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Chapter 11
Charlotte’s cheeks flushed red as she tried to defend herself, unable to contain her anger. Seeing his daughter on the verge of tears, Count Tamera wore an awkward expression and turned to Adelene to apologize.
“Your Highness the Princess, it’s such a rare and joyful banquet. Charlotte had been looking forward to this day for so long. For my sake, could you not forgive my daughter this once? I’ll apologize on her behalf.”
At that, Isana—who had been standing nearby watching—quietly chimed in in agreement.
“The Count is right. Charlotte did make a mistake, but ordering maids to throw her out seems far too harsh. Adelene, you’re the Princess—shouldn’t you show mercy befitting your status? Everyone would praise your generosity. Wouldn’t they, Olivia? You don’t really want to see Charlotte dragged out, do you?”
The sly way Isana tried to rope Olivia in made Adelene suppress a laugh. Isana was always sharp at spotting an opening. Adelene had known that for a long time, but even now, she found Isana’s quick tongue remarkably cunning.
Sure enough, when Adelene turned to look, Olivia was hesitating, glancing around nervously, clearly unsure what to say. She didn’t dare speak rashly in front of Count and Countess Tamera.
Then Adelene said coldly,
“Don’t drag Olivia into this, Isana. This is between Charlotte and me. More precisely, it’s a matter of royal authority. I already gave one chance for leniency, and that’s enough. I have no intention of forgiving Charlotte for insulting and belittling me. So listen carefully, Charlotte: as of this moment, your position as my lady-in-waiting is revoked. You are never to set foot in the Astia Palace again.”
Count and Countess Tamera gasped in horror.
“Your Highness!”
“Your Highness, what did you just say?!”
“If you wish to protest, send a formal letter,” Adelene said curtly. “I’ll review it and respond accordingly.”
Turning her head away to end the conversation, Adelene made it clear she wouldn’t say another word. Countess Tamera, unable to control her anger, stepped forward.
“Is this how Your Highness repays the Countess who taught you herself? This is a misunderstanding! You cannot strip Charlotte of her position over one quarrel! Have you forgotten how close you were with her?”
“I’m grateful for your lessons, Countess. But I fail to see what right you have to interfere in how I manage my attendants. That authority is mine alone. And I believe I was clear: if you wish to object, submit a formal letter.”
That silenced them. A formal petition to a young princess? Doing so would undoubtedly incur the Emperor’s wrath. His affection for Adelene was widely known—so much that all the nobles of the Pelun Empire were aware of it. Count Tamera knew then that he could not press further. The Princess’s warning was as clear as daylight.
But the Countess refused to back down. She knew how eagerly Charlotte had awaited this day. No matter how noble the Princess might be, she couldn’t bear to see her daughter humiliated so publicly.
“This is unjust!” the Countess cried.
“Then you must want His Majesty’s judgment,” Adelene replied icily. “If you find my decision unfair, by all means—take it up with the Emperor. I won’t stop you. Come, Olivia.”
“Ah—uh, yes,” Olivia stammered, startled, as Adelene led her to a nearby sofa. Seeing Adelene walk away like that, Count Tamera realized there was nothing more he could do. The maids, certain the order would not be revoked, proceeded to escort Charlotte out. The Countess hurriedly chased after them, her face twisted in fury.
Now, with everyone’s attention drawn, Count Tamera could feel a throbbing pain in his neck. Even those pretending not to watch were clearly sneaking glances their way. He could only sigh inwardly.
“What on earth was Charlotte thinking, arguing with the Princess on a day like this!”
Adelene spooned a bit of cream from her cupcake with a bored look. The young ladies who had witnessed Charlotte being dragged out were visibly shaken, and the young gentlemen didn’t look any better. Olivia, having finally gathered her wits, asked hesitantly.
“Adelene… are you really okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Charlotte. You were close with her. What if she gets angry and refuses to see you again?”
Adelene gave her a sidelong glance.
“You saw me strip her of her position as my lady-in-waiting, and that’s what you’re worried about? Don’t. You won’t be seeing Charlotte again. If we ever do meet again, it’ll probably be at the Clionas Academy.”
Olivia looked at her awkwardly.
“…You’ve changed,” she murmured.
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“No, you have. And… thank you. For helping me.”
Hearing a proud girl like Olivia say “thank you” was surprising indeed. She must have been deeply shaken. Adelene just thought to herself and calmly finished her cream. With only children to talk to, the banquet felt dreadfully dull.
Olivia kept chattering beside her, but Adelene only responded with polite nods. She didn’t have much to say. Her expression remained languid as she sipped her juice, prompting Isana—who had been watching closely—to speak up.
“You look bored, Adelene.”
“Do I?”
“If you’re not feeling well, why not dance again?”
“His Majesty is busy.”
“The Emperor isn’t the only one who can be your partner. There are plenty of young gentlemen here your age. Anyone would be honored to dance with you—you’re the Princess, after all. And tonight, you’re the star of the celebration! Who wouldn’t be thrilled if you asked them to dance? They’d probably think it an honor—because you’re the most special of us all!”
Adelene said nothing, only taking another sip of juice. Isana’s words reminded her of the past. She had once been coaxed in exactly the same way.
Usually, it was men who offered the dance—but back then, Isana had whispered, “You’re special, a princess! You should take the lead!” Foolishly, Adelene had gone and asked Teros to dance.
He hadn’t refused—his father, Duke Sandviken, had ordered him to keep close to the Princess.
Teros had been her first dance partner then, back when she was angry at her father for neglecting her.
“Not interested,” she said flatly.
“Really? The musicians are playing beautifully. You don’t want to enjoy it? There are so many promising young knights-to-be here. Father says they’re all talented—but the Duke of Sandviken’s son is said to be the best! Ah—look, there he is! He’s famous at Clionas Academy, they say. He’s never lost first place in swordsmanship since enrolling!”
At Isana’s words, Adelene turned her head—and her eyes widened.
It was him.
Her husband.
Teros Sandviken.
Just seeing that youthful face again made her blood boil. The man who had once shattered her wrist without hesitation stood there—calm, unaware. The traitor who had betrayed her, consorted with Isidore, fathered a bastard, and aided Oderon’s rebellion.
Her jaw trembled, and her hand shook so badly the glass nearly slipped from her grasp. Olivia caught it just in time.
“Careful, Adelene! You almost spilled it on your dress.”
It was the sort of mistake that would have embarrassed any noble lady, but Adelene didn’t react at all. Her gaze stayed locked on Teros, cold and unwavering. Olivia’s voice didn’t even register.
Staring at him, Adelene clenched her fist.
If she’d had a sword, she would’ve slit his throat.
If she’d had her magic, she would’ve obliterated him where he stood.
A dozen lethal incantations raced through her mind.
Her jaw tightened. She forced herself not to shake. This Teros was still a boy—a harmless youth, not yet the man who would betray her. However furious she felt, she could not lose control.
And yet, the flicker of rage that crossed her eyes burned bright enough for Isana to notice.
“What’s wrong? Did the Sandviken boy do something to you?”
“What do you mean?” Olivia said. “Adelene barely leaves the Astia Palace, and he’s a boy. How could someone from the Sandviken family have even met her before?”
Their chatter snapped Adelene back to herself. Yes—this was the first time she was meeting Teros. This time, she would not repeat the same mistake. There would be no naïve dance, no first step toward ruin. Her first dance had already been with His Majesty. She took a deep breath and tore her gaze away.
“It’s nothing. Just a small headache.”
“Should I call an attendant for some medicine?” Olivia asked.
“No need. It’s just mild. I don’t want to spoil the mood.”
“Still—”
“I said I’m fine. Really.”
Her tone left no room for argument. Isana sighed.
“Then I guess dancing is out of the question. Pity—the young Duke seemed interested in you. Such a shame. It’s not every day we get a grand celebration like this. You spent so long dressing up—don’t you want to make the most of it? Everyone else is dancing and talking.”
“I’m enjoying myself enough,” Adelene replied.
“You don’t look like it.”
“I just don’t show it. It’s my first banquet this grand, after all.”
And indeed—her expression was calm, not bored. The golden light of the chandeliers caught in her amber eyes, making them shine like stars.
That light was not from joy, but from the fierce flame of vengeance smoldering deep within.
Isana, intrigued by the strange gleam in her eyes, suddenly noticed Teros walking toward them.
“Look—he’s coming this way,” she whispered.
“Really? He must be about to ask you for a dance!” Olivia squeaked excitedly.
And she was right. Teros Sandviken’s gaze was fixed entirely on Adelene as he approached. He stopped before her and bowed gracefully.
“I greet the future of the Empire. I am Teros Sandviken of the Sandviken Duchy. Happy birthday, Your Highness.”
Adelene stared at him in disbelief.
It truly was him.
Her husband.
Their eyes met—and her fingertips trembled.
How cold the heart felt when meeting someone she had once loved. Her chest constricted, breath turning to lead.
To think she had once loved this man.
The revulsion was almost physical, like staring into the maw of a monster. Among everyone in the ballroom, he was the most despicable.
When she didn’t answer, Olivia nudged her and whispered, “Adelene, you should respond. He’s greeting you.”
“…I am Adelene Terraden. Your congratulations are noted,” she said stiffly.
Her high, imperious tone startled both Isana and Olivia. No one—even the Emperor—spoke so bluntly to the Duke of Sandviken’s son. Yet coming from Adelene, it felt natural—graceful even.
The air around her carried the kind of power that demanded respect. Her gaze—bright and molten like newly forged gold—seemed to press down from above.
In that instant, both girls were reminded that Adelene was not just their peer. She was the Princess of Terraden—royal blood, beyond their reach.
Even the prodigy of the Sandviken line could not compare.
Then, to everyone’s shock, Teros knelt on one knee before her—a deep, formal gesture, the kind nearly extinct from modern society. Extending his right hand, he said,
“Your Highness, may I have the honor of this dance?”
A soft gasp swept through the young ladies nearby. Even Isana, who prided herself on composure, was visibly astonished.
Teros Sandviken—two years older than Adelene—was a prodigy of Clionas Academy, famous for his swordsmanship and for never losing first place. His talent and manners made him a favorite among noble families, and the ladies adored him. The only flaw, they said, was his youth—merely fourteen.
For him to kneel like this, before everyone, drew every eye in the room.
Adelene looked down at his outstretched hand, her gaze cold. It looked to her not like a hand—but like a blade.
When she didn’t reply, Olivia nudged her again.
“Come on, Adelene. Say yes! You have to accept.”
Adelene’s lips curved slightly.
Accept his dance?
Her heart was ash, her love long dead, their vows shattered. All that remained was hatred and contempt. That he was the one to ask her this time—how ironic.
Slowly, Adelene parted her lips and said quietly,
“I don’t feel inclined to.”
