TPWSM 13

Chapter 13

I couldn’t hide my shock. At first, I had no way to grasp the meaning behind the king’s words.

If he wanted to discuss marriage, he could have called me aside somewhere private. Why bring it up right in the middle of the banquet hall? I could feel every eye and ear straining toward us.

There was a time when I enjoyed being the center of attention, but now, every gaze felt uncomfortable, making my stomach churn.

The king reached out and gently cupped one of my cheeks.

“After some thought…”

“…”

The warm touch felt strangely unpleasant. I narrowed my eyes, smiled faintly, and gently removed his hand from my face, careful not to seem cold in front of everyone.

“You’re a promising candidate for a bride, aren’t you?”

“A bride?”

Rain falling from the sky? A broom for cleaning the floor? I asked, confused, because no other meaning came to mind.

“You are now one of the most noble unmarried women in this country. Though you’re of age, if someone is to stand by your side, they must at least be a prince of a nation, don’t you think?”

A prince of a nation?

…Huh.

That was when it started.

A horribly vivid intuition ran up my spine from the tailbone.

Only now did I fully understand the king’s true intention.

By the time I realized it, it was already too late. That uneasy feeling I had when I was summoned to the king’s office earlier—it all made sense now.

I had been outwitted by my own cunning.

Bringing the prince of Dvorka as a hostage to restore the monarchy and advising that he marry one of my granddaughters… Had I lost my mind?

I should never have given that advice—if I had known I would be the one involved.

I should have sensed it when I was granted royal status…

While lamenting my own foolishness, the king looked down at me with ease and tugged the corners of his mouth into a small smile.

“My dearest granddaughter, Alisa, I cannot allow just anyone to propose to you, so I have come here myself. I will speak loudly so everyone can hear. Your husband-to-be is—”

He glanced around. The men who had been staring at me so intently just moments ago all turned their heads to look away.

“The sixth prince of Dvorka, David.”

At someone’s signal, the orchestra began playing a waltz.

I had no choice but to dance with the king first. I kept my mouth shut and whispered to him, barely audible:

“Your Majesty, what happens if I refuse this marriage?”

“The treaty document was sealed with the royal seal the day before yesterday. Queen Elizabeth, representing Madiloff, signed it as well. You know full well that a treaty holds the same weight as law. If you wish to challenge it, take me to court.”

That made no sense at all.

How could I possibly sue the king’s grandfather? That would be insubordination, even rebellion.

“I told you before… a hasty marriage like this can never—”

“This decision has been made with careful consideration. There will be no reversal. I hear from the Foreign Affairs Department that he is a man as beautiful as an angel. Even a precious prize can be beautiful, yes? This is what the East calls gilding the lily.”

My resentful grandfather left the banquet hall immediately after the dance ended.

Ha… no matter how much he wants to get rid of me…

It’s such a unilateral decision. How could he do this without even asking me?

The newspapers will probably announce the engagement in a few days, along with a declaration that Dvorka is now a protectorate and that its monarchy is being restored.

The sooner the announcement, the better, to quell the wildfire of resistance spreading throughout Dvorka.

I took a sip of champagne, letting it slide down my throat.

Even after just a little, my head was already spinning.

After the king’s unilateral marriage announcement, no one dared to request a dance with me. Everyone was intimidated by the king’s presence.

Truly, my grandfather had set up an invisible barrier so that none of the men at the banquet could propose to me.

The men hesitated and stepped back.

I spent the rest of the time dancing with Mikel and my other military school classmates. I was grateful at least for them.

After the banquet, which felt like sitting on a bed of nails the whole time, I went to my mother’s room. Despite likely having already learned what had happened from the maid, my mother seemed utterly calm. She sat in her rocking chair, reading the previous quarter’s business reports.

“…Mother.”

I spoke, and she placed the report on the table, freeing her hands to sign in silence.

[You seemed very flustered.]

She pressed her fists together twice in a diagonal motion—a sign in her sign language.

“Do you agree with His Majesty’s decision? Do you also wish for me to marry the prince of Dvorka?”

I asked desperately, hoping that my mother—his most precious “weak spot”—might be able to sway him.

[This is the result of your holding out without marrying until now. You must accept it.]

Mother was firm. She knew full well what marriage to the prince of Dvorka would mean.

“I cannot marry a man I don’t even know.”

[If you wish to know his face, request a portrait. This matter has already been settled by treaty. It cannot be overturned. A treaty holds the same authority as national law. If broken, you may lose your title and be punished.]

“Mother, do you truly believe this marriage will benefit our family?”

[Perhaps. It depends on what you make of the prince.]

She extended the thumb of her left fist and covered it diagonally with her right hand—a gesture meaning “utilize.”

“Utilize…”

[I heard from the Foreign Affairs Department. That prince requested an advance payment of 500,000 revels. The royal family has already paid it, so at least he should be worth that much.]

500,000 revels isn’t an enormous sum. Perhaps that was the bride price requested.

Having lived on Pardon Island for over five years, it’s understandable he might be anxious about money.

If he requested an advance, he likely already knows he is being “bought.”

With the king having already sent the funds, there is no turning back. And my mother shows no intention of saving me from this marriage.

[Your father will grant the prince the title of Grand Duke. Being a Grand Duchess is not a bad position. Again, it depends on how you utilize it.]

“Mother, I am already the Duchess of Lasantia. I do not need the title of Grand Duchess. Even if my husband is a Grand Duke, he will have no land or authority—he will be just a puppet.”

[Alisa, once you accept him as your husband, he will not be merely a puppet.]

A faint smile appeared on her lips, then vanished.

“…You’re saying I should empower the prince who has been ‘bought’? Even then, what can he accomplish? After all, the governance of colonial Dvorka lies with Governor Crown Prince Daimon.”

[Lack of authority does not mean lack of ability. I won’t elaborate further. It is entirely up to you, Alisa, to make this marriage a wise decision.]

With her clear lips spelling the words, she finished the sign and picked the report back up, signaling the end of the conversation.

What exactly does my mother expect of me?

Is there anything for me to gain from this marriage?

Prince David, the sixth prince of Dvorka. All I know is that he is the son of Madiloff’s concubine, Nadia.

I remember following my father’s delegation to the Yorca palace about ten years ago. I only saw the five princes born to the queen. The sixth prince was nowhere to be found.

I can’t even be sure of his values—or if we’ll even be able to communicate.

The future looks utterly uncertain. I let out a heavy sigh.

Blansk.

I was once considered a fairly competent lord.

At least until my first year as lord here.

I employed women from the tent village who had lost their homes during the war as maids. I gave them the annex of the lord’s castle to live in with their children. I converted stables into temporary housing so other residents of the tent village could survive the winter. When spring came, I replaced the tents with communal housing. I upgraded the water system and built schools and orphanages.

I punished Levantean soldiers who committed violence against my people. I blocked the requisition of metals imposed across Dvorka at the end of the war, even using my own family’s mines. I lent money to those in desperate need for medical treatment, knowing full well it might never be repaid.

Until then, my people viewed me as a kind and gentle lord, even praising me as better than the previous lower-ranking lord.

Of course, that reputation vanished like melted snow once it became known I was Alisa Lasantia.

Why was I always so afraid?

Even though I knew it might eventually be discovered, I hid it as best I could—that I was the heir to the Lasantium bomb, the device that had left Dvorka in ruins.

The people’s attitudes shifted rapidly. They trembled in fear before me but showed hatred behind my back.

The demon with blood-red hair. The incarnation of war. A witch condemned to hell.

Walls around the castle were defaced, filth thrown, rotten tomatoes hurled at my carriage.

It was a natural reaction. No amount of kindness could erase what my family had done. And they had the right to hate me for it.

In fact, I was grateful.

Even if they hated me to the core, they did not resist my rule.

They knew that beyond Blansk, they would be subject to harsh colonial rule. Better here than forced labor and whippings under other lords.

Daimon’s oppressive rule could not take hold here.