Chapter 26
How much time had passed?
The briefly calmed atmosphere outside grew noisy again.
Just then, the blare of horns announcing the start of the tournament rang out.
Dmitri, who had been leaning on Ariella for a while, rose to his feet.
“It’s time to go.”
Ariella snapped out of her daze at his words and slipped her hand into her bodice.
Soft fabric brushed against her fingers, but she couldn’t summon the courage to pull it out.
“Um…”
He waited patiently for her hesitation to pass.
Gathering her resolve, she slowly drew out the item she had prepared.
“This isn’t much, but…”
Dmitri’s eyes fell on the handkerchief that emerged from her breast.
“You tucked one of those strange things in again today?”
“It’s not that one!”
She shouted in a burst, only to realise he was wearing a mischievous smile.
Her eyes narrowed on their own, yet somehow she felt relieved.
“I embroidered this myself. Whatever else you say, my embroidery skills are the one thing that can’t be faulted.”
She unfolded it, showing off the beautiful white butterfly that seemed about to take flight, and held it out to him.
She hoped for some response, but he said nothing.
Growing anxious, Ariella bit hard on the inside of her lip.
She thought they had grown close, but maybe not close enough to exchange such things.
Perhaps he thought it was only something lovers would give each other, and felt awkward.
“Everyone knows Your Highness is married, so it might look strange if you have nothing at all…”
Chased by his silence, she began to babble.
“I didn’t mean it with any special meaning, it’s just… I wanted you to be safe today. See, here’s the butterfly. I’ve always loved white butterflies…”
Before she could finish, Dmitri stepped behind her, retrieved his lance, and returned.
“I tie it here, don’t I?”
The lance stood before her, nearly as tall as she was.
“That’s… what I’ve heard.”
Her voice dwindled strangely small.
When she faltered and failed to tie the handkerchief, he took it gently from her hands.
The pale blue cloth slipped easily from her grasp, embroidered butterfly fluttering as if it had taken wing.
He tied the handkerchief himself at the base of the lance.
Against the fearsome weapon, the delicate white butterfly looked pitifully fragile.
At that moment, Dmitri dropped to one knee before her.
Startled—so shocked she nearly fainted—Ariella stumbled back.
Could the knees of a tyrant truly bend so easily?
Watching her alarmed reaction, Dmitri allowed a faint smile.
“What… what are you doing?”
He lifted his head and locked eyes with her.
The light in them, once playful and bright, sank deep and solemn.
She was caught, bound fast in his gaze.
The drifting light around them, the roar of noise that dulled her ears—everything else fell away.
“I’m glad, Ariella.”
“S-so…?”
“You have shown me the token of a beloved.
I must return it with the vow of a knight.”
“Be… beloved?”
He shrugged his shoulders lightly.
Then, lowering the lance to the ground, he took her hand in his.
Hot lips brushed against her pale knuckles.
It struck her like lightning, her whole body reeling.
Ariella looked down at him, struggling to steady her ragged breath.
“By the name of Achliteri, I swear—today’s victory, I will dedicate to you.”
He was like the sun.
Kneeling on the ground, yet meeting her with blazing eyes.
A burning sun that devoured the darkness, vowing his triumph to Ariella.
Dmitri’s lips curved in a teasing smile.
Perhaps in jest, perhaps not.
Looking upon his beautiful face, Ariella felt as though she had been flung back centuries.
Had Count Nolan, the first Emperor, also possessed eyes dark as hell itself, swearing devotion to the woman he loved?
Ariella’s back straightened unconsciously.
Even though she was not Nolan’s beloved.
Even from above, looking down, he was flawless.
Kneeling, he still seemed to reign.
He was the very image of an emperor-to-be.
And in this moment, gazing down at so exalted a Dmitri, Ariella felt she could grant him everything.
His scars, his cruelty, and even the victory he would claim.
***
Ariella took her seat in the stands reserved for the royals.
In the centre of the arena stretched a long wooden fence, flanked on both sides by hard-packed earth, ready to thunder beneath charging hooves.
At each end of the fence, knights stood waiting with their horses.
They wore gleaming armour, draped in silken cloth bearing their family crests, heavy lances in hand.
Even the saddles and bridles were carefully adorned, giving the impression they might charge into battle at any moment.
The emperor lounged in his gilded chair, watching the field with leisurely ease.
Beside him, the empress’s face betrayed no hint of emotion.
“Begin.”
At his command, trumpets blared and the crowd erupted into cheers.
The two knights spurred their horses, reins taut, speed building with thunderous force.
The pounding of hooves cracked against the earth like rolling thunder.
When the clash ended and the victor was clear, sighs rose here and there.
Today marked the final day of the tournament.
When Ariella had first appeared at the arena, the crowd’s attention had been immense.
Every small movement she made was shadowed by relentless stares.
Even so, she had not been able to leave.
After three days, their fervour dulled somewhat.
At last, she could focus on the matches.
Then, a roar unlike any before split the air.
It meant Dmitri had arrived.
Once again, the people called his name in unison.
“Dmitri! Dmitri!”
The passion rivalled even the heat of summer itself.
Ariella glanced toward the emperor’s dais.
He rubbed his forehead as though plagued by a headache.
She drew her gaze away and fixed it instead on the black banner unfurling its power.
The dragon painted there calmed her restless heart.
When she had been locked in the tower, she had never imagined so many people lived within the imperial city.
It felt as if the entire populace had gathered here.
As last year’s champion, Dmitri had a bye to the semifinals, yet he chose to compete from the very start.
And so, for three days straight, he had fought each round.
Her worries that the heat or his wounds might worsen had proven needless—he delivered victory after victory.
“Waaaah!”
Another strike from Dmitri landed.
As proof of his offensive style, he always overwhelmed his opponents in a single blow.
Each time his lance shattered with a deafening crack, wooden shards flew everywhere, stealing the breath from her lungs.
Once, a jagged splinter pierced through an opponent’s armour seam, leaving a grievous wound.
Even though Dmitri wasn’t the one injured, her body tingled all over.
Every time he won, he raised his lance toward Ariella.
Each time, the sky-blue handkerchief fluttered in the air.
Because of it, whispers about the two of them filled the arena without end.
“The quarterfinals are next.”
Reina had stayed close behind Ariella throughout.
“His Highness the Crown Prince is truly remarkable.”
“He is.”
“To think a crown prince could be so beloved by the empire’s people.”
Though she normally disliked violence, today Reina was swept up like all the rest.
The entire imperial city spoke praises of Dmitri.
Reina was no exception—in fact, she seemed to lead the chorus.
Then she pointed toward the far end of the arena.
“That’s Prince Austin, isn’t it?”
Ariella nodded.
He was waiting for his turn.
“These days, the palace maids say, after His Highness the Crown Prince, it’s the prince they speak of most.”
“Why?”
“They say it’s a waste to keep the Flower of the North locked away.”
Austin had returned to the capital after years away.
The child he had been had grown into a striking youth.
His tall frame gave him the air of a young man, yet his tender smile still looked boyish.
He was charming enough to draw every eye.
“Don’t compare the border duke to a flower.
Be careful what you say.
Especially
you—you’d get in far more trouble.”
Did she not understand how terrifying these royals were?
“I know.
That’s why I only listen.
But really, he looks more suited to glittering society than the frozen North.”
Austin, who had promised to remain in the capital for the tournament, was proving himself well.
If he won this quarterfinal, he might
Face Dmitri.
It was not a good omen.
Ariella’s heart wished fiercely for his defeat.
And yet—why did the man she wanted to lose seem only to grow larger?
She wanted to deny it, but the truth was plain.
Austin was striding directly toward her.
*Don’t come.
Don’t come!*
