Chapter 140
“Kybellaune has her own daughter, the princess. How could she possibly have plotted something so heartless with her own child here? Only men, who know nothing of women, would say such things.”
“…But the Queen hardly ever shows any real affection for our Princess Leuce. His Majesty loves his only daughter so dearly, but her mother, she’s always…”
“Nesa. Quiet. Another word, and—”
“—If she meant to abandon her one and only daughter, maybe she could have done it. Not that I really believe it, of course.”
The conversation in the sanctuary was abruptly cut by a voice none of the women had heard before. Atalanta sensed instantly that the voice came from even farther away than the women present. Silence fell over the sanctuary.
The lioness could not understand every word of human speech, but she was adept at sensing things from their conversations—such as the stark difference in status among these women.
A woman at the far end of the sanctuary clicked her tongue.
“Why are you all just standing there? If you’ve finished searching, let’s go. The sun will set before you know it, and I need to check the Geda grove once more.”
“Lady Pyra, she just spoke ill of Kybellaune.”
“Really?”
Someone managed to say, finally gathering the courage—the very woman who had silenced her friend earlier.
As she was about to leave, the woman turned back.
“You watched in silence while your friends gossiped about our noble lady, but now you show your loyalty?”
“I wasn’t just standing by.”
“Or maybe you think the Queen is planning to smuggle her daughter out of Lykke and escape together?”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean your ‘Queen.’”
Atalanta’s ears pricked. She was always more sensitive to the intent beneath human words than the words themselves. Malice was no different from the threatening presence of a predator for her kind.
That woman hadn’t deduced Pherenike’s intentions with logic, she simply disliked her so much that she had already decided what to believe.
But there was no real injustice in it, either. Pherenike truly did have such intentions, and Atalanta was here to help her.
Yet the malice of others is like a stone you can’t see in your path. Humans are always stumbling over things like that. The lioness cast a cold, piercing look toward the unseen speaker.
“Do you even know that the great lady who heals the sick also gave the order to set fire to all the homes surrounding the palace? Supposedly, it’s to defend the stronghold. Turning the moat into fire instead of water—what a noble pretense. But even those loathsome invaders never did such a thing.”
“…”
“If your mother is burned alive out there, would you still serve Kybellaune and bow to another king?”
Of course not. Somewhere, someone suddenly burst into tears. She must have family living out there. But there were neither words of comfort nor scorn.
Soon, the footsteps furthest away quickly faded, and the women remaining in the sanctuary hurried out as well.
Atalanta let out a shallow sigh, almost like a human’s, and finally returned to where the child was hiding. She realized only then how quiet Leuce had been for a while.
[Leuce?]
[…]
[Leuce. Are you asleep?]
[No…]
The child’s voice was sluggish.
[Why were you so quiet, then?]
[I was holding my breath. I was afraid they’d hear.]
[Only I can hear what you say in your head, Leuce.]
Atalanta spoke softly, gliding soundlessly toward her. The lioness listened for any hint of danger outside, but the child replied in a slow, anxious whisper.
[…Still. I thought they might hear me. I was scared.]
[But earlier you wanted to come out?]
[Atalanta… are you really my mother’s friend?]
[Yes.]
[Does Atalanta’s friend love Leuce?]
That was the child’s roundabout way of asking if her mother loved her.
Atalanta, who hadn’t been listening closely to the women’s chatter while keeping watch, hesitated for a moment. The child was not in the underground hiding place, after all.
A sigh, like a breath, escaped the lion’s mouth.
[Have you ever asked your mother?]
[No.]
[Ask her yourself, someday. I think she’d be more than happy to tell you.]
[Really?]
The child’s voice was tinged with disbelief. Atalanta pictured a tiny Pherenike huddling in sorrow.
In truth, Leuce was far kinder than her mother ever was. Atalanta wanted to answer for Pherenike, but knew that Leuce needed to hear it from her mother herself. So the lioness simply acted as if she hadn’t noticed the child’s longing and nudged open the sanctuary door with her mouth.
[Atalanta! Where are you going?]
[I’m just going to check outside for a moment.]
[Don’t go. Stay here.]
[Leuce.]
[It’s scary and lonely in here…]
[If I don’t go far, I’ll still be able to hear your voice. Should I tell you another story, like before?]
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