Chapter 9
“If you think you are something just because you were mentioned in the late Queen Olivia’s will, you are gravely mistaken, Romia.”
This was what Madam Merige repeated endlessly whenever she saw Romia.
Even when Romia was busy running errands for senior handmaidens who had been there far longer, Madam Merige never missed a chance to crush her pride, as if to remind her of her place.
It was not that the wounds left in her heart did not hurt. But Romia thought this too was a burden she had to endure. She had been pardoned and released after daring to lay hands on a royal body.
For that alone she was grateful. And yet, before passing away, Queen Olivia had given her another dream.
But the more she endured, the more she tried to blend in with them, the harsher reality became.
“Does Perlos not even have a tutor? When you do embroidery, you must work from left to right.”
“Even without a tutor, should you not at least be able to manage embroidery? Before now, you must have only lived by doing piecework sewing.”
Some mocked her poor household openly, while others ignored her completely as if she were invisible.
Most of Lady Potamia’s handmaidens, daughters of noble houses of great prestige, were so proud that they seemed to believe themselves Heren herself.
After all, Heren was the crown prince’s betrothed and the cherished daughter of the ducal house of Potamia.
It was not much different from the whispering and ridicule she had endured in Beredrose, so Romia bore it with patience.
“If you teach me, I will do my best.”
‘If you do not know, then you must learn.’ Was this not what Madam Receto had always said?
When Romia bowed her head meekly, even those who had mocked her so directly scattered.
“Why is she so bland.”
Even the muttered complaint was perfect in its scorn.
Haa.
As the ones who tormented her finally left, a mountain of sighs pressed down on Romia.
Rubbing her dry eyes, she yawned, exhausted from recent overwork. At least the surroundings had finally grown quiet.
Just as she caught a brief breath, Madam Merige came rushing to find her.
“The young lady has an errand for you. Hurry at once.”
“Yes. Yes!”
Startled by the booming voice, Romia leapt to her feet. Her short moment of freedom had ended.
✮⋆˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
The red sunset painted the royal castle in crimson. The light was so strong and vast it seemed the whole world glowed red.
‘Beautiful.’
The sunset itself was lovely, but with the grand and towering castle as its backdrop, it became something altogether different.
Seeing her shadow stretch long under the glow of the sinking sun made Romia feel for a moment as if she were the heroine of the world, and her heart beat faster.
Then suddenly, while walking in step with the setting sun, Romia looked down at the tray in her hands.
Upon the shining silver tray sat delicate dishes, their sweet fragrance wafting.
Had she walked too quickly, letting tea spill over the rim? Had the carefully arranged sweets lost their shape from the jostling? Entranced by the sunset, she had nearly forgotten, but there were countless details to mind.
Heren was staying in the Lily Pavilion of Castle Veleni, not far from Romia’s destination.
The closer she came to where Heren’s errand would end, the slower her steps grew.
‘I do not want to go.’
The soft smile that had touched her lips while looking at the sunset had long since vanished.
Her sulky face grew sorrowful, her heavy legs moving as though carrying the weight of a hundred stones.
It was only natural. Heren often prepared snacks for Zihardi, but of all days, today Romia had been chosen to deliver them.
Arriving at the Cadanian Pavilion, where the crown prince resided, Romia drew a deep breath, trying to loosen her nerves.
Yet as soon as her eyes fell on the firmly closed door that reminded her of Zihardi himself, fear seized her again.
‘Should I turn back? No. I must do this. I cannot fall out of Lady Heren’s favor.’
She was not even aware what words she was muttering to herself. Within that brief time, Romia cycled through countless thoughts, barely steadying her heart.
As if casting a spell, her free hand habitually fiddled with the top button of her dress.
And then she knocked.
“I have come with the young lady’s errand.”
At the chamberlain’s command to enter, Romia stepped inside with proper etiquette and quickly glanced about.
Several advisors surrounded Zihardi, who sat at his desk. The piles of documents made her hesitant to approach with the tray of sweets.
Even the crown prince, who must have given the permission for her to enter, did not spare her the slightest glance. So Romia shut her eyes tightly and summoned courage.
“This is the young lady’s thoughtfulness for Your Highness, who is endlessly burdened with state affairs.”
She managed to find the smallest gap in their busyness and placed the tray she carried upon the table. She did not forget the words Heren had instructed her to repeat.
“She said it is a tea to drink when weary. It pairs well with these unsweetened nut cookies, which she believed would suit Your Highness’ taste. The young lady prepared them herself.”
Though she had spoken and completed the errand, Zihardi still did not so much as look her way.
Standing idle in the midst of men working diligently only made her feel more out of place.
Romia bit her lip in frustration.
She could not leave until given permission. Standing here awkwardly, exposed in discomfort, was no different than being thrown into the midst of danger without protection.
She wanted to call his name, but he was speaking with his advisors, and interrupting was unthinkable. So she waited. One minute, two minutes, five, ten… How much time had passed?
It became clear the crown prince had entirely forgotten her existence.
It was not only she who noticed. Even the advisors, who had ignored her for fear of the prince’s gaze, began stealing glances at Romia still standing in place.
Unable to endure the stares, Romia cautiously opened her mouth.
“Your Highness. I shall take my leave.”
“Ah.”
A short sigh escaped his lips.
Had he seen her face, shifting with resentment moment by moment?
Zihardi leaned back slightly, brushing a tired hand over his face.
“Is it not also your duty to wait, Lady Perlos?”
The arrogance that flowed from his reclined posture made Romia feel crushed underfoot, and she bit her lip again.
With a casual gesture, he pointed toward the mountain of papers, as if to show her his workload. It was a rag of humiliation tossed back at her for daring to hurry him. Romia bowed her head deeply.
“I shall rest a little now. As you see, since my betrothed has sent a gift.”
His weary eyes glimmered faintly through long lashes. Turning to his advisors, he indicated the tea and cookies Romia had brought.
At this grant of rest from the crown prince, the advisors stretched their stiff bodies and left the office one by one, passing Romia as they went.
“Forgive me. I spoke rudely to Your Highness in your busyness.”
When the room grew quiet, Romia parted her lips at last. She had indeed erred, and so she sought forgiveness. Whether out of pride or some fleeting courage, she raised her head slightly as she spoke.
Zihardi lifted the cup of tea she had brought and looked at her intently. Standing with both hands folded, her complexion was pale.
He took a bite of the cookie under her nervous gaze. The taste was not bad.
Though crumbs might have been expected, Zihardi bit cleanly, neatly.
Romia found herself staring at his moving lips in wonder, before quickly dropping her head in alarm.
The tight rope of her mind threatened to snap. She feared he might notice the state she was in, so she fixed her eyes firmly on the tip of her shoes.
‘I wish this would end quickly. Anything at all.’
Countless words remained unspoken in her chest. While she trembled in the awkward silence, Zihardi’s lips parted slowly.
“Today.”
“….”
Even with only that word spoken, Romia flinched like a thief caught. Her hand rose to fidget with the top button of her dress.
“I had not intended to comment on your attire.”
His weary eyes glimmered with faint amusement. Watching her hastily pull her hand away and hide it was almost comical. With a cold smile, Zihardi set down his half-finished tea.
“Tell her the tea’s fragrance pleased me especially today.”
Ah. Only then did Romia understand why he had not allowed her to leave earlier. He had wanted her to watch him eat what Heren had sent, and to carry back his words of acknowledgment. That was the true extent of the errand Heren had given her.
And she had thought only of leaving as soon as she had delivered it. Romia’s face flushed red.
“And from now on, you will always wait. Until I speak, you will not open your mouth, nor depart.”
Watching her reddened face, Zihardi spoke in warning.
“That is your place, Lady Perlos.”
It was no different than treating her as a lifeless wooden doll. Romia bit her lip again in frustration, but knowing too well her position, she struggled to swallow her indignation.
Still, the words weighed on her chest and would not leave. Zihardi, noticing this, tilted his head slightly.
“If you have something to say, speak.”
It was a permission not easily granted. Romia lifted her head at once.
“Five minutes, ten minutes, even thirty… if it becomes an hour, must I continue to wait?”
Waiting without limit. No set time. Her question hung in the air, and Zihardi moistened his dry lips with tea before rising from his seat.
As she followed his movement with her eyes, she found him suddenly close before her.
Leaning slightly, his low, hoarse voice sounded quietly by her ear.
“Time is not the matter.”
“….”
“You are simply one who must wait for me.”
At his words, which fixed her value precisely, Romia instinctively touched her ear as though chilled. Lowering her head, she fought back the surge of sorrow.
It was always the same. Before Zihardi, she felt no more than a small, trembling mouse.
Then, and now.
