Chapter 26
At the Empress’s smiling words, Isabel, who had been demurely lowering her gaze, suddenly flinched.
For the Empress to speak of a “double celebration” in the kingdom—such words were not normally uttered unless the occasion concerned a duke or higher.
Thinking that at last she would learn the identity of Hézène’s betrothed, Isabel clutched the hem of her dress so tightly her fingertips turned white.
“A great double celebration for the kingdom… Do you mean there is another marriage, Your Majesty?”
Baron Patrick asked curiously, and Empress Katrina responded with her brightest smile.
“The marriage of Archduke Ian, which the royal family has been so concerned with, has finally been settled. That, too, is a great joy, is it not?”
At that moment, Isabel barely suppressed the gasp that almost escaped her lips.
‘The Archduke’s marriage—what is this…!’
Of course, she had expected to hear about the duke who was to marry Hézène. But the Empress’s words named an entirely unexpected groom, and Isabel’s vision wavered as she struggled to steady herself.
Her heart pounded violently, her anger surged, and her sight nearly went black.
Had she not kept her head bowed, her twisted expression would have been laid bare for all to see.
“Do you truly mean the Archduke’s marriage is settled? He resisted so stubbornly, and yet—what family’s young lady could possibly have brought about such a match? I am most curious, Your Majesty.”
With a face full of interest, Baron Patrick pressed further, and Empress Katrina gave a kind, knowing smile.
“Why, of course. With such a background and such a man… it’s said that within Bayren Kingdom alone, the number of ladies who fell ill from pining after Archduke Ian was countless. So now, with the Archduke at last marrying, I can scarcely keep up with all those asking me about his bride.”
Yet, even in her long-winded answer, not a word about the actual bride was spoken. Unable to contain herself any longer, Isabel raised her head.
“And who is this young lady whom everyone is so curious about? I, too, am most eager to know, Your Majesty.”
Though her face had returned to its soft, pleasant expression, in her eyes lurked a cold, venomous gleam.
‘To think he rolled about with me so shamelessly—yet behind my back arranged a marriage with another woman! And then to cast me aside as if I were the guilty one? Just who is this great lady that he would dare to wed in my place!’
Were she not in front of the Empress and Crown Prince, Isabel would have hurled and smashed everything in sight in her blazing rage.
Unaware of her turmoil, Empress Katrina laughed gently and finally spoke.
“Perhaps I’ve drawn it out too long. The young lady is—ah yes, Baron Patrick, you know her family well.”
“A family I know well…? Whom could Your Majesty mean…?”
At those words, Patrick looked puzzled. But Isabel felt a chill of dread the moment she heard them.
For the Empress to speak so awkwardly of a family her father knew well could only mean…
“Well… I hesitate, as I’ve heard relations between your families are strained. But the young lady is none other than Miss Hézène, eldest daughter of Baron Sévish.”
—!!!
Patrick’s eyes widened in shock, and even Isabel’s carefully maintained composure collapsed.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, the crushing weight of fury and disbelief quickly gnawing away at her senses.
Darkness closed in, and Isabel lost consciousness.
Shadows flickered, and a drowsy languor spread through her body.
Isabel slowly opened her eyes, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings.
‘Where am I…?’
At the strange sight before her, her half-dazed eyes sharpened like those of a fiend.
Ian! Hézène!
The names surged up within her, and Isabel tried to bolt upright—until she noticed the Crown Prince.
“Isabel! You’re awake!”
“Your Highness… where am I?”
“This is my chamber.”
“How is it that I am here…?”
Her face betrayed confusion, and when she tried to rise, Crown Prince Herzen pressed her shoulders back down.
“Please, remain lying down. You fainted so suddenly that everyone was alarmed. Do you remember?”
“Ah… I must have collapsed…”
“Were you feeling unwell?”
Worry that she might not welcome their engagement, or that some other reason had driven her to faint, was plain on his face. Isabel shook her head.
“No, Your Highness. I was simply nervous, being invited to the palace… Seeing how kindly Her Majesty regards me, I could not help but wonder if I am truly worthy of her affection, or capable of bearing the role of Crown Princess of this kingdom…”
Her golden lashes quivered, her expression on the verge of tears. At the sight, a sigh and a faint smile escaped the Crown Prince.
Taking her hands tenderly, he lifted her face.
“Isabel, I am happy enough simply that you accepted my proposal. To have such a modest, kingdom-minded Crown Princess is the greatest blessing Bayren could receive. You have nothing to fear. You will do well.”
“…Thank you, Your Highness.”
She leaned into his embrace with quiet gratitude.
Soon, the Crown Prince excused himself to inform the Empress and Baron Patrick that Isabel had awoken.
The moment he left the room, Isabel’s eyes—so weak and tearful before—hardened again with a venomous gleam.
The thought of those who had deceived her set her blood boiling once more.
That she, the so-called treasure of the kingdom, was cast aside not for a foreign princess or a great noble’s daughter, but for a mere baron’s daughter with nothing but money—Hézène!
‘When did that wretched girl know she was to marry Ian?’
She cursed her own stupidity for believing Hézène’s letter claiming ignorance of her betrothed.
Of course she had known! That sly thing had agreed to accompany her to secret trysts with Ian only to watch for opportunities to drive them apart.
In the forest, when Isabel was startled by the Crown Prince’s sudden appearance, Hézène had surely rejoiced inwardly.
Rage convulsed her. Isabel buried her face in a pillow and screamed into it.
When at last she raised her head, her face was flushed and tears—this time genuine, born of fury—stained her cheeks.
Not the feigned ones she had shed before.
She remembered Hézène’s shabby clothes that had lulled her into complacency, only for her to emerge later beautifully adorned after claiming her father had kept her locked away. That alone showed how cunningly Hézène had schemed.
‘I’ll tear you to pieces if that’s what it takes!’
That brazen girl had mocked her, stolen Ian from her.
Isabel swore, through her tears, that she would never forgive Hézène.
‘I’ll make her regret every drop of blood and tear she’s cost me. Hézène—’
Her fingers clenched the pillow so tightly they turned pale, and blood welled from her bitten lips.
The ghastly expression on her face was nothing like the “treasured jewel” of the kingdom she pretended to be.
