The Sand Bride - Chapter 82

“You’re not going to back out now just because the King has died, are you?”

Indeed, information had come in that the King of the Kingdom of Donova had died. And in a miserable way, his stomach slit open by his own child. The unexpected death of the King had thrown the Kingdom of Donova’s internal affairs into chaos over the succession, and there was no better opportunity for war than this.

Greta, knowing that one of Bianca’s desires was the King’s head, worried that Bianca might retract her testimony. Because Bianca’s testimony would be needed again even after conquering the kingdom.

But Bianca didn’t answer. She kept her lips tightly shut, then looked directly at Greta again. Her blue eyes gazed straight into Greta’s pupils, not her nose.

Normally, Greta would have been angered by such rudeness, but on that day, Bianca’s eyes held something so intense that no one could possibly avoid it.

“Sister.”

It was the truth.

Though her voice trembled, Greta’s face hardened at the clearly pronounced address. Bianca’s face was as calm as a mask hardened by layers of countless emotions, yet in her flickering eyes, one could find a deeper sincerity than any expression.

Greta, who was about to snort and ask what she was talking about, consequently took the time to scrutinize Bianca’s face. She noticed her blue eyes, white hair, and her height and physique, which were taller and longer than those of women from the Southeast, and staggered to her feet as if struck by lightning.

“You…….”

“She had hair as white as snow and eyes as blue as glass.”

Greta remembered the words of the old chamberlain whom her mother had brought along when she married. He was a man from the Southeast who, having faithfully served not only Greta’s mother but also the Gharyam royal family, had managed to save his life through his contributions even after Greta’s mother fled.

As the young Greta grew, the chamberlain aged. Holding her wrinkled hand, he would occasionally tell Greta about her mother, something no one else ever did.

“Her name was…….”

Greta parted her lips, staring at Bianca. Words refused to form into sounds. Bianca, understanding her feelings, spoke the name for her.

“Areshi…….”

“Areshi, she was called.”

The words of the old chamberlain and Bianca’s voice overlapped. At the perfect match, Greta staggered, losing her balance for a moment. She felt dizzy, and the floor seemed to vanish beneath her. Feeling a hot, stinging sensation in her eyes, as if too close to a flame, Greta raised a finger and pointed at Bianca.

“You!”

“…….”

“Y-you……! You are……!”

Thwack. Greta’s harsh fist slammed into Bianca’s cheek. It was a blow strong enough to split her lip, but Bianca quietly endured the pain. Smack. Greta, hitting the other cheek consecutively, glared at Bianca with distorted eyes.

The sharp blue light clearly showed her desire to tear Bianca to shreds. Bianca smiled, blood dripping from her torn lip. It was a sorrowful smile.

* * *

There was a woman named Areshi.

She was a beautiful woman who inherited half merchant’s blood and the other half the blood of a marquess family of reasonably high standing.

Her soft hair shone white like silver, and her blue eyes were deep like a profound lake. With a body as flexible and graceful as a willow tree and a voice as clear as a bird’s, Areshi was beautiful enough to make passersby sigh, but she was a bastard.

Her biological father was the son of a marquess family related to the royal house, but her mother was the daughter of a free merchant. The two met during a festival, their eyes meeting, and conceived Areshi under a sky where fireworks burst.

But as is often the case with affection between those of different stations, their love was also not permitted. When the marquess saw the swollen belly of the merchant girl who appeared holding his extremely nervous son’s hand, he naturally flew into a rage and went wild.

He dismissed his son’s demands for marriage and gave the merchant’s daughter’s father a substantial sum of money while banishing them from his territory. The price of the money he gave was never to see his son again.

The merchant’s daughter, who had to live wandering from place to place since birth, was strong, but the son, who had lived like a hothouse flower in his father’s territory, was weak.

He could not protect the woman who carried his child, and Areshi was born and raised under her merchant grandfather and mother, knowing nothing about her father.

Then came that day. The fierce struggle between the prince and princess over the succession issue of the Kingdom of Donova came to an end, and the marquess family, who had supported the defeated prince, had to watch the mood of the princess who became the new sovereign. The marquess family, who had been groveling and watching the princess’s mood, seized an opportunity.

When rumors spread that a king of Gharyam who had ascended the throne around the same time favored beautiful women, the princess felt the need to strengthen her external support base as the second child through a marriage alliance with the powerful nation of Gharyam.

However, if she gave away a child from a family that supported her, it would cause cracks in her inner circle, and if she sent a beauty of low birth, it would be rude by Donova’s standards, which valued status, and would be difficult to utilize later even if she gained favor.

The princess’s cunning strategist whispered in her ear.

“Let’s send a beauty who has reasonable status and can be used.”

“But would such a person exist?”

To the princess’s ear, filled with worry, the strategist said with a smirk.

“I have found just the right person.”

He was skilled in intelligence warfare. To someone like him, the marquess family, who feared being pushed out of central politics and constantly watched for signs, was easy prey.