Grant Me Your Grace

After the discourse, Saltar approached Aaron, the high priest, and spoke first.

“Don’t be too upset about today, High Priest. Politics is a complicated business, and it’s hard to keep track of everything.”

Saltar smirked, and Aaron looked at him with a hard stare. 

There was an undisguised contempt in his eyes, which were always so serene as he contemplated the will of the gods.

“The throne is the seat of the gods.”

Aaron’s grayish-brown eyes met Saltar’s black lust.

“Climbing the stairs in front of you will not bring you to a higher place.”

At that, Saltar raised one eyebrow. The corner of his mouth, curled upward, twisted ferociously.

“The High Priest sounds as if he’s saying I’m not worthy of the throne.”

“That’s what it sounds like.”

Saltar smirked at Aaron’s bony retort. He rubbed his fingertips across his wrinkled brow and glared at Aaron.

“In time, I will succeed to the throne, and it would be more peaceful for the temple to be on my side, wouldn’t it?”

There was a hint of malice in his voice.

It was no secret that the Temple did not support Crown Prince Saltar. 

If Saltar was to be trusted, in time the throne would be his, but Aaron would be wary of him until the end of time, and he would prevent Saltar’s power from growing.

“A tainted peace is the spit of the devil.”

Aaron didn’t bother to argue, but instead looked Saltar straight in the eyes, his piercing blue eyes.

“It rots everything in the end.”

Aaron didn’t back down from his words when he saw Saltar’s brow crinkle furiously. 

Unable to contain his simmering anger, Saltar gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.

“This is the imperial palace, Your Majesty. Please refrain from such frivolous behavior.”

Mudhat Osahar stood beside the high priest and pressed Saltar. 

The most prestigious and powerful of the central nobility, House Mudhat. Even the Crown Prince could not treat him lightly.

“If you’ll excuse us, may the grace of the Nuit Goddess be with you.”

Aaron and Osahar gave Saltar a perfunctory bow and left the room. 

‘Hah’, Saltar mocked them briefly, but then he uttered a murderous curse.

“If you’re crying out for a god so desperately, I might as well let you meet him sooner rather than later.”

As he gritted his teeth, he heard the Emperor’s boisterous laughter amid the realm. 

Surrounding Khankundra on his throne were Mindhu and a few of his ministers, engaged in a flurry of witty banter.

Saltar’s eyes flared at the pathetic behavior.

‘Foolish man.’

I’m going to cut them down to their rotten flesh before I take over the throne. 

From those who dare not know the difference, to those who tarnish the crown of glory that will soon be mine, to those who stand in my way.

‘My father’s time is over, and soon it will be me who rules and reigns over this land!’

Looking at his father with disillusioned eyes, Saltar walked away nervously.

✨

Rumors have spread throughout the palace that Princess Baran Dahlia would marry a Prince of the Kingdom of Hayad. 

An envoy had recently been sent to the Kingdom of Hayad, and had returned with a tremendous gift of genuine riches.

Rumor has it that the kingdom of Hayad is overjoyed at the prospect of a marriage between the two nations, and has promised to marry the most promising prince in the realm.

Not first, not second, but third in line to the throne.

“They say they are happy to marry the princess, but how can they arrange a marriage with a third prince? This is clearly disrespectful to the Princess!”

The news was greeted with a grunt from Bertha. Dahlia didn’t add anything, but merely twitched her lips helplessly.

It would be a bit of a stretch to say that Hayad’s proposal was blatantly dismissive of the Baran nation.

The first prince, the most likely heir to the throne, was weak from a long list of ailments, the second prince was already married and had a young child, and the third prince was the only one left to offer.

The third prince was healthy and intelligent. He was also a keen observer of the state of affairs within and outside the kingdom, having traveled as an envoy early on. 

Though he had lost his claim to the throne, he was deemed fit to serve the country of Baran.

After all, they too were offering a cursed, discarded princess.

Dahlia impatiently tried to calm Bertha, who was now in tears.

“Stop, Bertha, that’s not the proper way to talk.”

“Your Highness Princess…!”

“If that’s what you’ve decided, there’s nothing I can do to change it.”

Dahlia had already given up. Somewhere, somewhere that wasn’t being sold to a penniless old nobleman in the middle of nowhere.

And why, of all the vassal states, he’d chosen Hayad, so close to the border. 

Perhaps he decided a place where it would be easier to get my blood. It wouldn’t be the only time the imperial family would need my blood.

‘Instead, I’m going outside the borders of Baran, where I’ll be under less scrutiny than before.’

Even if she couldn’t escape, Dahlia figured it wasn’t a bad idea to get out of the Empire.

Sobbing, Beltah threw her arms around Dahlia’s waist.

“Please take me with you, Your Highness, I want to accompany you wherever you go.”

Bertha was the eldest daughter of a poor gardener’s family. She was brought into the palace at the age of seven and spent her days doing menial tasks.

She was the youngest of the maids and had no connections. The other maids were mean to her, accusing her of blocking their way out of the palace.

One day, she was surrounded by the maids and harassed severely, when Dahlia happened to be passing by and witnessed the scene.

[Something has fallen under the bed, but it is too deep for my arm to reach, you are small enough to reach it; will you come and get it for me?]

Dahlia brought little Bertha into the room. But the object she wanted her to retrieve was embarrassingly close to the foot of the bed.

From that day on, little Bertha stayed by Dahlia’s side, being her hands and feet. She stood at the front of her room even when she wasn’t called upon to do so. 

She was the first to go to the market for clothes that everyone else was afraid to buy for fear of contracting a cursed skin disease.

That day, Dahlia’s small gesture became a bright light in the child’s lonely heart.

After eight years as a maid in the Princess’s entourage, Bertha had become an indispensable friend and family member to Dahlia.

“Then. I don’t know about the other children, but I’m definitely taking you as part of my engagement.”

“Are you sure? You’re really going to take me with you?”

“Of course. Where would I go without you?”

Dahlia smiled and stroked Bertha’s head gently. But her smile didn’t last long.

‘My… marriage.’

She had thought it was so far in the future, but now that it was so close, it felt strange.

Leaving for Hayad, I would be free from the scrutiny of my father and brother. Bertha would come with me, and I could correspond with Priest Hovan from time to time.

‘And… Hissin.’

Dahlia’s heart sank for a moment at the mention of the name. Dahlia took a deep breath and forced herself to compose herself.

It’s not another emotion, just regret. Regret for being away from the only cure that could heal the blood price.

Leaving for the realm of Hayad would make it harder for me to see Hissin, and I would have to bear the pain alone when the Blood Price manifests itself at the behest of either Maksru or Saltar.

‘I thought the nights were colder because of the sun…’

It’s just going back to the way things were. Knowing healing makes me fear more than I did when I only knew pain.

‘If only I could take Hissin with me like I did Bertha.’

The thought made Dahlia smile self-deprecatingly. It was the most empty wish she had ever made.

He was a gift from the goddess Nuit for the nation of Baran. 

‘No mere ruined princess could claim him.’

Dahlia pushed the thoughts from her mind, forcing them away.

It was better not to overthink things that couldn’t be changed, she knew from experience.