The Prince's Betrothed
"That is…"
The prince's voice was pleasant in every way that mattered. It felt strange to admit such a thing about another man, but listening to him long enough settled the heart and eased the mind. Thanks to that calm, even in the midst of crisis, Irsha—the prince's cousin—was able to recall with relative clarity the words his father had once spoken to him.
His father had always told him he lacked the makings of a ruler. That he was too hasty, too easily swayed, that he saw only what he wished to see.
If I had to pass the throne to you, I would sooner name my younger brother Shudo the next king.
Yes. His father had said those words.
Come to think of it, his father had never once acknowledged him. He had lived his whole life hearing that he was lacking, that he was a fool. And his father had been a man who drew a clean line between public duty and private affection. Being a son was never reason enough to inherit the crown. He had always placed the safety of the realm above the mere bonds of family.
And yet Irsha had believed the words of an untrustworthy retainer, slipped into the forest away from prying eyes, trained in martial arts, and awakened to the Four-Image Martial Arts—all because he could not bear to accept the truth. That he had not been chosen. That he lacked the qualifications of a king. That he had never earned his father's recognition.
So he had convinced himself that his father had been poisoned. If he believed that, he could look away from his own inadequacy. He soothed himself by pinning every failure on someone else.
Even entering this martial arts tournament had been for the sake of proving himself—that he was greater than the prince, that he was worthy, that his father had been wrong. And the result of all that was the situation he found himself in now. He had blustered foolishly, achieved nothing, and stood on the brink of death. The price of turning his eyes from the truth.
Irsha looked at the prince. Handsome, solidly built, his body honed by training, carrying a natural dignity befitting his station—everything Irsha himself was not.
"…Does that even matter? If you spare me, I'll only remain a threat to your family."
Accepting his failings now would mean nothing. No—it would only mean he had wasted all this time, so better not to admit it at all. Even if that was nothing more than covering his own eyes and pretending not to see.
"Then let me rephrase the question. I will spare your life here and now. In return, will you swear not to harm my family?"
Irsha thought the prince must be joking. He was about to refuse out of sheer pride when the prince's next words stopped him cold.
"Until you defeat me, that is."
"What?"
"You heard me clearly enough. I'm asking you to suspend your revenge against my house until the day you bring me down."
"…What are you playing at? No—more than that, what do you intend to do if I break my word?"
"Surely not. You'd throw your life away over something as simple as beating me? Or are you saying defeating me is so impossible that you'd have no choice but to break the promise?"
"…"
The prince had struck at his pride. After coming this far, Irsha could not say he was unable. Refusing the offer now would cast him not merely as a failed avenger, but as a coward. He had lost once, but his spirit had not broken.
"…You won't regret this?"
"Not in the slightest."
The prince glanced discreetly toward the king. The king furrowed his brow, yet nodded with reluctant assent.
"Thank you, Father."
"…See that he is given a place to rest."
At the king's command, soldiers loaded the cousin onto a stretcher and carried him away. Irsha had been uneasy at first, but exhaustion soon overtook him, and he surrendered himself to the soldiers with an air of resigned indifference.
"At first, from his voice and bearing, I thought he was around my age or even younger. But if he's Uncle's son, he must be a good ten years older than I am."
"He does look remarkably young, yes. But more importantly—why did you do that?"
Once only the three of them remained—son, father, and maternal uncle—the king put the question to the prince.
"I found him interesting. And it seemed a waste."
"Interesting? And what do you mean by a waste?"
"His skill. As a sparring partner… no, if we employed him as a general, wouldn't he be a tremendous asset to our military strength?"
"Even so, he is a double-edged sword. What will you do if he truly turns on you?"
"Then it would simply mean my own ability was lacking. But if things go well, I gain another ally. Call it instinct, if you like."
"…Very well. I suppose you have your reasons."
The king gave in quickly. Lately he could feel his strength draining away day by day. Even the effort of breaking another's stubborn will had become exhausting. He was old now—a setting sun. The prince, by contrast, was young: a rising sun. With each passing day, the vitality pouring off him grew more palpable. It was time to begin handing things over, one by one.
"Thank you, Father."
Once the prince had left, the king let out a long sigh. Alone with his brother-in-law, he began to grumble.
"When the prince was young, he listened so well. But the older he gets, the more I feel him slipping from my grasp. Does that mean my words no longer carry any authority?"
"High-spirited young men have never been ones to heed their parents, Your Majesty. You know this as well as I do. That is the natural order of things. If anything, we should be grateful he hasn't gone seriously astray until now."
"…Yes. You're right."
Raising a child was difficult, no matter the circumstances. Even now, the king sometimes wondered whether following the sage's counsel had been the right choice.
"I only pray my decision was not entirely wrong…"
He prayed, again and again, that his son would become a wise king—not an enlightened one who abandoned the world. A foolish father's wish.
Time passed, and the wedding ceremony was held.
Riding in a palanquin toward the palace, the princess ordered it stopped midway, drew aside the curtains, stepped out, and walked the rest of the way on her own two feet.
"Y-Your Highness the Crown Princess? You mustn't show your face yet!"
When the lady-in-waiting protested about wedding etiquette, the princess merely scoffed.
"Is there any need to hide a face without flaw?"
"Ah—well…"
What a forceful personality, the lady-in-waiting thought.
In any case, when she entered the palace, the prince was already waiting for her.
"…Don't tell me you walked the entire way here?"
"I rode the carriage up to this point, so there's no need to worry."
"Then why get out midway instead of riding all the way?"
"Because I wanted to see you even a little sooner, Your Highness. Or rather—I suppose I should call you Crown Prince now."
The prince let out a soft laugh at the girl's bold manner. After that, the two of them endured several tedious formalities and were officially joined as husband and wife.
Much to Inanna's chagrin, it was the prince's first marriage.
"Now that we're married, please speak comfortably with me."
"Gladly."
The prince dropped the formal register as though he'd been waiting for permission.
"You've probably already heard, but by my father's command, I cannot share a bed with the Crown Princess until I turn twenty-five. I'm grateful you agreed to marry me regardless—and sorry as well."
"Hmm. That's unexpected. I wouldn't have thought you'd care much about that sort of rule, Your Highness."
"You're not wrong. But this one is the exception. Following the sage's words will ease Father's anxiety. At this point, I figure that's the least a son can do."
"His Majesty's anxiety…?"
"Apparently if I know the pleasures of the flesh before I turn twenty-five, I'll renounce the world and become a monk."
"…I don't follow the logic."
"Neither do I, honestly."
"So we'll be sleeping in separate rooms for the next seven years?"
"That would be the case."
"Haa… Well, fine. I suppose marrying someone like you means accepting a few things. Still, they say time passes faster than you'd expect, so I'll take comfort in that."
"I'll say it again—thank you for understanding."
A brief silence settled between them before the princess spoke first.
"Come to think of it, Your Highness—just to be sure, do you know how old I am?"
"Hmm. I'd guess five or six years younger than me?"
"I'm sixteen. There's only a two-year gap between us."
"Ah…"
From that point on, the two of them talked more easily about this and that—idle chatter, plans for the future. It was nothing more than that, and yet the distance between them seemed to close considerably compared to before.
"It's about time we turned in."
"So it is."
"I'd like to talk longer, but staying up late when we're not even sharing a bed hardly befits a princess's dignity. I'll see you tomorrow, then—darling."
"D-Darling?"
The unfamiliar endearment left a peculiar look on the prince's face.
"I'll let it slide for now—but you'd best look forward to seven years from now."
With that, the Crown Princess walked toward her chambers with an elegant gait.
"…Girls are hard to understand."
The prince scratched the back of his head.
That he could not see Inanna's face twist as she watched it all unfold was, without question, the greatest stroke of luck in the prince's life.