Chapter 8

“Even if the princess hadn’t tried to drag a Solinar prince she was seeing for the very first time off to her bedroom as if he were some slave, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

As Shadia raised her voice, Nephitia lifted her chin and shouted right back in kind.

“Please, just stop meddling in my life! Can’t you just leave me alone to do as I please?”

“Just how long are you going to act so selfishly! You need to grow up now. The age of doing whatever you want is past! I am telling you to take responsibility!”

“I am…!”

Trembling violently, Nephitia tried to snap back right away, but her words suddenly choked off in her throat.

An adult. Responsibility.

“I am, I…”

She actually knew that Shadia was right. Even though she couldn’t quite pinpoint it while watching Arkin’s reaction, she also knew things were going wrong. However… however…

Nephitia lost her words, and Shadia fell silent as well. Catching their ragged breaths, a while longer passed in stillness. When the painful silence between them had stretched out long enough, Shadia, leaning upon her cane and letting out a sigh, spoke in a quiet voice.

“Once this training tournament ends and Your Highness returns to Kepet… at that time, you will begin sharing a bed with the selected consorts.”

“…Huh? Sharing a bed?”

Nephitia’s shoulders, which had barely been calming down, stiffened with a start. What was this supposed to mean?

“Shadia, sharing a bed—what does that even mean?”

“Precisely as it sounds. Sons who are to become consorts have already been chosen from each noble house. They are conditioning their bodies, preparing contraceptives, and waiting for the opportunity to serve Your Highness.”

“I-I’m not ready yet. Can’t we do something like that later, huh? Mother is still in good health right now, so why on earth am I…”

“Her Majesty made the decision. She wishes for you to make haste.”

“Mother ordered this? Why is she doing this without even a single word to me?”

Her hands clutching the hem of her dress trembled uncontrollably. She knew that a day like this would eventually come, but it had simply felt vague and distant. Deep in the far-off future, an event of a yet-unrealized tomorrow—she had assumed she would have time to ready her heart to accept it when the proper time came…

“Your Highness, Her Majesty is rushing this out of concern for you. The countless hardships she suffered when a child was slow to arrive reached even me across the border at the time. What guarantees that such a thing will not happen to Your Highness as well?”

As if merely recalling that time was horrifying, Shadia shuddered and struck the ground with the tip of her cane.

“Because of those who dared to question the existence of the great King Mahati, the dynasty nearly crumbled. It was only thanks to the prophecy Your Highness received turning the tide that we were barely able to stabilize the situation.”

“I am different from Mother, am I not, Shadia? The future of Kepet will flourish splendidly in my hands regardless of the timing of any shared bed.”

“There is no mention of the succession anywhere in that prophecy.”

Shadia cut her off resolutely.

“Long ago, King Mahati also received a prophecy hinting at her ascension to the throne, but the physicians deemed Princess Mahati’s womb too weak, causing much worry for everyone. Therefore, making a special exception, she shared a bed with consorts early on before her enthronement, but… alas, her precious baby daughter was stillborn. With circumstances turning out that way, all sorts of ominous and vicious rumors circulated in public society—such as whether the prophecy had been swapped out because someone else was actually meant to take the throne. Is it not perhaps only natural that Her Majesty, having endured such a harrowing ordeal, should pay particular attention to Your Highness’s bed-sharing?”

Nephitia could not mount a counter-argument to Shadia’s calm rhetorical question.

Nephitia’s heart grew even more suffocated. I hate it. I truly hate it. I’m telling you I’m not ready yet.

“They are young men who have conditioned their bodies and minds solely for Your Highness. Since they will be overwhelmed with emotion simply by daring to touch Your Highness’s sacred body, and will live out their entire lives at close quarters to serve Your Highness as handsome, robust young men, even if you are reluctant at first, you will soon come to enjoy their company.”

“…Shadia, don’t try to dress it up nicely. I hate those men. I hate them to madness.”

Suppressing her emotions, Nephitia’s gaze sank darkly. Reading the princess’s expression, Shadia eventually closed her mouth.

Long ago, there were sixteen noble houses that partook in the founding of Kepet. As the highest-ranking aristocrats, whenever a new monarch was born, they offered the healthiest son of their household as a consort, and the monarch would take turns sleeping with them out of obligation to conceive an heir.

Based on the belief that a healthy successor could only be conceived when the monarch experienced “supreme pleasure,” the sixteen noble youths spent their entire lives repeatedly striving to please the monarch in the bedchamber, dedicating their bodies solely to the ruler. It mattered little which of them had been present when the monarch conceived. In short, for the monarch of Kepet, only a mother existed, and there was no father.

However, the consort system—once a sacred contract between the monarch and the founding vassals—gradually degenerated over the passage of time.

Was it perhaps considered a waste to let a precious son who could elevate a household rot away as a consort serving in the bedchamber? As the influence of the sixteen houses gradually grew stronger, most of the sons entering as consorts became “disposable children.” Since they were offerings to the monarch, obvious physical defects were avoided, but that very practice gave rise to an even greater evil.

As indolent, dissolute men with defective characters became the monarch’s consorts, all sorts of dark political infighting and nervous standoffs unfolded. The monarch, a being of divinity, was always isolated, whereas the consorts were not, making it hardly difficult for them to employ all manner of cunning schemes. Whenever trouble arose, they cleverly managed to slip away unpunished, only to return and fawn once more in the monarch’s bedroom.

The consorts of her mother, King Mahati, were no exception. Among the sixteen men, there was not one who did not throw his weight around outside; while prostrating flat on the floor to profess their loyalty before Nephitia, they would cast lingering, scrutinizing looks at the princess’s face as they withdrew. Endless attempts were made to discern whose seed among the sixteen men might have been passed down to Nephitia.

“Uhm, Your Highness.”

Shadia cautiously began to soothe the princess.

“You are naturally reluctant. I understand your troubled feelings well. But it is something you cannot refuse.”

“I…”

“Your life until now and your life hereafter will be completely different. The life of a ruler is precisely that. It is becoming a cunning and shrewd adult. What great matter is it for a monarch to share a bed with consorts? Your Highness merely needs to conceive a successor. However, no single noble house must be left out; men from all sixteen houses must enter the bedchamber so that no loose talk arises. Therefore, endure those you dislike, and treat them with magnanimity.”

“I know. I know, but…”

Nephitia stopped speaking and drew in a deep breath. The image of her mother King Mahati’s empty, hollow eyes flashed in her mind, choking off her breath. The bleak terror contained within those eyes made Nephitia anxious.

King Mahati had reportedly drawn a firm line the moment Nephitia was born, declaring she would no longer engage in carnal relations for the sake of conceiving a successor. Her reasoning was that since she had obtained a flawless prophecy, there was no longer any need to seek an heir.

Despite this, the sixteen consorts unfailingly made their appearance whenever the time came for the monarch to retire to bed. They spun petty excuses and cajoled the monarch with all manner of words, sneaking into the bedchamber, insisting that even if they did not seek an heir, periodic cohabitation was required according to the laws.

Perhaps because they no longer needed to strive for a healthy successor, the consorts aged quickly and grew unsightly. Intoxicated by rich foods and debauchery, their bellies grew thick and their eyes gleamed greedily. They did not hesitate to harass the maids behind the monarch’s back.

She had vaguely understood that those who entered her mother’s bedchamber harbored other intentions and purposes, but she had never known what they truly were. Her mother had taught her nothing about the lonely shadow of the throne, and everything had simply been Nephitia’s own guesswork.

She did not want to live such a life. If she could not save her mother, she wanted to live differently, at the very least.

Above all, Nephitia possessed a flawless prophecy. An absolute power capable of achieving anything. A monarch born through the divine premonition of the gods. Nephitia was certain that this would serve as her backing.

“Shadia.”

Nephitia looked toward Shadia and asked earnestly.

“What do you think it would mean if I found my own ‘Hetasept’?”

As if it were an unfamiliar word, Shadia furrowed her brow.

“Seta… what did you say?”

“‘He-ta-sept.’ I mean the destined partner who appears in the ancient texts.”

“Pardon? What on earth does that…”

“Shadia, they say that for every single person in this world, their very own Hetasept exists. A destined partner with whom one willingly shares the happiness and pleasures of life.”