Chapter 17
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“Hey, wake up.”
“She’s not opening her eyes. Mind if I slap her a little?”
“Go ahead. Even if she was a real princess, she’s got no country now.”
She couldn’t grasp the situation, but realizing she might get slapped if she didn’t act, Lenasia snapped her eyes open.
Yet despite that, a sharp smack rang out and pain bloomed across her left cheek.
“…!”
A raucous burst of laughter echoed. Women wearing heavy rouge were seated surrounding Lena. Whether the slap had been a mistake or intentional, she knew right away.
“Hey, don’t hit her too hard. If it bruises, we’re the ones who’ll have to cover it up.”
“Look at her, scrawny and pitiful. This is a princess?”
“Maybe because she’s an Aitalos b***h?”
After trading remarks among themselves, they burst into laughter once more. The gazes directed at Lena were thick with mockery and hostility.
Lena remembered who they were. They were Taringian prostitutes who had been trailing the end of the marching army.
“Now then, Princess. Get up and put on some clothes.”
What they held out was not the rags she had worn before falling asleep, but a high-quality dress woven of silver silk.
On its blue-green front panel, from the chest down to the lower belly, an eye-catchingly ornate silver dragon was embroidered. Lenasia’s expression darkened at the sight.
The silver dragon was the symbol of the Aitalos royal house. What was the intention behind suddenly dressing her in such clothes?
The prostitutes forcibly crammed her into the complex dress, then tightened the strings at the back to adjust it to Lena’s body. After that, they applied makeup, combed down her silver hair, and placed a tiara atop it.
When she realized she looked hardly any different from when she had played the princess at the royal palace, Lena’s anxiety peaked.
“Princess Lenasia, come forth.”
When a voice called from outside, the prostitutes opened the carriage door and pulled Lena out. As she set her feet on the ground and stood, what came into view was a tall platform built of wood.
On such a platform, executions were sometimes carried out, or when a band or theater troupe took their places, performances were held. With the emperor’s army present, what sort of event would take place up there now?
Given the gallows with a rope hanging high above it, it seemed likely to be something deeply unpleasant.
As she slowly approached, Godfrid came into view, standing atop the platform.
Draped in a black cloak and armor, he exuded an atmosphere much like the day he had stormed the Aitalos palace. An imposing appearance and piercing eyes. When Lena flinched back out of sheer instinct to flee, Godfrid extended his hand toward her.
“…”
Under the gaze looking down from above, Lena was instantly overwhelmed. The murmuring sounds around her gradually died down. She felt their eyes boring into her as if piercing through.
Driven by fear, pushed forward, Lena had no choice but to take that hand. The next moment, she was pulled up onto the platform.
“Your princess, Lenasia Aitalos.”
Having brought Lena to the center of the platform, Godfrid slowly looked her over from side to side. In the meantime, cheers mixed with sobs rang out from afar.
“Princess…!”
“The princess was alive.”
It was the accent of Aitalos. Lifting her head to look further out, she saw people in shabby appearances, no different from prisoners. Their builds were smaller than the Taringians, and their hair was lighter in color.
Every one of them wore a wretched expression, but a glimmer of light flickered in their eyes as they looked at Lena.
Most of them were commoners who would not know the names and faces of all the royals. Among them, how many would even be aware of the existence of one named Lenasia, out of the many princesses the dead king had sired?
Still, seeing a royal who had survived the palace trampled by Taringia’s elite troops, and standing there upright and noble in appearance, must have given them hope just to lay eyes on her.
But Lena’s heart was utterly bleak. The kingdom they might have placed their hope in had already been wiped off the map.
Of course, Prince Regnos would rebuild Aitalos, but that depended on the prince, not her. And at this very moment, he was on the run.
If Godfrid of Taringia had intended to treat her properly as royalty of a fallen nation, he would have shown her courtesy from the beginning. But all he had done to her so far was make her live like a slave and force himself on her whenever the mood struck him.
So what good thing could possibly happen now?
Lenasia stood beside the emperor, trembling with unease. And sure enough, Godfrid gripped her sweat-dampened hand and began his speech.
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