Chapter 81
Chapter 81
“Fine, I get it. You only have to say it once.”
“Focus on the ones you should impress.”
“Yes, yes, I’ve heard it enough to make my ears bleed. The eldest son of the Romero Marquisate and the King of Ithaca’s cousin, right?”
Celestina was resolute, but neither man appealed to Giovinetta. The Romero heir, nearing thirty and still unmarried, was rumored to be impotent. Beyond that, he had a mousy, pinched face and an oversized head.
And the King of Ithaca’s cousin? Giovinetta had met him during the previous social season. He was insufferably arrogant, his royal blood having clearly gone to his head. Constantly reeking of sour wine, his protruding belly made Giovinetta nauseous just looking at him.
“In any case, absolutely not.”
“Fine.” Giovinetta pouted, gazing out the window at the vibrant spring blossoms. Such a beautiful season, yet she suddenly felt melancholic. She couldn’t possibly waste her youth on such… inadequate men.
***
Caesar paused in his reading. I somehow knew what he was about to say. We’d had this exchange countless times. “When will you lay it?”
“Huh?” It was, as expected. His relentless questions always put me in a difficult position. Feigning ignorance, I asked, “Lay what?”
“The fruit of our love.” Ever since our last… union, this had been his sole preoccupation. I quickly glanced around, terrified that someone might overhear such provocative words as “lay” and “fruit of our love.”
Fortunately, the servants by the door seemed oblivious. I cautiously placed a finger to my lips. “Shh, we must wait a little longer.”
“How much longer?” A cold sweat trickled down my spine. Every time, I had to find a way to silence him, a way to deflect his questions.
“Well, if you talk about it too much, it might not come.”
“Why?” Another “why?” Lately, Caesar’s “whys” had multiplied exponentially.
Why? Well, why indeed? I had no answer for him.
To be honest, his barrage of awkward questions made me want to cry.
Then Caesar whispered in my ear, “Should we hold hands more?” His words pierced my heart.
“Um, yes… but not now.” I glanced around again before whispering back, “We only hold hands when no one is looking.”
The web of lies had grown into an avalanche, its scale immeasurable, but what choice did I have? It was better than having people see us holding hands in broad daylight like common lovers.
Caesar, in his innocence, looked at me with hopeful eyes. “This is something no one should see.”
Lowering my voice further, he mirrored my action. “Like last time?”
“Yes, like last time.” I didn’t realize then that this exchange made us seem like confidantes sharing a secret.
“Okay.” Apparently satisfied with my lie, he nodded and returned to his book. His easy acceptance made me feel a pang of guilt, a sharp sting in my heart. I really needed to find a solution, but my mind was a jumble of anxieties.
It was an impossible situation, the premise itself flawed. I couldn’t lay an egg.
***
Several silver coins clattered onto the oak desk. A hand, gnarled and thick-knuckled, picked them up, squeezing them tight. The coins’ ridges pressed into the flesh, a testament to the force applied.
Thirty silver coins. The price to bribe a maid at Greenstone Palace. The information gleaned? That the girl had finally… consummated her union with Caesar last night.
“She must have felt like she’d won the lottery,” Mercedes muttered sarcastically, opening her palm. The imprint of the coins was stark against her skin.
The Rosentaria silver coin was the most widely circulated currency in the Asteria Empire. Issued in the capital since the empire’s days as a kingdom, it held a long history and tradition.
Bearing the profile of the first king, the Rosentaria initially contained ten parts of pure silver. However, time had taken its toll. Wars, famines, and economic policies had gradually diminished the Rosentaria’s silver content.
During the empire’s wars of conquest, the silver trade routes had been blocked, causing the Rosentaria’s purity to plummet to less than one part silver, sparking outrage among the citizens. Some had even resorted to melting down the silver, mixing it with copper, and producing counterfeit coins.
The coins in Mercedes’ hand were just such impure imitations. She didn’t need a balance scale to know. They were lighter than the others.
The implication was clear. One couldn’t afford to make exceptions. If a single rule was broken, the entire system would eventually crumble, just like these debased coins.
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