4.

“……”

Princess Ateira lowered her gaze slightly, only to avert it again.

She felt no interest.

Since being taken captive, she had not faced direct torture.

Instead, she had been forced to watch those captured alongside her, held in the same room, dragged away one by one.

Powerless.

On the night the imperial city of Ledetia fell, she lost everything. She could do nothing.

Those who had aided her escape had disappeared upon reaching Thornfeld.

One each day.

After days and nights of resistance and fighting, she was left alone. Eventually, as time passed, she felt nothing at all.

At least, that’s how it appeared to those in charge of the “reeducation” of the captive Princess Ateira.

Smoothly progressing.

Gazing into the empty eyes of Princess Ateira, they thought, “Now, she’ll be easy to handle.”

“She seems to understand her place and the might of the kingdom now.”

“She’s obedient. If she’s hungry, she’ll eat, after all.”

“It seems she’s given up now.”

The person assigned to monitor her sneered as he spoke these words, and he was right.

Once the last person she had hoped to protect was dragged away, all she felt was helplessness and guilt.

My life was never worth the lives you sacrificed to protect it.

Worth.

Ateira’s fading red eyes widened. She took a silent, deep breath and sat up.

There is a reason they’ve kept me alive.

“……”

A princess of a defeated nation. A female prisoner.

If they had thought of me as a threat, they would have killed me already, wouldn’t they?

Wherever it may be, they plan to make use of me. Perhaps to flaunt how completely they’ve subdued the conquered empire, or to use me as propaganda.

Young and healthy, so perhaps…

Exploring several possibilities, she recoiled at her own revolting thoughts, wrinkling her nose in disgust. The scattered trails of her mind narrowed to a few clear paths.

“…Perhaps, I’ll have a chance to see Wintran.”

An event where they’d present a noble female prisoner as a war prize, perhaps.

If I can just get close enough to Wintran then, I might be able to kill him.

Like someone struck by a sudden realization, she frantically searched her own body. Her pale, thin fingers scurried over her like spider legs. Finally, as her hand brushed through her dark hair, she let out a deep sigh, feeling something snag in her fingers.

She carefully tugged it free.

It was a beautiful hairpin bearing the emblem of the Ledetian imperial family, crafted to be fixed into her twisted-up hair with an elegantly elongated stem.

Pressing here and there on the back of the ornament, she heard a faint click, and a sharp blade emerged from the long stem.

It worked.

The defensive hair ornament had miraculously stayed in her hair and still functioned smoothly. As Ateira looked at it, her crimson eyes grew clear and bright. This was the last possession of her imperial lineage. Her long, dark lashes dampened, glimmering faintly as she gazed down at the ornament.

She could have her revenge.

For several days, she had obediently complied, forcing down whatever food they brought her. It was all to gather her strength. Her stomach, unused to food after days of emptiness, resisted, but Ateira tenaciously chewed small bites of bread, swallowing bit by bit.

“See? If she’s hungry enough, she’ll eat.”

And today, they came into the room and looked her over as usual. But this time, a man of seemingly higher status entered with them.

“…Prepare her.”

He gave his order and left. The maids who followed escorted Ateira out.

The maids bathed and dressed her.

When they moved to take out her hair ornament, she was startled, grabbing the maid’s arm instinctively. Forcing out a voice from her unused and cracked throat, she managed to say,

“Please…”

“This alone. For the grooming.”

The maid whose arm she held looked back and forth between Ateira, the hair ornament, and the other maid in discomfort. Another maid, observing her labored plea, responded,

“…It should be fine. We were told to prepare her like the Ledetian princess.”

With a nod of approval, Ateira felt a bit of relief.

When she saw the prepared white dress, her eyes narrowed slightly. Simple, but reminiscent of a ceremonial gown.

It didn’t matter.

Whoever the intended partner was, she had no plans of making it through a wedding alive.

She only hoped Wintran would be there to grant her in marriage directly.

After a long carriage ride, she was led somewhere and then made to walk. Without the maids to support her, she would have tripped three times over from the thick veil. Inside the room, two men were locked in a tense conversation.

Ateira’s body tensed with nerves. Her steps wavered.

“With her looking like that, anyone would think she’s been captured for a bridal hunt.”

“Shall we at least exchange pleasantries?”

“…I’m not exactly in the mood for idle greetings.”

Ateira quietly observed the silhouettes and gauged the people from their voices. Wintran wasn’t there. Only the noble who ordered her preparation and Leo Fric Helton.

“Remove your men from the door, Count Zellered, unless you want to deal with bodies.”

If Wintran was the head, this arrogant man was the hand and foot that brought down her empire. She hated him as much as Wintran.

If she couldn’t have Wintran, Leo Fric was a worthy target for her vengeance. Ateira resolved to attack him.

If she failed, she hoped one of the many knights’ swords would finish her off swiftly. She did not want to be taken alive.

Under the cover of the veil, she cautiously removed her hair ornament and kicked the nearby vase with all her might. The sound of it shattering accompanied her swift movement.

The cold thrill of her dagger slicing through the air sent a shiver down her spine. But it hadn’t pierced his neck. She missed.

Ateira braced herself, expecting his counterattack.

“…It is an honor to meet you, bride.”

What is he doing?

“Why won’t you just kill me?”