Chapter 41
“This is…!”
Arendtert cried out in a cracked voice. His face flushed red, and he glanced around. Reading the contempt in the eyes of the women watching him, he flailed his hand through the air.
“I-It was a mistake! I didn’t mean to!”
“…A mistake?”
Sylaria, still cupping her stinging cheek, whispered softly. At her words, he flinched and took a step back.
Sylaria lifted her head and lowered her hand. Her cheek had already begun to swell noticeably. At the sight of her face, Elenia and Marin gasped and covered their mouths.
“Sister…!”
“Huk…”
Marin hurriedly pulled a handkerchief and water from the picnic basket. Wetting the cloth with cool water, she pressed it gently against Sylaria’s cheek, her brows drawn tight with worry.
“Oh no… Are you alright?”
“Thank you, Marin.”
Sylaria gave her maid a word of thanks, then turned to look at Arendtert. To think he’d raise his hand to someone. Not even in her past life had he struck her.
No. Actually, that wasn’t true. He was that kind of man in her past life as well. After all, he stabbed his wife to death.
Back then, things had simply always gone in his favor, so he hadn’t needed to lay a hand on Sylaria.
Arendtert had always been this kind of person.
“I didn’t know your hand could be so harsh.”
At Sylaria’s cutting remark, Arendtert winced. He blinked rapidly, then roughly wiped his face with his hand.
“Damn it…”
Biting his lip, Arendtert lowered his hand forcefully, then glared at Sylaria.
“You’re the one who provoked me!”
“Are you saying this is my fault?”
At his shameless response, Sylaria’s eyes widened. Just a moment ago, he’d called it a mistake. Was he now throwing away all pretense of chivalry?
“Amazing, Your Highness the Second Prince.”
“See, you’re always pushing my buttons, Syllie— Argh!”
While he was lashing out at Sylaria, Arendtert was suddenly slammed to the ground. Euclid had appeared behind him and kicked him in the rear.
With a thud! Arendtert collapsed face-first into the dirt, his eyes flashing with fury. He looked down at his soiled clothes and hands, fuming.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
“That’s what I should be asking. That hurt, Aren.”
Euclid frowned down at his younger brother with a cold gaze. Wiping his own cheek with the back of his hand, he looked over at Sylaria. After all, he could feel her pain himself.
“Are you not ashamed of what you’ve just done?”
“It was Syllie who started it—!”
“Pathetic excuses.”
Euclid cut him off with a scornful laugh. Crossing his arms, he stood firmly in front of his younger brother.
The Second Prince sprawled on the ground, and the First Prince standing before him.
That alone made for a striking sight, and with Sylaria in between, still holding her cheek, it was enough to stop anyone in their tracks.
Perhaps that was why attendants had started to gather one by one around the garden.
Witnessing the two princes quarrel over the infamous fiancée, the onlookers’ eyes glinted with interest. They began whispering among themselves in hushed, excited voices.
“What kind of state is His Highness the Second Prince in? He’s covered in dirt.”
“Did he get dumped again?”
“My word, is this the second time he’s been rejected by the same woman?”
“Shut up!”
Arendtert roared as he caught wind of the murmuring attendants. He shot to his feet and stormed across the garden, shoving aside innocent attendants in his way. Watching him go, a faint smile touched Sylaria’s lips.
With this, yet another scandal had been added to the Second Prince’s name. Slowly, like this. His reputation would keep crumbling until he was far from the path to the Imperial Crown Prince’s throne.
* * *
“Damn it!”
Storming out of the garden, Arendtert cursed bitterly. As soon as he stepped into the Second Prince’s Palace, attendants rushed over to cover him with a blanket, but he threw it off in frustration.
“What’s the point in covering me now?”
Everyone in the imperial palace had already seen him looking like this, filthy and disgraced. Where had those attendants been when he was being humiliated?
Everything grated on his nerves.
“Your Highness the Second Prince! Your Highness!”
Just then, a voice grated on his ears as he strode with large steps toward his bedchamber. It was Grizelle.
From the moment Arendtert left the garden, she had trailed pitifully after him, and now, persistently, she’d even followed him all the way into his palace.
There was not a trace of propriety in her behavior.
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