Chapter 7
As the chief attendant had said, Ariella’s quarters were just a stone’s throw from the Crown Prince’s palace.
From her bedroom window, she could practically see the fountain where he had once been submerged.
At the appointed hour, Ariella walked over to his palace.
The spring garden lay in a deceptive calm, as if the events of midday had been nothing but a dream.
Inside, a coolness greeted her first, sharper than the air outside.
Dmitri’s palace resembled the man himself—lavish yet barren.
No warmth, no trace of life.
“Greetings, Your Highness the Crown Princess.
I am Lieutenant Eric Timothy.”
The one who came to guide her wasn’t a chamberlain or an aide, but a lieutenant.
It felt more like stepping onto a battlefield than entering a royal palace.
Now that she thought of it, she hadn’t seen many attendants from the garden up to the first floor.
“His Highness awaits you in his office.”
“Thank you, Sir Timothy.”
Rehearsing the purpose of her visit in her mind, Ariella climbed the stairs.
At the end of the second floor, the lieutenant knocked.
The door creaked open.
The desk was empty.
Only when she stepped inside did she spot Dmitri, perched on the windowsill in nothing but a white shirt.
The crimson sunset painted him in gold and fire.
He looked like a figure out of a masterpiece.
Beauty could be a dangerous thing she knew full well he was destined to become her mortal enemy, yet the thought didn’t erase the sense that she was standing before a living painting.
Slowly, he turned his gaze toward her.
Maybe it was because she’d seen him drowning, but now he seemed tinged with melancholy.
Like a faint watercolour washed in pale hues.
Up close, Dmitri straddled the line between boy and man.
How could someone so delicate, so fine-boned and sensitive-looking, be fated to stain the entire continent with blood?
A breeze from the window tousled his dark hair, and for a fleeting second, it felt as if time itself had shattered.
“Come in.”
He climbed down from the sill and approached her.
Ariella froze for a moment not at him, but at the massive, jet-black dog following silently at his heels.
“Don’t worry.
He’s gentle.”
She nodded.
Truthfully, she’d never had much fear of dogs.
As if sensing her thoughts, the animal showed no hostility.
With sleek, glossy fur and an elegant gait, the great hound mirrored his master’s presence.
When Dmitri sat down, the dog folded its long legs and settled beside him.
Such a simple sight, yet it caught Ariella’s breath.
There was warmth in the prince’s eyes as he looked at the animal.
Subtle, almost invisible but she saw it.
Warmth, in a man fated to be a tyrant.
The thought made her want to laugh in disbelief.
“What’s his name?”
“Grey.”
“He’s magnificent.
The name suits him.”
As if understanding the praise, Grey’s ears perked once.
After a few words about the dog, silence settled.
She had marched here boldly, but now that she was before him, words felt scarce.
Then Dmitri spoke first.
“You saw, didn’t you?”
“No.”
The answer slipped out before she could stop herself, and she bit the inside of her cheek.
What was she thinking, blurting out ‘No’ instead of asking ‘Saw what?’
Strangely, Dmitri didn’t press her.
Instead of demanding clarification, he simply let out a quiet, amused laugh.
“I didn’t watch on purpose.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
His eyes lowered, lashes so long they stole her breath.
Her own eyes prickled unexpectedly.
Ariella bit down on her lower lip.
“But aren’t you curious?
Why does His Majesty treat me that way?”
“It would be a lie to say I wasn’t.”
“The Emperor you revere so deeply he despises his son.”
Just like that?
He revealed such a weighty truth so easily?
“For… what reason?”
“Well…”
For the first time, he looked almost unsettled, as if he had never once considered the question himself.
His frown eased into a faint smile.
“Because he simply hates me.
Does hatred need a reason?”
That made no sense.
Hatred always had a cause.
For a fleeting moment, Ariella wondered if Dmitri wasn’t truly the Emperor’s son.
But except for the colour of their eyes, father and son looked nearly identical.
The Emperor had no surviving brothers to have lent Dmitri his features, most of whom had died young in the war.
“Oh, of course, there are always excuses.
What was it today… the weather was too fine?
But that’s just a pretext.
Most likely, someone defied Father’s will under my name again.”
“…”
“The only ones who know how he treats me are those who were present today and my lieutenant.
And now, you.”
In the tower, Ariella had read countless books, most of them hymns to Triphina and Acliteria.
She knew the lineages of Acliteria as though she could draw them blindfolded.
The history of Triphina, as well, if asked to map the empire, she could sketch it down to the smallest hills.
Such was the power of books.
“When I was a child, it was simpler.”
“What… what was?”
“His hatred.”
She couldn’t imagine it.
Should she even be listening to this?
Was it safe to hear and still live?
“What do you mean?”
“Whatever you’re imagining it’s worse.
Once I became Crown Prince, he grew more… sophisticated.”
“…”
“Perhaps he decided brute force no longer worked.”
Ariella shook her head.
She knew too little of the present.
History was always written after the fact.
But one thing was clear: Dmitri was indeed the Emperor’s legitimate heir.
She had only recently learned that his mother was a princess from a kingdom long since vanished, absorbed into Triphina.
Her house, Serhena, had rooted itself in the empire and risen to be one of its three greatest noble families hardly outsiders anymore.
Their influence was vast and enduring, and it was that power that shielded Dmitri’s claim to the throne.
Besides, every imperial citizen sang praises of Dmitri.
His jet-black eyes were said to be the eyes of a dragon.
He was, in every respect, perfection.
That was the truth Ariella had known—until now.
“Soon, you’ll be locked away in the tower again.
Unless the temple changes its stance.”
What?
“Perhaps it’s safer that way.”
“That’s absurd.”
“If you’d stayed put yesterday, I could have done something about it.”
No you hadn’t done anything.
Whether you had even tried, she couldn’t know.
“So wait patiently.
I’m working on annulling this marriage.
It will take time.”
Ariella forced herself to focus, to make sense of it all.
People believed that when Dmitri became Emperor, Triphina would bask in an era of unmatched glory.
Even the Emperor himself, they said, couldn’t touch him.
But it was all a lie.
Right now, this man has no power at all.
Being deposed as Crown Princess and having the marriage annulled were not the same thing.
Branded guilty of insulting the Emperor, she would be nothing but a criminal locked in a tower.
But if annulled… she might return to her homeland.
“I don’t know why you came here today, but one way or another, I’ll see you returned to your country.
Cooperate, and that’s all there is between us.”
Again, he rose first and walked to the door, opening it without hesitation.
“W-wait!”
Hand still on the doorknob, Dmitri turned his gaze back to her.
“Are you certain?
That this marriage can truly be annulled?”
She stepped forward quickly, slipping between him and the door.
Reaching behind her, she slammed it shut.
The sudden quiet enveloped them.
Ariella met his eyes, their breaths mingling, every tremor laid bare by the closeness.
If what he said was true, then everything she had believed until now was crumbling.
“I know annulment requires three conditions.”
A flicker of curiosity touched his face.
“No consummation, mutual consent, and approval from both families.
Not even the imperial family is exempt.”
“And?”
“If the Emperor despises you so much, can you truly fulfil all three?”
He said nothing, his expression unreadable.
Ariella straightened her back to keep from shrinking under his silence.
“I know it would benefit you more to marry someone else a woman of powerful lineage or a strong nation.”
“…”
“But if the Emperor himself chose me as Crown Princess, how could this marriage possibly be undone?”
“That’s not for you to
worry about.”
“And how will you do it?
Announce before the ministers that you can’t stand me because I’m too ugly?”
His lips pressed tightly shut.
Had she guessed right?
That, above all, was impossible.
“I’ll help you.”
“…What?”
“Our hearts are united.
All that remains is persuading our families.”
