The Cost of Naivety
Had her lover hailed from an honorable house of noble standing, and had he truly respected her, they might have risked the Emperor's disfavor to marry and flee far from the capital. But her paramour had been nothing more than a commoner knight. It might have been a different story altogether had she resolved never to debut in high society and instead taken his hand to vanish into the night, but Imperial Consort Elaine possessed a beauty hailed as the greatest in the entire empire—a radiant splendor impossible to hide. Worse, her family had stood poised at a moment's notice to auction her off to the highest bidder.
Blinded by youthful love to the harsh reality before her, she had been foolish; believing her own sacrifice would keep her lover alive had been sheer naivety. And within the imperial palace, naivety meant death.
"Bearing the child of none other than His Imperial Majesty while warming his bed—she should have known from the start that her former lover would lose his head!"
Had Titania been born a son, Consort Cleo would have disposed of him in utter secrecy without leaving a trace. But she was a daughter. Because of that, the imperial family had been able to force an engagement upon the Castrein Duchy, which had been under relentless political fire regarding the late duchess's ambiguous lineage.
The biological mother of the three Castrein brothers—the late duchess—had never once set foot in the capital. She had never laid eyes on the Emperor, nor had she attended a single banquet. Her official record listed her as the daughter of an ancient northern barony, but anyone with eyes could see through the clumsy fabrication. Nearly every noble in the capital whispered behind closed doors: had the great Duke Castrein fallen so deeply for a lowborn woman that he bought her a pedigree and shoved her into the seat of duchess? When she died after bearing three sons, the court pressured the duke incessantly to take a "proper" noblewoman as his bride and produce a legitimate heir. Yet the duke stubbornly held his ground, refusing to remarry.
Seeing an opening, the imperial family pounced. The duchess's questionable heritage was a fatal flaw hanging over the heirs, so the palace offered a bargain: they would suppress the scandalous rumors surrounding the late duchess's birth if the duke took the Imperial Princess as the bride of the young duke. After all, what would the dead duchess's bloodline matter once an imperial princess married into the family, purifying their line with sovereign blood? Gritting their teeth, the Castrein family swallowed the bitter deal, adding only one condition: the formal wedding would be held only after both children came of age.
Ironically, this arrangement demanded that Titania's own birth remain immaculate beyond a shadow of a doubt. Once inside the imperial palace, Elaine had never crossed paths with an outside man, and a reunion with her old flame was utterly unthinkable. By all accounts, Titania was unquestionably the Emperor's daughter. Yet she had arrived far too early, never carrying to a full ten months. If the Castrein Duchy ever used that discrepancy as leverage to accuse the princess of being born from an adulterous affair rather than the Emperor's own seed, the palace would face an insurmountable disaster. True or false, the mere whisper of such an accusation would be catastrophic. Thus, Elaine's lover had been doomed to die from the very beginning.
Perhaps things might have unfolded differently had Elaine refused entry into the imperial palace to her dying breath and taken her own life. Then again, had she done so, the Emperor's bruised pride would likely have driven him to hunt down her lover and slaughter him all the same. It was understandable, in a way, why Elaine resented her daughter so bitterly. Even so, it was precisely because Elaine was this pathetic, foolish, and weak that Cleo allowed her to draw breath in the first place.
"Is there still no word from the Empress's quarters?"
"Forgive me, Your Highness. None of the servants we planted have sent any new reports."
If Elaine wasn't behind this recent commotion, that left only the Empress. Yet Castrein's open presence in the Lilac Palace, nursing Titania under the Empress's roof, raised countless suspicions of its own. The Empress was far too cunning and cautious to leave loose threads behind. Moreover, Titania was still the Emperor's daughter; if any harm befell her inside the Lilac Palace, the Empress would bear full responsibility. Was there truly a gain worth shouldering such immense risk?
Cleo's eyes narrowed with cold malice.
"Has Titania awakened?"
"Forgive me, Your Highness. There has been no visible change in the Lilac Palace."
"Round up every single servant working in the Rose Palace. Flog them, dunk them into the wells—do whatever it takes to drag them before me starved, sleep-deprived, and half-naked."
"It shall be done."
"If the frog refuses to emerge from its hole, you need only take a spear to the den."
Cleo smiled, satisfied with her cruelty.
"How are you feeling?"
"Well enough that I'm wondering if I ought to worry about the High Priest's health more than my own."
At my dry reply, Adrian broke into a warm smile.
"I'm truly glad you look so well."
"I heard you were looking for me."
"Well, it wasn't anything grand..."
I stared blankly at Adrian's sheepish expression. That "nothing grand" was the reclusive imperial prince openly seeking aid from the young master of Castrein. Had I not been with Bibi and instead merely playing hide-and-seek somewhere in the far corners of the palace grounds, his face would have been ground into dust. Even for Adrian, it must have been a desperate gamble based on a mere hunch.
"Still, thank you. I imagine that's why I'm resting in the Lilac Palace right now."
"Oh, is that so?"
I shrugged lightly.
"You know how absurdly decisive the Castrein family can be. They would've thrown out every servant in the Rose Palace and marched straight into my quarters, or... God forbid, barged into the Licorice Palace. Or they might have fabricated some excuse to smuggle me out of the imperial grounds altogether."
Every single one of those scenarios made my skin crawl. Being here was infinitely better. Adrian wouldn't expect much from me, nor would I demand much from him. Two people standing against the imperial consort, trading mutual conveniences—that delicate distance was just right.
"...I assumed your relationship with Castrein was terrible. But seeing them this time..."
"That family is too powerful for its own good, which means they've never received help from anyone."
Adrian blinked at my composed tone.
"They have no allies, only enemies in every direction. They survived in a den of ravenous ghouls looking to extract double the price for every trivial crumb of kindness. So when it comes to genuine, unadulterated goodwill... they're absurdly weak."
Pathetically weak, really. Not that many people alive could offer meaningful help to the mighty Castreins in the first place. Even so, wasn't this reaction a bit excessive?
I swallowed the sigh threatening to slip past my lips. No, saving Bibi was the right call. Even if I turned back time, I'd do the exact same thing. There's no point in regretting an unchangeable past.
"You really... seem to know a great deal about the Castrein family."
At Adrian's remark, I let out an exasperated sigh. Are you feeling better? Does it hurt anywhere else? Should we summon another priest? You haven't eaten a proper meal in days, what can we prepare for you? If the young lady would name her preferred fabrics, we can tailor new dresses right away...
After enduring that chaotic swarm of doting fuss, I had only managed to secure this precious solitude by shouting for everyone to leave except the son of the palace's owner. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—Bibi had to return to the ducal estate, Raymon had to escort her, and the family's resident mad dog had been dragged away mid-shriek: "I just wrapped up my work, at least let me see her face...! Brother, what the hell?! Let me look at her face, gh—!"
Though my body felt light as a feather, my mental state had been pushed to its absolute limit, making their departure a blessing. Piecing together the reports, I had genuinely stood at death's door. The Castreins had rushed me to the Lilac Palace, essentially kidnapped—no, aggressively commandeered—the High Priest, and flown in every rare elixir across the empire to pull me back.
That was an entire week ago.
My physical wounds had healed completely within a single day. The High Priest and the imperial physicians had all testified that I was in peak condition. Yet because I failed to regain consciousness, everyone had hovered in sheer panic, keeping a round-the-clock vigil beside my bed. No one knew when I might wake or if some sudden relapse might strike.
Treating an imperial princess inside the palace without showing an ounce of deference to the Emperor, the Castrein retinue had entrenched themselves firmly within the Lilac Palace—and the Emperor hadn't dared touch them. Everyone knew the engagement was purely nominal, yet Raymon had boldly asserted, "Is there an issue with a fiancé tending to his betrothed?" Because they were holed up inside the Empress's residence, the Emperor couldn't simply force his way through.
In short, the Lilac Palace had spent the last week in a de facto state of total lockdown. Naturally, not a single shred of news regarding my condition had leaked to the outside world.
I let out a hollow laugh.
"So that's why such a complete shitshow erupted out there..."
Looking at my enlightened expression, Adrian chuckled heartily.
"Tell me about it!"
Listen here, Your Highness. This really isn't the time to be cheerfully chirping, 'Tell me about it!'