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2. The man seated upon the crumbling throne, Belenus, ran his eyes up and down the seventeen-year-old girl.
Daphne's dull blonde hair had deepened in color, and her tear-filled, oversized eyes had matured just enough to take on a rather beautiful light. Her small lips had grown plumper, like a red fruit held between them.
And her face? The baby fat had melted away, and she had grown lovely enough to be the spitting image of her mother, Beatrice.
At his appraising manner, Daphne shrank into herself. It felt filthy, like having her bare skin stroked.
Why were Asherad and his father, Belenus, so different?
The Emperor would very occasionally summon Daphne to this place and look her over thoroughly. She hadn't known the reason before, but she did now.
He was trying to find traces of Beatrice in Daphne's face and body. He wanted to witness just how wretched was the daughter of Beatrice, the beloved mistress who had loved him and deceived him.
The Daphne of the past had feared it, but now she only found it repulsive. The reason he hadn't killed her was not the Emperor's mercy, but the twisted logic of the Emperor's obsession.
Whether he had loved her mother—that didn't matter. Daphne simply forced herself to endure that gaze with loathing.
"If only you were past twenty……"
What was that supposed to mean? Daphne lifted her head. Why mention her age? And in a tone of regret, no less. A strange unease stirred in her at that.
The Emperor approached Daphne and undid her hair, which had been pulled back so tightly that not a single stray strand escaped. Her blonde hair, so like her mother's, came loose. Daphne trembled, her hands clasped together.
"This hair color grows more and more like Beatrice's."
The Emperor's hand swept through Daphne's hair, then seized a few strands and brought them to his nose.
"It does smell of mildew. I shall grant you some perfume."
Perfume? What was that supposed to mean? Daphne trembled as she watched the Emperor carry on.
It was filthy.
She just wanted to escape this place as quickly as possible. Daphne squeezed her eyes shut.
"Your Majesty. Princess Talassa has arrived."
"Tell her to come in at once."
Her seized hair was finally released. But Daphne still could not move, as if her hair were still caught in his grip.
"You may withdraw."
His voice was a touch hurried. Daphne bowed at the waist and backed away. At the same moment, the attendant opened the door to the audience chamber.
"Your Majesty!"
A bright voice, laced with coquetry, rang out. The Princess of the Kingdom of Talassa was walking toward them, beaming. Her blonde hair, tinged with red, was braided and coiled up, making her look younger than her years. Her snow-white skin and peach-tinted cheeks were utterly adorable.
In her crimson dress, like Crocandra's own, she radiated a vivid vitality—something entirely different from Daphne, whose life force seemed faded and dim.
Somehow, Daphne felt unspeakably ashamed of her own existence. Clutching the hem of her shabby skirt, she slipped out of the audience chamber.
Meanwhile, Callista glanced sidelong at the blonde woman who had brushed past her. She looked somehow familiar. It was unbearably unpleasant.
Maids all wore their hair pulled tightly back. So why was this one's hair let loose? And why was the Emperor acting so conspicuously indifferent?
Somehow, something was off.
"Who is that woman?"
Callista forced out the question with a coquettish lilt. The Emperor replied with a smile.
"She is nothing."
"……"
It was an irritable smile that said ask no more. Careless as Callista might be, she could read that much. She steered the conversation to topics that interested her, but kept thinking about that maid.
Ah. That maid—she remembered where she'd seen her. She was one of the maids who had fluttered about the Crown Prince's palace. Because Asherad's gaze occasionally drifted her way, she was someone Callista had come to know whether she wanted to or not.
What on earth was going on?
She would have to inquire of the maids in the Crown Prince's palace. Callista committed the back of that unsettling woman to memory.
* * *
"What is this?"
Asherad lifted the corner of his mouth in disbelief. There before him were Daphne and Fabian, chatting away quite amicably. Asherad narrowed his eyes.
"Th-this is……"
Lancelot, captain of the Crown Prince's guard, hurriedly stepped forward.
"Your Highness, that fellow only just arrived, so he couldn't have known……"
Lancelot ground his teeth. Anyone who served as Asherad's personal guard would come to know his temperament. He had warned the idiot explicitly, yet the fool had gone and approached that damned woman anyway.
The man had entered the guard through someone's connections, but his circumstances were desperate, he could wield a sword reasonably well, and he had a pleasant way about him.
He lacked sense, but he acted without malice, all things considered……
Fabian had no idea that a servant who had once spoken a single word to Daphne had been killed brutally.
"Hmm……"
Asherad leaned against a pillar, watching Fabian and Daphne.
Daphne said something, and Fabian burst out laughing. Wariness still lingered on Daphne's face, but she looked at ease, nonetheless.
Nothing like the way she looked at him.
"Forgive my presumption, but his head is empty—he can't be treating her kindly out of any real consideration."
"Is that so?"
Treating Daphne with cold disdain—that was the unwritten law of the imperial palace. After all, the Emperor had brought her here in the first place as a toy to be abused.
Lancelot did his best to disparage Fabian's character.
"That fellow sees women as objects to be used. I expect she simply looked like someone convenient to exploit."
At those words, Asherad lifted the corner of his mouth. His emerald eyes were sweeping over the two of them, restless and unblinking.
* * *
Visiting the Crown Prince's chambers in broad daylight was a rare occurrence. True, she had no particular business there and had been lingering about hoping to catch his eye—but she hadn't expected to be noticed quite this quickly.
Daphne bowed her head to Asherad, who sat in his chair. In all the time she had been turning eighteen, Asherad had summoned her late every single night.
A faint awkwardness hung in the air.
"What is it this time?"
A gentle voice. When Daphne raised her head and looked at Asherad, that characteristic red curve of his mouth was lifted.
At Asherad's gesture, Daphne knelt beneath his chair. She looked up at the man gazing down at her. He, beautiful as some absolute being, looked at Daphne's stiff face and spoke softly.
"What could it be this time, that you're acting so stiff with me?"
"It's……"
Daphne didn't know what to say. Should she say that she had felt a distance between them when she saw him walking with the Princess of Talassa?
How presumptuous, to speak of distance. Daphne forced herself to clamp her mouth shut over the words.
"Daphne, I asked, so you must answer. Did you think you could start to answer and then stop?"
Asherad reached out and tilted up her chin. His thumb stroked her lips, red as ripened fruit. Daphne opened her mouth.
"It's just that……"
"Hm?"
Asherad brought his face close. His green eyes seemed to suck in everything she was. Even her reason was drawn away without a trace.
Before she knew it, Daphne spoke as though hypnotized.
"It's just, the Princess of Talassa is here, so……"
"So?"
"Because she is the one you will marry."
Daphne avoided Asherad's eyes and, for once, added a few more words.
"The two of you suit each other so well……"
Her voice was low and desolate, impossible to tell whether it was praise or mockery.
"Ahaha!"
Asherad burst out laughing, rare for him. He looked delighted. Daphne's face flushed red.
Somehow, his face looked happy. His smile always seemed faintly chilled, but this time there was only warmth in it.
"Ah, Daphne! I see what misunderstanding you've had!"
"……"
"Daphne, do you think I'm going to marry that woman?"
Then is she not? At that look, Asherad was still smiling.
"I wondered why you were avoiding me again…… did no one tell you?"
"……"
"That woman is my aunt."
"I know, and she's not a drop of blood related to……"
"No, that's not the point. It's true the Princess of Talassa has come for a marriage. Only, not to me—to my father, the Emperor."
"What?"
"I hear a rumor spread because the Princess is around my age, but everyone has it wrong."
At those words, Daphne's face brightened. Oh, of course. That's how it was. Watching her, light touched Asherad's face as well.
"You seem happy."
"Yes."
"Why?"
At that, Daphne pressed her lips shut. Even without an answer, Asherad didn't mind.
"Well, if you're happy, then so am I."
At that murmuring voice, Daphne's face flushed red. Why would he say such a thing? Why did this man keep saying things like this to her?
"Daphne. I truly enjoy the time I spend with you."
"……"
"Seeing your face light up like this brings me comfort, you see."
It was a kindness and tenderness different from Fabian's.
Thanks to Asherad's gentle smile, Daphne could forget, for a little while, the complicated things—like the Emperor's meaningful manner, his glances, and the like.
Asherad, your father is strange.
Daphne wanted to say it, but forced herself to hold it in. Could Asherad really do something for her sake? Especially standing in the way of his own father, the sovereign of the empire?
He would never do such a thing. Never.
"Daphne."
"Yes."
"You will stay by my side, won't you?"
"Yes."
Daphne smiled gently.
"You are mine. Aren't you?"
At the question, asked as if to confirm it, Daphne raised no objection. The faint anxiety she could sense in his tone pleased her. It was simply endearing.
Daphne merely gazed at the one she loved, with flushed cheeks, red lips, and a warm expression.
Because she did not know what to do with her blazing affection.
The moment she had seen him standing beside the Princess, Daphne had realized her feelings were far from ordinary. She liked this man.
She was grateful for his touch, for his glances.
Only, she was sorry. Asherad did not know precisely what her sin was. If he learned that Daphne had dared to deceive the world into believing she shared his blood, what would he say?
Merely thinking of it made her heart shudder.
"Daphne. Why don't you answer?"
Daphne forced a smile.
"Yes. I will stay by your side, Your Highness—if that is what you wish."
She did not want to lose this. If, because of what she said, the look in Asherad's eyes changed, she could not go on living.
"Good."
The warm expression and gaze returned. This was affection. A warmth unlike the Emperor's—unlike Belenus's. Just then came an urgent knock.
"Who is it?"
At Asherad's words, the attendant answered in haste.
"Your Highness, the Princess of Talassa has arrived!"
"Show her in."
Daphne rose and tried to retreat toward the wall, but Asherad took her hand. For some reason, he showed no inclination to distance himself from her in front of the Princess. It was a different attitude from the Emperor's. Daphne found it bewildering, yet somehow she did not dislike it.
"Aunt, what brings you here of all places?"
Asherad greeted the Princess with an easy expression. The Princess answered with a smile across her whole face—then caught sight of Daphne standing at Asherad's side.
"So you're here—shameless, for a condemned criminal!"
"……"
Callista strode up to Daphne and slapped her cheek. Daphne clutched her struck cheek and looked upward.
"Your Highness, what is the meaning of this outrageous behavior!"
"What do you mean……"
"Do you know what manner of woman this creature is? She is the daughter of that witch who tormented my sister so!"
Asherad's eyes flew wide open.
Ah. It was all over.
Tears fell, one after another, from Daphne's eyes.