Chapter 26
Despite his clear objections to the very end, he still went through with the engagement.
So I couldn’t really blame him for the sour mood.
At least for today, I figured it would be best to let Kalid’s snide remarks slide.
Getting caught bickering with him by both my father and the emperor had already been enough of a disaster.
I had been about to retort with, “Every petty jab you throw at me today is just you embarrassing yourself,” but thought better of it.
Instead, I tried my best to offer him a gentle, composed smile.
Kalid clicked his tongue as if he’d just seen something truly dreadful, and took a deliberate step back.
How far was he planning to retreat, honestly?
The lipstick mark I’d left on his cheek still hadn’t faded.
“…You really do get more beautiful with each passing day, Lady Renata.”
Replacing Kalid at my side was the Empress, Elaine, with her silver hair and clear sky-blue eyes.
She approached without a sound and gently took my hand in hers.
“Your Majesty,” I greeted her with the same polite smile I’d already put on, and she returned it with a delicate, crumbling smile.
I’d heard she hadn’t even been able to attend Izar’s funeral because she had fainted from the overwhelming grief.
Afterward, she had completely shut herself away, refusing to see anyone for weeks.
Even though I had sent word asking to visit, I hadn’t been able to see her.
Now, standing before me, the Empress looked far more gaunt than before, her grief written plainly across her face.
Her wrist in my hand felt fragile enough to break at the slightest pressure.
“But what are you saying, Your Majesty? You shine so much brighter than I ever could.”
“Oh my, did Count Carneluti tell you to say that?”
“I only speak the truth,” I replied, feigning a pout to show I wasn’t joking.
Elaine laughed softly, a little more genuinely this time.
She was like a lily-of-the-valley in bloom.
Then, she beckoned toward Lady Shinaba and her daughter, Princess Lejeia, who had been standing a few steps behind.
“What are you doing all the way back there? This is a joyful occasion, is it not?”
“…We were merely waiting for Your Majesty to call us,” Lady Shinaba replied with an awkward smile and a bow, carefully avoiding my gaze.
But I wasn’t petty enough to bring up the incident from the other day.
Besides, I had already served a little revenge right then and there, hadn’t I?
Even without knowing how things ended after I left, I could imagine the atmosphere at her salon hadn’t exactly stayed lively.
Either way, I didn’t hold a grudge.
So I let her be and turned to look at her daughter.
Princess Lejeia, with her tanned skin and orange eyes, inherited from her mother, had been watching me closely from the start.
When our eyes met, she spoke in a surprisingly husky voice for a woman.
“Life really is unpredictable. Look at you, Renata—what a perfect example.”
“Lejeia, honestly…!”
Lady Shinaba tugged at her daughter’s arm, clearly mortified by the blunt remark.
She never would’ve dared act this way if it were her own salon.
But Lejeia didn’t budge.
She was the type who walked her own path, no matter what others said.
With a faint scowl, she added, “Still, it’s a happy day, so I’ll say it—congratulations. The groom might’ve changed ‘slightly,’ but in the end, you’ll still be the Crown Princess.”
She placed deliberate emphasis on the word slightly, clearly hinting at how my new fiancé looked exactly like the old one.
“…That’s true, Your Highness. Though you’re still as terrible at offering comfort as ever.”
It might have sounded sarcastic, but I already knew that wasn’t her true intention.
Her face had dimmed midway through the conversation, and her hand tapped nervously against her thigh.
Princess Lejeia Haka Valdemar was the opposite of her mother in every way. A major in the imperial army and a knight of Il Hera, one of the two royal orders, she had joined the military straight out of Barkalia.
When I used to frequent the shooting range, we often ran into each other, and our light camaraderie had stuck.
So I could tell.
That deep down, she did feel sorry for me.
“Well, I should go. I slipped away from training for this. That’s okay, right?”
“Of course. Thank you for coming, Your Highness. Farewell.”
She walked over without hesitation and gave me a firm, warm hug before leaving the garden without so much as glancing at her mother.
Left alone, Lady Shinaba had no one else to mingle with and wore a stiff, frozen smile.
I had no desire to make small talk with her. Frankly, I couldn’t have cared less.
So instead, I looped my arm around Elaine’s frail one without hesitation.
“To be honest, I’ve always wanted a daughter,” she’d once whispered to me, the day of my engagement to Izar.
Elaine was one of the few people to whom I’d willingly shown affection.
She liked it when I acted this way.
If I had linked arms with any other noble in the palace like this, they’d have sneered at me for forgetting my place.
I still remembered gifting Elaine a portrait I had drawn of her when I was young.
She’d laughed brightly, saying her sons never did such sweet things.
In contrast, the portrait I had made for Lady Shinaba the next day ended up as kindling in her fireplace before she even looked at it.
I’d been so foolish back then.
Trying to be liked by everyone in the royal family had been a hopeless endeavor.
“It’s been a while since we’ve had a moment alone like this, hasn’t it, Your Majesty?”
I spoke as we turned away from Lady Shinaba, imagining her face souring by the second.
Elaine led me to her favorite spot in Izar’s garden—a secluded corner where the rose vines of her family’s crest still bloomed, beside a chestnut swing trimmed in gold.
“Yes, it has, Renata,” she murmured with a slow nod. “But I must say… I feel so strange.”
With only the guards standing at a distance, she finally let her expression fall.
“Even with Izar gone, nothing feels different between us. It’s as if… everything around me is just some play being acted out. Renata, I… I don’t know anymore.”
“Your Majesty…”
I couldn’t bring myself to say anything more. I just looked at her with aching sympathy.
All day long, she had worn a calm, pleasant expression as if masked.
But now, in this quiet, private corner, that mask had finally crumbled.
“All of this… It’s for the Empire. Yes, I understand that. This nation is important. But my son is dead. And yet everyone is smiling, celebrating your engagement…”
Tears began to spill from Elaine’s eyes.
As her shoulders trembled, the nearby guards started to approach us.
One of the higher-ranking ones called out, “Your Majesty, Lady Carneluti—is everything all right?”
Elaine didn’t respond. She simply raised a hand to hold them off.
They didn’t catch the gesture and exchanged uneasy glances.
I stepped in for her.
“There’s nothing wrong. Please remain where you are.”
“…Call us if you need anything,” the guard replied, returning to his post.
Once they were far enough, I turned to Elaine again.
“Would you like to sit down? You don’t look well.”
I stepped aside to offer the swing.
She didn’t refuse.
Her movements were fragile as she took a seat and forced a smile.
“I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to burden you with a grieving mother’s woes on a day like this.”
“No, it’s okay. Say whatever you need to. Don’t keep it bottled up.”
“…Then please, sweet child, I hope you can understand me—if no one else.”
Her pale hand brushed against my cheek, fingers trembling slightly as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
Her voice quivered like a breeze barely holding its shape.
