Chapter 36

“Awkwardness” was an unfamiliar sensation for Rezion. Discomfort and self-consciousness were things that always belonged to others. No matter where he was or who he was with, Rezion had always been the most rightful and elevated presence in the room.

And yet, for the first time in a very long while, he felt awkward.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

He spoke, unable to bear the silence, but Elphenlira didn’t so much as glance at him. She was seated only a few steps away, yet the distance between them felt immeasurable. Rezion exhaled quietly and leaned back in his chair.

With events held at the imperial palace, it was customary for the royals to appear last. Until then, they waited in a separate antechamber while the other guests made their entrance. Thankfully, Countess Ornin was with them. Without her, the chilly atmosphere in the room would have been difficult to bear.

It had been the first time in a long while since he’d last worn his formal attire, and it felt stifling. The ribbons and medals pinned to his chest and the sash draped over his shoulder were cumbersome and irritating.

And if it was bothering him, it was nothing compared to what his younger sister was enduring. Elphenlira, who had always hated formalities and finery, looked half-buried under the weight of her voluminous skirts. Every time she shifted even slightly, Countess Ornin stayed close, straightening her skirts to keep them from wrinkling.

“Perhaps it’s time we made more practical dresses fashionable,” Rezion spoke sincerely.

With Elphenlira still keeping her lips tightly sealed, Countess Ornin replied on her behalf.

“Her Imperial Highness the Grand Duchess of Ervinzel might be able to manage that.”

“I’ll suggest it to her. Doesn’t this seem like an awful waste of fabric?”

“It is thanks entirely to Your Majesty’s benevolence that the women of the Empire can enjoy wearing gowns such as these.”

It was common for lavish clothing to come into fashion during times of peace. But Rezion simply couldn’t understand pursuing beauty to the point of restricting one’s movement.

The most beautiful woman he’d seen of late had been dressed quite modestly, after all.

He found himself smiling faintly as he recalled that day in the gardens of the Ervinzel Grand Ducal residence. Countess Ornin caught the smile and remarked casually, as though in passing:

“Of course, it is only proper that the Empress should be the one setting the fashion trends in high society.”

Rezion was undeniably at fault here. Even Elphenlira, who had been steadfastly avoiding his gaze, finally looked at him. With nothing left to say, he chose to remain silent.

‘Will today go well…?’

His mind buzzed with noise. The fact that Elphenlira would show her face at the banquet was already a major triumph, but it wasn’t enough.

Tonight’s banquet would be attended not only by the nobles who had been gossiping about Elphenlira, but also by Nixandor, Arathos’ ambassador. His allegiance was not to Ravellan, but to the Emperor of Arathos himself. Only after persistent persuasion from his beloved son had the Emperor finally consented to his marriage to Elphenlira. But the will of a sovereign could shift with the wind.

Tonight, Elphenlira had to be flawless. An impeccable imperial princess that was above reproach. Not even a hint of her true feelings could be revealed in the ambassador’s report to the Emperor of Arathos. Though Rezion had promised her he would never bring up the matter of the arranged marriage again, he hadn’t yet abandoned his grand plan for an alliance with Ravellan.

Countess Ornin would stay close to her, and Dianne had also promised to keep a watchful eye on her until her departure. But if Elphenlira truly intended to overturn the board and scatter the pieces, not even a dozen grown men could stop her.

Rezion spoke at last, albeit reluctantly.

“Lira. Please don’t cause a scene.”

Elphenlira flicked her eyes toward him.

“Is that an order, Your Majesty?”

He pressed his fingers to his temple, a dull ache blooming behind his eyes.

“Must it be?”

“That’s for Your Majesty to decide.”

A barbed remark is what he received. Rezion had never once issued Elphenlira a command, not in all their years of living. To her, he had always been a brother before a sovereign.

“…Then consider it a request.”

She turned her head away without responding. Her expression was one of pure boredom. She had always preferred outdoor activities, such as hunting and martial tournaments, over banquets. Even before what happened with Edric Reussen. Thankfully, she did like dancing, at least.

In her silence, it was Countess Ornin who broke the quiet.

“Your Majesty, have you decided on tonight’s order of dances?”

Rezion had always loathed dancing at banquets. The scrutiny over who he danced with, the absurd weight people gave to his partner of choice, it was unbearable beyond words.

But this was the Founding Day ball. Rezion was expected to dance at least five times tonight, more if possible, and each time with genuine effort. It was etiquette even an emperor couldn’t sidestep. It was the duty of a gentleman.

“…Of course, I should begin with Lira.”

Elphenlira said nothing, but Rezion didn’t believe she’d go so far as to make history by publicly refusing a dance from her own emperor and brother.

“After that, I’m scheduled to dance with Aunt Ellaris, Miss Vellua, and the ambassador’s wife, Lady Nixandor.”

“You’ll need at least one or two more partners, then.”

“I had hoped to ask you, Countess Ornin.”

“It would be a great honor, Your Majesty, but…”

Both Rezion and the Countess turned to look at Elphenlira. The thought that crossed their minds was surely the same:

‘Who knows what the princess will do while we’re distracted with dancing.’

Elphenlira met their stares with a look of pure boredom and irritation. Rezion and the countess exchanged a weighted glance. Finally, Rezion nodded.

“Please, Countess. I leave it to you.”

But Elphenlira was faster. As if discussing her brother’s dance partners held no interest for her, she stared at the ceiling, but then suddenly turned her head and said coldly,

“Why not dance with her?”