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Chapter 28
I gently pulled aside the curtain by the window and peered out at the scene below.
There, kneeling in front of the grand gates of Lilac Palace, were people weeping with heart-wrenching grief.
Familiar faces—they were Rose Palace’s maids, but not their head, Natalia.
“Your Majesty!”
“Please, Your Majesty, even if just tell us whether Princess Titania lives or dies!”
“We, your humble servants, failed to safeguard our mistress—how could we hope to live? We only wish to know the safety of Princess Titania before we die…!”
Their dramatic flair was something else.
It felt like a historical drama: “Mercy, Your Majesty!,” with courtiers kneeling before their ruler in theatrical supplication.
Though they were from Rose Palace, even maids I’d seen less than thrice were lined up.
Their once-clean aprons now stained and wrinkled, hair disheveled—like refugees fleeing a disaster.
Well… in a way, they were fleeing Queen Cleo, who was the true disaster.
Prince Adrian, who surely understood my suspicions, gave a tight-lipped smile. I shrugged.
“This must be difficult for the Empress.”
“…”
“If I declared I’m gravely wounded, still alive but expelled, even people like them—even if they’re like children to me—would call that cruel. And if I suddenly said, ‘I am not receiving you—it is Princess Titania’s wish,’ then I’d seal the palace gates and be trapped.”
It wouldn’t help that they had long neglected and disrespected me.
But now—that they’d risked everything for my wellbeing—there’s no point in resentfully pointing out their faults.
This chaos—all is Queen Cleo’s doing.
Their purpose? To test me. Any reaction from me gives her something to exploit.
At least for now, the Empress is responsible for me.
Yes, I knew well what a treacherous place the palace is.
I paused as Adrian asked calmly:
“What do you want me to do?”
Ever since the Empress allowed me to stay, she owes me this price.
All she gained—permitting the Casslines to care for me “safely” in her quarters—so that she would sacrifice either her dignity or her honor as Empress.
It’s a debt either way. We must resolve the situation.
“Have you found all of Queen Cleo’s agents hiding within the palace?”
“Yes. They’re banned from approaching these four rooms.”
“But you cannot hide the comings and goings of the Cassline household.”
They know nobody has the authority to stop them. They will use that.
A noble household granted a savior—they’ll push everything aside, even causing friction with the court.
They act only when they can—while the door is open.
If the palace dismissed them outright, they’d whisper, “Why are these attendants banned from seeing Princess Titania?”
No, we cannot touch them without justification.
Yet allowing them into the palace is just as dangerous…
“And let’s say I’m not quite between life and death yet.”
“Do they believe that?”
“Whether they believe it or not—it won’t matter. The Grand Priest will testify on my behalf.”
Adrian looked at me with a knowing expression—clearly thinking, “Ah, the key to all this.”
Indeed—the priest is the alpha and omega of this plan.
He was brought by the Casslines—immune to palace pressure, and a perfect collateral.
“…”
“If they claim concern for my life—to worry to the point of sleepless days…”
I smiled grimly.
I will live up to their words.
Let this show what happens when words become seeds of reality.
Geez. If you’re causing this much uproar—risking your life—be prepared for the consequences.
Sure! Let it rip!
Eat that pride!
“…Would they…offer their devotional fasting prayers for me? To prove their loyalty—very devotedly—right outside the Empress’s quarters?”
They fell silent.
“And with the Grand Priest here, let’s call for a ‘prayer vigil for my recovery’ right beside the Empress’s quarters. Let them come and go, and show their devotion was to their true mistress. And, of course, continue without break until I regain consciousness?”
In Adrian’s eyes, I must’ve looked angelic.
Meanwhile, Mary felt she might die.
“How did things get this out of hand?”
Queen Cleo had made it seem trivial.
She said it would be over in a few hours—max three. A commotion at the Empress’s gates would earn them an expulsion.
If they were let in—and saw Titania—then good. If not, they could cling to each other, crying, “We only worry for her safety!”
Our image would improve: so later, even if the emperor blamed them for neglect, their devotion would save them.
Then—when Titania awakened—their heartbroken tears would soften the palace’s anger.
It made perverse sense.
So they had erupted with grief in front of the gates—surviving by any chance.
“Titania, Your Highness—are you safe?” Tears drenched them.
But then—
“For Princess Titania’s well-being, your devout prayers are required.”
Why? On such a sweltering day—in stiff heavy robes?
And fasting all day?
Led by the priest, they knelt and prayed…
“Oi! Aren’t your eyelids drooping already?”
Mary and the others stiffened.
A devotional fast? Only pilgrims in temples for sick loved ones do this.
And yet—inside the sacred court, of all places!
“Didn’t you swear you’d lay down your life for Princess Titania’s recovery? How can your loyalty collapse before mere physical strain!”
Roland shuddered next to Mary, unable to protest.
If someone nodded off, they’d be splashed with water. If posture collapsed, they’d feel the leather strap across their soles.
It was torture.
They said it would continue until Titania awakens. When? How could I know?
They had fasted for twelve days with only salt water. Mary’s vision blurred.
Through clenched teeth she whispered:
“I can’t do this any longer!”
“Priest…”
Initially the Grand Priest led them; but the next day a harsher new cleric took over.
Rigid and unmoved—but still a man of God! He shouldn’t claim they cannot continue…?
“Truly, any trial is far worse than death.”
The priest offered a kindly smile.
“If your devotion wavers before preserving your mistress’s life, such shallow prayers would dishonor Princess Titania.”
—
Mary swallowed hard.
That’s when fear truly struck.
Oh no. I should never have involved myself.
But having already begun, ending now—calling it too hard—would insult a princess teetering between life and death.
Unless she meant to die.
“There’s no way she’d…starve and deprive them…until the princess wakes…”
But how long could this continue?
Even with a crumb of bread or sip of water—if the ordeal lasted on…?
“Now—let the prayers resume.”
The priest announced gently.
“For the swift recovery of Princess Titania.”
Mary realized—with dread—this was hell itself.
And she could never save herself alone.
