My father ordered me into a political marriage. Mother gestured to my handmaidens, Lyra and Elara. "Pick one to go in your stead." As I raised my hand, shimmering text appeared: ["What a snake—sacrificing her maids!"] ["Relax, the Crown Prince will save Lyra."] I hesitated, then pointed at Elara. More text: ["Worse choice. The General will storm your palace."] ["Your fiancé hates you—he’d rather elope with the heroine."] My face paled. The words kept coming: ["Valerak’s King secretly loves you."] ["But sending a substitute will enrage him. War is coming."] I lowered my hand. "Fine," I sighed. "I’ll go myself." 1 The moment the words left my lips, a profound silence fell over the Queen’s Rosewood Wing. The expressions on everyone’s faces were a complex tapestry of shock and relief. From my seat of honor, I saw it all clearly. A flicker of undisguised joy crossed the faces of both Lyra and Elara. They were just as unwilling to go as I was. Only my mother, seated beside me, looked both furious and panicked by my declaration. “Aurelia, do you have any idea what kind of place Valerak is? It’s a bitter, barren wasteland where nothing grows! Have you considered the suffering you will endure there?!” Having been a diligent student of history and an avid reader of regional chronicles since childhood, I knew all too well the harsh reality of the northern kingdom. When I first learned of my father's command, my heart had felt as heavy as lead. My mother had schemed tirelessly, offering me a sliver of hope, a chance to escape my fate. But now, seeing those strange, prophetic words floating in the air, I understood. If I sent a substitute, I would bring ruin upon our kingdom. It was a gamble I dared not take. As I searched for the right words to persuade my mother, she spoke again, her voice hardening with resolve. “You are my only daughter. I will not send you into the lion’s den! Since you cannot bear to part with them, then I shall choose for you!” Her finger stabbed through the air, pointing directly at Lyra. Lyra’s body went limp, and she collapsed to the floor, sobbing. “Your Majesty, I beg you, have mercy!” [The Queen is so cruel. She can't bear to send her own daughter, so she forces someone else's to go!] [Just like mother, like daughter. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and the female lead's mother is truly rotten.] [Don't you worry, baby girl. Our Crown Prince will be here in T-minus three seconds!] [Is anyone else noticing that the princess actually changed her mind and said she'd go herself?] [Upstairs, she was obviously just saying that. That woman is the very definition of a hypocrite!] I finished reading the last of the floating text with a deep frown. Just as the final word faded, the grand doors to the Rosewood Wing were thrown open with a violent shove. A man in the formal robes of the Crown Prince stood silhouetted against the harsh light. My eyes darted from him back to the spectral words. My brother, the Crown Prince… he had actually come. 2 The moment my brother, Prince Caelan, appeared, I noticed Lyra’s kneeling form straighten. It was as if her champion had arrived, and the tears in her eyes vanished as if by magic. I watched, silent and observant. The Queen raised an eyebrow and beckoned to him. “Caelan, you’ve come at the perfect time. Help me talk some sense into your sister. I don’t know what’s gotten into her about this marriage pact, she’s actually threatening to—” Before she could finish, Caelan cut her off, his voice sharp and unyielding. “Mother, I knew Aurelia wouldn't agree to this marriage so easily. To think she’d stoop to sending a substitute!” His gaze, hot with disappointment, bore into me. “I always knew you were timid and fearful, but this is a matter of state! How could you dare to pull such a deceptive trick?! Lyra and Elara have been with you since childhood. How could you be so cruel as to send them away? You have disappointed me more than I can say!” His accusations came one after another, each more cutting than the last. He spoke as if I were some unforgivable monster, his eyes holding a coldness I had never seen before. In my memory, he had always been the gentlest of brothers. This was the first time he had ever truly been angry with me. My nose began to tingle. Was this really the person he thought I was? The text in the air scrolled once more. [Ooh, talk about a man losing his cool for his woman!] [Look at the princess's wounded expression, as if she's been wronged! She didn't want to go in the first place, or she would have refused the Queen’s plan from the start.] [The Prince has been putting up with the princess for ages. A stupid, useless woman. If she weren't the Queen's biological daughter, he wouldn't even bother with her.] My hand tightened on the silk handkerchief in my lap. My vision blurred with unshed tears. My memory, however, drifted back with sudden clarity to the year I turned six. Back then, my brother wasn't like this at all. 3 When I was six, I contracted smallpox. The entire Princess’s Estate was quarantined. No one was allowed in, not even my mother, save for the royal physicians. She could only weep as she went to the Grand Sept to pray for my recovery. Lying in bed, feverish and delirious, I was alone. The maids who had once served me had all been sent away for fear of contagion. I called out with a raw, hoarse voice, but no one came. In a haze, I felt a warm hand touch mine. A cup was pressed to my lips, and I drank greedily, the cool water a balm to my parched throat before I fell back into a deep sleep. Those days were the hardest of my life. Not a single ray of sunlight penetrated the heavy curtains of my bedchamber. I could only lie there, my pillow soaked with tears, crying out for my father and mother. At night, when I was exhausted from weeping, I would drift in and out of sleep. In those moments, I thought I could hear someone humming a soft lullaby by my ear, the same one my mother used to sing to lull me to sleep. Eventually, my fever broke, and my mind cleared. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was my third brother, Caelan, slumped over the side of my bed. Back then, he wasn't the Crown Prince. He was just an un-favored son, born of the King's drunken encounter with a palace maid. He was bone-thin, with sallow skin, but his eyes were startlingly bright. The servants in the Forgotten Wing, where he lived, all bullied him. When I awoke, he was holding a teacup, and our eyes met. I could see the panic in his. He stammered, "I... I was just..." I smiled at him. "Brother," I rasped, "I'm thirsty." I knew who he was. Once, while playing, I had crawled through a small opening in the wall of the Forgotten Wing. I saw an old governess beating a young boy. I was about to cry out, but Lyra grabbed my arm and whispered, "Princess, we shouldn't get involved with the third prince. If we do, the Queen will find out we came to this part of the palace." I hesitated. Lyra bit her lip. "You are a princess, you can be willful. But if the Queen finds out I brought you here, I will be the one who is punished." I didn't want Lyra to be punished. But I couldn't bear to see my brother go hungry. So, I took the last pouch of saffron cakes I had with me and secretly left it in a corner for him. Shortly after, I fell ill. This was our first real meeting. "You're... the fourth sister, aren't you?" he asked. So, he recognized me too. Caelan approached slowly, holding the cup, and offered the water to me. His hands were dark and rough, the nails rimmed with dirt. "You're sick," he said. "You need to drink a lot of water." But his voice was like a clear mountain spring, gentle and pure. Just like… the voice that had sung lullabies by my bedside that night. That June, my smallpox was finally cured, and my strength returned. The Queen, having no son of her own, and moved by Caelan’s devotion to me during my illness, begged the King to let her formally adopt him. From that day on, he was transformed from a bastard into a legitimate heir. No one in the palace dared to bully him again. Caelan and I grew up together. He gave in to my every whim, bringing me trinkets and toys from outside the palace walls. This was the first time he had ever spoken to me with such severity. The floating text said he only got close to me because of my status. Should I believe it? 4 Seeing me lost in thought, Caelan grew even more agitated. "What is this attitude? I'm speaking to you about a serious matter, and you're just daydreaming! Honestly, even your handmaiden Lyra is a hundred times more clever than you!" My thoughts snapped back from the past. The text was scrolling again. [The Prince has a thing for clever women. Only our girl Lyra can keep up with him.] [If Lyra had the princess's background, she'd be a world-renowned scholar by now. Unlike the princess, who's the kingdom's number one fool.] [Hey now, I don't like the princess either, but she could recite poetry at three and compose odes at five. That's not exactly a fool.] [Not a fool? She can't even recognize the person who sat by her bed, fed her water, and sang her to sleep! If that's not stupid, I don't know what is!] My gaze froze. I shot up from my chair, startling my mother. She thought Caelan's words had finally gotten to me. "Caelan, this was my idea! You will not take your anger out on Aurelia!" she declared, defending me. Caelan’s expression grew even darker, his disbelief plain. "Mother, you've been covering for Aurelia's mistakes her entire life. But this is a political marriage, a matter of state! If you keep indulging her like this, you will be the one to ruin her!" Hearing that, even my gentle nature could not abide it. "Brother," I said, my voice sharp, "you may be the Crown Prince, but Mother is still the Queen of this kingdom. How dare you speak to her with such disrespect!" My words caught him off guard. He retorted angrily, "Aurelia, look at yourself! Acting like such a savage! Even if you did go to Valerak, who's to say they'd even want you?" The words had barely left his mouth when a splash of hot tea hit him square in the face. My mother slammed her cup down on the table, her heart clearly breaking. "Caelan! Do not forget how you got that crown on your head!" 5 The color drained from Caelan’s face, shifting from a furious red to a chalky white. He looked as if someone had struck him right where it hurt the most. His gaze towards me was now a storm of dark, complex emotions. I knew he remembered. Years ago, after my eldest brother died in a tragic accident, the Queen was lost in a fog of grief. My birth brought laughter back into the Rosewood Wing. And then, when I fell ill, it was because Caelan had cared for me that my mother pleaded with the King to adopt him. It was an honor none of the other princes had received. Three years ago, the King decided to test the knowledge of his children and summoned us all for a royal examination. We were given the same policy questions as the candidates for the year's Scholars' Trial. After the papers were collected, my father kept me behind. He first pulled out my paper. After reading it, he sighed with a mixture of pride and regret. "My Aurelia, if you were a man, I would name you my heir without a second thought." At that moment, I found myself wishing I had been born a boy. Then, my father asked me to choose the best essay from among those written by my brothers. That day, I let my personal feelings guide me. After I made my choice, the King looked at me, his gaze deepening. I grew nervous, but in the end, he said nothing, only stroking my head with a soft sigh. Two days later, Caelan returned from the royal court, his face alight with triumph, and came straight to my estate. It was only then that I learned the King had praised his essay before the entire court and announced his intention to name him Crown Prince. In that moment, I was happy for him. Relieved, even. And also, deeply guilty. Because I had read all the essays. And the best one had not been his. Caelan seemed to remember this too. The arrogance drained from him, leaving him looking deflated. He swept his robes aside and knelt on one knee. "Mother, I was wrong," he said, his voice filled with remorse. "I was simply too anxious." He glanced at me, then at Lyra, who was still kneeling beside him. As if making a momentous decision, he reached out and took Lyra’s hand. "Mother, Lyra and I have pledged ourselves to one another. I beg you to grant us your blessing for our marriage!" 6 The Queen was both stunned and furious. I paid no attention to what was said after that. Caelan’s words had already confirmed the truth of the floating text. He and Lyra were indeed in love. All these years, he had traveled back and forth between his residence and mine almost daily. Was it truly out of affection for his little sister? Or was it simply because the woman he loved resided within my estate? I looked at Lyra. Her eyes were fixed on Caelan, her adoration for him spilling out, impossible to conceal. All this time, they had been exchanging glances right under my nose, and I had been completely oblivious. Then… was Caelan truly the one who had cared for me during my illness? I sank back into my chair, feeling utterly defeated. They were right. I really was a fool. The Queen did not immediately agree to the marriage, but seeing Caelan’s fierce determination to protect Lyra, she eventually relented on the original plan. "Fine," she said, her tone firm. "If not Lyra, then Elara will go in Aurelia’s place!" Elara didn't dare to object, but her eyes turned red with unshed tears. I frowned. "Mother, this marriage is my own affair…" But the Queen just pressed a hand to her temple. "Oh, the two of you, stop tormenting me!" 7 A lady-in-waiting escorted both Caelan and me from the Queen's chambers. The Prince was in a surprisingly good mood and offered to see me back to my estate. I shook my head, refusing. Seeing my coldness, he tried to take my hand, but I pulled away. His face fell. "Are you truly this angry with me over a mere servant?" I looked my brother straight in the eye. "That is a question I should be asking you, Your Highness. Today, for a mere servant, you showed no respect for me, your sister, or for our mother, the Queen. One day, when you sit on the throne, will you have any place for us in your heart at all?" I said it partly to vent the bitterness coiling in my stomach, and partly to test him. His expression changed instantly. After a long moment, he smoothed his features back into their usual mask of gentle humility. He coaxed me in a low voice, "Little sister, don't be angry. I've already finished the kite for you. When I have time tomorrow, I'll take you flying, how about that?" He held out his hand, showing me the small, scattered cuts on his palm from shaping the bamboo frame. I suddenly remembered that just a few days ago, we had made plans to go kite-flying in the spring. He had actually made one for me. Before I could feel a stir of emotion, the text began to scroll again. [Kite-flying? That’s a trick for a child. And of course, the princess will fall for it.] [Those cuts are from making a kite for Lyra. The princess’s kite was just an afterthought, made by a servant from the leftover scraps.] [I'll bet you a silver coin the princess goes soft on him again!] The words left me stunned. For a fleeting moment, my resolve had indeed wavered. But now, the anger I had just suppressed flared back to life, hotter than before. I took a step back, putting distance between us. "Your Highness," I said, my voice cold as ice. "It was I who was foolish before. You should save that kite for someone else." I turned and walked away, my steps quick. I couldn't wait another moment. I had to find out the truth of what happened all those years ago. But as I stepped out of the palace gates, I realized my predicament. I had come in my mother's carriage today. My own people hadn't arranged for transport. It looked like I would be waiting for some time under the blazing sun. I looked up, feeling a wave of dizziness. I hadn't slept well these past two days, tormented by the marriage pact. Just as frustration began to set in, a deep voice sounded beside me. "Aurelia, what are you doing just standing here?" I turned. My eyes widened, and I instinctively stood a little straighter. "S-Second Brother!" 8 Inside the carriage, my second brother, Prince Lysander, and I sat facing each other. I felt even more tense than I had in the Queen’s chambers. Lysander sighed. "Little sister, you don't have to be so nervous every time you see me. I'm not going to eat you." I lowered my gaze, hiding the guilt and shame in my eyes. The essay that had been the true masterpiece all those years ago… it had been his. For years, though Lysander had the King's ear, he was never truly favored. I always felt I had wronged him, and over time, that guilt had become a heavy weight on my conscience. That, combined with his naturally aloof demeanor, had made me a little afraid of him since we were children. The carriage was quiet. I chanced a peek at him from under my lashes. Suddenly, the text in the air flickered to life again. [She refused the Crown Prince's carriage but got into the second prince's. The princess is such a hypocrite.] [What's up with the princess today? She's usually terrified of Lysander. The kind of terrified where she'd run and hide.] [Could it be? Has she finally figured out that the one who secretly nursed her back to health wasn't the Crown Prince, but Prince Lysander?] My breath caught in my throat. My face went pale, and a cold sweat beaded on my forehead. A large, steady hand reached across and gently wiped the moisture from my brow. "Are you feeling warm?" His voice was cool and deep, and it overlapped in my memory with the voice from my dreams, the one that had sung lullabies. I remembered now. For years after I recovered, I had begged Caelan to sing for me again. He always stammered and made excuses, saying it was childish and that singing such things now would damage his image as a prince. I grabbed Lysander’s hand, desperate for confirmation. "Second Brother, could you… could you sing a lullaby for me?" Lysander looked startled. But without much hesitation, he cleared his throat. "Don't blame me if it's not very good." Inside the carriage, a gentle melody began to fill the space, clear and soothing. "A little boat on a silver stream, to steal a lotus for a dream. Not knowing how to hide its wake…" I whispered the words along with him. It was him. All those years ago, in my quarantined estate, the one who risked his own safety to bring me medicine and sing me to sleep… it was Lysander. All these years. How could I have been so wrong? How? My grip on his sleeve tightened. "When I had the smallpox… you came to my estate, didn't you?" 9 I was desperate for him to confirm it. But the truth came to me first, scrolling through the air in silent, shimmering words. [Whoa, the princess actually guessed it was Lysander who nursed her. Looks like she has a brain after all.] [Back then, Lysander was so worried about her that he snuck into her estate. He caught the fever himself and was sick for days. That's how the third prince got to take all the credit.] [After that, every time Lysander tried to talk to the princess, she would either avoid him or get pulled away by the Crown Prince. After a while, he just gave up.] Reading this, I was overwhelmed with a profound sense of shame. But Lysander just gently stroked my hair. His face, usually so stern and serious, softened. "Little sister," he said, his voice gentle. "You finally remember." The carriage continued its journey to my estate, my emotions shifting with every turn of the wheels. Lysander brought up the political marriage and asked what I planned to do. "If you don't want to go, then don't," he said, his voice firm. "The stability of our borders should not be bought with the sacrifice of a princess. Tomorrow, I will speak to Father. I will volunteer to lead the army myself and meet this Valerian King on the battlefield!" I was stunned. My own father, who had always doted on me, was now sending me away for the good of the kingdom. My mother was insistent on her substitution scheme. Even Caelan, my supposed protector, had sided with an outsider. As for my fiancé, I hadn't heard a single word from him. None of them had asked me what I wanted. It was just like when I was six years old, sick and alone in that vast estate. I could only wait for my fate to be decided by others. This time, I would not let that happen. I lifted my head, my gaze resolute. "Brother, whether I go or not, this time, I want to decide for myself."
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