Chapter 31

After letting out her grand ambitions, Petra tried to resume her meal belatedly, only to take a deep sigh as she looked down at her plate.

“What do you think of this meal? How on earth are we supposed to find the strength when they give us an enormous test like that and only serve us something like this? Aren’t there dishes like braised lamb around here?”

Draconis, who happened to be passing right behind Petra, overheard those words. He leaned his head toward Petra and spat out a malicious remark.

“I was wondering where I heard a wild boar squealing, and it turns out it was coming from here. The princess of Stoneguard must not have learned the manners of keeping quiet during mealtime.”

At those words, Petra’s ears flushed bright red as she stared down at her plate.

“…What did you just say? It looks like you haven’t learned any manners yourself, either! Why don’t you just mind your own business and go your own way?”

With her face flushed crimson, Petra violently spun around and glared furiously. Her bright red complexion looked just like a well-ripened apple.

“What I mean is, Petra.”

Draconis smiled faintly while staring straight at Petra. The gaze looking at an opponent who had so easily walked into the trap held a ruthless, cruel, blood-red tint.

“If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t go around whining and would simply eat whatever is given with gratitude, Princess Petra.”

Along with a sneering laugh, Draconis’s finger pointed directly across from Petra, signaling Elio sitting right next to Arkin.

“Right over there, just like that prince you’re betrothed to. Look at that kid. He’s eating thankfully no matter what they give him, isn’t he?”

The slender, white hands that had been desperately cramping figs into his mouth came to a sudden halt. Elio’s eyes rolled around nervously before dropping low. In front of him, an empty bowl of grain porridge and bread crumbs were scattered in disarray.

“I find a sight like that rather pleasing. It’s because he seems to at least know his own place.”

“Elio!”

As a mortified Petra issued a small warning, Elio’s fruit juice-stained fingers curled awkwardly and vanished beneath the table. Only the back of his neck, reddened with shame, was barely visible, while Elio’s shadowed face kept staring downward for a long time.

“Really… how should I put it? A truly monstrous pair.”

Draconis taunted and sneered to his heart’s content.

“Compared to how they eat like pigs, their bodies are like fish bones. Yet strangely, his fiancée’s body is rather bulky, even though she does nothing but complain about the food all the time.”

“Shut your mouth!”

No longer able to hold back, Petra slammed her fist down onto the table with all her might and leaped to her feet. Striding toward Draconis, she glared furiously at the Prince of Fire.

“Prince Draconis of Igninov, you have insulted my country and the Prince of Veilon. If you do not issue a public apology, I will send a letter to my homeland to inform them.”

“Hah, wh—what are you going to do?”

Draconis chuckled and looked around the surroundings. Far from looking apologetic, he seemed to be itching to insult Petra and Elio even further.

Petra did not laugh. The princess stood firm like a rock and stubbornly demanded an apology.

“I’ll say it again. I am someone who will one day become the monarch of Stoneguard. You, too, will likely take the Igninov throne unless something special happens. It means it would be mutually troublesome if we make things awkward between us.”

“Ah, right. Alliance, friendly relations. Things like that.”

Even while using smooth, common speech, a bizarre sense of incongruity lingered in his deep, resonant voice. Snickering, Draconis took a step closer to Petra. His blood-red eyes flashed ominously.

“Hah. How naïve of you, Princess of Stoneguard.”

Draconis’s dark-red eyes glistened, emitting a dangerous light. The air surrounding them gradually heated up, as if an invisible wave of heat were licking across their skin. Striding with his long legs, Draconis circled slowly around Petra, his gaze sharp and persistent like a giant lizard eyeing its prey right before it.

“Do you truly believe that your standing and mine are equal? Huh?”

The words Draconis spat out from the tip of his tongue rippled like flames, and his voice was laced with mockery and contempt. The candles in the dining hall flickered in unison as if reacting to his words.

“In Veilon’s case, they realized reality early on. They crawl before us and don’t know what to do with themselves, yet Stoneguard still hasn’t figured out the situation—what on earth are we supposed to do with that?”

The sneer hanging at the corners of his mouth grew even deeper. The princes and princesses around them watched this scene in breathless silence, and a few turned away, unable to conceal their discomfort.

Standing without a single tremor, the Rock Princess said nothing. However, the two fists she had clenched tight were trembling uncontrollably.

“Tell me, Petra. Have you ever thought about the feelings of the Veilon prince, who is betrothed to a woman he doesn’t even like?”

No one spoke a word, but all gazes converged on a single person as if by prior agreement. Prince Elio, who kept his head bowed to the very end, remained silent, and Petra, turned toward him, had eyes that were shaking without restraint.

“Don’t you frequently hear people tell you that you lack situational awareness? You’re an utter failure as a monarch. It takes more than just excess enthusiasm to get by, you know.”

As Draconis’s harsh barbs continued, the atmosphere in the dining hall froze over. A couple of servants were still moving about inside the hall. Exchanging anxious glances, they quietly withdrew.

…Damn it.

Arkin bit his lip until it hurt. A raging ball of fire surged up from the depths of his chest, testing his reason. He felt the urge to march right up and plant a fist squarely into that smug, spouting mouth of his.

However, however…

Arkin was already pushed as far into a corner as he could go. If word reached Solinar that a prince had gotten caught up in a fight right on the very first day of the training tournament, the situation would spiral hopelessly out of his favor. His shoulders stiffened with tension, and his fingers gripped the edge of the table tightly.

Yet, should he really just stand by and swallow his anger while witnessing this kind of mess unfold right before his eyes?

Just as he was gritting his teeth, unable to contain the boiling turmoil in his heart, the air suddenly shifted subtly. A sweet yet heavy fragrance began to spread faintly, and someone—unseen in their approach—sauntered right between Draconis and Petra.

“Prince Draconis of Igninov.”

“The monarch of the desert.” Having appeared soundlessly as if stepping across the sand, Nephitia stood right there.

“I only took you for a lewd and lustful libertine, but your character is truly at a miserable level.”

Arkin forgot how to breathe as he stared blankly at her. She tilted her head slightly and peered into Draconis’s eyes. It was a frigid gaze.

“When you buttered me up with smooth words the moment you saw me today, trying to crawl into my bed however you could, your servile and pathetic figure looked just like a cheap male courtesan.”

A lustful libertine? A cheap male courtesan?

The surroundings stirred. As if the composure stamped across his arrogant face had shattered, Draconis’s jaw set hard, and his expression violently twisted.

This was what had happened earlier, just as Princess Nephitia’s entourage was making its way into the temple.

The luxurious procession of the Kepet Kingdom lost its momentum and grew chaotic the moment it passed beneath the marble arch. Even the musicians, who had been playing music cheerfully, began glancing sideways here and there, exchanging subtle winks about what was going on. The hands beating the drums hesitated, the flute notes cut off awkwardly, and eventually, it devolved into a grating, discordant noise.

The cause of the delay lay with Princess Nephitia.

Inside the palanquin, the princess kept lifting the curtains this and that way to peer outside. Had she dropped something, perhaps? The vanguard attendant leading the formation was red in the face with tension. Though he had slowed his pace to a moderate degree, he kept glancing over nervously, half-expecting the princess to suddenly order them to stop.

Amid the general embarrassment, the half-naked men carrying the palanquin were having a truly miserable time. True to their nature as tough Kepet men, they kept their mouths tightly shut and stood rigidly, but veins were gradually bulging across their foreheads. They were loyal workers who would leap into a pit of fire for the princess, but carrying the heavy palanquin made of pure gold and ivory under the blazing sun—after climbing the steep mountain path all the way from the beach without a break—was a rather different matter.

“What on earth is she doing?”

“Who knows. Maybe she’s looking for something?”

The problem was the princess, who kept moving ceaselessly as if searching for something. The white fabric was pulled back, the palanquin swayed, and at times, slender fingers reached out beyond the curtains to point at something. Straining to read the mood of the princess, who kept looking around as if hunting for something, the procession was growing increasingly delayed.

Nephitia, for her part, was busy in her own right. Her golden eyes swept tirelessly over the crowds filling the ground below. She tried to spot the blond prince among them, but he was nowhere to be seen. She was certain she had just seen that face a moment ago, seen that tall, blonde head rising abruptly amidst the crowd… She thought those blue eyes had been looking right this way.