Chapter 95
Isn’t one child enough? Wouldn’t that be sufficient? What meaning is there in preserving a family line if it must be maintained by consuming one’s own lifeblood?
The House of Castrain had long intermarried with other fading noble families—descendants of fallen heroes—to preserve what little strength remained. Once the bloodlines mingled, any child born with talent might awaken divine power; it was a gamble worth taking.
And the duchess—she had been the last surviving descendant of a hidden hero bloodline, one that the Castrain family had never managed to obtain until her.
Thus, from the beginning, their marriage had been arranged for the purpose of producing a child. It was, in fact, the duchess herself who desired that outcome more than anyone else.
“You truly won’t stay by my side a little longer?”
To her husband’s frail voice, the woman had replied with a serene tone.
“One or two children aren’t enough. The world will grow ever more perilous. To prepare for it, we’ll need more. At least three—so they can truly protect one another. Then none of them will have to struggle alone, as you did.”
“…”
“I love you. But you must fulfill your duty. As must I. We know more than others do… we possess greater power. If the world is a cracked boat drifting upon the sea, then before it sinks, we must at least attempt to mend it…”
The Duke of Orto had, quite literally, obtained the perfect duchess.
“I’m sorry… I’m leaving you behind.”
Even when her husband—just for an instant—had chosen love over duty, valuing her life above their family’s survival, she had gently refused and chosen death herself, saying it was her duty to do so.
There could be no more perfect duchess than that.
And indeed, she had achieved everything she desired: Raymond, the eldest, perfect in every way—gifted in both intellect and strength. Licianthus, who had awakened the power of fire and excelled with the sword. Rasper, physically frail but the most intelligent and inquisitive of the three. In terms of ability, the brothers were flawless.
“Licianthus and Raymond are in the South, you said?”
“Yes, and Lady Vivi as well… She said she would bring the item you mentioned and accompany them.”
“I remember. My sons have been far too soft on that princess.”
The Duke thought of his eldest son, who had lately been behaving like a fool.
He had never been a particularly affectionate or gentle father.
Raymond had been born perfect, just as the Duke and his wife had hoped—strong above all else. He was the ideal heir, one to whom the Duke could entrust everything. The man knew his son was burdened by a sense of duty, but he could not relieve him of it. A single mistake in their position could mean death.
The engagement with the princess had originally been a mere gesture of diplomacy—a convenient tie to the crown to be severed at the right time.
But the princess’s transformation had been astonishing. There was no hidden force guiding her; she acted on her own. Boldly proposing deals, saving lives, risking her own body…
At first, the Duke had been wary of such change. But now—well. Though he had never met her face-to-face, the reports he received were…
“…She’s far too much like my wife.”
“Pardon?”
The Duke extinguished his half-burned cigar and swallowed a bitter taste.
Yes. Her decisiveness—her lack of hesitation—was far too similar.
Raymond orbiting the princess, Licianthus’s changing demeanor, Vivi’s affectionately calling her “sister”… the Duke had simply watched. The uneasy feeling had only begun recently.
Princess Titania hesitated too little.
She was like his wife—one who placed duty and purpose above even her own life and love.
“…I only hope Raymond doesn’t end up like me.”
A sigh of bitter smoke dispersed into the air.
* * *
“How absurd—my own younger sister turns me away at the door? What kind of insult is this?”
Empress Cleo was smiling brightly.
But no one who saw that smile could possibly believe it was sincere.
Her catlike eyes glimmered with venom, and though her lips curved prettily, coldness hung upon them like frost. Gone was the modesty she had maintained while staying quiet under the Emperor’s gaze. Today she was resplendent—wearing a dazzling gown made from rare silk imported from across the seas, her hair adorned with starlit jewels, her neck and ears glittering with the Emperor’s gifts. The intent was clear: to crush another woman’s spirit through sheer radiance.
Relations between Empress Cleo and Prince Brian were at an all-time low.
Until now, the Emperor had indulged her whims. He had even enjoyed watching her trample lesser nobles beneath her heel. But after the recent demonic attack in the palace, both Brian and Cleo had fallen out of favor.
Of course, the Emperor’s anger would eventually fade. He adored flattery, and none were better at pleasing him than Cleo. He might have considered bringing another woman into the palace, but he already had two empresses, each with a royal child—a prince and a princess.
Cleo, however, could not forgive what had happened. She had been thoroughly humiliated by Titania. The girl she had thought an ignorant, clawless kitten had struck her—hard. Whenever Cleo recalled that mocking smile, and the young duke Raymond who had later threatened her, her blood boiled with rage.
She couldn’t act rashly while still out of the Emperor’s favor. So she had come to the Lycorys Palace.
“…Her Majesty Empress Elaine is unwell,” the chief lady-in-waiting murmured weakly.
Cleo clicked her tongue.
Elaine had always been a despised child in her own home. Even after giving birth to a princess, she had remained frail and withdrawn, still mourning her lost lover, avoiding the Emperor’s bed. Naturally, she was left with almost no attendants. The woman before Cleo wasn’t even of noble birth, just a maid who had once served Elaine’s family.
Even now, despite her temporary disgrace, Cleo remained one of the most powerful figures in the palace—the mother of the Crown Prince. If she demanded to enter, no one could stop her.
“Then I must visit her myself. How careless of me! We are sisters in service to His Majesty, after all.”
Cleo’s smile was radiant—but her eyes were glacial.
“My poor sister’s illness must be quite serious… Our exalted Empress has so many burdens; she can hardly tend to such small matters. I, on the other hand, have been shamefully negligent!”
“T-that’s not…”
The chief lady-in-waiting stammered. Her posture and tone made it clear she had no idea how to handle a situation like this.
“There are countless physicians and priests in the palace. Yet her illness lingers so long? What if it’s something contagious? His Majesty resides here—imagine if her very presence endangered his divine body! Who could bear that sin?”
The woman’s face went pale.
It was an obvious threat—if Cleo was not allowed inside, she would accuse Elaine of harboring a contagious disease.
Everyone knew Elaine’s sickness wasn’t contagious. But then again—was there anything Cleo wouldn’t do?
It had been a miracle that Titania had once dared to stand up to such a woman.
No one else in the palace could oppose Empress Cleo. Even if the Emperor grew angry with her, he despised the Empress and would never take her side. Ignoring Cleo’s threat now would only invite retaliation later.
At last, the lady-in-waiting bit her lip and stepped aside, allowing Cleo to pass.
The Lycorys Palace was damp and cold even at midday—an unhealthy place for a convalescent.
Cleo followed the maid through the shabby corridors, eyeing the bare walls. Before long, they arrived at the bedchamber. The maid, flustered, went ahead to announce Cleo’s visit.
Cleo felt a flicker of curiosity.
Even the Emperor hadn’t seen Empress Elaine’s face in years. With the Emperor’s favor long lost, her life here must have been pitiful. Her own family likely provided no support. It would hardly be surprising if she were half-starved.
If she hadn’t been ill, Cleo might have considered poisoning her beauty instead, to ruin that face said to be the fairest in the Empire.
“Please, come in.”
The voice that answered was dry and brittle, like twigs snapping underfoot. Cleo raised her brows.
