The Funeral
The Marchioness of Lilche had an exceptionally keen intuition. That was likely why she had sensed her own death approaching and quietly put her affairs in order ahead of time.
Grandmother closed her eyes peacefully while her family watched over her. She slipped away as gently as if falling into a calm sleep. It had begun as a cold, but given her advanced age, it was more fitting to call it a passing from old age.
Grandmother had left instructions not to cry at her funeral. She was simply going to meet the husband who had gone before her, she said, so they should send her off with glad hearts. Yet that was the one request her family could not fulfill.
The one who grieved most bitterly was Zahr. Though Grandmother had often scolded her eldest grandson, she had treasured him like a sore finger she could not bear to lose. Knowing this, Zahr had always treated her with warm affection.
When the coffin bearing Grandmother left the mansion and made its way to the nearby chapel, Zahr followed it with wrenching sobs. Even my sister-in-law, her belly now quite rounded, wiped away tears at the thought of her. Countess Silanda, who rarely ventured out, brought Rubia with her to the marquis’s residence for this one day.
A steady stream of nobles came to pay their respects. The heads of every house wished to attend the funeral so they could witness the final moments of the Marchioness of Lilche, whose life had been full of turbulence and drama.
Yet the Marchioness, who had declared she wanted no noise even in death, had instructed that all but a few families she was personally close to should send wreaths or letters in place of attending. As a result, most of the nobles who had traveled all the way to the gates of the marquis’s residence simply turned back.
Still, for reasons known only to her, she had accepted the condolences from the Bladin family. Ebony Bladin arrived as their representative. Her expression was unusually solemn, quite unlike her usual sly, mocking look.
Did her half-siblings push her into coming?
Seeing Ebony wrapped in a black cape brought to mind the letter Grandmother had once shown me—the letter from the Bladin family that exposed Ebony’s secrets. I would need to give serious thought to how I should use both that letter and the promissory note Grandmother had left behind.
The imperial family sent mourners as well. They were not members of the royal house, however, but the high priest and several clerics dispatched by imperial command.
Royals do not visit private homes to offer condolences unless they are close kin. Had I been the official crown princess, my husband the crown prince would have come, but under the present circumstances, neither Hellion nor Illid could appear.
The funeral proceeded in an atmosphere of heavy solemnity. The priests conducted the service while a somber dirge filled the chapel. The family stood around Grandmother, who lay inside the glass coffin, offering prayers with reverent hearts.
As the high priest’s prayer continued, Zahr’s quiet weeping grew more intense. The verses that usually sounded merely tedious and monotonous now echoed with such heartbreaking sorrow that I could not fathom why. Even Yulian, who had been fighting to hold back his grief, had red-rimmed eyes by the time the prayer drew to a close.
“The baby is due any day now. Why did she have to leave so soon?”
Zahr sniffled, unable to pull his hand away from the glass coffin.
Rosien and Enrique, still too young to understand death, stared at Grandmother inside the coffin with puzzled faces. They asked their mother why Grandmother was sleeping in front of everyone like that. Faced with their innocent questions, Sylvia could not find an answer.
Among the children, the youngest—Rubia—stood on tiptoe, imitating her older cousins. But the coffin was too high for her small eyes to reach.
“Rubia, step back, darling.”
Countess Silanda cautioned her daughter, who had placed her hand on the coffin. Unlike Zahr, who had lifted his sons so they could bid Grandmother a final farewell, the countess would not let Rubia see her.
Is it because of Rubia’s eyes?
It seemed the countess believed that even in death Grandmother would not wish to look upon the Yellow Eyes.
Yet Grandmother had adored Rubia while she lived. Even if the child carried the blood of someone she had hated her entire life, that was not Rubia’s fault. She deserved the chance to say goodbye.
“Rubia.”
“Aunt!”
Rubia beamed when she saw me. Like her cousins, she called me “Aunt.”
“Will you come here for a moment?”
At my call, she ran over and wrapped her arms around me. I lifted her up and carried her closer to the coffin. Rubia gazed at Grandmother’s peacefully sleeping face, then whispered into my ear.
“Aunt, Mother told me that now I won’t be able to see Grandmother again until a very, very long time has passed. So the next time I meet her, I’m going to say thank you.”
“Thank you for what?”
“For telling me my eyes are pretty.”
The little girl whispered in her small voice, then shyly wound her arms around my neck.
So Grandmother had said those words to her.
People would remember only the young Belona Regentera racing across battlefields. They would assume her old age had been just as merciless and cruel as her youth.
But the Grandmother I knew was not that person. The reason she had placed Karina before the guillotine had not been to kill her after all—it had been to protect me.
I looked down at Rubia in my arms. Those golden eyes, identical to Karina’s. The very eyes of Faviel and his mother that Grandmother had despised so fiercely.
And yet, through Rubia, it seemed Grandmother had finally washed away that long, bitter enmity.
Could I ever do the same?
The question rose unbidden. Would a day come when I could look into eyes like Karina’s—eyes exactly like Rubia’s—without any hatred or sorrow left inside me?
After setting Rubia down, I stood before the glass coffin. Slowly I bowed my head and whispered to the sleeping Grandmother as though pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“Farewell, Belona Regentera.”
The day Grandmother passed away happened to fall three days before my birthday. I had always preferred to spend my birthdays quietly, so I had planned to share a simple meal with my family this year as well. But the date overlapped with her encoffining ceremony, and the plan came to nothing.
It’s for the best. Gathering on such a sorrowful day would only weigh everyone’s hearts down further.
When I stepped out of the chapel and looked through the window, a full moon hung in the sky. The day had passed in such a blur that I had not noticed how late it had grown.
But why did Grandmother leave me those particular words?
A few hours earlier, Yulian had made Grandmother’s will public. While my older brother had received a long letter filled with advice and gentle scoldings, the note left for me contained only a single line.
If any difficult matters arise, go to the Temple and find Malipa.
— Belona Regentera-Lilche
Malipa was an old acquaintance of the Marchioness of Lilche and a priestess at the Temple. I had seen her a few times as a child, but she had never been a particularly pleasant person. While I wondered why Grandmother had left such instructions, I secretly hoped I would never have reason to seek Malipa out.
I dragged my weary body toward my room.
Yet the closer I came, the stranger the sounds I heard. It was something between bickering and laughter.
Who could be here at this hour?
I opened the door cautiously. Through the gap I saw Rosien and Enrique. The two children were quarreling over something between them.
“What are you two doing in here?”
When I threw the door wide, a startled Enrique spun around. The object the boys had been fighting over tore cleanly in two. In their hands was a ripped book.
“Oh no!”
A panicked voice came from the direction of the fireplace. It was not Rubia’s voice, but a man’s.
Startled, I turned toward the sound. At once a large hand shot out and clamped firmly over my mouth.
“Ishtel, it’s me.”
A familiar voice reached me as my body tensed in shock. I lifted my gaze to the man above me.
“Hellion?”
Hellion slowly withdrew his hand. He stared at Rosien and Enrique with a stunned expression—specifically at the book the children had torn.
“The prince told you to look at it together nicely,” Rubia scolded from where she sat on the edge of the bed, arms folded. The thoroughly chastened Rosien and Enrique shuffled over to Hellion and held out the ruined book.
“We’re sorry, Your Highness.”
“We did wrong.”
Hellion accepted the book and froze on the spot as though time itself had stopped. The sight of him standing there like a massive statue frightened his nephews, who scurried behind me and hid.
“What is going on? Hellion, why are you here? And how did you even get in?”
The open window told me he had climbed the wall in secret once again. I kept pressing for an explanation, but Hellion seemed deaf to my words, still reeling from the shock of the torn book.
“Aunt, we came to your room because we wanted to play with you, but the prince was already here,” clever little Rubia explained carefully.
“When we asked who he was, he said he was a fairy who came to give you a secret present, Aunt.”
“A fairy…?”
“Yes. Then older brother Rosien teased him, saying there couldn’t be a fairy that big. So he said that actually he was a prince.”
A fairy and a prince. It seemed that Hellion, having sneaked into my room, had spun whatever story came to mind to keep the children quiet.
Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. He may not be a fairy, but he is a prince.
I was still dazed by the sudden turn of events. I looked at Rosien and Enrique.
“But why did you two tear the prince’s belonging?”
When I asked, Rosien pointed at his younger brother, puffing with indignation.
“Aunt, I asked the prince to show me the present, but Enrique ran off with the box!”
“No, older brother was trying to look at it by himself! The prince said we should look at it together!”
Enrique refused to back down and shouted back at his brother. Their voices were growing louder. If I let this continue, one of them might cry out and wake the entire household. Then everyone would know Hellion was here.
“Stop fighting this instant and apologize to the prince first.”
I pushed the children toward Hellion. The elder, Rosien, stepped forward and bowed deeply.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I won’t carelessly touch someone else’s things again.”
“Me too.”
Enrique, still clumsy with words, simply echoed his brother.
Hellion nodded with a half-dazed expression. He looked as if he lacked even the strength to speak.
“All right, both of you go back to your rooms and sleep now. Hellion, wait here a moment.”
I took the children’s hands and left the room.