“It may be entertaining for onlookers, but prey being hunted never feels that way.”
Stalina’s chest swelled with shame and indignation as she bit her lip, head bowed. It was the first time her eldest sister had ever scolded her.
This is all because of that half-blood!
Stalina dared not speak, narrowing her eyes and glaring fiercely at Aristine. Under that gaze, Aristine tilted her head slowly.
“Hmm? Do you have something to say? Oh, now that I think about it, you did say something to me earlier.”
Her tone was languid, dreamy.
“What was it… I heard ‘base’… something like that.”
Her smile was angelic, but the words coiled like a serpent around Stalina’s throat.
Paelamien’s face went cold. Having just extinguished one fire, her half-sister now fanned a larger blaze, and her anger flared anew.
“Stalina.”
Her voice was ice.
“Apologize to Her Highness.”
“Sister!”
Stalina protested as though it were absurd, but Paelamien’s gaze grew icier.
“Hurry and apologize! Say you’re sorry for your rude speech and beg forgiveness.”
Stalina stubbornly pressed her lips together. She truly hated the idea.
Why should I… to that brat?!
Paelamien, looking down at Stalina who had spun away, called out softly.
“Stalina.”
Her voice, so unlike before, was low and grave. Stalina trembled. Her heart pounded. Instinct told her: if she did not obey, she would truly fall out of favor. She had never imagined such a thing—had thought it impossible. But now, that outcome loomed with vivid clarity.
Pale as death, Stalina hesitated, then bowed her head toward Aristine.
“…I’m sorry, Your Highness.”
Her apology emerged in a voice barely above a mouse’s squeak.
“For what?”
“For my rude… words.”
“What words were those?”
Aristine’s tone was neutral, but Stalina felt utter humiliation. Still, she had to answer.
“I called you… base.”
“That wasn’t all that you said, was it?”
At that, Stalina dared to lift her head and look at Aristine. She did not know what more to say. Her earlier insult had been a thoughtless barb; she’d meant only to denigrate the princess. It was her flaw, yet no one had ever called her out. Some had even praised her wit.
Stalina had only ever persecuted those weaker or more foolish than herself. The princess had seemed an easy target. But why had this happened? She could not comprehend it.
“You even said you doubted my lineage, didn’t you?”
Doubted my bloodline. The weight of those words almost choked her. To question the princess’s blood was to insult the Silvanus royal house. Normally, it would mean nothing—Irugo and Silvanus were enemies, and Irugo folk joked about Silvanus: the timid had “hearts as pale as Silvanus,” the useless “like Silvanus come on a hunt,” the proud “noses as high as Silvanus.” Unlike Silvanus’s vassal states, Irugo was an equal independent power. Yet now, a political marriage sat on the line.
If Father’s peace treaty falls apart because of me…
Her nape grew cold as though death’s blade hovered. I acted as I always did. I only shamed the hated princess.
So why is this happening?
“Your Highness is not merely a noble lady, but a direct member of the Irugo royal family.”
Unlike Stalina’s confusion, Aristine’s voice was calm and even.
“I have no choice but to regard Your Highness’s words as Irugo’s stance on the legitimacy of the Silvanus line.”
“Y-Your Highness!”
Though quiet, those words detonated like a bomb. Even Marten, who had been smitten and unconcerned, recoiled and called out to Aristine. The Irugo king, facing an incident that could spark international crisis—or rather, already had—remained silent, watching Aristine with interest. Tarkan did the same, a crooked smile on his lips.
Even Father…
Paelamien’s vision blurred. She knew why the king refused to intervene: he would hold the instigator fully accountable.
No.
Irugo’s king himself had pushed for this union. If this becomes a stumbling block…
The marriage would surely not collapse outright—but it might give Silvanus cause for complaint. Silvanus, having lost ground, had asked for an armistice; Irugo held the advantage, demanding reparations, the princess’s hand in marriage, trade routes, portal access. Silvanus had agreed to nearly all demands. Now, if they seized on today’s incident…
Even if we brush it off as a foolish princess’s slip, peace is so near. We’ll need to offer further concessions.
They’d not yet even paid formal respects, and already this had happened. Tomorrow’s audience would reveal their stance.
If our advantage wanes because of this, I’ll bear the blame.
Stalina might bear the greatest liability, but both she and Marten—present at the scene—would face the king’s wrath.
“That’s not Irugo’s position.”
Paelamien forced a smile and spoke to Aristine. Marten chimed in beside her.
“Fourth Princess is young—her thoughts were short.”
“Yes, she cannot yet distinguish what may or may not be said.”
“I cannot fathom why she conceived such notions.”
“Regrettably, she cannot tell reality from fantasy. We beg Your Highness’s understanding.”
Their words reddened Stalina’s face further. She accepted the “young and foolish” excuse—better than nothing, to escape this. But they were also treating her like a child. Trembling with fury, she saw Aristine’s gaze on her. Aristine watched her without emotion—hard to read.
She’s not childish now.
Aristine had no intention of probing further—she allowed Paelamien to do her work. If I intervene, the king might take offense. A parent scolding a child differs from a foreign princess scolding his daughter. She would soon live in Irugo; she could not afford the king’s enmity.
She glanced at the king—he had been watching her. Their eyes met.
They say familiarity breeds affection.
She would smile more, then. Aristine offered a gentle smile.
But someone misread that kindness. Paelamien, anxious that Aristine might speak to the king, spoke up quickly.
“Stalina, confess your crimes in your own words and apologize to Her Highness.”
Startled, Stalina looked at Paelamien.
“Sister, I only…”
“What did I say you did? You refused to admit fault and only made excuses.”
Stalina opened her lips twice, then shut them. She could not recall what to say.
“You said my lineage was suspicious. If you truly are Irugo’s princess, do not act so as to invite doubt.”
“That’s….”
She had spoken on a whim, with no malice. Had she known it would ensnare her, she never would have said it. She wanted to explain, but Paelamien’s eyes allowed no retort.
“Apologize properly, as a royal.”
Properly, officially.
You don’t mean to have me kneel before that half-blood?
Stalina’s face went white. She scanned for an ally—but none came. Paelamien was her only potential defender, yet she was the one chastising her. Aristine herself never answered me until Sister scolded me!
If Sister hadn’t intervened, Aristine wouldn’t have uttered a word.
If only Sister hadn’t gotten angry… no one would’ve noticed my remark!
Paelamien kept silent. Stalina clenched her skirts.
“I, Fourth Princess Stalina of Irugo, apologize to Her Highness, Princess Aristine of Silvanus.”
Suppressing her rage, she knelt slowly before Aristine, biting back her resentment.
I didn’t plan to go this far.
Aristine, seeing Stalina kneel, was somewhat surprised. She had merely intended to quiet the princess to impress Tarkan at this tea. She was not angry, and Stalina’s kneeling brought her no benefit. Yet the princess was already on her knees.
Better to handle this with composure.
She would not break the mood she had crafted.
I wonder if Tarkan likes this.
He surely held grudges against his half-siblings. People often take pleasure in seeing those who insulted them beg.
Perhaps this was a good thing.
As Aristine considered, Stalina began her formal apology.
“My thoughts were shallow, and I spoke rashly, disturbing Your Highness’s peace of mind.”
Aristine remained silent. Overwhelmed by the weight of the moment, Stalina poured out her apologies.
“I… I did not know basic etiquette. I never truly doubted Your Highness’s bloodline. Please forgive me.”
She bowed her head deeper, groveling before the princess she had scorned—a first in her life.
Tarkan regarded Stalina’s prostrate form with detached eyes. The arrogant, obstinate fourth princess had apologized fully—and knelt. He wondered what Aristine thought.
Is she pleased at having avenged her insult?
Yet when he looked at her… violet eyes shone at him like stars strewn across the dawn sky.
She must be enjoying this—though it’s not in the way I imagined.
Her expression remained serene, but the sparkle made her thoughts clear. He barely suppressed a laugh, feigning to stroke his chin.
Was this the expression of someone whose few words had forced a nation’s princess to kneel? Aristine had never grown angry at Stalina’s insult. She had stood composed, even filthy, when first introduced. That slender frame, so slight at the waist, had borne the scorn with dignity.
As he frowned, preparing to look away, Aristine smiled at him. Her lashes curved, her lips lifted softly, cheeks glowing. Silver hair, dappled with lilac petals, fluttered in the spring breeze through the open window.
Tarkan’s eyes narrowed. Before he could react, Aristine turned away.
Heh, the surprise has only just begun.
Aristine thought leisurely. He looks at me like he’s seeing me anew, and that pleases me.
Soon he’ll beg to be my business partner.
This was but a taste. He would see—only a fool would expect an unruffled spar to reveal all her cards.
Very well, then.
Aristine looked down at Stalina kneeling before her. It was time to draw things to a close.
I’ll worry about a husband later; for now, I’ll make money.