Thus, it became clear that Aristine’s choice of the old carriage road was not because the Emperor had cold-shouldered her, but entirely her own decision.
Since the Irugo King had acknowledged it, no one could press the matter further.
“So she’s not to be underestimated.”
The Queen Consort, feigning indifference, gracefully raised her cup—but inside she was burning with rage.
At that moment, a boisterous male voice cut through the silence.
“Haha, I assumed the Imperial Princess of Silvanus would be haughty, but you’re more down-to-earth than I thought. It’s a relief that our new family has such a pleasant disposition.”
When he said “down-to-earth,” it sounded grotesquely exaggerated—entirely intentional.
Aristine met his gaze.
‘The Duke of Skierra.’
She recalled the intelligence she’d gleaned over dinner with Tarkan before the audience: he was the Queen’s father, maternal grandfather to Prince Hamir and Princess Yenycarina, and Hamir’s closest advisor.
Commenting on hauteur when speaking of state affairs was obviously impolite, yet the King—who favored Aristine—didn’t rebuke him. Unlike ceremonious Silvanus, Irugo tolerated this level of informality… but she knew it was a test.
‘They want me to handle this myself.’
And not only the King: Tarkan too was clearly sizing her up.
A small smile curved Aristine’s lips.
‘Very well—then I shall meet their expectations.’
Meanwhile, the chatter continued.
“I also appreciate that the Princess is so unpretentious. As Silvanus’s representative, you came here in Irugo attire. That must mean you favor Irugo greatly.”
It was the face that screamed “submissive,” not “friendly.” She could almost hear the Silvanus maids muttering, “See? She even had to wear our clothes.” But such garments could do her no good.
“Of course you’d want to please us—after all, Silvanus was driven back and offered a ceasefire—”
The unspoken “so you’d better curry our favor” hung in the air.
“Admit it: look at all their tribute. And now the Princess on top of that…”
They’d begun treating her as mere tribute, reminding her that despite imperial blood, she was defeated and sold into marriage—and should therefore grovel.
Their barbs grew ever more vicious—deliberately so. But Aristine remained composed, even showing political shrewdness in a few words. They needed to silence her before she learned anything of Irugo. The King remained silent, and Tarkan merely watched. Unexpected, but perfect. There was no better opportunity.
Predictably, they sharpened their tongues:
“After mocking Irugo, we drove them back and seized territory—was handing over a princess so costly?”
“They should’ve sent the empire’s jewel, the second princess, not the one who was imprisoned.”
“I’m sure the Princess knows her shortcomings and will act accordingly.”
No one stopped them. The atmosphere swelled. Aristine waited for just this crescendo—and then spoke, casually:
“How strange. My coming here is meant to sever the enmity between Silvanus and Irugo and to secure peace. Yet you lampoon everything—from my carriage to my Irugo garments—sapping the meaning of this accord.”
Her gaze swept the room.
“It sounds as though you yourselves long for war.”
They stammered, but found no reply—their jibes bore no logical flaw, only the intent to disgrace a peace they’d just agreed upon.
“Are you thus defying His Majesty Nefter, sovereign of Irugo?”
Silence fell. Even those poised to speak shut their mouths. One false move, and they’d be branded traitors to the King’s will.
“Of course, I do not believe you intended that,” Aristine added, softening her tone with a gentle smile.
Embarrassed, they nodded. Aristine’s lips quirked. It’s more effective to leave them an escape hatch than to corner them completely—then they’ll move as you wish. She had no desire to fight them all.
‘To bring down the commander, aim for the horse he rides. Hamir’s horse is—’
“Duke of Skierra.”
At her summons, the Duke stiffened. He now knew she was no pushover.
“As you noted, I wore Irugo attire to demonstrate my goodwill toward Irugo.”
“In that case—”
“You see only one thing, Duke.”
Her violet eyes brimmed with regret and disappointment.
“I had high expectations of you, just as you had of me—” She clicked her tongue softly. No one else could have spoken so to Skierra, first in line to the throne and grandfather to the heir. Yet Aristine did not hide her contempt; she looked down on him utterly, as they had on her.
“There is a clear difference between many overwhelming one and one overwhelming many.”
“When I rode here by carriage, it was so I could witness firsthand the lands both nations suffer from war.”
“That’s true—so you remind me of it? My memory’s not that poor, Princess.”
“Oh, pardon me. I had no idea you remembered.” Aristine feigned surprise.
“If you recall that, then surely there must be reason you wore Irugo clothes—” She drew the words out, lips tracing a perfect arc. “I assumed you’d think that, of course.”
The smile was beautiful enough to steal every gaze, but its meaning was cruel. The Duke’s jaw clenched.
“Apparently, you’re not clever enough to think that far.”
That insolent princess toyed with him like a plaything.
Silently observing, Princess Faeramien murmured, “…Silvastian Cariel silk.”
Aristine nodded and gripped her gown.
“This is made from Silvastian Cariel silk of Silvanus.”
Her eyes said, “Now you know my meaning,” kind and patient as if teaching a child. Silvanus was famed for its silks; the finest, Silvastian Cariel, was reserved entirely for the Imperial Palace. And here it was fashioned into Irugo attire—nothing could symbolize the union of our nations more aptly.
“It was meant as tribute to His Majesty Nefter, but may I accept it as my wedding gift?”
She smiled at Nefter. The King paused, then let out a hearty laugh that filled the hall.
“Very well—give that silk to my Princess. It suits her splendidly. Truly, only the Princess here thinks of peace and our shared future. Let all take after her.”
His words imprinted themselves on every mind. The last time he’d been so pleased was when ten-year-old Tarkan slew the great beast Murjika. Now the same pride shone in his eyes. Who had expected this of Aristine? Yet she’d deftly deflected their insults and struck back brilliantly. Such a bride for Tarkan…
‘It’s like giving a tiger wings.’
‘Princess Aristine—said to be a madwoman imprisoned as a child…’
‘Hmm, this is going to be interesting.’
The nobles observing quietly now shone with excitement.
‘Good. Thank you for playing into my hands.’
Aristine thought of the Duke of Skierra: though she was Tarkan’s political bride, she also represented the Silvanus delegation. It was unprecedented to wear Irugo attire at the official audience, and the Silvanus maids had clearly anticipated exploiting it.
‘That’s why I asked Tarkan.’
Fortunately, Irugo garments emphasize the beauty and flow of the fabric itself. Had they required the complex tailoring of a Silvanus dress, it could not have been ready in time. And the adornments were not sewn into the dress as in Silvanus; Irugo preferred lavish body chains and arm rings of platinum and gold set with gems.
‘Thanks to that, it was “ta-da,” finished just in time.’
As the hall fell quiet, the Irugo King spoke again.
“We’ve exchanged greetings; you should take your seat.” He looked to the Queen. “My attendants miscalculated. I never imagined we’d run out of chairs.”
The Queen, apologetic, said, “It was my oversight. I have no right to face the Princess. I understand if you’re upset.”
One cannot truly reproach someone who humbles herself so. Aristine replied, “How could Your Majesty concern yourself with such trifles? I don’t mind.”
True to form, she then stepped back as the Queen smiled.
“Still, I’m pleased to accept Your Majesty’s apology—so please, do not worry.”
Her warmth cracked the Queen’s smile. Aristine’s words had assumed the apology, and though the Queen had no intention to truly apologize, she’d admitted fault and shame. Denying it now would only make her look worse.
The Queen forced a benevolent laugh.
“Ha ha, Your Highness’s kindness knows no bounds. Tarkan is truly fortunate to have such a bride.”
Aristine suppressed a snort, twisting her lips, which made the Queen’s mouth tremble.
“But there’s nowhere for you two to sit.” The Queen’s eyes swept the chamber, then, as if discovering something, pointed out a vacant spot.
“Over there—why not sit there for now?”
It was the lowliest corner, cleared for servants, with no chairs—only cold stone.
‘Well, what will you do?’
The Queen’s gaze, predatory as a snake’s, fixed on Aristine. But Aristine’s eyes sparkled with pure delight—no embarrassment, no shame, only joy. Such vivid emotion from a princess who never betrayed her feelings…
‘…What is this?’
Seeing Aristine so pleased unnerved the Queen.
Husband aside, I’ll just make money.