1
1. The Cuckoo Girl
"Asherad, come to your auntie."
Callista, the youngest princess of the Kingdom of Talasa, opened her arms to Asherad. Watching her, Asherad approached with a smile spread across his face and embraced her.
"Thank you for making the long journey."
"Oh, hush."
The Kingdom of Talasa was the homeland of Asherad's late mother, Sabrina.
Callista, who had visited with the eldest princess Sabrina, had had almost no connection with him. It was only natural. Callista was, in a manner of speaking, an adopted daughter.
Sabrina was the daughter of the former queen by birth, while Callista was the child of the second wife the king had taken.
The king had admired Callista's mother, a young and beautiful widow, and had ardently courted her. In the end, he took Callista in as his daughter on the condition of making her mother his queen.
Callista smiled broadly as she gazed at her handsome nephew. Callista, the king's 'youngest daughter,' was as spoiled as she was loved.
"By the way, where is His Majesty?"
"His Majesty is in the audience chamber, Auntie."
Callista nodded, then looked at Asherad. He was her nephew, a mere three years her junior. 'The most handsome man I've ever seen.' Slightly wavy, lustrous jet-black hair. A straight nose and large eyes with sharp lines.
The young man, now approaching twenty, certainly had a dangerously charming allure. The thick lashes of his slightly lowered eyes were beautiful.
"Asherad."
"Yes, Auntie."
Callista could not take her eyes off her nephew's face.
"I shall escort you."
Her heart fluttered as she took Asherad's hand.
* * *
"They say she's a princess of Talasa."
"Is she getting married?"
"Don't be silly, what are you saying? She's the late Empress's younger sister."
Daphne watched the two figures walking down the corridor. The woman with red-gold hair and amber eyes clearly carried an air of nobility. Asherad was holding her hand, smiling brightly.
"What nonsense. Strictly speaking, they don't share a single drop of blood, they say."
Daphne bit her lip as she listened to the maids chattering away. The two standing face to face in the corridor looked far too perfect together.
"His Highness will be taking a fiancée soon enough."
"Oh come on, still, they're aunt and nephew. Is that even allowed?"
People whispered to one another as they looked at that perfect picture. Daphne lowered her head.
"Daphne, come here."
At Sarah's warm words, Daphne lifted her head. Lately, Sarah had been speaking to her. How was she supposed to interpret this...?
"Sarah! Are you crazy?"
Amanda reached out a hand as if to stop her, but Sarah shook her head. Daphne approached Sarah.
"Don't wander too far away from us."
"Okay..."
At Sarah's warm words, Daphne felt a lump rise in her throat for some reason, and she bowed her head even lower. As she passed by with the maids, she stole a glance at the two of them.
It was a breathtakingly beautiful picture.
"What can you do, really," Sarah added by way of comfort. Daphne lowered her head with a gloomy expression.
* * *
"Why are you here?"
Daphne tilted her head as she looked at the red-haired knight. Most of those who approached her said nothing but negative things.
Get lost. Get out. You're filthy. 'Why are you here' could, in a way, be heard as telling her to leave this place, but this man's face held nothing but pure curiosity.
"S-sorry."
"Did you come to see His Highness the Crown Prince?"
"..."
"His Highness the Crown Prince won't be looking for you for a while."
She knew that, but the words were still cold. The place she had found herself drifting toward, without even realizing it, because Asherad hadn't called for her, was the Crown Prince's palace.
She had wanted to see his face, even if only for a moment. She had wished that even a passing breeze might carry a trace of him. The man, having seen that face, sighed and said:
"Ah, this is stifling. Anyone can see I'm older than you, so I'll just speak casually."
"..."
"Hey, you. Are you out of work? Why do you keep loitering around here?"
His speech had grown curt, but Daphne didn't particularly feel awkward. In truth, whether a knight used honorifics toward a commoner girl was entirely at the knight's discretion.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"His Majesty suddenly removed me from all my duties."
"Strange. If you don't work, won't the other maids resent you? Planning to get scolded again, like back then?"
Those were painful words too. Just as that man had once said, she was hated. Though she was already so hated that there was really nothing left for her to be hated for. Daphne lowered her head.
Come to think of it, did this man also know about the 'scolding' she'd received from Olga back then? 'Rumors about me always spread, don't they.' Daphne's face turned gloomy.
"Ah, sorry, sorry."
The knight spoke quietly and stood beside Daphne.
"Will His Highness the Crown Prince show himself around here?"
It was the first time since Nowell that anyone had approached her with such friendliness. Daphne, startled, took a step back.
"What?"
"..."
"Ah, I'm Fabian."
The man, standing against the backdrop of the azure sky, smiled broadly and extended his hand. Daphne was taken aback. Why—why was this man extending his hand to her?
Everyone besides Asherad had been hostile toward her. They had all mocked her and tried to 'punish' her.
"I-I'm the daughter of the cuckoo."
That was why. Daphne, without meaning to, squeezed her eyes shut and shouted. Fabian burst out laughing.
"The daughter of the cuckoo is your name?"
"..."
"An interesting name, Miss Cuckoo."
Fabian chuckled. Usually, when someone said this much, she would take the hint and back away.
"Um, I'm sorry, but... I..."
She didn't like slandering her own mother, but Daphne bit her lip. This man clearly had no idea who she was.
"I know. You're the child of that adulteress who deceived the bloodline."
"..."
He knows? He's doing this even though he knows? A person who could incur the Emperor's wrath?
"Ah, but that's just wrong. It's been years since then, and everyone still gives you the cold shoulder?"
"..."
"It's strange, I'm telling you. Really."
"That's, that's only natural, since I'm a criminal's daughter."
"Miss Cuckoo, you're not the criminal."
No one but Asherad had ever said those words to her. To Daphne, whose eyes had gone wide, Fabian tossed out, as if it were nothing:
"Besides, you're this pretty."
In an instant, Daphne's face flushed red.
"And, I like the sound of cuckoos."
That was the first proper meeting between Fabian and Daphne.
* * *
Daphne woke from sleep. Tears streamed down her face. The excessively plush bed enveloped her body. She lifted her upper body.
An unfamiliar place met her eyes still. This was the Emperor's chamber—Asherad's chamber.
Asherad, the master of that room, lay asleep with his eyes closed. A shaft of sunlight leaking through the blackout curtains illuminated Asherad's eyes.
The boyish air that had remained before he left for the battlefield had long since vanished. The sleek jawline, the firm set of his mouth. His broadened chest.
But the jet-black lashes visible when his eyes were closed, and the red lips that had ceaselessly explored her body, remained the same.
Daphne, who had been admiring his face, looked down at herself. Traces that Asherad had carved were everywhere. Though invisible, her neck and chest would surely be covered in red marks.
Her body ached faintly.
Daphne sat on the edge of the bed and stared for a long while at the window where sunlight streamed through.
After a very long time, that man had appeared in her dreams.
"Fabian..."
A cracked voice escaped Daphne's parched lips. The man she had seen at seventeen. That mischievous boy with the carefree air yet traces of youth remaining, with azure eyes and red hair. Tears poured out.
Fabian.
The image of him approaching her, still calling her pretty, was vivid before her eyes. It had all been because of her. Because of her...
"You still remember that bastard?"
A sinister voice rang out. Daphne, startled, turned around. Between the shafts of sunlight, cold green eyes came into view.
Daphne's face hardened. It had been a voice so small it shouldn't have woken him...
Those green eyes flashed with madness in an instant. Just as fear seized her at Asherad's face and she tried to rise from her spot, her wrist was yanked and she was pushed sideways onto the bed.
"Hhk..."
A hand slid smoothly beneath her side, and Asherad, wrapping one arm around her waist, pulled her body tightly against his own.
Daphne tried to turn her head, but his teeth were already biting the nape of her neck.
"You remember that bastard's name?"
"..."
Daphne couldn't speak. One hand seized her breast. Perhaps it was the lingering heat of the flesh they had mingled all night, but she was quickly aroused by the stimulation he gave.
Her slip pushed up, his large hand brushed over her soft thighs before spreading them wide apart.
"Why do you remember him?"
Daphne let out a hot breath. The slick, wet sounds made her mind go hazy.
"Y-Your Majesty..."
"He gets called by name, and I'm merely 'Your Majesty' to you?"
Slippery, wet sounds flowed out. She had her back turned to Asherad, so she couldn't see his face.
But the displeasure and fury steeped in his voice, his quickening breaths, and the thing pressing against her buttocks told her of his arousal.
"Hh, hhugh!"
She pressed her lips shut as if to bite them bloody, but she couldn't withstand his hand, and sounds escaped her.
"You liked that bastard?"
"..."
"You liked him so much you'd abandon me and choose him?"
"..."
"Did you love him?"
Asherad whispered the same words as back then. The hand stimulating Daphne quickened. Daphne, panting with arousal, desperately shook her head and shouted.
"Ah, hh! If it weren't, if it weren't for me!"
"..."
"If it weren't for me, he wouldn't have died!"
Daphne let out hot breaths and began to sob. But Asherad, as if ignoring her sobbing, looked down at her.
Jewel-like tears fell from Daphne's eyes. Asherad lifted the corner of his mouth.
He had been nothing more than a knight. A swordsman who carried only half a noble bloodline in his veins. Someone who could not even be compared to Asherad.
Yet the face Asherad wore as he looked down at Daphne was stained black.
"Spread your legs."
As always, Daphne did as he commanded. The woman, tormented all night, took him without difficulty.
"Don't cry."
"..."
"I said don't cry."
Asherad licked Daphne's tears, again and again. As if by swallowing her tears away, that clinging sorrow might vanish along with them.