the gleam of her silver hair. Like Cedric, the late empress was warm and kind to everyone she met, so Anita had fond memories of her.

‘…If she were still alive, would Cedric be different?’

Her gaze lingered on the cypress branches arranged in the garden for the memorial. A thought she could never reach drifted through her mind.

Melancholy settled over her as she watched the rain soak the branches. Suddenly, her mind returned to the countless deaths that had just occurred. She bit her trembling lip.

“Your Highness, the Marquis of Aleya and his family have… It hasn’t even been that long since what happened to the House of Davria.”

How many terrible messages had she received in the space of barely a fortnight?

Since hearing that the rebels had seized control of all of Callithea’s southern territories, Anita had repeatedly received news of the deaths of relatives, acquaintances, and even individuals she only vaguely remembered. Most were reports of sl*ughter; some recounted horrors too terrible to describe.

Each message crushed her heart anew.

The helplessness of being unable to help those who had died and the fear for those who were still alive robbed her of sleep.

The anguish became unbearable. Despite the humiliation she had suffered, Anita went to see Cedric once again.

However, since that day, he had ignored her completely, refusing to see or speak to her.

After seeing the black velvet banners raised over the Crown Prince’s palace a week earlier in preparation for the late Empress Inés’s memorial service, Anita lost the courage to try again.

“Empress Ines was killed by a fanatic of the Asterian faith…”

It was said that the assassin had come from Callithea. Although Anita did not know the full truth, she understood that it was closely linked to the turbulent politics of Laxion at the time.

Cedric’s hatred of Callithea and the Asterian faith stemmed from that incident. How could she face him now? On the eve of his mother’s death anniversary, she — a princess of Callithea and a follower of the same faith — would undoubtedly repulse him.

‘How selfish I am… Even in this crisis, I’m more afraid of Cedric’s hatred than of Callithea’s downfall.’

Despair was followed by guilt, and Anita’s self-loathing cut even deeper. She despised herself for remaining silent, too frightened of his scorn and cruelty to beg for her homeland’s salvation.

‘No… I mustn’t provoke him again. I’ll find another way.’

Forcing herself out of that spiral of despair, Anita shook her head. She moved away from the window and sank weakly onto the couch.

‘The Emperor refuses to see anyone, so I cannot appeal to him either…’

She tried to think, but no solution came to her. With Empress Ines’s memorial approaching, the ailing Emperor had secluded himself entirely, seeing no one except for matters of the utmost importance. Even Cedric and the Empress had been denied an audience, so Anita could hardly request one herself.

As for visiting the empress, whom she had lately avoided altogether, that was unthinkable.

As for Gerard, remembering Cedric’s cruel words about him, Anita wiped him clean from her mind.

“Haa…”

Her vision dimmed and a sigh escaped her lips. She quietly wiped away the tears that had started falling of their own accord.

Then there was a soft knock at the door. Renee entered the room.

“Your Highness.”

“Renee?”

Anita blinked quickly and straightened up as though nothing were amiss.

Renee, who had suffered as much as her mistress over the news from Callithea, looked worn out.

Many of her mother’s relatives owned estates in the south, and the recent tragedies had hit them hard.

Ignoring the faint redness around Anita’s eyes, Renee bowed politely and delivered her message.

“Her Majesty the Empress has sent for you. She wishes to see you at once.”