6. Take Your Fill
The Empress of the Empire had died.
The state funeral lasted ten days. The palace staff, all mobilized for this massive event, gave Daphne and the others barely a moment to breathe.
In place of the splendid ornaments that adorned the palace, black cloth hung everywhere, and fresh white roses decorated the halls each day.
Priests and distinguished guests from foreign lands visited the palace, and the more guests there were, the more their work multiplied—until it practically exploded.
Shoved around from place to place, Daphne eventually ended up taking on the guest room cleaning that everyone else avoided. She tidied the rooms every day for the visitors staying there.
And as she did, she looked around.
Nowell was nowhere to be seen. The stable hands were apparently being worked to death—could he have been sent there?
It felt oddly hollow that someone who had kindly spoken to her had vanished so quickly. 'I suppose that's how it would be.' There were people who were, on very rare occasions, friendly to Daphne. But they all disappeared at some point. Given how frequently the palace's departments changed, it was only natural.
Daphne was busy. There wasn't even time to sit and rest, and there was no one kind enough for her to strike up conversation with. Even four bodies wouldn't have been enough, and like the others who had once approached her, Daphne forgot about the existence known as Nowell.
It was because her worry for Ashelade weighed on her more and more, more than for some man who had spoken to her only once before vanishing.
She pitied Ashelade, who had lost his mother.
But Ashelade would always remain aloof and dignified.
He was a superior being, different from her. He would carry out the funeral with composure as well. Like draping sorrow over his face as though it were an elegant curtain, he would do just that.
She had asked him to stay by her side.
She wanted to hurry and be with him. Wouldn't he be having such a hard time?
Surely he wasn't crying alone, was he?
Thinking of her own mother, whom no one had mourned, the corners of Daphne's mouth drooped. She too had cried alone in her own secluded place after her mother passed away. She recalled the image of Ashelade sitting alone in the Crown Prince's garden, a place no one could enter without permission.
She wanted to go to him. But the rule was that she must not go until he called for her first.
And yet, she missed him.
What if, at the end of an exhausting schedule, he was shedding tears alone over his loss?
"Lucky you."
At the mocking voice, Daphne turned her head. She realized she had been wiping a window. A girl her own age with dark night-colored hair and blue eyes.
It was Amanda. Daphne's body stiffened with tension. While working in the palace, Daphne had mentally sorted the people around her into several groups: those most hostile to her, those somewhat less hostile, and Ashelade.
Amanda was one of the most hostile. The moment her eyes met Amanda's, Daphne hastily lowered her head, and Amanda's eyes narrowed even further.
"You've got time to slack off by yourself, do you?"
"Amanda, that's enough."
The person standing beside her was Sarah. Sarah was one of the less hostile ones.
Sarah always looked at Daphne with pitying eyes, but she was also someone who never took any action.
Amanda ground her teeth and said,
"You're the seed of calamity."
"Amanda!"
Sarah shouted hastily. Tears were welling up in Sarah's eyes as she cried out, and Daphne, not knowing what they meant, found it strange.
Amanda yelled at Sarah.
"Why! Why can't you ever say anything!"
"It's already over and done with."
"It's infuriating how you don't know anything!"
Daphne had no idea what kind of conversation they were having. Amanda sneered and said,
"Do you know what happened to Nowell?"
Daphne looked puzzled. Why was Nowell suddenly being brought up? Daphne gathered her courage and tried to speak.
"Amanda, stop it."
Sarah said, with an uncharacteristically firm voice. Sarah, who was always calm, occasionally got angry and couldn't even handle Amanda properly.
As expected, Amanda flinched at Sarah's intervention. Sarah took her hand and said,
"I'll take care of it, so stop."
"……."
Amanda looked at Sarah with an expression of incomprehension. Sarah smiled gently.
"Sorry, did that startle you, Daphne? It's nothing you need to know about. Amanda's just venting as usual."
She was still as kind as ever. But her face was trembling. However, Daphne didn't notice, and asked,
"……Where did that person, Nowell, go?"
Daphne asked, mustering all her courage. Sarah lowered her head for a moment, then lifted it and smiled even more brightly.
"No, it's nothing at all."
This time, Daphne noticed. It was a smile far too contrived. Just as she tried to dig into that smile, Sarah said,
"Oh, right, Daphne! You should hurry and finish cleaning the window. His Majesty is scheduled to arrive soon."
Her eyes widened. Once Sarah and Amanda left, she scrubbed the window as quickly as she could manage. If she caught the Emperor's eye, who knew what might be done to her.
The moment she picked up her bucket and rag and left the spot, a murmuring sound reached her ears.
Startled, Daphne looked across the corridor. Just as Sarah had said. Fortunately, he had not seen this place, so Daphne was able to leave. 'Could it be—did Sarah help me?' Amid the procession of incomprehensible conversations, there was one thing Daphne could understand. Sarah, who had always kept her distance and only exchanged glances, had helped her.
* * *
"What is that vermin doing?"
The mood was bad. Daphne trembled, her eyes wide with fear. Guest room cleaning was normally done when there were no visitors.
"Does the Peneos Empire have nothing but vermin who lack even basic manners?"
The visitor kicked over the bucket and mop she had brought.
"Your Highness! Please compose yourself."
"You clearly said you would rest after breakfast!"
The explosive shouting was quite irritable. Daphne squeezed her eyes shut. It seemed today was the day.
Managing the guest rooms of foreigners was one of the jobs no one wanted.
Do well, and that was merely expected; do poorly, and your head would roll. It was inevitable that Daphne, the ugly duckling, would be given the task.
Daphne knelt where she sat.
"F-f-forgive me……."
She couldn't produce a proper voice. From what she had heard, the master of this guest room—the Prince of Findus—was supposed to have a full schedule all day.
Daphne bit her lip. Someone must have given him the wrong time. But surely such an excuse would never work on her tormentor.
Daphne fully intended to beg for forgiveness. Just as the head she saw in her field of vision began to rise from her two legs, a kick came flying.
"How dare someone raise their face!"
Struck on the shoulder, she rolled across the floor. The cord that had tied her hair so neatly snapped, and her hair scattered wildly.
"Just a moment."
It hurt. It hurt so much. The kick to her shoulder, the collision with the floor—everything.
She had been bullied, but fortunately she had rarely ever suffered direct violence.
It was pain inflicted without any regard for whether she lived or died. That single kick made her body hurt so much she couldn't bear it. The pain streamed down through her body. Gasping for breath, she looked up. Daphne's blue eyes finally turned toward the prince.
Princes weren't all fairy-tale figures like Ashelade. He was a young man with a fleshy, plump build that would be almost insulting to compare with Ashelade.
He surveyed Daphne's face, then soon wore a cruel smile and grasped the shoulder of the knight who had delivered the kick.
"Who told you to kick her?"
"……."
"Right, Peneos is not such a foolish nation after all. My mistake."
The prince crouched down beside her where she lay prostrate, lifted her chin, and looked her over this way and that. It was as if he were appraising the value of a work of art. He smacked his lips with his tongue.
Her skin crawled as though he had licked her all over.
"We can't very well treat such a beauty harshly over a single mistake, now can we?"
"……."
"Get up. Quickly now."
They were gentle words, but she knew that if she didn't rise, another kick would come flying.
Daphne steadied herself and carefully raised her body, coming face to face with the crouching Prince of Findus. When she met whatever it was that lurked in those eyes, she felt so disgusted she wanted to vomit.
"Now that your hair is down, that beauty of yours shows so much better. I like hair worn loose like this, you see, but everyone here insists on tying theirs up. Rather dull, isn't it?"
"Your Highness, it would be better to simply execute her……."
When one of the knights spoke cautiously, the prince bellowed,
"Shut your mouth!"
"……."
At that threatening voice, Daphne, right in front of him, flinched hard.
"Dear me, that wasn't shouted at you."
The prince spoke with forced gentleness and reached out to touch Daphne's slender, exposed wrist. The way his thumb stroked her, gently scratching, felt like a bug crawling over her.
"I shan't punish your adorable little mistake."
"……."
"But a price will be necessary, won't it?"
The hand that had been toying with her face traveled past her ear and caressed her shoulder and back. Her face turned deathly pale.
Daphne knew nothing of the rumors that the Prince of Findus was a lecher, but she instinctively understood what this man wanted.
Ah, Ashelade.
In her heart, Daphne called for the one she held in her heart. She knew. Right now he was busy, and he would have no time to spare for someone like her.
Even so, seeking him out in a moment like this was as natural as calling upon a god. The Prince of Findus's breathing quickened. Just as Daphne felt that foul heat, the prince shouted,
"Everyone, out!"
At the prince's words, everyone turned to leave. It's over now. She squeezed her eyes shut. But she heard no sound of the knights' footsteps.
"Tch."
She heard the prince click his tongue in apparent displeasure. As Daphne wondered why, a voice came from behind her.
"Is there some problem, Prince of Findus?"
Daphne rejoiced. Never had that voice felt like light more than it did at this moment.
The one who came into the disordered room was unmistakably Ashelade. Like a puppy seeing its master, she looked at her person who had entered the room.
He, in the midst of national mourning, wore only black from head to toe, and it suited his dark hair terrifyingly well. His sharp features and darkly sunken eyes radiated a piercing intensity.
Ashelade's sharp gaze moved, and he soon grasped the situation, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the prince. He had a talent for tensioning the air with silence alone, and the prince, perhaps cowed by that presence, spoke with an awkward air.
"This girl committed a mistake. So lazy that even with me present, she still hasn't finished cleaning."
"Is that so?"
Daphne made a wounded expression. But her words would not be accepted, she knew.
Ashelade smiled gently, as he always did. Seeing it, the Prince of Findus also lifted the corners of his mouth.
"So, I was thinking of pardoning her crime on the condition that I take this one maid. What say you?"
Daphne nearly screamed. She hadn't expected the prince to demand her body so directly.
"I trust you will permit it, Crown Prince Ashelade. You have no choice, do you?"
His manner toward the Crown Prince of the Empire was the height of insolence. The knights of the Kingdom of Findus watched their prince, so flagrantly rude, with cold sweat. When Ashelade did not answer, the prince spoke again, as if to provoke him once more.
"If you wish to stay out of your father's sight, that is."
In that instant, Ashelade's eyes flashed coldly. But that gleam soon vanished. Ashelade turned his head and looked at Daphne's face. Her gaze, brimming with tears, pleaded with him desperately, and a smile settled at the corners of Ashelade's eyes, and with that beautiful face……
"Take your fill of her."
He spat out the cruel words.