Chapter 107
It was clear that Dominic had come back to his senses. The dry way he referred to her as “this child,” pointing at Angela, said as much.
But there was something that bothered her. Why had he defended her against Count Matterson? That was unexpected. The sane Dominic had never once taken Angela’s side.
“Probably because the memories linger.”
Startled by the reply coming from behind her, Angela quickly lifted her gaze. Kalian, who had said he was going to check on the casualties among the troops, was standing right behind her, though she had no idea when he’d arrived.
Angela, who had been sitting on the tree stump where she’d set down her arrows, waiting for her tent to be prepared, blinked rapidly.
“Did I just say that out loud?”
At her question, overflowing with embarrassment, Kalian let out a short laugh and plopped down on the ground beside her. Even though the stump was fairly high, their eyes were now level. It was because Kalian was so tall, and Angela was so small.
“It was written on the back of your head.”
Ah, so he’d guessed. Angela, who had been startled thinking her thoughts had slipped out without her realizing, relaxed her frozen expression with a sense of relief. Then, she quietly spoke up.
“If he remembers calling me his daughter over and over, it’ll probably just embarrass him.”
It wasn’t sarcasm; she genuinely thought the real Dominic would feel that way.
But her words seemed to touch something in Kalian, because his blatant stare clung to Angela and wouldn’t let go. It was as tenacious as a pheloc sinking its claws into prey.
“If Angela were my daughter.”
Kalian’s words came after a long gaze.
“She wouldn’t have learned to walk. I’d have carried her everywhere because she was too precious.”
His voice, and the content it conveyed, were utterly warm. It was a boundless coziness, like a home that shielded against the scorching summer sun or the fierce winter chill.
But to Angela, Kalian’s words didn’t sound like a joke at all.
It was because memories of the kidnapping incident, now feeling like a distant past, came flooding back.
She’d injured her leg. After that, Kalian had carried her on his back or in his arms, as if letting her touch the ground would be a catastrophe.
Having already gone through that ordeal once, Angela chided him seriously.
“Spoiling someone blindly doesn’t make you a good dad.”
In reality, Angela wasn’t going to become Kalian’s daughter, and Kalian wasn’t about to become a father anytime soon, so it was unnecessary preaching.
Moreover, what did she know about being a good father? It was presumptuous advice from someone who’d never experienced it.
Yet Kalian’s response was:
“Help me out a lot later, Angela. So I can be a good dad to our child.”
It was a roundabout proposal.
Angela held her breath sharply. She couldn’t exhale comfortably, afraid that if she did, uncontrollable embarrassing words would come tumbling out.
“Lady Bilton, it’s all set. You can go in and rest now.”
So Jamie, who came to inform her that the tent was ready, provided a timely escape. Angela stood up briskly, brushing off her seat, and tried to say, as she always did, “Thanks for your hard work.”
“I love you.”
Not that.
* * *
The group with Ian, left behind, arrived at what would be their final stop around the time the sun was dipping low on the horizon.
“My lady?”
Yvonne, who couldn’t ride skillfully enough to keep up with Angela, checked on her condition as soon as she entered the tent.
“Are you hurting anywhere? Tell me if you’re unwell.”
It was still early for night to fall. Yet Angela was sprawled haphazardly on her sleeping bag, which seemed odd, prompting Yvonne to start worrying sensitively.
But Angela’s physical state was, as always, perfectly fine. What wasn’t okay was her mind. The shame filling her to the brim, refusing to dissipate.
‘I love you.’
How could “thanks for your hard work” twist into that and pop out? Jamie’s flustered expression was a sight to behold. His face had ripened red like fruit in season.
‘That was for me.’
And Kalian? He hurriedly gathered his things, as if to prevent Jamie from misunderstanding, and his demeanor was worth watching. His eyes were as fierce as when he charged across the battlefield.
‘Ah, ah, ah, I know! Then, I’ll just…!’
After that, Jamie retreated, stepping with the same foot and swinging the same hand each time. He seemed oblivious to how awkward his movements were. His receding steps were exaggeratedly brisk.
Kalian watched Jamie for a while before speaking.
“Impressive how you’ve made an admirer right in front of your fiancé.”
“I don’t need one!”
Angela’s face flushed crimson as she snapped back fiercely, then stormed into her tent. She immediately buried her face in the sleeping bag. She kicked her folded legs in the air, flailing about.
After throwing that fit for a while until she was exhausted and limp, Yvonne arrived. Angela couldn’t bring herself to tell Yvonne about her blunder and just shook her head, saying she was fine.
But Yvonne wasn’t the type to back off with an “Ah, you’re fine then” upon seeing Angela, who claimed not to be in pain but looked like she was suffering. She took Angela’s cold hand and began massaging it here and there.
“Mmm.”
Angela let out a small moan at the pleasant sensation. Then the hand pressing her palm gently stroked up to her wrist.
Angela shifted slightly to lie on her side and looked up at Yvonne. Her focused expression filled her view completely.
When their eyes met, Yvonne’s pupils sparkled as if she’d seen something utterly precious. The corners of her eyes crinkled softly.
Having seen that much, Angela grabbed Yvonne’s hand that was kneading hers and pulled it to her face. She pressed her lips to it and murmured.
“It’s not that I’m actually sick. It’s just that earlier…”
Like a child tattling, Angela recounted what had happened with Kalian and Jamie. When she was very young, she used to whisper every little thing into Yvonne’s ear.
“Kalian sometimes seems to live just to tease me.”
She was rolling around on the sleeping bag, grumbling to Yvonne as if they’d slipped back into the past. That’s when a voice, serving as a knock, came through the tent’s partition.
“Lady Bilton, are you in there?”
The voice, not entirely familiar, belonged to Count Conrad. Angela sat up and nodded toward Yvonne.
“I’ll be out in a moment, please wait.”
Yvonne called out to the outside, then turned to inspect Angela’s appearance. She fastened the buttons that had come loose from Angela’s wriggling on the sleeping bag and smoothed out the sleeve that had rolled inward. She straightened the disheveled collar and carefully tidied Angela’s mussed hair. Only then did Angela step out to face Count Conrad.
It wasn’t a long wait. Yvonne’s hands were quick. Yet, a trace of anxiety lingered on Count Conrad’s face, puzzling Angela.
“What’s the matter?”
“I’d like you to come to my tent for a moment to talk.”
Count Conrad’s face was as stiff as a statue, his request for a private meeting oddly formal. Known as a devoted husband, he was the last person you’d expect to propose such a thing, but his expression could easily be mistaken for someone about to confess something clandestine.
“My fiancé is quite the jealous type, you know?”
Angela said with a calm face. Only after hearing her words did Count Conrad realize how his request might have sounded, and he jumped to clarify that wasn’t his intention.
* * *
“…A confession would’ve been better.”
Angela muttered to herself, too quietly for anyone to hear, as soon as she stepped into Count Conrad’s tent at his invitation.
Her gaze was fixed on one spot, unyielding, without a single blink. It was an almost frighteningly intense stare.
The person receiving it raised a hand lightly in greeting.
“It’s been a while. Have you been well?”
It was Anette. The former empress of the Phaelon Empire, a person who absolutely should not be standing before Angela right now.
Yet here she was. Angela let out a hollow laugh before her face hardened into a cold expression as she spoke.
“Am I the one who’s gone mad, or is it Your Majesty? I’m not sure, but it seems it’d be better for me to be the one who’s lost it in this situation.”
Anette, as if she’d anticipated Angela’s reaction, gave a lukewarm smile and replied.
“Unfortunately, Lady Bilton, you’re perfectly sane.”
Hearing that she was in her right mind, Angela’s face crumpled as if she’d heard something unbearable. The absurdity of the situation made her head throb.
The hair Yvonne had so carefully arranged was ruined in an instant as Angela raked her hand through it. She turned to Anette and asked.
“No explanation will satisfy me, but I’ll ask anyway. Why on earth are you here?”
The answer came swiftly, as if it had been waiting for the question.
“I told you, didn’t I? I won’t let Rasill get away with this.”
Angela’s eyes flicked to the sword naturally tucked at Anette’s waist. She knew the Taran Kingdom was a warlike nation, but she hadn’t imagined the empress would abandon her throne to charge into a battlefield.
“I have an army too. And my brother’s army will follow me.”
By “brother,” she meant the late third prince. From her confident tone, it seemed the leaderless army had already chosen Anette as their new master.
Angela guessed King Rasill probably thought this was for the best. After all, Anette had already left the Taran Kingdom. Rather than strengthening someone else with a claim to the throne, letting the empress of another nation take charge must have seemed safer.
He likely never imagined she’d abandon her imperial palace to cross the border with a blade aimed at his throat.
Angela shook her head as thoughts stormed through her mind.
“His Majesty probably hasn’t even noticed I’ve left the palace. He’s always been indifferent, and now that war has broken out, he’s even less likely to care. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Anette was certain. She trusted in Truga’s habitual indifference. But Angela’s head-shaking only grew more vigorous.
“He’ll find out.”
This time, it was Angela who spoke with certainty, her voice even firmer than Anette’s.
“There’s no way he’ll find out…”
“What do you think this war is being fought over?”
Angela cut off the rebuttal coldly.
“The emperor will absolutely come looking for Your Majesty. You’ll definitely be found out.”
“…”
“You’ll be divorced.”
It might sound like a curse, but it was merely a statement of fact. Angela stared at Anette, who was biting her lip tightly.
The emperor wouldn’t keep an empress who disregarded protocol and acted recklessly in his palace. He’d likely see it as an opportunity to demand a hefty settlement. Angela could already picture Anette’s future.
Imagining her leaving the palace behind, Angela recalled the laws of the Taran Kingdom. A divorced princess returning home. After wrestling with the thought until her head ached, Angela finally spoke.
“If you’re divorced, you’ll have to return to the Taran Kingdom, won’t you?”
Anette continued to bite her lip, but her eyes held no trace of wavering, as if she had no intention of backing down.
Angela’s head, which had been shaking side to side, finally nodded up and down.
“There’s no helping it.”
In the next moment, a radiant smile bloomed on her pale face. For someone speaking of surrender, her voice was remarkably bold. Not even a faint sigh could be detected.
“No better idea comes to mind.”
In a dead-end alley, having found the only possible path, Angela stood tall with unwavering posture. Her chin was firm, her shoulders unbowed.
“Your Majesty.”
“…”
“Become the king of the Taran Kingdom.”
Because those words, urging her to stand at the highest place, were already on the tip of her tongue.
