“Will my wish come true?” the boy inquired.
“Indeed. Dimitri accomplished it. He held the feather, made a profound wish, and Myastra materialized,” came the response.
“Dimitri? Who is he?” the boy questioned further.
“He is my cousin. Dimitri possesses boundless knowledge,” came the reply.
“Hmm…”
The young boy contemplated something, his gaze returning to the yellow feather. A tinge of melancholy crossed Rihannan’s face.
“Do you not like it?” she asked.
“No, I do. However, I was thinking that you should be the one to write that wish,” the young boy replied.
“But you saved the bird.”
“Yes, but we did it together. If it weren’t for you, the notion of rescuing the bird would never have crossed my mind. Take it. Consider it my gift to you.”
At his reasoning, Rihannan’s countenance brightened. Deep down, she too desired the mythical feather.
“Wait, you mentioned Myastra, didn’t you? Is Dimara your cousin from Crichton?” the boy inquired.
“Yes.”
“And you are also from Crichton?”
“No, I am an Arundelite. I was born and raised here.”
“Who are you?”
Rihannan began to answer the question, repeatedly asked, when a womanly voice resonated from a distance.
“Rihannan?”
It was her mother, accompanied by the Queen. They had traversed the distance, searching for Rihannan after their time spent together.
“Mother!”
Her mother regarded Rihannan affectionately before noticing the boy beside her, prompting her to bow hastily.
“Your Highness, you were with my daughter… Perhaps Rihannan has caused you inconvenience.”
It was then that Rihannan realized the boy’s true identity. The boy she had spoken ill of and climbed the tree with was Igor Cesca, the young king of Arundell.
“…It has been a while, Countess Alessin,” the boy king addressed Rihannan’s mother with a courteous bow, his tone considerably colder than before.
“Igor, Rihannan, I had envisioned your meeting on a different occasion, but this is splendid as well. What were you two doing?” the Queen inquired, approaching Igor with joy and tenderness. Igor promptly handed the feather to Rihannan, who accepted it clumsily.
“It was nothing. We were simply conversing,” Rihannan replied.
“And Igor, what happened to your attire?”
Igor’s clothes bore the signs of torn fabric and dirt from their earlier fall.
Rihannan’s face grew pale. Fearful of the repercussions for the damage she had caused, she quickly sought refuge behind her mother, clutching the hem of her skirt and trembling.
“I was merely playing freely and grew bored. Unbeknownst to me, I ended up rolling on the ground alone. It is of no consequence. Please do not concern yourself, Mother.”
Igor absolved Rihannan of any involvement, placing the blame solely on himself. He bid his farewell to everyone before departing from the garden.
Rihannan stared blankly at the receding figure of the young boy. A haze enveloped her heart, and her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue. The handsome face of the boy, who had smiled so freely and casually, occupied her thoughts. And to safeguard their small, trivial secret, Rihannan cherished the feather in her grasp.
She wished to visit the palace again in the near future and converse with him once more.
However, that would be the first and last flicker of goodwill he harbored toward Rihannan.
Later, Rihannan realized that he harbored animosity toward his own mother, a woman from Crichton.
“Of course, I will inform the Queen, but I shall not be present in Arundell when I do so,” Rihannan whispered quietly to Mary.
“When do you plan to depart for Crichton?” Mary asked, her surprise evident.
“In two days’ time.”
“I… I see.” Mary had expected Rihannan to leave as soon as possible, but she had not anticipated such haste. “Wait, Miss, that is incredibly soon!”
“I will handle all urgent matters that require my attention and leave the rest to Jeffrey. He will manage perfectly well in my absence… You need not worry about packing either. We shall only take what is necessary. The remainder can be obtained in Crichton.”
“Miss, why the rush to leave so swiftly? Are you concerned that the Count will return and disrupt everything?”
“No, it has nothing to do with my father. No matter how many times he intrudes, he shall only encounter resistance and the servants’ freedom to expel him.”
“Then why…”
Arundell, with its grand mansion, had been Rihannan’s abode since birth—a realm free from hindrances. Though she had ventured to Crichton on several occasions, those visits had always been temporary and fleeting.
Mary was dumbfounded, struggling to believe that Rihannan, who had never known any other home, could depart from her hometown without a trace of regret.
“I simply wish to depart from this place swiftly. It harbors far too many painful memories.”
She bit her lip, closing her eyes as if seeking solace.
Several years had elapsed since her initial encounter with the royal palace. Once again, Rihannan was compelled to enter its opulent confines as a candidate for the position of queen. The Queen herself provided unwavering support.
Opportunities arose for her to reunite with Igor, the boy king she had once known. However, he appeared strangely distant. Rihannan consoled herself, convinced that his change in demeanor stemmed from his transition into adulthood—a mere façade masking the sweet, innocent boy she had known.
It was only upon entering the palace that Rihannan realized he would never extend a warm welcome. Their relationship as king and queen was purely a formality—an intimate aide and observer of the Queen.
“Are you content, Mother? You have managed to bind my limbs, my hands, and feet. Are you reveling in your own amusement?”
Those were the words Rihannan overheard before the wedding. Her husband’s caustic retort ignited fury within the Queen.
“What do you mean? Rihannan is a virtuous girl. She is the perfect match for you, Igor. I fail to comprehend why you twist my words.”
“That’s precisely what I anticipated from you, Mother.”
With a disapproving click of his tongue, Igor exited the room and collided with Rihannan, who stood at the threshold. Her countenance drained of color, revealing her accidental eavesdropping. For a fleeting moment, Rihannan displayed the same expression she had worn in her youth—a wry smile flickered across her face when reminiscing about such situations.
Igor’s face immediately hardened.
“This is information you should possess. Fine, so be it. Now, nothing remains hidden. Soon, you must choose. Will you surrender yourself entirely to me, or will you persist as Queen?”
It was an unmistakable warning. Should she fail to make the right choice, only misery awaited her.
Following the tumultuous wedding ceremony, Rihannan was to experience her first night with the King. Yet, it bore no resemblance to the fantasies she had harbored. Their union symbolized the marriage between a king and queen—a matter so private necessitated an air of official confirmation. Behind the sanctuary of bed curtains, witnesses scrutinized their conjugal bond.
Rihannan felt a profound sense of shame. How could she hope for affection from her newlywedded husband under such circumstances?
She recollected her late mother, who had wedded a man devoid of love for her.
Her mother, a young woman consumed by love for a man, had sought to retain him by any means possible. Yet, her efforts were in vain. He eluded her grasp and bore a child with another woman he cherished. Upon her mother’s demise, he welcomed that woman’s child into their home.
These memories evoked a solemn vow within Rihannan—an oath to never surrender her love as her mother had, to never engage in foolish endeavors.
Yet, here she stood, traversing the same treacherous path as her mother.
The realization alone compelled Rihannan to weep, her tears scorching hot.
As Igor’s face drew nearer, Rihannan turned her head in self-disgust. Placing her hand firmly against his chest, she exerted pressure, halting his advance. He gazed at her in silence, his dark purple eyes harboring an unfamiliar gleam that sent shivers coursing through Rihannan.
Behind the concealing curtains, the witnesses trembled ever so slightly. The King had yet to make a move. Amidst their hushed whispers, a low growl resonated.
“Is this your answer?”
“Will my wish come true?” the boy inquired.
“Indeed. Dimitri accomplished it. He held the feather, made a profound wish, and Myastra materialized,” came the response.
“Dimitri? Who is he?” the boy questioned further.
“He is my cousin. Dimitri possesses boundless knowledge,” came the reply.
“Hmm…”
The young boy contemplated something, his gaze returning to the yellow feather. A tinge of melancholy crossed Rihannan’s face.
“Do you not like it?” she asked.
“No, I do. However, I was thinking that you should be the one to write that wish,” the young boy replied.
“But you saved the bird.”
“Yes, but we did it together. If it weren’t for you, the notion of rescuing the bird would never have crossed my mind. Take it. Consider it my gift to you.”
At his reasoning, Rihannan’s countenance brightened. Deep down, she too desired the mythical feather.
“Wait, you mentioned Myastra, didn’t you? Is Dimara your cousin from Crichton?” the boy inquired.
“Yes.”
“And you are also from Crichton?”
“No, I am an Arundelite. I was born and raised here.”
“Who are you?”
Rihannan began to answer the question, repeatedly asked, when a womanly voice resonated from a distance.
“Rihannan?”
It was her mother, accompanied by the Queen. They had traversed the distance, searching for Rihannan after their time spent together.
“Mother!”
Her mother regarded Rihannan affectionately before noticing the boy beside her, prompting her to bow hastily.
“Your Highness, you were with my daughter… Perhaps Rihannan has caused you inconvenience.”
It was then that Rihannan realized the boy’s true identity. The boy she had spoken ill of and climbed the tree with was Igor Cesca, the young king of Arundell.
“…It has been a while, Countess Alessin,” the boy king addressed Rihannan’s mother with a courteous bow, his tone considerably colder than before.
“Igor, Rihannan, I had envisioned your meeting on a different occasion, but this is splendid as well. What were you two doing?” the Queen inquired, approaching Igor with joy and tenderness. Igor promptly handed the feather to Rihannan, who accepted it clumsily.
“It was nothing. We were simply conversing,” Rihannan replied.
“And Igor, what happened to your attire?”
Igor’s clothes bore the signs of torn fabric and dirt from their earlier fall.
Rihannan’s face grew pale. Fearful of the repercussions for the damage she had caused, she quickly sought refuge behind her mother, clutching the hem of her skirt and trembling.
“I was merely playing freely and grew bored. Unbeknownst to me, I ended up rolling on the ground alone. It is of no consequence. Please do not concern yourself, Mother.”
Igor absolved Rihannan of any involvement, placing the blame solely on himself. He bid his farewell to everyone before departing from the garden.
Rihannan stared blankly at the receding figure of the young boy. A haze enveloped her heart, and her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue. The handsome face of the boy, who had smiled so freely and casually, occupied her thoughts. And to safeguard their small, trivial secret, Rihannan cherished the feather in her grasp.
She wished to visit the palace again in the near future and converse with him once more.
However, that would be the first and last flicker of goodwill he harbored toward Rihannan.
Later, Rihannan realized that he harbored animosity toward his own mother, a woman from Crichton.
“Of course, I will inform the Queen, but I shall not be present in Arundell when I do so,” Rihannan whispered quietly to Mary.
“When do you plan to depart for Crichton?” Mary asked, her surprise evident.
“In two days’ time.”
“I… I see.” Mary had expected Rihannan to leave as soon as possible, but she had not anticipated such haste. “Wait, Miss, that is incredibly soon!”
“I will handle all urgent matters that require my attention and leave the rest to Jeffrey. He will manage perfectly well in my absence… You need not worry about packing either. We shall only take what is necessary. The remainder can be obtained in Crichton.”
“Miss, why the rush to leave so swiftly? Are you concerned that the Count will return and disrupt everything?”
“No, it has nothing to do with my father. No matter how many times he intrudes, he shall only encounter resistance and the servants’ freedom to expel him.”
“Then why…”
Arundell, with its grand mansion, had been Rihannan’s abode since birth—a realm free from hindrances. Though she had ventured to Crichton on several occasions, those visits had always been temporary and fleeting.
Mary was dumbfounded, struggling to believe that Rihannan, who had never known any other home, could depart from her hometown without a trace of regret.
“I simply wish to depart from this place swiftly. It harbors far too many painful memories.”
She bit her lip, closing her eyes as if seeking solace.
Several years had elapsed since her initial encounter with the royal palace. Once again, Rihannan was compelled to enter its opulent confines as a candidate for the position of queen. The Queen herself provided unwavering support.
Opportunities arose for her to reunite with Igor, the boy king she had once known. However, he appeared strangely distant. Rihannan consoled herself, convinced that his change in demeanor stemmed from his transition into adulthood—a mere façade masking the sweet, innocent boy she had known.
It was only upon entering the palace that Rihannan realized he would never extend a warm welcome. Their relationship as king and queen was purely a formality—an intimate aide and observer of the Queen.
“Are you content, Mother? You have managed to bind my limbs, my hands, and feet. Are you reveling in your own amusement?”
Those were the words Rihannan overheard before the wedding. Her husband’s caustic retort ignited fury within the Queen.
“What do you mean? Rihannan is a virtuous girl. She is the perfect match for you, Igor. I fail to comprehend why you twist my words.”
“That’s precisely what I anticipated from you, Mother.”
With a disapproving click of his tongue, Igor exited the room and collided with Rihannan, who stood at the threshold. Her countenance drained of color, revealing her accidental eavesdropping. For a fleeting moment, Rihannan displayed the same expression she had worn in her youth—a wry smile flickered across her face when reminiscing about such situations.
Igor’s face immediately hardened.
“This is information you should possess. Fine, so be it. Now, nothing remains hidden. Soon, you must choose. Will you surrender yourself entirely to me, or will you persist as Queen?”
It was an unmistakable warning. Should she fail to make the right choice, only misery awaited her.
Following the tumultuous wedding ceremony, Rihannan was to experience her first night with the King. Yet, it bore no resemblance to the fantasies she had harbored. Their union symbolized the marriage between a king and queen—a matter so private necessitated an air of official confirmation. Behind the sanctuary of bed curtains, witnesses scrutinized their conjugal bond.
Rihannan felt a profound sense of shame. How could she hope for affection from her newlywedded husband under such circumstances?
She recollected her late mother, who had wedded a man devoid of love for her.
Her mother, a young woman consumed by love for a man, had sought to retain him by any means possible. Yet, her efforts were in vain. He eluded her grasp and bore a child with another woman he cherished. Upon her mother’s demise, he welcomed that woman’s child into their home.
These memories evoked a solemn vow within Rihannan—an oath to never surrender her love as her mother had, to never engage in foolish endeavors.
Yet, here she stood, traversing the same treacherous path as her mother.
The realization alone compelled Rihannan to weep, her tears scorching hot.
As Igor’s face drew nearer, Rihannan turned her head in self-disgust. Placing her hand firmly against his chest, she exerted pressure, halting his advance. He gazed at her in silence, his dark purple eyes harboring an unfamiliar gleam that sent shivers coursing through Rihannan.
Behind the concealing curtains, the witnesses trembled ever so slightly. The King had yet to make a move. Amidst their hushed whispers, a low growl resonated.
“Is this your answer?”
