Pherenike - Chapter 121

Whenever Pherenike took off for the Calyce mountains, she didn’t even bother asking the king’s permission. But in Lykke, she lived confined by countless restrictions. Though it was precisely for that reason that she refused any outside interference in her affairs.

The palace servants had long since become accustomed to keeping their distance when serving the queen. Even the routine check-ins on her whereabouts were done from afar whenever possible.

Their indifference toward her was something they’d spent years perfecting. After all, if anyone were to interrupt the Kybellaune while she was attending to the goddess in the sanctuary, it would be a catastrophe beyond words.

“Kybellaune, are you awake?”

“Come in.”

At last, a maid entered, carrying an earthen water jug. Pherenike stood by the window, still gazing out, not turning around. The maid, long used to her mistress’s indifference, quietly set the jug on the floor, knelt beside her, and began her task.

The efficient hand removed a shallow basin from atop the jug, drew several dips of water into it, and set it before the queen, all without letting a single drop splash outside. Her hands trembled slightly, perhaps remembering how recently Ino herself had been frightened out of her wits while serving the queen.

So now, even the smallest gesture was handled with meticulous care.

The maid lifted the basin, and at last, Pherenike turned from the window and washed her hands in the water.

For a brief moment, their eyes met. When Pherenike gave her a fleeting smile, the maid’s entire face turned red, and she quickly emptied the basin. She refilled it, quietly speaking up as she did so, her voice careful.

“…Kybellaune, last night you returned to your chambers without anyone noticing—not even a mouse or a bird heard you.”

“Is that so?”

“Everyone assumed you’d stayed all night at the palace sanctuary. But then, there you were, fast asleep in your own bed. Ino was so shocked she didn’t know what to do….”

Pherenike said nothing in reply, simply washing her face as the maid supported the basin. But even her silence was more encouraging than not; it meant she was listening.

The maid handed her a towel and continued softly.

“Actually, the king himself came looking for you last night—since he’s leaving for Davys today.”

“…”

“I think he stopped by the sanctuary first, but we all told him you hadn’t come back yet. For a moment, His Majesty looked quite flustered…”

Pherenike dried her face and walked over to the mirror, running a hand through her damp hair. The maid immediately followed, beginning to arrange her hair.

“It was already late, and he was about to start searching the palace himself, but on a whim, he opened your door—and there you were, sound asleep in bed.”

“I see.”

“We all looked rather foolish. Ino was stunned, apologizing to His Majesty, but he just waved her off and told us not to wake you with any unnecessary fuss.”

Pherenike absently watched the maid’s busy hands in the mirror. There were old burn scars on the fingers braiding her hair into a coronet.

“His Majesty stood watching you sleep for quite some time, just as he did back when you were carrying the princess in your womb.”

“…”

“He told us not to mention he’d stopped by your chambers, but…”

“And yet here you are, telling me, Lara.”

“My mistress is you, Kybellaune.”

Lara replied, blushing shyly. Pherenike gave her a faint, almost maternal smile. The sight of the maid’s face flushing so easily at the slightest glance was endearingly naïve.

Once her hair was finished, Pherenike returned to the window. Below, the royal guards were already lined up in the palace courtyard. Her eyes moved past the rows of soldiers to the little child running toward them at a trot.

“Actor Nikandros Pelagon!”

How many people in the whole palace would dare call out the king’s name so boldly?

When calling him ‘Father’ didn’t seem to work, Leuce would solemnly recite her father’s full, formal name—something she’d memorized only with great effort.

The guards all turned at once, startled, but the only one who smiled was the man himself.

That implacable face, so stony it seemed not a drop of blood would ever leak from it, softened endlessly when he looked at his child. As if another side of him had been born the moment Leuce entered the world.

That gentle expression was an unfamiliar sight in the palace, known only to a handful of attendants who served the royal family up close.

Yet, despite his soft gaze, the king was not the sort of father who granted his daughter’s every wish, and Leuce knew that well. Of course, she was used to being adored, born to be cherished from all sides.

She instinctively understood her father’s greatest weakness was her. Even so, she knew her limits.

Like any child, she sometimes pouted or fussed, but she never pressed her demands too far. She already disliked causing trouble for others.

This time, though, her insistence was unusual.

A few months ago, when Actor left to put down rioters in northern Lykke, she’d only hugged him quietly and wished him a safe journey with a farewell kiss on the cheek.