Chapter 9.1

It took a considerable amount of time to send a letter to Johan’s uncle and arrange a meeting with his nanny.

With tensions between the two nations running high, the border checkpoints were heavily guarded, and even a single letter took over a week to reach its destination.

Even so, Esha fought and struggled tirelessly to keep her promise.

“At midnight, you need to leave through the back gate of the West Palace. There’ll be a carriage waiting for you.”

“Yes.”

Johan gave a solemn nod.

Esha placed her hands gently on his shoulders and spoke in a hushed voice.

“You’ll be going to a forest just shy of the border. I can’t bring her all the way here. And… I can’t go with you. Understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good. You have to be back before dawn,” Esha reminded him firmly.

She had made all the necessary preparations without issue, yet an unshakable sense of unease lingered in her chest.

What if Johan runs away to Atlan with his nanny? It was a foolish thought, one she forced herself to bury.

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Slowly, Esha lifted her fork.

It had been a long time since she shared a meal with her father in the dining hall. He usually took his meals in the banquet hall located in the East Palace, near the audience chamber.

And since Edmund rarely showed her his face—let alone invite her to dine with him—she couldn’t help but wonder what ulterior motive he had for suddenly inviting her to lunch?

“Why do you keep glancing around?”

“P-pardon?”

“Stop darting your eyes about. A royal must always look straight ahead.”

Esha ducked her head.

Maybe he just summoned me here to humiliate me.

Though she was now an adult in her own right, Esha couldn’t help feeling like a timid little girl whenever she stood before her father.

Edmund cleared his throat.

By the time he had eaten more than half of his mashed potatoes and grilled fish, Esha still hadn’t managed more than a few bites.

“I figured I haven’t seen my married daughter recently. Isn’t it a fine thing for a father and daughter to share a meal together when there’s time? It helps build a bond.”

“…”

A Bond? Between father and daughter? That was news to her.

Esha forced her expression into something steady and polite, pushing at the flaky fish on her plate with her fork.

“And though it’s a little late, you carried off the New Year’s ball exceptionally well. I meant to commend you for that.”

“…Thank you, Father.”

In the end, Esha left her plate still full.

Not a single bite would go down.

She dabbed at her lips with the handkerchief a servant handed her, then remained seated, her eyes quietly fixed on Edmund.

“Do you have something you wish to…” her voice trailed off.

She half-expected him to berate her. A princess that cannot even finish a proper sentence? But instead, Edmund surprised her.

“Did you see the papers? It’s been nothing but Combatpool Harbor lately. Foolish Atlanians. They don’t even realize it’s Elendor’s great power that protects them.”

Even Johan had tried to bring up politics earlier that day. She was already sick to death of it.

And yet, as someone who had pledged herself in a political marriage, she knew it was a subject she would have to endure for the rest of her life.

Esha had never understood, as a child, the weight of this betrothal. Only now, after coming of age, was she beginning to feel it press down on her.

“They seem to have forgotten the Conquest War,” Edmund said, his eyes glinting with menace.

Even though age had weathered his body, Esha thought, the commanding presence of a vanguard who once rode across the continent on horseback had not faded in the slightest.

“Does your fiancé treat you well?”

“Of course, Father.”

“That little boy has grown quite a bit. Well, that’s what it means to be a man.”

“…”

“You must coax him into becoming one of Elendor’s own.”

“What?” Esha blinked, startled.

Up until that moment, she thought her father merely meant she should comfort Johan while he still longed for his homeland.

But she was gravely mistaken.

“He may be your husband, but he is not my son. Once he marries into this family, he’ll spend his life in this country. Therefore, it’s your job to see that he thinks and breathes like an Elendorian, down to his very bones.”

Edmund’s voice was low, as though giving careful instruction.

Esha did not bother replying.

She only prayed this wretched meal would end soon.