#12. Thirteen (2)
Remetel immediately frowned.
“Princess Ophelia?”
“Please let go.”
“Princess, don’t you know what kind of person this is?”
“I do. That’s why please let me go.”
“Do you really intend to dance with this guy?”
The girl looked at Remetel with deep blue eyes. Idren was amazed at how a girl a handspan shorter than him could look at Remetel like that.
Whenever he faced his oldest half-brother, he was always scared, but that girl seemed completely unfazed.
Remetel said without hiding his displeasure,
“Hah, princesses are just inferior…”
Then someone in the room cleared their throat. Seeing the blood-red eyes, Idren realized the woman was a member of the Runtalis royal family.
Since the daughter of Runtalis would never take his side, it seemed she was displeased with Remetel’s words.
Realizing public opinion wasn’t going his way, Remetel scowled. His rough hand squeezed Idren’s shoulder.
A wave of nausea swept over him. Idren gritted his eyes, refusing to cry.
Remetel muttered into his ear,
“Be grateful to the princess.”
Then Remetel shoved him toward the girl. Idren staggered a little and hurriedly shrank his body.
The girl was perfect like a sugar craft painted with beautiful colors. He didn’t want to soil such a person by touching her.
He lowered his gaze to the floor, trembling. Everyone was now very quiet. Even without looking around, he could tell all eyes were on him and the girl.
That was when the white deer-skin shoe moved.
A pure white silk glove, matching the shoe, grabbed his hand. The hem of a blue dress fell, covering the shoe.
A warm, small hand that clearly looked like it was raised with care covered his hand. The music started to swell again.
“Lift your head.”
The girl whispered to him, who was only looking down at the floor.
Idren slowly raised his head as she commanded. A white, clean face, deep blue eyes, and flowing silver hair came into view. Idren stared dazedly at her delicate face.
Even the princess from the neighboring country, whose engagement was being discussed, wasn’t as beautiful as this girl. She had the most perfect features of any child he had ever seen.
She blinked her large blue eyes.
“Do you know how to dance?”
Flushed, Idren shook his head.
“N-no, I don’t.”
Then the girl calmly explained how he should move. First, give me your right hand. Take one step back, and when the music changes, step forward again.
Her whispering voice was youthful, but to his ears, it sounded like salvation.
Though a hand taller and far more experienced, the girl moved gracefully, but his clumsiness outweighed her composure. Idren stepped on her foot three times.
Every time, he stepped on the white shoe, surely softer than his own hands, and his ears reddened.
“I’m sorry.”
With an expression like he wanted to bite his tongue in regret, he apologized, and the girl gave the same reply every time.
“It’s okay.”
When the dance finally ended, she looked at him and smiled faintly—a smile that did not show her teeth.
“Good job.”
Then she let go of his hand. The silk glove slipped from his rough fingertips. Though he had been blushing with shame all along, at that moment, Idren felt sorry about it.
He glanced up to take one last look at her face.
That was when he met the flashing golden eyes of Remetel in the distance.
Seeing the gold shining with anger and coldness chilled his spine.
Remetel had said he could leave after dancing, but that was probably not sincere. Idren already knew well how cruel his half-brothers were.
He had to leave the banquet before they caught him. Restlessly, Idren said to the girl before him,
“Th-thank you for your help, Your Highness. I will—”
Without finishing his sentence properly, Idren bowed and stepped back hastily. The girl seemed like she wanted to say something, but he was faster in turning his back and running away.
That was his first meeting with Ophelia.
The next day, he and his half-brothers returned to Aglante immediately. It turned out the banquet the previous day was the last gathering before the talks broke off.
The three princes were very displeased that he had escaped the predicament they set up with someone’s help. Idren was beaten by them in the carriage all the way back.
“The princess only helped you because she pitied you.”
Especially, Sinron, Remetel’s younger brother, said harshly.
“She would’ve helped anyone but you.”
Later, Idren found out this was because Sinron had asked Ophelia to dance that day and was rejected.
And that since Idren left, Ophelia hadn’t danced with anyone else.
The following year, Idren did not attend the talks. Sinron and Rosell stubbornly refused to go with him.
Since it was better to stay at the castle than suffer trouble at the talks like last year, Idren did not mind. After the Duke and his three sons left, he would stay with Queen Isde, and one was better than four.
Of course, he worried about not seeing the girl who had helped him. Around that time, whenever Idren saw snow piled at dawn, he involuntarily thought of her. Her white and bluish eyes were pure and beautiful.
Though his hands often froze when touching the snow for too long.
One day, he even murmured her name that he had overheard—Ophelia. It was a forbidden name, so he had to hide it from others, but the word ending softly really stuck in his mouth.
However, the time at the castle was harsher than he had thought.
While the Duke and his sons were away, Isde summoned him and whipped him.
She did not wield the whip herself. The knight who had once thrown him before the Duke took on the role of executioner.
After a round of whipping, the queen poured water on his wounds and said,
“When the king returns, he will recognize you as his son.”
The cold, fishy-smelling water stung his aching back.
“Don’t get cocky. It’s only so you can be sent to the border in place of my son.”
There was no further explanation, but Idren understood at once.
Aglante had been at a territorial dispute with Ragall, which shared the border, for nearly a hundred years. The dispute was large enough that the Duke had once personally joined the battle.
And Idren realized the meaning behind the vast ceiling and the splendid table he had faced at eleven years old.
The Duke planned to send him to the battlefield instead of the princes.
It was not shocking. He had suspected a hidden intention from the start.
Before he could think deeply, he was whipped again.
As the queen said, the Duke recognized him as a prince before the year ended.
Time kept flowing. At fifteen, Idren was sent to the talks once more.
Though still poorly treated, there was no more mocking like before. Since he had to be sent to the battlefield, they gave him a prince’s title, and since he had a title, he had to be treated accordingly.
He was no longer as helpless as before.
But the more he grew, the more displeased Remetel and his two brothers became. They disliked seeing him grow stronger, as beating him didn’t hurt as much.
The harassment continued outside the castle as well; at the talks, Remetel blocked him from attending any gatherings.
Thus, for two years, Idren wanted to know how the girl he hadn’t forgotten had grown but had to bury his curiosity. Remetel sent knights to block his visits.
Idren didn’t resist. After all, there was a banquet held on the last day of the talks. Remetel couldn’t prevent him from attending that.
Besides his improved status, the crown prince of Egelbamot, the host of the banquet, sent hand-written invitations to everyone.
No matter how powerful Remetel was, he couldn’t stop invitations from the crown prince within the empire.
So he couldn’t stop the invitations from being delivered.
Remetel tried every way to seize the invitation Idren received. He had servants search his room and often threatened and scolded him.
“If you don’t hand over the invitation now, you’ll have a lot to deal with when you get back.”
His half-brother, who looked just like their father, said this in a soft voice, but Idren never intended to do what he wanted.
He would be sent to the border before next year anyway.
What’s a little whipping after returning? He might even die at the border.
Idren knew his chances of surviving the front line were very low. Though he had been punched a few times, he had never properly learned to wield a sword. He was bigger than other boys his age, but he wasn’t even twenty yet.
He was just a human sacrifice so the other princes wouldn’t be sent to the front.
If it were me, I’d just leave someone in such a position alone, but Remetel inevitably laid hands on his invitation. While Idren was changing into his banquet clothes, servants stole it.
