Would she want to be Empress?
Many women around me coveted power. Was my daughter the same?
She’s too young for this…
My mind spun. I couldn’t fathom what a girl her age might be thinking.
“If I wanted to, could I become Empress?” she asked.
Her words baffled me. Could she, if she wanted?
“You’re entertaining some pointless thoughts,” I said.
If my daughter desired it, I could make it happen instantly. What was so difficult about the Empress’s throne?
I quickly considered a deal with the Emperor, then gave a bitter laugh.
For a moment, I thought fulfilling her wish might ease my heart. Knowing what the Empress’s role entailed, I selfishly entertained the idea just because she wanted it.
I studied her closely.
Why was she saying this to me?
“Rumors about bloodlines can be a fatal weakness,” she said, her smile tinged with bitterness.
It wasn’t an expression a child should have.
My daughter was only eleven. What had happened to make her wear such a look? Why did she smile as if she might cry? Had something happened to her that I didn’t know?
“I’m not foolish enough to leap into a firepit with such a weakness,” she said, chuckling softly before challenging me.
“Am I the legitimate daughter of the Elient family?”
“That’s not even worth answering,” I snapped.
Rage surged. She was my daughter—my one and only child.
Who dared poison her ears with such venom?
I nearly shouted in front of her. Swallowing my fury, I said, “If you’re just spouting nonsense, leave.”
I couldn’t lose control in her presence. Clenching my fists, I barely restrained the anger threatening to erupt.
But she showed no intention of leaving. I struggled to keep my emotions hidden.
Suddenly, she smiled at me.
It was the first time I’d seen her smile so close. My boiling anger dissolved instantly. In a light tone, she chattered, “You asked if I want to be Empress? How many unmarried women in the empire don’t dream of that?”
I couldn’t process it. At first, it sounded like she wanted the throne, but her expression told a different story.
“So, you want it too?” I asked.
“Does my opinion matter?”
Her self-deprecating laugh pierced my heart. Why did she look so pained, my daughter?
“You…”
Bang!
The door’s slam cut me off.
The steward stood there, having just gone to reprimand the maids and knights eavesdropping on us.
Annoyed at the interruption, I noticed his grave expression.
“What is it?”
“My apologies…”
His disheveled state was alarming. Normally composed, he wouldn’t look like this unless something dire had happened. His next words confirmed it.
“Madam has passed!”
My wife had taken her own life.
I stared at her coffin. Against custom, the lid was sealed shut.
She’d thrown herself from her room, leaving her body too damaged to preserve.
I chose to conceal her suicide.
My daughter was already wounded by vile rumors. If she learned her mother had killed herself…
The thought was unbearable. I hid everything, hoping she’d resent me rather than be hurt.
Her death was my fault. My inadequacy caused it.
Before her body, I couldn’t speak. “Sorry” wasn’t enough. My lips wouldn’t move.
I couldn’t even offer blessings for her afterlife, fearing they’d curse her further. If she’d been so unhappy with me, wouldn’t that misery follow her beyond?
All I could do was place a single yellow flower on her coffin.
Whispers filled the air. I ignored them. As long as they stayed unofficial, they’d fade soon enough.
Among the murmurs, some mentioned my daughter.
Acting now risked exposing my wife’s suicide. Until her body was cremated, I had to stay put.
Clenching my jaw to keep my composure, I memorized the faces of those speaking of her. In the name of the Elient family, they wouldn’t go unpunished.
“Huh!”
“Oh!”
The whispers turned to gasps. My daughter was approaching her mother’s side.
Ashamed and guilty, I’d avoided her throughout the funeral. Yet, our eyes met. I tried to look away, but I couldn’t.
She was smiling at me.
She didn’t offer farewells or blessings to her mother, only a courteous bow—solemn and beautiful.
Something welled up inside me. My eyes burned.
She came to stand by my side.
I didn’t know what to say. My mouth went dry. Her small hand caught my eye. I wanted to hold it, to feel its warmth.
After hesitating, I gave up. I was terrified she’d break, like her mother.
The carriage began moving. It was the first time I’d been alone with her in such a confined space. I was on edge.
Will she speak to me?
What will she say?
How should I respond?
But contrary to my hopes, she was silent. Worry crept in. Was she unwell? Did she dislike me? As we neared the palace, my anxiety grew.
Thankfully, she didn’t seem ill. I stole glances at her.
She was lost in thought. I openly observed her, a rare chance to see her so close.
As we approached the palace, her expression hardened.
The conversation we’d had the day her mother died flashed to mind. Her stern look seemed tied to it.
This time, I had to be certain—did she truly want to be Empress?
“Do you, like others, wish to be Empress?”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
Seeing her reaction, I realized it was the first time I’d initiated a conversation with her. Guilt washed over me again.
“Why ask my thoughts now? You never have before,” she said.
Her words stabbed like a dagger. Mustering all my courage, I feigned calm.
“Because it concerns you.”
“What if I don’t want to be Empress?”
“You don’t want it?”
“If I say I don’t, does that mean I can’t be?”
I pondered deeply.
The Emperor had already decided. There were no grounds to refuse.
Our situations differed. This was a marriage proposal with the Crown Prince, not some insignificant princess to be taken as a concubine.
The Emperor had long been bolstering the Crown Prince’s position. This marriage was merely a formal step to warn the First Prince’s faction. In truth, ignoring the Crown Prince was an option.
Above all, my daughter’s safety was paramount. With Pison blood running strong in Bijonne, she needed the Emperor’s protection. The enemies targeting her were too much for the Elient and Pison families alone.
