The marriage is already set. That cannot be undone.
‘Then—’
‘Absolutely, I will never let her find love.’
A viscous shadow fell over Diona’s face. Within it, her eyes flickered with rage and jealousy.
‘With my own hands, I will forge the most miserable marriage in the world.’
The thought of Aristine wailing in lifelong misery cheered her somewhat.
Diona calmed her fury and exhaled, smiling.
‘Prince Tarkan’s attention will never drift to the princess anyway.’
He said his heart would not change. For over ten years, it had been steadfast.
How many times had that unyielding heart wounded her?
No matter how she tried, no matter how close she came, it never wavered.
Like a thorny, razor-sharp wall, she had been pricked and cut again and again.
‘There’s no way it will change now.’
Diona snorted inwardly. Aristine would suffer the same fate.
Yet suddenly, she recalled Tarkan’s astonished look when he saw the clean Aristine.
And how, at the audience, he had shielded the princess from the queen.
Her heart fluttered. He had never before shown such political sentiment.
‘No, no.’
Of course he had been surprised by the princess’s transformation. Anyone would be.
And his defense of her against the queen was only because he cares for those under his charge.
As Diona forced herself to calm, Aristine’s voice cut through her thoughts.
“So—is that all you had to say?”
“Yes? Yes…”
Diona nodded absently. She had never imagined the conversation would flow this way, and thus had nothing more to add.
“Right. Thanks for your congratulations.”
Aristine offered a farewell gesture, clearly dismissing her.
It was an unmistakable command to depart.
Diona braced her legs, refusing to be driven off so easily.
She felt betrayal and humiliation, and vowed Aristine would never dare approach Tarkan.
Even better if she stormed off to confront him with anger.
Or, failing that, she’d want her to wreak havoc—throw things, break valuables.
‘This wedding must be ruined!’
Even if the political marriage held, the ceremony should leave a foul impression.
Aristine’s married life must begin in anguish.
‘Prince Tarkan must never set foot in the bridal chamber.’
She would ensure it.
Diona’s eyes gleamed dangerously.
“Durante, what are you staring at?”
At Mukali’s question, Durante shook his head.
“Nothing. Do you know where the princess’s maids are?”
“They must be beside her, of course.”
Durante glanced at Mukali without a word, then looked away.
That piqued Mukali’s curiosity—not because it concerned the princess, but because they were meant to guard her.
He cleared his throat and asked:
“Er—why do you ask?”
“Well, I thought—”
‘They wouldn’t be beside her.’
Durante swallowed the rest of his thought. His gaze rested on the bridal waiting room.
It had been some time since Diona entered to speak with the princess.
‘There must be someone else with Diona; she wouldn’t enter alone.’
Durante tapped the scabbard with his finger, thoughtful. Everyone else remembered only the princess’s dusty, sweat-streaked face, with those starry eyes shining through.
〈I hope you won’t deceive me again.〉
Like the plains breeze, that voice whispered.
He stopped tapping the scabbard. Whatever the princess said, his sole concern was his lord.
Though he once had no intent to deceive her, he could do so whenever necessary—for his lord’s sake.
“Hey? Where are you going, Durante?”
Mukali called as Durante began to depart.
“I’ll be away a moment.”
“What? Hey!”
Mukali’s shout went unanswered; Durante’s back receded without hesitation.
Mukali sighed deeply.
“That man, what temper…”
If he followed, he would only be stared at without a word.
‘Better to speak out directly.’
Though Mukali listened to others urge him to lose his temper, he thought the most irritable was actually Durante.
‘Why did he bring up the princess at all?’
He offered no answer—and Mukali’s glare sharpened when he realized where Durante was headed.
‘…the bridal waiting room?’
Knock, knock.
At the gentle rap, Diona snapped her mouth shut.
‘Who is it? Have the maids returned already?’
Time had passed; they should have come back by now. It was absurd that the princess’s own maids left her alone so long—especially on her wedding day.
‘They haven’t even thoroughly mocked the princess yet!’
Diona’s face registered dismay, but she quickly composed herself.
‘The Silvanus maids despise her. I can use that to my advantage.’
She needed only conceal her true feelings. The maids were eager to slander the princess; feeding them hints would suffice.
“Enter.”
But the figure who crossed the threshold was no maid.
‘Du…Durante?’
Diona’s eyes wavered at the unexpected presence.
“Your Highness.”
Durante bowed to Aristine with full military formality. Diona’s expression hardened.
“Strange to be addressed so already.”
Aristine leaned back on the armrest.
“Stand.”
At her casual command, Durante rose after bowing. Diona bit her lip, trembling.
Though she called it awkward, Aristine was entirely at ease—a born noble used to such deference.
Diona clenched her fist.
‘Why is Durante here…?’
Anxiety boiled in her chest. She recalled surprising Durante after stirring Mukali’s anger before.
‘Was he overhearing everything?’
She forced herself upright. Diona, ever mindful of her image, was shocked almost beyond belief.
‘But…he’s not the sort to meddle in such matters.’
Not even now. He could not have come knowing she was here.
Even if he did know, Durante did not intervene in matters unrelated to his lord.
‘He must have another purpose.’
She soothed herself. Meanwhile, Aristine and Durante’s conversation flowed smoothly.
“It’s been a while, Sir Durante.”
“Yes, though I’ve seen you on occasion, I never had the chance to greet you properly.”
They’d met at the banquet and passed in the palace, but only exchanged nods.
“So, what brings you here?”
“With the ceremony soon to begin, I’ve come to ensure preparations are in order.”
“All is well.”
“Understood. But why is Diona…”
Durante’s gaze shifted to Diona. She stiffened, unsure what to say—uncertain how much he knew.
“She said she came to congratulate my marriage.”
Aristine answered for the silent Diona.
“To offer congratulations?”
“Yes.”
Aristine nodded and smiled.
“Though she said more than mere congratulations.”
It had been largely dull boasting of their childhood bond.
“I’d like to know what that was about.”
Durante, in a rare display of amusement, spoke—his smiling eyes still cool.
Aristine tilted her head. He must be bored?
That bold question could only come from someone unaware of the conversation.
Aristine looked at Diona, inviting her to share the boast she so loved.
Yet Diona froze under the gaze, lips sealed, then let a narrow smile slip.
“Princess, did I speak so much of other things? I only wished your marriage every success.”
“Wasn’t it awkward to boast alone, so you added that afterward?”
Aristine raised an eyebrow. She assumed Diona had been embarrassed.
Diona’s face flushed.
“I didn’t expect anything worthy of boasting.”
“Perhaps Your Highness misunderstood. There was nothing of note.”
Durante spoke, and Diona hastily echoed him. Aristine exhaled.
Durante was curious, yet Diona, after laying the ground, felt too ashamed to boast.
Aristine decided to fill in the blanks.
“Nothing much. She boasted that she and Tarkan have been very close since childhood.”
At that, Diona turned pale. She glanced at Durante, who watched Aristine with no change of expression.
“I can’t quite recall the rest. Oh, she said Tarkan’s mother cared for her greatly.”
Aristine continued from memory. Diona felt her blood boil.
‘Why can’t she remember? She chose every infuriating detail!’
‘Shouldn’t she be turned inside out over each word?’
“Hmm…whatever else, the point was that they’re extremely intimate.”
Aristine concluded casually. In truth, she remembered every word—her Emperor’s Eye hone memory well.
‘But how humiliating.’
Reciting another’s shameful boasting felt unbearable; so she glossed over it.
‘What a remarkable lack of shame!’
Aristine admired inwardly.
‘How can one be so oblivious?’
She thought, half profane but genuine admiration.
“A deep bond, indeed.”
Durante lightly crossed his arms and turned to Diona. She stiffened, about to speak—
But he looked back at Aristine and asked:
“So, you said, though you said those things, that this marriage must succeed?”
“Yes. Our union is, indeed, not ordinary but for the sake of peace.”
“Indeed. I see.”
Durante nodded. His impartial gaze swept over Diona.
The princess had said only one thing: that Diona had boasted to the bride—
“Your husband is my lover; though he marries you, our love is true and eternal”—and still offered congratulations.
That had crowned the offense.
Durante let out a soft laugh.
“Brother…”
Diona, drained to ashen white, called to him with pleading eyes. Aristine shrugged.
‘If you’re going to boast, why come at all?’
She had thought Diona felt no embarrassment, but clearly she did.
Generally, to criticize the groom on his wedding day is a slap-worthy offense.
‘Of course, this is different.’
After all, Tarkan and Aristine were mere business partners in this political marriage.
They had agreed on that before the wedding. Diona surely knew that, having boasted of her special bond with him.
‘I thought she boasted thoughtlessly, but now I see otherwise.’
Aristine saw Diona’s helplessness and decided to support her—for Tarkan’s sake.
“I don’t mind, Sir Durante.”
Her face was genuinely untroubled. Instead, a chill crept into Durante’s eyes.
Forget being a husband—time to make money.