Once the delegates arrived at the Royal Palace, the kingdom welcomed them warmly—as they should. As a gesture of formality, they were immediately granted an audience with the King.
Kneeling on one knee before the throne, King Jaro glanced at the uniformly black robed men. Gifts for the princess and the kingdom were stacked to the side, which impressed no one—but that wasn't the point.
"Welcome to Aethera," King Jaro declared, his voice commanding. "It's a pleasure to have you in our Kingdom. It must have been a tedious journey from the North to the coast of the South, so I will not keep you here longer."
"My people have prepared your lodging and a welcoming banquet for all of you. For the time you are here, treat Aethera as your temporary home." He paused, waving his fingers weakly. "I hope you enjoy your stay in our land."
With that, the delegates rose to their feet as King Jaro dismissed them without hearing a word.
As they were escorted out of the throne room, King Jaro studied all the delegates. He knew that the beasts of the North were different from humans, no matter how alike they were in their human form. Their mere physique, height, and the aura they exuded as a group made the difference clear.
King Jaro sighed as they disappeared from his sight. He propped his elbow on the armrest, resting his jaw on his knuckles.
"My Princess Sol," he sighed heavily. "How is she going to be fine with all of them?"
A part of him felt reassured that his beloved daughter would be protected while traveling with the pack. Another part of him was even more deeply concerned, imagining his frail and pampered daughter surrounded by beastmen.
King Jaro turned his eyes to the window at the side. "The Empire is surely making sure our houses are under its control."
****
Many years ago, the Kingdom of Aethera stood as a powerful territory.
Known as the land of sorcery and the sacred domain of the Goddess Manyner, Aethera used to be one of the many feared territories. At the same time, many lands saw it as a threat.
But after many wars and long years, sorcery began to wither.
The rulers, desperate to shield their people from annihilation, made a single grave choice: they allowed Aethera to be absorbed—no longer sovereign, but subservient.
Even so, many still believed that the people of the land of Manyner would one day wield power again, once the prophesied descendant of Manyner was born. It was the very reason the Empire consistently kept its eye on them, even though the current King of Aethera, King Jaro, had shown unwavering allegiance to the Empire.
But in recent years, the Empire had shifted more of its attention to the beasts of the North.
This betrothal was not just a blade at the Royal House of Drevante's throat—it was also a way to keep the House of La Lucretia of the North under the Empire's control. After all, the North and the South had never had a good history.
Keeping tension between their houses only benefited the Empire.
****
Meanwhile, what King Jaro didn't know was that among the delegates he had welcomed stood the Grand Duke of Northern Carithian—Damien.
Walking down the open hallway connecting the King's Palace to another building where they'd be staying, Ronin's shoulder brushed against Damien's broad frame.
"Your Grace, what does that mean?" he asked quietly so the knights walking paces ahead wouldn't hear. "He didn't tell us that the princess wouldn't come with us."
Damien didn't answer, keeping half of his face hidden beneath the hood of his robe. Eyes ahead, his mind drifted to what King Jaro had said. Customarily, the king would have said more than just greetings—he would have outlined what to expect.
For instance, the Fourth Princess wouldn't be able to depart with them. After all, such a detail should never be delayed. But for the king to tell them only to stay meant they were still expected to depart as scheduled with the "commodity" they came for.
"Do you think he's planning to stall by claiming she's ill at the last moment?" Ronin whispered again, rubbing his chin. "So it'll look more believable if the princess suddenly falls ill before our departure?"
Damien's eyes glinted as he cast Ronin a side-eye, but said nothing.
That's also a possibility, he thought.
If that was King Jaro's plan, then Damien had surely underestimated the king's willingness to delay them.
With that running through his mind, Damien quietly spoke.
"We're staying in this land as scheduled. Then we'll leave at once," he ordered under his breath. "For now, get as much rest as you need."
****
As promised, the Royal House of Drevante threw a banquet for the delegates. Their lodgings were as comfortable as could be, and they were treated with the utmost respect.
The delegates would be staying in the Royal Palace for three days, as mentioned in their letter. This would give them plenty of time to rest and prepare for the long journey home—with the princess.
In Solenne's first three lifetimes, the delegates left the same day King Jaro told them she wouldn't be able to come. It wasn't surprising; the beasts of the North only came to take Solenne with them. Without her, there was no reason to stay longer and waste their time.
Solenne sat up in bed, her fist to her lips, muffling her coughs.
My throat's getting worse, she thought, touching her neck. Her breathing was slightly hotter, the kind of feverish warmth that tugged at her lungs like a warning.
This didn't happen in my first three lives.
But sure enough, with each death, Solenne felt slightly weaker. It wasn't clear in the first two, but now she was beginning to understand.
A shallow breath escaped her lips, her lashes fluttering toward the closed window. Flinging her legs off the bed, she rested her palms on the mattress. She kept her eyes on the window glass, where the moon shone brightly in a star-filled sky.
"In three days, I'm leaving this land sooner than I did," she whispered. "I can't get sick."
And even if she did, she couldn't let it become the reason she stayed longer.
In the first three lifetimes, the delay had been like pouring another gallon of kerosene onto the fire. If she wanted to survive this timeline, she had to avoid that.
With that in mind, rather than resting and letting her illness worsen, she thought a simple walk might make her sweat a bit and feel better. Solenne didn't bother her maid. She picked up a robe draped over a divan, wrapped it around herself, and quietly snuck out of the Rose Palace.
The night wasn't chilly, but against her skin, the wind felt a little harsh.
Solenne wandered aimlessly through the garden. The gravel crunched faintly under her slippers, and the cool breeze tugged at her robe. Every now and then, leaves whispered overhead. The usual floral scent that filled the garden—customized to her liking—was gone.
It took her a moment to realize she felt more unwell than expected. So she decided to return and sleep it off.
She turned, but a flicker in her periphery stopped her. A small shadow darted behind the bushes, rustling the undergrowth with a sharp, papery shuffle.
"Hmm?" She turned, catching a glimpse of something small moving behind the bush.
Solenne blinked, curiosity gleaming in her russet eyes. She approached the bush and bent over, hands on her knees. When she caught sight of what it was, she pressed her lips into a thin line and crouched.
She crossed her arms around herself, hiding her little body in the robe as she tilted her head. A soft smile formed on her face as the squirrel twitched its ears at her from the bush.
A squirrel.
"Hey there," she whispered, lowering her hand until the back of it touched the grass. Her palm remained open. "Are you hungry? There's tons of food I have back at my palace."
The squirrel, nibbling what looked like a nut, chewed rapidly. Its tiny eyes flicked between Solenne and her palm. It didn't move—just kept chewing.
Solenne chuckled at how fast it munched. "Fine, I'll get you food first—"
Much to her surprise, before she could retrieve her hand, the squirrel moved. It jumped and ran into her hand, sniffing her fingertips. In a second, it was nestled in her palm.
"Haha," she laughed, tickling its tiny chin. "Such an adorable thing."
Then, just as suddenly, the squirrel leaped from her hand and ran off.
"Wait—" Solenne stood and followed the squirrel with her gaze.
It ran and climbed up the robe of a man. Solenne furrowed her brows, first eyeing the squirrel on the man's shoulder, then shifting to the man himself.
A second later, she recognized the robe he wore.
A member of the delegation.
Solenne clutched her hands together, unable to see the man's face beneath his hood. Her heart fluttered with anxiety and unease, memories of the North flooding her mind.
But she also remembered the delegation never knew her face. In all three lifetimes, they hadn't known what the Fourth Princess looked like until she arrived in the North.
"I see. So she's yours," she said with a faint, polite smile. "Make sure she doesn't get lost. The palace is too big for something so small."
She dipped her head slightly and turned to leave. As she did, a wave of dizziness struck her. Solenne touched her temple as her body swayed. But she didn't fall.
I guess taking a walk was a bad idea after all.
When she opened her eyes again, she resumed walking until a large hand grabbed her arm.
"Huh?" She stopped, looking at the hand holding her arm. Her gaze trailed along the veined arm beneath the robe up to his hooded head.
Solenne frowned. "What do you think you're doing—"
The rest of her words caught in her throat as the man pinched her chin and tilted her head upward.
"You're... ill," he said, and her heart skipped a beat.
That voice.
That cold, distant, unmistakable baritone.
Damien?