At the courtier’s prompt to turn around for a moment, Aristine obeyed and pivoted.
As she moved, her long, luxurious hair whispered through the air.
Though her silver hair had always shone brilliantly, treated now with oil-infused combs, it seemed as if finely ground diamonds had been scattered throughout its length.
The subtle lilac tint of her locks glowed all the more vividly.
The lower half of her hair fell freely, while the upper strands had been braided into multiple plaits and adorned with a wreath of peonies, roses, and lisianthus.
The crown was almost excessively ornate, yet atop Aristine’s head it felt entirely appropriate—fulfilling its role of illuminating the bride’s radiance.
It was in that moment that the maids fully grasped what it meant for even flowers to bow their heads in shame before true beauty.
Her violet eyes were deep and crystalline, her coral-colored lips plush and smooth.
A small, sculpted nose and cheeks brimming with life. Flawlessly pale, softly glowing skin.
Silk draped over her limbs in perfect proportion, tracing every contour.
The jewels she wore seemed to gather the light itself, and the draping platinum chains shifted and sparkled with her slightest movement.
She appeared as though she had stepped from myth—a fairy or a goddess, something beyond mortal.
The maids, poised to mock the “barbarian princess” in her shabby rags, instead stared in stunned silence.
Their eyes widened, trembled, shock etched across their faces.
Only after Aristine obeyed the courtier again and turned half a circle did they exhale the breaths they’d been holding.
“Ahem. Well, at least she doesn’t sully the glory of our great Silvanus Empire.”
“Just so.”
“She’s only barely saved herself from embarrassment.”
They flared their nostrils as if it meant nothing, though they’d completely forgotten they’d been tormenting her moments before.
They fluttered their fans, avoiding her gaze.
While the court ladies finished adjusting her gown, the maids peeked at Aristine through their fans.
“Clothes are wings, aren’t they? No wonder.”
“Look at those gems…so large and clear, and sparkling like that. How much must they cost?”
“Even one of those stones could buy a decent gown.”
Their whispered reflections glittered with envy and spite.
The princess of Irugo must be humiliated; all beauty should belong to them, just as in the imperial palace.
They imagined themselves sweeping through society in lavish finery, Tarkan’s strong arm around their slender waist.
The vision danced in their minds like a dream.
“Tarkan must have financed all this.”
“As expected of Prince Tarkan…”
Their faces twisted with greed at the thought of their mistress’s future husband.
By Silvanus standards, Tarkan was far from a good match—he didn’t even know how to treat a lady properly, and worse, he’d brazenly intruded into a lady’s private chambers.
A man with far too many faults.
“But…”
Even that was part of his appeal.
In his presence, Silvanus men looked like mere boys—his scorching gaze, chiseled features, prominent jaw, and that taut, muscular body.
He was endlessly desirable.
And then there was his status, power, and wealth—all perfectly aligned.
Seeing Aristine so resplendent made the maids more desperate than ever.
“Hmph, he’s wasted on that ragged princess.”
“I’m far more refined and noble than some unlettered savage.”
“A woman as elegant, noble, and aristocratic as I ought to be by his side.”
They bit their lips in frustration.
Of course, no one else paid them any heed.
“Prince Tarkan will be astonished when he sees Her Highness.”
“I can’t wait to present Her Highness to him. I’m curious to see his reaction.”
“His Highness will look more handsome than ever today.”
“Oh, it truly will be a wedding for the history books. Their combined beauty is simply unparalleled.”
At the court ladies’ chatter, Aristine straightened her shoulders.
‘More historic, perhaps, is that this political marriage will sever centuries of enmity.’
She was glad the court ladies, having poured sweat into their craft, were satisfied with the result.
‘Such passion for their work—if only I could recruit them.’
She longed to earn a fortune and build a team of equally dedicated artisans.
“Ah, and we’ve prepared everything to be as soft as possible.”
“It’s truly cushiony. It can withstand any jolt.”
“Though it is a bit snug.”
The court ladies exchanged hushed remarks.
They chuckled in delight, their expressions oddly smitten.
“Well done.”
Aristine praised them, grateful that they’d remembered her preferences.
They truly were capable people.
Her desire to scout them grew stronger.
“Shall we go now, Your Highness?”
With energy, they opened the doors.
It was time to board the carriage for the ceremony.
“Why on earth has this taken so long…”
The Silvanus knights, who’d waited outside for ages, were about to unleash their complaints the moment the doors opened.
But the instant they saw Aristine emerge, their words died on their lips.
They forgot their irritation and stared with mouths agape.
After a moment of dazed looks, they began to appraise her from head to toe, as if critiquing a masterpiece.
Indeed, in outward appearance, there was no woman more beautiful.
‘Too precious to give to barbarians.’
‘A noble knight like me should be the one admiring her.’
Their eyes gleamed with lust and greed as they observed her every step.
These were the same men who’d made lewd jokes about her during the journey.
As Aristine lifted her foot to step into the carriage, the senior knight—leader of the group—extended his hand.
He’d never done so during the entire trip.
Feigning politeness, he offered a brazen smile.
Then, as if emboldened by her cleanliness, he reached for her hand.
Aristine ignored the outstretched hand and moved to board.
Or she would have, if the knight hadn’t snatched her hand.
“……”
The knight who gripped Aristine’s hand smiled lecherously.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m merely escorting Her Highness. Come now, please enter the carriage.”
He said this as he unpleasantly fondled her soft hand.
Aristine watched him for a moment, then lifted her eyes to meet his.
“To dare touch a royal without permission…”
Her quiet words, and the authority in her gaze, made the knight flinch.
It was the first time the princess had asserted her royal prerogative so overtly.
He was so startled he didn’t know how to react.
“Why aren’t you kneeling and begging for my mercy?”
Her calm voice carried weight, and he instinctively released her hand.
Shame washed over him as he realized how small he’d appeared.
“To think I’d ever debase myself before such filthy barbarians…”
He sneered, mocking her.
“Really, what sort of royal do you think you are? A second princess or something?”
He jabbed her shoulder as if to prove a point—what harm in just touching her?
“You get a bit of courtesy in Irugo for marrying a prince, and you forget who you are.”
He twisted his lips in a snide grin.
“In the end, you’re still a barbarian.”
He traced her shoulder with his thumb, marveling at how smooth her skin was.
“Only because they’re uncivilized do they elevate you.”
His eyes, once full of disdain, began to roil with a tangled emotion.
He let his gaze wander down the graceful line of her neck to her prominent collarbone.
Aristine’s eyes narrowed.
“You really do love your inferiors, don’t you.”
“What on earth…”
The knight frowned at her unexpected words.
‘I knew the princess had a strange mind…’
Aristine let out a soft laugh.
“Did you just want to join me in a cell underground?”
At her words, his mocking expression froze.
He recalled the sight of his bleeding comrade, dragged to that dungeon because of Tarkan.
〈If I’d been there, none of that would’ve happened!〉
〈Yes, we should’ve shown that barbarian what imperial knights can do.〉
〈Cowardly to attack when he wasn’t present…〉
Though they’d exchanged such talk, none of them truly wanted to face Tarkan in battle.
He saw that much at once.
‘He’s a monster…’
Watching the knight blanch, Aristine whispered gently.
“They say his nose was broken—would be fun if ours broke in the same place. Or…somewhere else might be nice, too.”
Her gaze drifted downward—precisely to the knight’s groin.
“I’m more tempted by this spot. What about you?”
Aristine’s smile was that of an angel—pure and serene.
Though her words promised to shatter his most prized possession to bits.
The knight reflexively covered himself between his legs.
His face went deathly pale.
Before anything had happened, he already felt pain in his most precious asset.
Aristine watched him cringe and laugh softly to herself, then boarded the carriage alone.
‘How utterly incapable of learning.’
She settled into her seat and exhaled, blowing a soft breath.
One example should have taught them to be careful.
‘Soon I’ll have to deal with the knights.’
She’d need an excuse.
‘Oh, if only they’d give me one.’
She worried they might become overly cautious from this scare.
‘No, no. If they were that clever, this wouldn’t have happened.’
They might lash out more, to save face in front of their peers.
A foolish lot who thought trampling someone’s pride could somehow restore it.
Aristine looked out the window.
The knights marched around the carriage as escort.
Among them, she easily spotted the senior knight—beside himself with rage, muttering to himself.
He’d been humiliated by her threat to his “precious thing.”
The junior knights shot him furtive glances, further fueling his outrage.
‘Oh, he’s about to explode.’
In a way, he was predictably consistent.
A good sign for Aristine.
As she thought this, the carriage reached the entrance to the ceremony hall.
Inside the lavishly decorated hall, Diona stood in a corner of the lobby, carefully managing her expression.
Outside, the square was packed with reporters and onlookers.
Even from inside, the noise and excitement were unmistakable.
Everyone awaited the woman who would become the hero Prince Tarkan’s wife.
‘I should have been the one to receive such expectations…!’
Diona was the only woman close to Tarkan.
The sole woman he had ever given his favor to.
She had assumed that she would become his wife.
He would be king, and she queen, reigning over this land.
She’d believed there was no other possible future.
‘But the princess of Silvanus!’
Though Diona’s face betrayed no emotion, her clenched fist trembled.
“Oh my, Lady Diona.”
A group of noble ladies chatting in the lobby greeted her as she passed.
Always composed and mature, Diona was the object of many young ladies’ admiration.
Her brother’s noble sacrifice in the Plains Battle—giving his life to save comrades—had become the stuff of bardic songs.
Who could remain unmoved by such heroic devotion?
Needless to say, the prestige of her family, the Palaman Earls, had soared.
“My ladies.”
Diona returned their greeting with a serene smile, as if she’d never been angered.
“You all look lovely today. Aren’t you even more beautiful than the bride?”
“Oh, please. Her Highness Aristine is truly stunning.”
Diona smiled languidly, flattering Aristine.
“I’ve heard how beautiful the princess is. They say everyone was astonished when they met her.”
“Still, she is from Silvanus after all.”
“She’s so small and unimpressive…”
The ladies lowered their voices to whisper.
“But I think someone like Lady Diona suits Prince Tarkan far better.”
“Indeed.”
Diona said nothing, lifting one corner of her mouth in a suggestive smile.
She had resigned herself—she would make her own fortune.