A few days later.
The drawing room of Marquess Peregrine’s Estate was heavy with tension.
With a gold-embellished envelope the butler had brought laid out before them, the Marquess, Marchioness, Kathryn, and Oliver sat with taut faces.
It contained the results sent to those who had taken part in the selection to potentially become the Crown Prince’s playmate.
“Why do I have to sit here too?”
Kathryn, stifled by the tense mood, grumbled in a sulky tone.
“Kathryn. If Oliver is chosen as His Highness the Crown Prince’s playmate, you’ll be going in and out of the Imperial Palace quite often, won’t you? Then you’ll naturally build ties with His Highness the Crown Prince, and becoming the future Crown Princess won’t be just a dream.”
The Marchioness hid her mouth behind her fan and let out a small laugh.
But the Marquess’s face, after opening the envelope, had gone hard.
At the sharp thud as he set the envelope down, everyone in the room looked to the Marquess at once.
“Oliver didn’t even make the list. They say the Ducal House‘s twins are the leading candidates.”
The Marquess let out a deep sigh by the window.
His lips pressed tight, he said nothing. Beside him, the Marchioness clenched her folded fan and ground her teeth. Her expression was twisted with anger.
“How could our Oliver be eliminated?”
The Marchioness spoke through tightly bitten lips. Her voice was filled with fury and disappointment.
“How can this be?”
Kathryn pouted from the sofa.
“What? The Ducal House’s twins, you must mean those kids from House Tenevris? Oliver is way better!”
The Marquess knit his brow and sighed again.
“They’re the empire’s only Ducal House. Of course they have an advantage over us with people. Political calculations, without a doubt.”
The Marchioness, unable to contain herself, burst out,
“Dear! We must somehow persuade His Majesty the Emperor to put Oliver back among the candidates! We can’t give up so easily!”
Grinding her teeth, the Marchioness shot a fierce glare.
Oliver becoming the Crown Prince’s playmate meant a chance to become the next emperor’s closest aide. Moreover, with her son’s physical weakness, to keep others from looking down on him, he needed to start from a position no one would dare slight.
Ria stood just outside the drawing room, listening in.
She knew the Marchioness’s obsession with the Crown Prince’s playmate position had something to do with her.
She’d heard it a thousand times: ‘Because of you, Oliver’s path to success is restricted,’ and, ‘If Oliver is to stand as a noble, he has to become the Crown Prince’s closest aide.’
Because of you…
Was Oliver’s injury truly her fault?
Ria turned the memory of that day over again and again.
Lost in thought, she didn’t hear the approaching footsteps.
“Mother! She was hiding like a rat and eavesdropping on us!”
Kathryn’s shrill voice split her ears.
The Marchioness came over, face scrunched in a scowl.
“How dare you eavesdrop—just like someone of lowborn blood would!”
Ria didn’t understand.
Lowborn blood? Her father belonged to the Marquessal House. They wouldn’t call one of their own lowborn—so was she insulting her mother?
In Ria’s memory, her mother had always looked like a princess—at least more elegant and dignified than the Marchioness before her.
Filled with rage, the Marchioness seized Ria’s wrist and dragged her out past the main gate.
She simply needed a target on which to vent her wounded pride over an outrageous result.
“Unless you’ve reflected enough, don’t even think of coming inside tonight.”
No one tried to stop the Marchioness as she hauled Ria away.
Reflect enough?
What had she done wrong…?
No matter how she revisited the day Oliver got hurt, Ria had only tried to help him.
Was that what they meant by wrong…?
She couldn’t understand no matter how she thought.
“Please let me in.”
The gatekeepers at the door, faces blank, stared straight ahead, as if they couldn’t hear Ria’s voice from beyond the tightly shut gate.
With no choice, Ria crouched by the gate to wait until the Marchioness’s anger cooled.
Telling herself this happens all the time.
They’ll let me in after an hour or two anyway.
Early spring nights were still chilly.
Her thin, worn dress did little against the cold night air. Ria rubbed her arms to coax out warmth, but it was no use.
Carefully, she drew her mother’s pendant from her bosom. Even in the dark, it gleamed in the moonlight.
Just then, an unfamiliar pair of feet stopped within her sight.
The polished black boots bore a shining golden crest that felt oddly familiar.
Ria lifted her head.
A boy in a black cloak stood there. His hair was gold as sunlight, his deep, sharp green eyes striking.
“What are you doing out here?”
He asked. Ria, startled, widened her eyes and answered,
“I… just…”
She trailed off.
“I’m about to go into the Marquess’s house. Want to come in with me?”
Ria shook her head side to side.
The boy’s lips curled into a smile. Her gaze caught on the little beauty mark at the curve of his crescent-shaped eye. As his smile spread, it felt as if the very air around them warmed—like magic.
The gatekeepers, upon seeing his face, scrambled aside and bowed their heads.
He moved forward slowly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Ria swallowed.
She still hadn’t been given permission to come back in.
Unsure if she could set foot inside, she planted her feet before the gate instead of following where he led.
The boy glanced back, as if puzzled that she’d stopped.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not allowed to go in yet.”
He smiled gently.
“When you’re with me, there is no such thing as a place you’re ‘not allowed’ to enter.”
There was the easy confidence of someone born and raised noble.
As if no one had ever barred his way in his life.
But Ria was different.
The Marchioness’s furious face and piercing glare flashed in her mind, and Ria flinched.
It wasn’t fear. Just… a bit of a hassle.
“Trust me.”
Before that clear smile, any hesitation lost its meaning.
No one in the Marquess’ Estate had ever treated Ria like this. To a girl used to cold stares and cutting tones, a kind word and a warm smile felt like a small miracle.
Her heart gave a quiet thump.
The swelling feeling shifted into a flutter.
That single sentence—trust me—from a stranger, that guileless smile, felt like a hand extended to Ria.
Slowly, Ria stepped after him.
“Open the gate.”
Moments ago, those imposing gatekeepers had stared at Ria with blank faces; now they stood flustered, not knowing what to do.
Something about how one word from the boy froze them in place struck her as a little funny.
“Go on in.”
He gave Ria a gentle push between the shoulders.
She nodded and carefully stepped into the Marquess’ Estate.
I should hurry back to my room.
Keeping as quiet as she could, Ria walked the corridor.
But a familiar sharp voice stopped her.
“Who dared say you could come in?”
“I permitted it.”
It was the boy who had brought Ria in.
He wore a soft smile, but his eyes were keen.
“I brought her. She was shivering outside.”
At that, the Marchioness turned her gaze to the boy. Recognizing who he was, her expression shifted to shock.
“Y-Your Highness, the Crown Prince?”
Only then did Ria feel his touch and look up. She stared at him, stunned that he was the Crown Prince.
Only then did she realize the familiar crest on his boots was the imperial one.
The boy—no, the Crown Prince—smiled kindly at Ria and took her hand.
He spoke firmly to the Marchioness,
“Marchioness, you ought to learn to be a bit more generous with your household.”
The Crown Prince’s warm hand closed around Ria’s.
The Marchioness stared at him, flustered.
“Why is Your Highness the Crown Prince…?”
Marquess Peregrine, apparently having just heard, came hurrying out.
His face was plainly rattled.
“Your Highness, to what do we owe the honor?”
The Marquess hastily bowed to greet the Crown Prince.
The Crown Prince lifted his head, looked at the bowing couple before him, and smiled calmly.
“I heard the Peregrine heir was among my playmate candidates, so I came to meet him.”
The Marquess’s eyes widened at that.
“Do you mean Oliver?”
The Crown Prince nodded. His bearing was composed, confident, and full of poise.
Since he’d received a letter that his son had been eliminated, Marquess Peregrine couldn’t hide his bewilderment as he looked at the Crown Prince.
“For Your Highness to come in person… Had you informed us in advance, we would have prepared a proper welcome…”
The Crown Prince turned his gaze back to Ria. She still stood staring at the Marchioness with an anxious look. The Crown Prince did not release her hand and smiled warmly.
“But tell me, is this girl not of the blood of House Peregrine? Why was she cast out beyond the gate?”
At his words, the Marchioness kept a heavy silence, glancing about for cues.
“Ah, she is our younger brother’s daughter. She is naturally a troublesome child… she’s not worthy of Your Highness the Crown Prince’s concern. If she’s done wrong, she must be punished by the house’s rules. More importantly, I will summon Oliver.”
Lies.
Ria had done nothing wrong.
Hearing such a story told in front of someone who’d been kind to her made her cheeks burn with shame.
Marquess Peregrine signaled a servant to fetch Oliver.
“If Your Highness will wait in the drawing room, we’ll bring Oliver immediately.”
At the Marquess’s words, the Crown Prince nodded with a smile.
Ria wondered if she should say, even now, that she’d done nothing wrong.
“May I have this young lady show me the way?”
“B-but…”
As if he hadn’t heard the Marquess, the Crown Prince kept his easy smile, took Ria’s hand, and unhurriedly led her down the corridor. The couple stared after them, dumbfounded.
When they reached a quiet hall and the surroundings grew still, Ria unconsciously let out the deep breath she’d been holding.
The Crown Prince smiled and offered his hand.
“I am Alexian, Crown Prince of Esterian.”
His voice was gentle, yet steeped in strong confidence.
“I-I am… Ariana of the Peregrine Marquessal House.”
Ria looked at the hand he extended, then carefully set her own in it.
Alexian smiled, eyes crinkling. His hair, like bundles of gold, caught the moonlight and glittered like gemstones.
