IWAPUF 44

Marchioness Engrail stepped between me and Countess Rustine, accompanied by Baroness Bizdel.
Her gaze, brimming with warmth, settled on me.
“If you have the time, do visit the Engrail estate,” she said kindly. “I have a feeling we could forge
a meaningful connection, Lady Eliont.”
I gently lifted the hem of my skirt and dipped into a slight curtsy. “I’d be delighted to accept your
invitation, Marchioness.”
“Wonderful. I’ll send someone to arrange it soon,” she replied with a smile. “I’ll be looking
forward to it, Lady Eliont.”
“As will I,” Baroness Bizdel added, impulsively grabbing my hand. For someone I wasn’t close to,
it was a bold gesture, one that could be considered rude. But instead of reproaching her, I returned
her grasp with a warm smile.
Her unabashed eagerness to connect didn’t deserve to be rebuffed. In time, she would make a
name for herself in high society through her own talents. There was no harm in building a bond
now.
“We should be going,” Marchioness Engrail said.
Baroness Bizdel reluctantly released my hand, her face etched with regret. “Until later, then,
Countess Rustine, Lady Eliont.”
“Until later,” I replied, echoing Countess Rustine’s response.
Marchioness Engrail smiled and took her leave, with Baroness Bizdel trailing behind, glancing
back at me several times as she went.
“Baroness Bizdel seems quite taken with you,” Countess Rustine observed.
“Does she?” I replied neutrally, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
“You’re a curious one, Lady Eliont,” she said, studying me. There was no trace of displeasure or
wariness in her expression—only a spark of intrigue.
“Will you accept my invitation as well?” she asked.
“Gladly,” I answered.
“I look forward to it,” she said, her smile deepening. “I have much I’d like to discuss with you.”
“And I with you, Countess,” I replied.
Her expression warmed with satisfaction. From a distance, the sounds of gasps and cheers
rose—likely the morning’s hunting spoils being displayed.
“Shall we go?” Countess Rustine suggested.
“You go ahead,” I said. “I’ll follow shortly.”
With a nod and a smile, she departed. A cool breeze swept in from behind, tugging at the wide
brim of my hat. I adjusted it quickly to keep it from flying off and began to walk.
**Act 11: A Sudden Shower**
As expected, the subtle power struggles with the other women had left me mentally drained. The
thought of joining the crowd now felt unbearable. I needed a moment alone to catch my breath.
At the stables where the horses were kept, many were resting, some bearing visible injuries from
the hunt. The stablehands, preoccupied with tending to the wounded animals, didn’t notice my
arrival. I moved past them, searching among the horses for a familiar brown mare.
*Pruuuh.*
Spotting me, the mare shook her head in greeting. I approached and ran my hand through her
mane, feeling the coarse texture of her fur against my palm.
“You must’ve been lonely out here by yourself,” I murmured.
Thanks to Lant’s love for riding, I’d taken up the hobby as well. This mare had been purchased
alongside Lant’s horse—a slightly older female, the mother of the foal Lant chose. I hadn’t
hesitated to buy her. She was gentle, perfect for leisurely rides around the estate’s gardens, and
had never caused any trouble.
“I’d like to take her,” I called out.
One of the stablehands approached, bowing respectfully. “Lady Eliont?”
“And you are?”
“I’m Bern, in charge of the imperial horses,” he replied.
“Where’s Jexon?” I asked. All the horses here belonged to someone, and at events like the
In the Imperial Hunting Tournament, a family’s stablehand typically accompanied them. Jexon was one
of the Eliont family’s horsekeepers. I scanned the area, but his face was nowhere among the
bustling stablehands.
“The marquess’s horse was injured, so he stepped away briefly,” Bern explained.
My brow furrowed instinctively. If a horse was injured, there was a good chance the
rider—Marquess Eliont—hadn’t escaped unscathed. Without thinking, I asked, “Is the marquess
alright?”
“He’s fine, my lady,” Bern assured me. “The horse was scratched by a branch while moving.”
A sigh of relief escaped me before I could stop it. I caught myself, startled, as I pressed a hand to
my chest. Hearing about the horse’s injury, my first thought had been for the marquess’s safety.
Somewhere along the way, he had carved out a deep place in my heart without my realizing it.
It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. I still didn’t fully see him as my father, but he had undeniably
become part of the family I held dear.
I considered seeking him out but shook my head. As the prime minister, Marquess Eliont would be
surrounded by a throng of people vying for his attention. I had no desire to wade into that crowd.
I’d had enough of dealing with people for one day.
“Bring me the horse,” I said.
“Yes, my lady,” Bern replied.
With practiced ease, he untied the reins and handed them to me. I mounted the horse with his
assistance.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” I told him, gripping the reins. He bowed in response rather than
speaking. With a gentle nudge of my heel against the mare’s flank, she moved forward,
responding to my command with familiar grace.
I guided her past the other horses in the holding area, heading toward a secluded spot shaded by
dense trees. Though this was only a small part of the hunting grounds, the area had been
meticulously cleared by rangers and knights. There was no danger in taking a solitary ride.
Sunlight streamed through the branches, casting dappled rays across the path. A cool breeze
rustled intermittently, carrying the cheerful chirping of mountain birds, which soothed my weary
mind and body.
I thought of Lant. It would be pleasant to wander here with him. Perhaps I’d ask the Emperor for
permission to come back with Lant, just the two of us. A picnic with a packed lunch would be
lovely, I mused.
“Beonne!”
A voice called my name, interrupting my thoughts as I prepared to steer the horse in a new
direction. I turned toward the sound and saw the Crown Prince sprinting toward me, his silver hair
streaming behind him. His face was a mask of panic, bordering on horror, as he shouted.
“Beonne, get off the—”
*Hiiiing!*
Before he could finish, my usually docile mare let out a piercing cry and reared up on her hind
legs. I gripped the reins tightly, struggling to keep my balance as my body tilted precariously.
*Hiiiiing!*
“Beonne!” the Crown Prince’s voice roared, but the horse’s frantic whinnying drowned him out,
reverberating through my ears. The mare bolted, her movements wild and uncontrollable. I clung
to the reins, pressing my body close to her back to avoid being thrown off.
“Beonne!” His desperate cry echoed again, but I couldn’t turn to look. All I could do was hold
on with every ounce of strength, fighting to stay in the saddle.
The speed at which the horse galloped was beyond anything I’d ever experienced. I’d never
ridden a horse running this wildly in my life. Gritting my teeth, I held on for dear life.
The mare charged through a dense thicket of trees. Branches whipped past, leaving scratches on
my skin, but I was too consumed by fear to feel the sting. This wasn’t my first brush with death
—I’d faced it twice before. Death itself didn’t scare me. What terrified me was the thought of
leaving behind those I cared about, the lingering regrets for what I hadn’t done.
I didn’t know how long we’d been racing. Something was terribly wrong—the mare was panting
heavily, her breaths ragged, yet she didn’t slow. If anything, she seemed to teeter on the edge of
collapse, her gait unsteady as she plunged forward.
*Thud.*
A tearing sound cut through the chaos as the reins in my hands went slack. I glanced down and
saw that the leather straps connected to the bit had snapped. Instinctively, I grabbed the mare’s
mane with one hand, still clutching the broken reins with the other.
*Hiiiiing!*
The mare, frothing at the mouth, let out another frenzied cry, bucking wildly. The violent motion
tore away most of the reins, leaving them in tatters.
Her body lurched again, her balance so precarious it was a miracle she hadn’t collapsed. The reins,
caught in the momentum, shredded further until only a quarter of them remained.
Faces flashed through my mind—Lant, Marquess Eliont, El, Anasha, Evan—people who had,
without my realizing, carved out a place in my heart. Regret gnawed at me, not for what I’d done,
but for what I hadn’t. I wished I’d opened my heart more. And then, the Crown Prince’s face
appeared in my thoughts.
Despite my efforts to push him away, it seemed he still held a place in my heart. Unlike before, he
now claimed to love me.
Would he grieve my death now?
Had he grieved for me then?
A bitter laugh escaped me. Why, in such a desperate moment, was I dwelling on such pointless
thoughts?
As if mocking my fleeting distraction, the last of the reins snapped completely. My body lurched
upward, weightless, as if floating into the sky. For a moment, the vast blue expanse filled my
vision. I closed my eyes.
“Beonne!”
A sweet scent of spearmint brushed my senses as something solid enveloped me. Unable to
withstand the force of the impact, whatever held me tumbled with me across the ground. We rolled
for what felt like an eternity before finally coming to a stop.
“Haa… haa…”
Harsh, ragged breathing filled my ears. I opened my eyes to see a chest rising and falling rapidly
beneath me. Strong arms and legs wrapped around me, holding me tightly with no gaps. I lifted
my head and met the gaze of the Crown Prince, lying on the ground, his breaths coming in heavy
gasps.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice strained.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Thank the heavens,” he said, relief flooding his golden eyes. His arms tightened around me,
pulling me closer as if to reassure himself I was still there.
My body was pressed against his, draped over him. I rested my head on his chest, listening as his
breathing gradually steadied. The loud thumping of a heartbeat echoed in my ears—whether it was
his or mine, I couldn’t tell.
“I thought my heart would stop,” he said, his words escaping like a sigh.
My own heart jolted at his admission, a reaction unlike any I’d felt before.