#89. The Trap
Even after all the maids had left, the atmosphere remained cold.
Khalid kept his silence, his eyes narrowed toward the Empress, while she calmly sipped her tea, meeting his gaze without flinching.
In the end, it was Belia who broke the silence.
“Your complexion looks much better than when I last saw you at the wedding.”
“Perhaps.”
The Empress looked down at Belia with an unreadable expression—icy and aloof.
Unbothered, Belia set a small jeweled box on the table.
The Empress’s brow twitched, as if to ask what this was.
“These are candies made by a renowned artisan of the Kingdom of Ronica.”
“I don’t particularly enjoy sweets.”
The Empress replied coolly.
Belia, however, opened the lid of the box, showing her what was inside.
With a click, the box revealed round, colorful candies neatly filling the space.
But that was just a cover.
“The green ones contain an antidote,” Belia whispered softly.
“It’s a concentrated dose. If you ever notice the scent of your tea suddenly growing stronger, use them. I’ve placed three inside.”
Though they had already arranged for a maid in their confidence to deliver antidotes, nothing in life was ever certain.
So, to prepare for the worst—should the Empress fail to receive those antidotes—Belia had commissioned emergency medicine from the infirmary.
“Hmm. You’ve thought this through.”
A glimmer passed through the Empress’s eyes.
“You may also take them just as sweets whenever you like.”
“…You do have a way of saying impudent things so prettily.”
The corners of the Empress’s lips curved faintly.
“It seems the medicine I’ve been giving you has been working.”
Whether or not she was actually drinking the tea, whether she noticed the poison within it—maids were always watching closely and reporting everything directly to the Emperor.
Most of the palace staff here were loyal to him. That was why Belia had worried the Empress might not be able to consistently take her antidotes. It was truly a relief.
“Thank you. Thanks to you, I’ve bought myself a little more time.”
The Empress spoke casually, as if it were no more than a passing remark.
Khalid, watching her, let out a hollow laugh, his face twisted in disbelief.
“Why do you laugh?”
“Well, isn’t it amusing? Someone who was just waiting for death now thanks you for giving her a little more life.”
He disliked her attitude.
…So she wasn’t insane after all?
Everything she had done to him until now—was all that an act?
Abandoning her child, raging, hurling objects at him—on purpose?
No. It couldn’t be.
And yet, the Empress sitting before him now was so calm, so composed.
Like a perfectly sane person.
“…Have you nothing to say to me?”
“And why should I?”
She should have.
Khalid clenched his fists tight.
If she were truly his mother, there had to be something to say.
As a child, neglected and dismissed by his father the Emperor, the only one he could have relied on was his mother.
But instead, she poured her grief and rage onto her son.
There was no one to protect him.
Everyone was too consumed with their own emotions to see the small child before them.
“Why did you never give me any explanation?”
“Because there was no need.”
Her expression was tranquil.
The two of them said nothing more.
The silence between them grew heavy and cold.
Just as Belia was wondering whether she should intervene and break the tension, the Empress finally spoke.
“…Even if you hate me, I can’t help it. Looking back, I do think I was too harsh on you as a child.”
Her face showed no change.
She simply looked at her son with detached eyes and continued.
“Back then, I couldn’t see anything else. You may call that an excuse, if you wish.”
But her hand trembled slightly, betraying her calm, and when she set down the teacup, a faint clack could be heard—where normally there would have been none.
With a faint smile on her lips, she added:
“But if you ask whether I’ve changed much since then, I’d have to say no. So I have no intention of seeking your forgiveness—or asking for it. If you came expecting an apology… I’m sorry, but you’ve wasted your time.”
It was a cold dismissal, as if she had said everything she intended to say.
“Leave now. We are done talking.”
She had prolonged the conversation enough. Any longer, and suspicions would arise.
Lifting the teapot, she poured the remaining tea onto the table in a small stream.
“At least I should leave some trace of this meeting. Ah—perhaps I should spill a little on your clothes too.”
She pushed the teapot toward him, still smiling faintly.
Khalid received it with visible displeasure, tilted it over his chest, and let the tea soak his clothes.
The Empress looked satisfied.
Belia, following suit, dropped a teacup to the floor.
It didn’t shatter on the carpet, but rolled away with a dull sound until it struck a chair leg.
Khalid and Belia rose to leave.
“Then I’ll remain here, waiting for the time when I must act. …At the very least, my last appearance to you should be as your mother, shouldn’t it?”
The Empress spoke without even looking at their backs.
Khalid smirked bitterly.
For her to suddenly play the role of mother now—it was laughable.
And it wasn’t even convincing.
But if she were to simply die like this, that would be troublesome.
Yes. It was enough for them to hold hands, to get what each wanted. Nothing more. Any deeper bond would only be a burden.
“…Stay alive. There will come a time when you are needed.”
Khalid forced the heavy words out, then took Belia’s hand and strode toward the door.
The Empress gave no reply.
But her face, for a brief moment, twisted into something bitter before settling into calm.
She called out after Khalid as he reached the door.
“Become Emperor, Khalid.”
He stopped for just a second. He didn’t turn back.
He only let out a hollow laugh, then opened the door and left.
A sudden summons from the Emperor arrived.
Belia’s heart pounded with fear—had their delivery of the antidote to the Empress somehow been exposed?
The Emperor had summoned both Khalid and Belia together, and she could not guess at his true intent.
What could this be about?
But no matter how much she worried, there was nothing she could do without knowing.
“Don’t worry.”
Khalid gave her a reassuring smile, as if it were nothing. Belia drew in a deep breath, steadying her nerves.
“…I can’t help but feel anxious.”
When they reached the Emperor’s study, Raul was already seated, waiting.
Though surprised, Belia hid it well, bowed properly to the Emperor, and took her seat.
The Emperor wasted no time getting to the point.
“Count Huter, whom I sent as part of the delegation to the Kingdom of Yakum, has been taken prisoner.”
Belia gasped at the unexpected news.
Yakum had taken the imperial delegation hostage?
She searched her memories, but nothing of the sort came to mind.
“Ordinarily, matters of diplomacy are handled by the First Prince. But this time, since we will need the cooperation of the Kingdom of Ronica, I have summoned the Second Prince and his consort as well. Do you object?”
…Of course.
This undoubtedly included the demand the Emperor had hinted at before—opening Shanetan’s central thoroughfare.
He wanted them to pressure Ronica, now that the situation had grown unfavorable.
The fastest route to Yakum ran straight through Ronica.
Belia grasped the hidden meaning and let out a quiet sigh.
The Emperor paused, studying the faces of the three before him, then continued, voice heavy with authority.
“This morning, a letter arrived, demanding we negotiate for the hostages’ release.”
He ground his teeth.
“To think they dare issue such a one-sided ultimatum to the Empire… I will see those insolent dogs punished. But Count Huter is a man of great service to the Empire. Of course, we must bring him back.”
Negotiations had to proceed, no matter how galling the insult. Vengeance could wait.
“This meeting is to decide who will represent the Empire in those talks. Speak your opinions.”
Normally, if there were any chance for glory, the Emperor would blatantly hand it to Raul.
But this time, with Ronica’s cooperation at stake, he seemed inclined to consider Khalid.
Had Belia married Raul, there would have been no question—the task would be his.
“If the negotiations succeed, it will be an immensely honorable accomplishment.”
The Emperor’s tone was deliberately enticing.
Belia searched her memory.
Had Raul ever gone on such a mission in her previous life?
…Nothing. I don’t remember anything like this.
Neither the capture of the delegation, nor negotiations for their return.
Something’s wrong here…
It was certainly an opportunity for Khalid.
And yet, unease gnawed at her.
“It would indeed be a great honor to go. But with the wedding preparations so close, I cannot easily be away for such a long period. Forgive me, Your Majesty.”
What was stranger still—Raul did not volunteer either.
Normally, he would never let such an opportunity pass.
…A trap?
Belia glanced at Khalid. His expression suggested he was thinking the same.
But there was nothing they could say here.
The journey to Yakum and back would take over two months. Any unforeseen events could stretch that even longer.
With Raul’s wedding planned for autumn, it was indeed a tight schedule for him to make such a trip.
“Hmm…”
The Emperor sighed, as though weighing his options.
Then he turned to Khalid.
“You will take responsibility for this negotiation.”
There was no room to refuse.
To reject such an honorable mission would only hand Raul and the Emperor grounds to attack him.
The Emperor spoke grandly, as though bestowing a favor.
“It is your first time handling such a task, and that concerns me. But I shall assign Marquis Caprié, who is skilled in these matters, to your delegation. With him, there should be no problem carrying out the negotiations.”
In the end, Khalid could only answer quietly:
“…I will do my utmost to fulfill my duty.”
