Chapter 52
Peyton greeted her energetically, his delight clearly written on his face.
Adrian had his back turned, while Edith was facing forward. Tears were still clinging to the corners of his eyes. She couldn’t let Peyton see his tear-streaked face.
Edith quickly stepped in front of Adrian to block him.
“What brings you here, Peyton? I didn’t hear that you were coming to the palace.”
“I was originally scheduled to meet His Highness, but I’m heading back empty-handed.”
“Oh dear, you must not have heard. His Highness is in his rut cycle. All his schedules have been canceled for a few days.”
“I was informed in advance that the audience had been canceled.”
“Then why…?”
“I heard that from this cycle onward, His Highness would be with an omega. I was secretly hoping to see him in good health.”
His answer felt unsettling. If viewed generously, it sounded like concern for the Crown Prince and a desire to gauge the palace atmosphere. But in a less charitable light, it was practically snooping.
He had come to spy on how Clyde was living with his omega lover.
And Adrian was here, not in the Crown Prince’s bedroom. That only increased the reasons she couldn’t let Peyton notice Adrian’s gloomy expression.
Edith folded her hands defensively in front of her and spoke coldly.
“How His Highness spends his cycle is, strictly speaking, classified imperial information. Even if you happened to hear something privately, there’s nothing I can tell you.”
That the Crown Prince was a dominant alpha who still kept no omega by his side was fairly well known among the powerful nobles. Royal health was supposed to be top secret, but reality was different.
Even so, Peyton’s blatant probing, as if he already knew everything, was inappropriate.
“Ah, please don’t misunderstand. I wasn’t trying to extract anything from you, Edith.”
“If that’s the case, I’m relieved.”
“Clearing one’s schedule during a cycle is common for most alphas and omegas, not just His Highness. That’s all I meant.”
Edith tried to relax her hardened expression. There was nothing to gain by picking a fight here.
“Anyway, it’s unfortunate you had to come all this way only to leave like this. The palace will contact you later to arrange a new audience date.”
Peyton smiled gently, narrowing his eyes slightly, clearly trying to soften the tense atmosphere.
“By the way… isn’t that Sir Raymond with you?”
Adrian’s hair color was so distinctive that Peyton recognized him instantly, even from behind. Edith tried to block his view, but it was useless.
Adrian turned around and stood up.
“Greetings, Count Graves. It is an honor to meet you like this.”
Already back to his usual complexion, Adrian exchanged polite greetings with Peyton. For a while, they spoke courteously, each hiding their own wariness.
“Sir Raymond, is it really all right for you not to be with His Highness?”
“I just came down from the bedroom a moment ago. I needed some rest myself. I would appreciate it if you didn’t ask for details.”
“Ah, yes. My apologies.”
Despite Edith having already warned him, Peyton continued to probe deliberately.
At this point, it was practically a declaration that he intended to keep the Crown Prince in check. His family belonged to the old aristocracy and had plenty of reason to oppose the imperial family, yet he showed no intention of resolving that tension.
Adrian asked politely,
“May I take my leave first? I’m rather busy for various reasons.”
His tone made it sound as though he should return to Clyde now. Edith knew he wouldn’t actually go back upstairs, but she played along.
“Right. Artie, go on.”
“See you later, Edith.”
As Adrian walked away, Peyton narrowed his eyes slightly, watching his retreating figure.
Compared to how he had been when she met him as a potential marriage partner, Peyton now seemed very different. She could clearly sense the air of a powerful noble about him.
The old aristocracy possessed many entrenched privileges and had no need to bow to the imperial family. Rather than submit quietly, they sought profit through conflict and strife, sometimes deliberately provoking the Crown Prince. It was all strategy and calculation.
Peyton’s gaze shifted from Adrian to Edith, as though he had chosen a new target.
“You seem quite close to Sir Raymond, Edith. You called him by name very familiarly.”
“I’ve known Artie since the academy.”
“Have you been close since then?”
It felt like an interrogation. Not wanting to give him any leverage, she answered vaguely.
“Students tend to be friendly with everyone.”
At the same time, she mentally deducted forty points from Peyton’s already mediocre score.
She resolved to find an appropriate time to end the marriage talks. The financial conditions were good, but their outlook on the world was too different for comfortable conversation.
And she couldn’t forget the people at his estate practicing deliberately missing their targets. Edith, who wanted to hold a successful shooting tournament, and Peyton, who schemed to sabotage it, were far too different to become spouses.
Unaware of her thoughts, Peyton extended his hand courteously.
“If you have time, would you go out with me again today?”
Saying she was busy with work wouldn’t do. Peyton knew perfectly well that Clyde was confined to his bedroom. So she made another excuse.
“I’m afraid I’m not feeling very well.”
“Oh dear, what’s wrong?”
“Just… here and there.”
He waited for her to continue.
She was about to claim she had a cold, but another idea came to mind and she changed course.
“I’m just hurting in a few places.”
His face filled with alarm.
“Where, and how badly are you injured? Edith, are you all right?”
Concern overflowed in Peyton’s eyes as his gaze swept over her body.
“It’s not serious. See? I’m walking around just fine.”
“Still, I’m worried. Edith, you should go back to your room and rest instead of staying here.”
“Yes. I think I will.”
“I’m truly curious where and how badly you were hurt.”
Edith’s work uniform was made of stiff outer fabric. Even with some bandages underneath, nothing showed.
She only gave him a small smile and said nothing.
“When you’re feeling better, please be sure to contact me. I’ll come see you again.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry to send you off like this.”
After saying goodbye, Peyton walked away across the lawn visible beyond the cafeteria. He kept turning back, clearly still worried.
But once Edith was alone, her face crumpled.
She had tested him lightly, and Peyton had revealed something without realizing it.
She had only said she was hurting “here and there.” That could be interpreted in many ways—usually things like sore shoulders or general aches.
But Peyton had immediately spoken of injuries.
Injuries were rare for a noble serving as an imperial aide. That alone made her suspicious. It could only mean that Peyton had already anticipated she would be injured.
He hadn’t even asked where she was hurt first. What he wanted to know was exactly which part of her body, and how badly.
“That’s creepy. Seriously.”
Could the sniper who had tried to kill her at the back gate of the arena have been acting on Peyton’s orders? It wasn’t impossible.
But Peyton’s concern for her had seemed genuine.
Perhaps it had been the work of another noble from the same faction. They met often enough that Peyton might have heard rumors.
“I can’t tell what Peyton really wants. Whether he wants me as his wife… or dead.”
When had he learned that she would participate in the shooting tournament? When she visited his estate last time, he had seemed completely unaware. If he had known, he wouldn’t have left the deliberately flawed targets lying around.
The identity of the sniper’s mastermind was still unclear.
But whoever it was had tried to kill her. That alone proved she was considered a serious obstacle.
Her sense of caution sharpened. She finally understood why Clyde had emphasized vigilance so strongly. He had always tried to keep her within the Crown Prince’s protective sphere, and now she could see why.
* * *
Late that night, Peyton met a renowned astrologer.
He was a master whose services were available only through special connections.
The fortune-teller was especially famous for reading the flow of the stars.
People said that star divination—deciphering the principles indicated by the heavens—was the most reliable and well-grounded form of prophecy.
Peyton explained everything about Edith in detail to the astrologer. He didn’t necessarily intend to act exactly according to the reading; it was more to ease his mind before carrying out important plans.
The astrologer, whose eyes were milky white, gazed up at the sky. They could see nothing around them—only the stars.
“That omega was injured?”
The fortune-teller asked, idly tapping his fingers inside the long sleeves of his robe.
“It’s not confirmed that she’s an omega. That’s just my guess.”
“She is.”
“You think so too?”
“And she wasn’t injured. She’s very clear and bright.”
Peyton let out a low exclamation and listened intently.
Edith certainly had looked fine. So her claim of being hurt hadn’t referred to the incident at the arena gate? Then the blood found there must have belonged to someone else.
At the time, he had been horrified to learn that Count Ditrian had sent an assassin. There had been no time to stop it.
Peyton had only learned about it after everything had already happened—about Edith entering the shooting tournament, and about the secret assassination attempt. He had been utterly shocked.
The reason he had come to the palace today was to see how she was doing.
“Are you sure Edith is healthy?”
The astrologer replied irritably.
“She might have a scratch no bigger than an eye-booger. Do I have to account for trivial things like that too? If you’re going to doubt me over this, just go home.”
“No, continue.”
The astrologer, who rarely used tools, pulled out a crystal ball the size of his fist and projected the stars into it with eyes that could not see.
“Huh… That person named Edith…”
