Chapter 33

“Hmph.”

Whether Draconis walked out or not, Nephitia didn’t care. Smirking dismissively, she turned around and held out her hand toward Princess Petra.

“Now you don’t need to worry about the likes of Igninov anymore…”

Clack. As the affectionately extended hand was pushed aside, Nephitia’s eyes widened in surprise. Princess Petra blinked as if holding back tears, gave Nephitia’s shoulder a sharp shove, and strode out of the dining hall at a fast pace. Elio, who had been keeping his eyes cast down, hurriedly stood up from his seat and ran out after her, leaving the dining hall feeling abruptly deserted.

“What is this atmosphere from day one? I thought this would be a festival full of music and dancing.”

Smoothing down the flower tucked in her pink hair, Princess Amalfi of Floria let out a deep sigh.

Meanwhile, Arkin was dumbfounded, having never imagined that such a conversation had passed between the two of them. So the things Draconis had blurted out while kneeling before Nephitia and kissing her hand had ultimately been a proposal… to spend the night together? Where on earth did he get that kind of confidence? Looking down on… Nephitia like that?

Arkin recalled the cold reaction Nephitia had shown Draconis during the opening ceremony. The gaze looking at the opponent with an unwelcome expression. And yet, Draconis had gone ahead and kissed Nephitia’s hand while babbling nonsense.

Judging by Draconis’s reaction, he seemed quite severely shocked.

Had she been preparing a counterattack? Seeing the cracks form across that arrogant face, his panicked expression, and his reddened complexion brought an immense sense of catharsis.

He looked at the Kepet princess anew. It was hard to believe that Nephitia—who innocently touched his face and hands while trying to gauge his reactions—and the dignified monarch of the Sand Kingdom who had just humiliated Draconis were the very same person.

Aside from the thrill of seeing Draconis make a fool of himself, a strange feeling kept lingering. Mainly because Nephitia didn’t just act like that with just anyone…

The sound of the enraged Draconis’s footsteps echoed sharply. The moment he bolted out of the dining hall and rounded behind a pillar, he struck the column with his fist.

“Dammit!”

With his red hair fluttering like flames, he struck the sturdy stone pillar over and over, grinding his teeth. How dare a mere wench insult me? Forgetting the pain as if the bones in his knuckles were shattering, Draconis vented his fury by kicking over a water basin in the courtyard and savagely trampling the flowers in the garden.

“Oh my!”

Passing maids shrieked and stopped dead in their tracks. Draconis’s red eyes gleamed with a madness-driven heat.

“If you don’t want to be torn to shreds like cheap rags and trampled beneath my feet, keep your mouths shut about what you just saw. Understand?”

The maids scattered away in a panicked scramble. Should I have just throttled at least one of those bitches right now? Unable to contain the rage searing through his entire body, Draconis ground his teeth furiously.

“Ha…”

Heaving his shoulders as he tried to catch his breath, Draconis abruptly seemed to remember something and slipped a thin bracelet off one of his arms. In the center of the dark-tinted bracelet, a blood-red ruby was embedded. Without hesitation, Draconis hurled the bracelet to the floor and ground it into a shattered mess beneath his heel. He wanted to smash in the skull of the priest who had assured him with absolute certainty that since this was specially crafted magic, it would undoubtedly work.

“Was the information wrong?”

Twisting his face, Draconis thought to himself. Was taking things too easily the fatal mistake?

According to what he had heard, the ruler of Kepet spent their whole life surrounded by men, enjoying entertainment day and night deep within the palace. How did the saying go—there was a belief that the ruler needed to experience pleasure in bed to successfully bear a successor, so they tasted men quite early on, even before ascending the throne.

…Vulgar wretches.

When he first encountered Kepet’s unique royal culture, Draconis had laughed until his sides hurt. He had looked down on them with contempt as uncultivated, crude beings. Yet naturally, other thoughts had also crept in. Since the ruler’s pleasure was considered so vital, just how many men had she rolled around with? They said Princess Nephitia was exceptionally beautiful—should he take this chance to try holding that pretty body for once?

As it happened, the plan Draconis was preparing required Kepet’s cooperation.

A self-indulgent princess living surrounded by stripped-down men. A stupid woman losing her reason to carnal desire. He could easily picture such a scene. Provoke her just a little bit, and she’d fall right into his hands. Naturally, if she had developed a taste for the pleasure shared with men from an early age just like her mother, she would naturally seek out something fresher and more intense. It was a trope so clichéd it was downright boring.

Yet, when he saw her in person.

Draconis leaned his head back against the wall and inhaled deeply. Ah, his appetite was whetted instantly. She was far more captivating than he had imagined.

Her golden eyes shone dazzlingly like the sun, and her pitch-black hair gleamed like silk under the night sky. Her smooth brown skin exuded a sweet, honey-like fragrance. Her plump, quiet lips were as red and enticing as a pomegranate, making him dizzy just thinking about tasting them right away.

And that wretched silk outfit of his…

Hoo, Draconis’s face flushed red. Before he even realized it, he had thrown away his pride and fawned over her with a servile attitude. Dammit.

“Damn it…”

Draconis trampled once more over the bracelet already smashed to pieces beneath his feet. A mix of humiliation, fury, and an unquenched, lingering desire churned inside him, making his stomach boil over. Fragments of black stone scattered in all directions. He would now have to think of another way.

The dinner, unappealing to begin with, had gone cold and dry while the altercation dragged on. Everyone had lost interest in eating. Since it was still too early to leave their seats, sporadic, trivial conversations trickled out here and there.

“Hey, I’m Kaichen of Voltrion.”

Even amidst the subdued atmosphere, only the Lightning Prince refused to lower his voice. He stealthily rose from his seat, wandered over to the table where the princesses were gathered, poked around the chatting princesses, and casually introduced himself.

“You know, right? The Lightning Kingdom. I can actually make sparks fly from my fingertips. Want me to show you?”

Serena didn’t even spare him a glance, Stella of Astralia slumped forward to avoid him, and Amalfi of Floria got up from her seat altogether. Deflated, Kaichen dragged himself back to his seat with a lifeless expression and slumped down.

“Uhm, nice to meet you, Arkin.”

Moving over to the table of Prince Arkin, who was sitting by himself, Amalfi tightly twisted the hem of her skirt and mustered up her courage. Ever since the oath ceremony, Amalfi had been completely infatuated with Arkin. The prince of the winter forest looked far more perfect than anything she had imagined or expected, and now that she could get close to him and speak with him, her heart felt like it might burst.

“I’ve wanted to greet you for a while now, and I’m only just getting the chance. I’m not really sure if I can address you so casually, but…”

“As you like.”

Arkin, glancing briefly at Amalfi, replied while turning his gaze away toward the distance. It wasn’t a particularly sincere answer and even felt rather cold, but Arkin’s attitude actually satisfied her. It meant he didn’t give openings to just any woman!

“Um, Arkin… Ah, to think I can call Prince Arkin so informally! Um, by the way, is that rumor true? The year Arkin won the hunting festival held in the winter forest…”

Amalfi greedily feasted her eyes on Prince Arkin’s profile while babbling away absentmindedly.

His bright, abundant golden hair was like a sun-kissed marigold, and his flawless, pale skin resembled the soft petals of a lily, making her want to stroke it. Ahh, look at that cool and indifferent gaze. Those deep eyes that looked somewhat solitary and carried a mysterious hint of loneliness…

“Th-That is, the story about how you caught a silver-horned stag with just a single broken arrow.”

“It wasn’t all that difficult. I had some luck.”

Haah, to be so modest as well… What on earth does he expect me to do! Princess Amalfi pressed the back of her hand against her cheek before pulling it away, her eyebrows drooping. If she could, she would have fluttered her hands and feet in a noisy fuss, but she couldn’t do that in front of a stunningly handsome man. What if she fainted right now and died in his arms!

“Th-Then, is that harsh survival training true too—the one where you camp out in the forest for weeks wearing only a tunic and a pair of trousers? The training Solinar men undergo…”

“Frostflowers.”

The prince, still looking elsewhere, replied nonchalantly.

“R-Right, frostflowers! I heard that whenever Arkin does that training, he stays in the forest the longest… Swimming in the cold pond water and all that…”

Finally, Arkin turned to look at Amalfi. Amalfi, who had been completely drenched in her own fantasies, sucked in a sharp breath and froze. Her cheeks, which had looked like white daffodils, gradually dyed into a vivid rose-pink.