Chapter 22
The war she had lived through in the tower had never truly touched her skin.
They said the crown prince had moved his camp south, that he had won yet again, that he would soon return—but all of it was news from another world, a world that had nothing to do with Ariella.
But not now.
“As soon as the jousting tournament ends, I will depart for the front.”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Triphina was a nation built on wars of conquest.
The crown prince had no choice but to shoulder his role as the empire’s supreme commander.
If the emperor commanded it, there was no way to refuse.
Ariella felt the blood draining from her face, yet she could do nothing.
After steadying her breath, she looked at Dmitri’s face.
In her past life, he must have left for war around this time as well.
Perhaps, back then, Dmitri had even truly wished for it.
That their marriage would be annulled, that she would be sent back to Forenze.
Had it not been for the war, he might have gotten his wish.
While Ariella had been trapped in the tower, resenting Dmitri, perhaps he too had been struggling for her in his own way.
That truth, forever beyond her reach, blurred her vision again and again.
Even the chandelier that once dazzled her eyes had lost its brilliance.
Ariella’s gaze clung only to Dmitri.
On that expressionless face, every memory surfaced in order.
The way he scowled whenever displeased, the wide-mouthed laugh he sometimes loosed, and the moments when his black eyes shone like stars.
Was she really to let him go like this?
So helpless, so powerless.
Was she to do nothing but wait?
Wait until the man who endured the horrors of war became a tyrant before her eyes?
***
After the banquet, Ariella and Dmitri rode together in a carriage toward the ballroom.
Far ahead, the palace glowed bright as day.
Such ceremony ill-suited a man about to risk his life in battle.
“Ariella.”
Just the sound of her name made her eyes shut tight.
Fortunately, her voice came out evenly.
“Yes.”
“It will be all right.”
“……”
“It will be all right.
In Triphina, war is like a hunt.
So don’t be so harsh—let me at least see your face.”
A tyrant begging to see her wretched face—she almost wished he were simply a wicked man.
At least then she would be spared these feelings.
“Why my face?
Are you bored?”
She turned away as she answered.
A soft chuckle reached her ears.
“No.
It’s just—you said you were bored today.”
She turned back to him with a defiant look, as if bracing herself.
“Why are you laughing?”
Ariella was still afraid of Dmitri.
The image of him sneering coldly as she stood at the scaffold had etched itself deep into her soul.
She could never know when such a man might change his face again.
“Well, if I don’t laugh, should I cry instead?”
Conversations like this had become their everyday.
Looking him in the eye, speaking with him—it eased the tension that always stiffened her shoulders.
Each time she realized that, she wanted to run.
And yet, that did not mean she wanted to send him far away.
“Must you really go?
Not every war requires the crown prince to ride out, does it?”
She meant to suggest they find a way for him to avoid the front, but just then the carriage slowed.
“We have arrived,” came Erik’s announcement, yet Dmitri did not move.
The flood of light pouring from the building left deep shadows within the carriage.
Between light and darkness, life and death, Dmitri’s lips curved.
“Don’t just smile—say something.”
“So this is what it feels like.”
The sudden words made her chest ache strangely.
“It isn’t such a bad feeling.”
Dmitri reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
She could not tell whether it was her cheek or his hand that burned hotter.
“No hunting, no jousting, and now you’d even forbid me to go to war.”
“That’s not what I meant…”
“I know.
The lady who insists she only wants to stay by my side out of love—at least when it comes to me getting hurt, her feelings are genuine.”
“……”
“Tell me, why do you hate it so much when I’m wounded?”
“Because…”
When the body is hurt, the heart grows sick, and soon enough cruelty follows.
“But I told you, there’s nothing to worry about.
Haven’t you heard what people say?
They call me the incarnation of a dragon.”
“You can’t possibly believe such nonsense.
Even a dragon’s incarnation will die if struck by a blade.”
“I don’t know why you’re so afraid, but it won’t take long.”
Ariella glared at the tyrant, who spoke so lightly with that calm face.
How could she tell him that he would not return to the capital for more than three years?
Unless she claimed to be a witch.
He smiled faintly, then swung open the carriage door and leapt down.
“Come on.
First we must face the battle at hand.”
She stared for a moment at the solid-looking hand he extended toward her.
Exhaling sharply, Ariella steeled herself.
As he said, the war had already begun.
No matter how she tried to stop it, it would not end.
Once again, she only brushed her fingertips against his and climbed the steps entirely on her own.
It was time to stop hesitating and find the part she must play.
***
“Didn’t you say this was an imperial banquet?”
Ariella halted at the ballroom doors, casting a reproachful glance at Dmitri.
Even from outside, she could see the hall was full to the brim.
“This is a ball.”
“Yes, the ball that follows the banquet reserved only for royals.”
“His Majesty has married five times.
If you count the former empresses and all their children, ten fingers wouldn’t be enough.
Add in the collateral branches and all their descendants, and of course the hall would overflow.
Even distant uncles and cousins whose faces we can barely remember are here.”
Every word of explanation pricked at her throat like thorns.
“And with the jousting soon, plenty of men came hoping to make connections.”
Ariella exhaled a shallow breath, her vision darkening.
“Didn’t you once say all the Hachriteri are monsters?”
“Yes.
And this is their lair.
So stay close to me.”
The beautiful monster’s chief smiled.
It was a smile brighter than she had ever seen, as if he meant to lure her into the den with his beguiling beauty.
Just looking at him made her vision blur, as if she were drowning.
Ariella forced herself to stay alert.
There was no avoiding entry into the monster’s den.
“The empire’s little sun, His Highness the Crown Prince, and Her Highness the Crown Princess!”
With the herald’s cry, the doors opened.
At once, every gaze fastened upon them.
Eyes raked her from head to toe, sharp and merciless.
Ariella straightened her spine.
Unlike the banquet hall, the ballroom exuded overwhelming grandeur.
Unlike the delicate and ornate festivities of Forenze, in Triphina everything was immense.
Marble columns soared high to define the space, and between them, massive windows stretched long, capturing the night sky.
Even the moonlight filtering through seemed like decoration.
To steady herself, Ariella lifted her gaze to the domed ceiling.
The dizzying swirl of the moment did nothing to lessen the raw hostility directed her way.
Even the battle-ready gown Reina had prepared for her felt like little armor against it.
As Dmitri had said, every Hachriteri now seemed like a monster.
When Ariella faltered, stepping back, Dmitri placed a hand against her back and urged her forward.
“Let’s go.”
She forced a brittle smile and stepped inside.
Heat, alcohol, curious eyes, and thinly veiled malice washed over her at once.
For someone who had spent ten years locked in a tower, it was unbearable.
She tried to steady herself with deep breaths, but Dmitri bent close and murmured.
“Don’t stop.
The moment you stop walking, they’ll come swarming.”
“Ah…”
“See that column over there?”
He nodded toward a massive pillar, like one of the great trees of the hunting grounds.
Beside it stood a wall dividing the ballroom from the dance floor, with a long sofa pressed against it.
“If we make it there, you can stay hidden.”
Resolutely, Ariella nodded.
Dmitri smiled faintly.
The distance to that column felt like the length of eternity.
Still, she kept her pace measured, careful not to appear rushed.
They were halfway there when it happened.
Someone, too impatient, suddenly spoke up.
Though etiquette forbade addressing a guest before greetings were exchanged, the voice intruded regardless.
“We gree
t the empire’s little sun, Your Highness, and Your Highness the Crown Princess.”
Startled, Ariella’s steps faltered.
Cursed high-heeled boots betrayed her, turning her attire into a hindrance.
With a swift motion, Dmitri’s long arm caught her waist.
