To My Dear Cousin
“In the end…… it has come to this……”
The pristine white dress was staining crimson with blood. The metallic tang of blood filled her mouth, and her limp body trembled uncontrollably.
Every fading sense confirmed what she already knew: she was dying.
“Haa……”
The poison was taking effect. She felt a grim relief that it had not come too late. At least she could end everything before signing the marriage contract.
“Summon the court physician! At once!”
The man standing on the dais barked urgent orders at the palace servants.
The man I once loved. His gaze found her where she lay. Those blue eyes were filled with fear, horror, and even resentment.
The wedding hall had descended into chaos. It was only natural when the bride, meant to be the happiest woman in the world, was dying before their eyes.
The poison spread rapidly; her vision blurred. All sound and light receded into the distance.
“Ishtel!”
A familiar voice called her name. The man who had rushed to her side gathered her into his arms.
“Stay with me, Ishtel. Please……”
“I’m sorry……”
It was all she could offer the man who had loved her.
From the highest point of the dais, the Emperor’s throne came into view. The unconscious Emperor was being carried out of the hall by attendants.
Beside him stood she. As the woman followed the Emperor from the hall, she turned her head and looked at Ishtel.
Her face was indistinct through the haze of failing sight.
What expression was she wearing now?
Was she smiling in triumph, certain of her victory? Or was she disappointed that she could not properly witness Ishtel’s final moments?
It no longer mattered. All of this had been her own doing.
The sky was unusually clear. In the bright sunlight pouring down, the necklace at the woman’s throat caught the light and gleamed.
A golden necklace engraved with a rose motif—the emblem of the noble Regentera family. The same necklace that now hung around Ishtel’s own neck.
In the final instant before consciousness slipped away, she thought:
If she had made a different choice the day she first met that woman……
Would everything be different now?
Some called her the unluckiest woman alive. Others said she had been fortunate to escape misfortune. Even now, she could not say which was true.
The man who was to become her husband had died one month before their wedding. He had been the Crown Prince.
As was customary with imperial marriages, hers to the Crown Prince had been a political alliance.
The Regentera ducal house she belonged to wielded power second only to the imperial family itself, and had produced several empresses in past generations.
Born and raised in such a house, she had never found it difficult to imagine her future.
She would become Crown Princess, then Empress. If she outlived the Emperor, she would become Empress Dowager.
But that future had collided with an unexpected obstacle the moment the Crown Prince died.
When the Crown Prince passed, she had already been betrothed to him. She had already received the title of Duchess of Wintera, granted to the Crown Princess.
The Crown Prince was dead, yet she was still expected to become the Crown Princess.
“The marriage between the imperial family and House Regentera remains valid.”
After the Crown Prince’s funeral, the Emperor issued a proclamation.
“Ishtel Bellona Regentera shall retain the title of Duchess of Wintera and, when a new Crown Prince is chosen, shall become his consort.”
The aging Emperor had no other children besides the late Crown Prince.
The next Crown Prince would be one of the Emperor’s two nephews: Archduke Illid or Archduke Hellion.
No one knew which of the two would be chosen. Therefore, Ishtel herself could not know which man would become her husband.
Thus began her life in the imperial palace.
She lived there as the strange figure of a Crown Princess-to-be without a Crown Prince.
“I intend to summon both Illid and Hellion to the palace before the year is out.”
In the Emperor’s study, His Majesty’s voice was heavy with weariness as he gazed out the window.
“Three years have already passed. It is time to let that child go. We cannot leave the position of Crown Prince vacant any longer……”
The Emperor trailed off, then turned to her with a faint smile.
“And above all, I do not wish to see you remain a widow any longer, Ishtel.”
The Emperor had doted on the son he had gained late in life.
After the Crown Prince’s death, he had refused food for days, staring at the sky as though searching for his son. He collapsed repeatedly during audiences with the nobility. In the end, his health deteriorated so severely that he was left with a limp in one leg.
Through all of it, she had remained at his side.
In an imperial household without an Empress or Crown Prince, she had been the person closest to the Emperor.
Whenever he collapsed, she nursed him. When walking grew difficult, she supported him before the nobility. When his condition prevented him from holding court, she attended in his stead, discussing imperial affairs with the nobles.
Though they were not formally father-in-law and daughter-in-law, their bond ran deeper than family. She served him with all her heart, and he trusted and cherished her in return.
“Ishtel.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I hope those boys will find favor in your eyes.”
Just before she left the study, the Emperor added with a touch of humor,
“And if you should come to favor one of them, tell me. Who knows? I may just name him Crown Prince.”
She laughed heartily at the jest.
There was no love in imperial marriages. Each party used the other as a political tool, and no one expected affection from a tool.
The Emperor’s words were simply his way of saying, “Inform me if you find one more suitable than the other.”
“Your Grace, the Duchess of Wintera!”
On the way back to her quarters, someone called out to her in haste. Turning, she saw one of the palace gatekeepers hurrying toward her, clearly bearing urgent news.
“There is someone outside the walls who wishes to meet with Your Grace.”
“Is that so? Who are they?”
“Well…… they refuse to state their identity.”
She tilted her head, puzzled.
If the visitor were a noble, they could pass the gates without difficulty. If a commoner, they could follow proper procedure to request an audience. But meeting her without revealing one’s status was impossible.
“They have been waiting for three days already. They refuse to eat or drink, insisting they will starve to death if they cannot see the Duchess. And……”
The gatekeeper’s expression grew even more troubled. He bit his lip as though debating whether to speak, then held out a crumpled piece of paper.
“They asked that this be delivered to Your Grace without fail.”
She unfolded the paper the gatekeeper offered.
To my dear cousin,
Only that single line was written. She turned the paper over, but there was nothing more.
“She hardly seemed like a cousin of Your Grace. Her appearance was so filthy and wretched that approaching her was unpleasant. She had no maid with her, as any noble would. She is not listed in the noble registry, and without a name……”
“Hmm……”
“What would you have me do, Your Grace?”
Arms folded, she tried to recall her many relatives one by one, but none came to mind. Then she remembered something a noblewoman had mentioned recently: a distant relative had been swindled and left penniless overnight.
Come to think of it, there had been a few impressionable young cousins among her distant kin. Could it be one of them?
“I will know when I see her face.”
She instructed the gatekeeper to lead the way and headed for the main gate with only her nanny, Molly, and the head maid, Abigail. If her guess was correct, the girl would be in a deeply embarrassing situation; there was no need to draw a crowd.
“Who could it be, my lady?”
The short, stout nanny asked as she hurried after Ishtel on her short legs.
“I know every member of your family, yet I cannot think of a single person.”
“Neither can I.”
Ishtel and Molly exchanged glances and shrugged in unison.
“There she is.”
When the gate opened, the gatekeeper pointed outside.
A woman roughly Ishtel’s age stood there. Ishtel approached her.
With every step, she understood why the gatekeepers had left the woman outside for three days.
Her appearance was wretched and filthy.
The hem of her dress was so worn that its original color was impossible to discern. The hat perched on her head was comically crushed, and her mud-caked shoes were little more than tattered scraps of leather.
This was not the look of someone who had lost everything recently. She had been living this way for a very long time.
Yet she also understood why the gatekeepers had ultimately been unable to turn her away.
Despite her sun-darkened skin, dirt-caked nails, and tangled, broom-like silver hair, her face was strikingly beautiful. Especially her amber eyes, which glowed like molten gold and drew the gaze irresistibly. Ishtel had never seen a woman among the nobility or young ladies who possessed such beauty.
Standing face-to-face, Ishtel studied her once more. Still, she found no resemblance to any of her relatives.
“This is Her Grace, the Duchess of Wintera. Show proper respect!”
When the woman merely blinked at her, a guard barked the order. Only then did she seem to come to her senses and drop to her knees.
“I greet Your Grace!”
“I do not recognize your face.”
Ishtel held out the crumpled paper.
“Explain this. What exactly does it mean?”
“It means exactly what it says, Your Grace.”
The woman continued to claim she was Ishtel’s cousin.
Was she truly mad? Her appearance was ragged, but she did not seem deranged……
“Perhaps……”
The woman rummaged inside her tattered dress.
“Will this explain it?”
She extended her hand.
In it was a necklace identical to the one around Ishtel’s own neck.