Chapter 20
Ayur let out a laugh, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Really? That doesn’t sound like Tirssalan at all.”
“Well, she’s her biological mother. She’s bound to worry in many ways.”
“But Tirssalan is still just a child, isn’t she? And the youngest at that… There’s no need to be so strict.”
Argana spoke up.
“If you happen to meet Tir, please praise her a little, Brother. I’m worried she might become discouraged. A prince of Dar shouldn’t be living with his head hung low, right?”
“You really dote on your one and only sibling, don’t you? Do you think she’d really get that discouraged?”
“You only say that because you don’t know, Brother. Turegen Mobi disrespects Queen Sorkate, and now even Brother Yoshmut keeps belittling Tirssalan.”
Argana’s tone was unlike when she spoke to Kartak or others—it sounded almost like a whine.
Only Kartak knew this was a calculated change in demeanor.
Seeing how smoothly Argana shifted her attitude, Kartak stifled a laugh, covering his mouth with his fist.
“So Yoshmut’s doing that, is he?”
As expected, Ayur took her words seriously.
Regardless of everything else, he was the son of the First Empress. He bore the responsibility of managing relations among the siblings.
Argana had deliberately brought it up, aiming precisely at this part of Ayur.
“Sure, he’s naturally unruly, and I can’t fix that—but to torment a sister ten years younger than him? That’s childish and disgraceful.”
“Would you mind having a word with him, Brother?”
“I will.”
Perfect. Argana smiled with satisfaction on the inside.
Ayur was the type to follow through once he said he would.
If he caught wind that she was trying to corner Yoshmut, he’d no doubt help her along.
“Oh, and Brother. I think it’s around the time when Mother Shiran inspects the inner palace storerooms. Could you ask if she needs help? I’d like to assist her.”
Argana even brought up Empress Ayurshiran. There were no loose ends.
Smiling warmly, Ayur tousled her hair.
The beads and gems hanging from her ornaments jingled softly.
“Oh, come on, Brother!”
“If everyone were as thoughtful as you, Father’s worries would be far lighter. I’ll pass your offer along to Mother.”
When Ayurshiran’s quarters came into view, Argana saw him off with an innocent smile, as if nothing had happened.
Once Ayur was far enough away that he couldn’t hear their conversation, Kartak turned to Argana with playful eyes.
She hadn’t just brought up Tirssalan and Yoshmut out of concern—mentioning the storeroom had a purpose.
Whether or not the storeroom was actually due for inspection, Ayur would now keep an eye on it after hearing from her.
If that happened, it was only a matter of time before Homuja’s theft was discovered.
“You know, I always knew you were good with words…”
Argana tilted her head and gave a sly grin.
“Did well, didn’t I?”
Kartak’s heart dropped for a moment.
That smile—so pure, so radiant—it made anyone feel lighter just looking at it.
No one would ever believe that this seventeen-year-old girl was the right hand of the mighty Khan of the Empire, Astrahan.
Argana turned around, but Kartak couldn’t move from where he stood.
The moment she smiled, it felt like his heart had plummeted to his feet and hadn’t yet returned to its place.
“Kartak, what are you doing? Let’s have a spar. I need to stretch. Come on!”
When Argana waved him over, Kartak finally took a deep breath and touched his now red ear.
“I’m coming. I’m coming.”
Argana spent quite a bit of time at the training grounds.
It was just too enjoyable, clashing swords with Kartak again after so long.
‘Before Kartak left, we always spent time like this together.’
Parrying a sharp strike aimed at her left side, Argana smiled brightly without realizing it.
Seeing that expression, Kartak, who had just stepped back to catch his breath, also broke into a smile.
“What? Why are you smiling?”
“I am?”
“Touch your face. The corners of your lips are practically at your ears.”
Chuckling, Argana readjusted her grip on the sword, and Kartak resumed his stance.
She crouched low as if dropping her body, then shot forward toward Kartak’s jaw. Her dull practice blade aimed for the back of his neck.
Kartak spun twice in quick succession to escape the attack.
He glanced back at where she had charged, noting how few footprints were left in the dust.
“You… did you get even lighter?”
“Maybe? Maybe it’s because I died once.”
“Don’t joke like that!”
“I’m not joking!”
As the air hissed from a swift strike, Kartak froze in place.
The blade that had just been dancing before his eyes now skimmed past his right ear, aiming for his shoulder.
There was barely a sheet of paper’s distance between the sword and his shoulder.
“…What was that? How did you do that?”
“Got you, didn’t I?”
“That wasn’t just being fooled—I didn’t even see it!”
“Where was your mind?”
Letting out a pleased laugh, Argana lowered her sword.
In this entire palace, the only true rival to Argana was Kartak.
And yet, he never showed his skills in front of others—so Ayur and the other princes thought him a weakling.
It happened once, long ago—perhaps when they were around twelve.
Yoshmut had gone out of his way to mock Kartak, and in her anger, Argana had scolded him.
“Why won’t you show what you’re capable of? Someone like Yoshmut isn’t even in your league!”
“A hostage has their own way of surviving.”
Who knows what Argana thought at the time?
But from that day on, she never criticized Kartak again.
“Isn’t it about time you went back?”
Argana looked up at the setting sun, the sky tinged with orange.
Kartak was right. They had spent far more time than she had planned.
“You’re right. I should.”
“Barta’s probably fuming by now. Go. I’ll clean up here.”
“Thanks, Kartak. I’m heading off.”
Handing over her sword, Argana wiped her dusty, sweat-covered face with her sleeve and ran off toward her quarters.
“Really now, Your Highness. I understand sparring with Sir Kartak is fun, but how could you be late on such an important day?”
“I said I’m sorry.”
Sitting in the tub with her knees drawn up, Argana smiled playfully. Barta blushed but continued to grumble.
As soon as she returned to her quarters, Barta had whisked her off to the bath.
Barta had undressed her and gotten her into the tub in the blink of an eye, and while mixing various oils into the water, she hadn’t stopped nagging.
“I’ve gotten used to Your Highness coming back covered in dirt and sweat. But today, I was so anxious.”
“If it weren’t for you, Barta, I’d probably be wandering around looking like a beggar, huh?”
“Your Highness! Don’t say such things!”
Argana giggled, stretching her arms and legs in the warm water, letting the tension melt away.
Barta was flustered, but there was still time before dinner. A relaxing bath didn’t sound bad.
Barta, scrubbing her shoulder with a soft cloth coated in a powder made from grains and petals, suddenly remembered something.
“Oh! By the way, Sagima came by earlier.”
“Sagima? What for?”
“She seemed worried about how busy you’ve been lately, but…”
When Barta trailed off, Argana let out a dry snort.
“She probably just came to vent again. Honestly, even if she’s a concubine, she should be more mindful. She’s still associated with Brother Ayur.”
