Chapter 186

Chapter 186

“Let us pray.”

The High Priest raised his hands toward the sky, and she obediently closed her eyes and bowed her head.

In the coming year, it was customary for prosperity and happiness to grace the dominion. However, instead of that, Deatrice prayed that she would make no more mistakes from now on.

The lengthy prayer and ceremony concluded as everyone washed their hands in holy water and consumed a pill of divine energy. The High Priest placed his hands over everyone’s heads and offered a brief blessing. After Lucius’s turn was done and as she lowered her head, their hands briefly brushed against each other.

He had intentionally taken her hand.

It was a simple touch, yet it conveyed that her misunderstanding about his anger was unfounded. He didn’t appear cheerful or pleased, but he had extended himself enough to support her.

Letting out a subdued sigh, Deatrice kissed her hand that he held and bowed slightly, her knees bending. The High Priest, observing her sincere gesture, smiled benevolently and bestowed another blessing upon her.

“Now, it’s time to see who has captured the most game.”

After the ceremony concluded, the Emperor stepped forward with an affected cheerfulness. Beside him, the herald motioned to the knights, and they displayed the game they had caught, ordered by quantity.

Surprisingly, even after being injured and returning early, Lucius had caught the second most game. Including the two deer she had captured, it didn’t make a significant difference when combined with the third-placed hunter’s total.

And the first place goes to…

“Prince Valensar.”

The announcement saw Frederick stepping forward. He wore an impressively charming smile, almost reminiscent of how he would appear during a parade. He approached the Emperor, bowing in acknowledgment as he received the prize awarded by the Emperor.

“Now, Prince, to whom shall you dedicate these game spoils?”

The audience’s interest shifted back to him. Dedicating game spoils to a spouse or betrothed might be one-sided, but since the prince had neither married nor engaged with anyone, there was curiosity about whom he would choose.

With no particular lady in his company, everyone had almost taken for granted that the prince would dedicate his spoils to Deatrice, at least until she shot at him. In fact, there had been some quiet bets behind the scenes on whether he would choose Deatrice or Lucius.

However, for Deatrice, who had recklessly fired a bullet at her husband and then visibly regretted her hasty act, there was no chance of receiving the returned game spoils. Consequently, the attention shifted away from her, and the other ladies began to fidget and move restlessly, all while keeping their gaze fixed on the prince’s feet.

Frederick, wearing a polished smile, began his approach, intentionally drawing out the moment and savoring the anticipation. And then, he stopped before a surprising recipient…

“Goodness.”

It was as if someone had sighed in exasperation. It was none other than Deatrice.

Frederick gracefully knelt before her, as if performing in a play.

“All the blessings bestowed upon me by the divine, I dedicate to you.”

At first glance, Frederick’s posture, with his knees bent and his head bowed, appeared to befit a respectable prince. But standing before him, Deatrice was still in her riding attire, her clothes untidy from not having changed, and she wore her hat as though it were pressed on her head.

Her appearance did not match the grandeur one would expect for such a moment.

* * *

Deatrice was utterly astonished by Frederick dedicating the spoils of the hunt to her, the person who had shot at him. She couldn’t find any words to say and stared at him.

However, the Emperor, not wanting to miss the atmosphere of unity, quickly prompted applause and personally had Deatrice place a flower necklace around Frederick’s neck.

With a graceful nod, Deatrice slightly bent her knees towards Frederick and, after summoning the words she needed, presented the necklace to him.

“May the blessings of Wifreha reach you.”

Uttering blessings of the goddess of happiness to the person she had shot just a few hours ago felt peculiar, but it seemed like she was the only one who found it strange. The Emperor clapped his hands with more excitement than Lady Wifreha herself, who had to give her back for a kiss on her hand. Frederick took off Deatrice’s leather glove and kissed her hand.

She could feel the touch of his lips on her hand.

At that moment, in Deatrice’s line of sight, she suddenly noticed Lucius’s hand holding a sword. Without a glove, his hand, with visible knuckles and visibly strained, conveyed his emotions quite clearly.

Deatrice stood there, her face paling, unable to utter a single word, as if frozen in place.

***

Due to Deatrice being expelled from the palace, Lucius also had to move his residence from the palace to a mansion in the capital. Without delay, they left the court at midnight, boarding a carriage. Although Lucius was faithful in escorting her, there was a sense that he didn’t quite reach her more than necessary.

No, there seemed to be no emotion whatsoever on the face that was gazing out the window. Could being excessively quite mean that numerous thoughts were entwined beneath that handsome exterior?

Deatrice eventually couldn’t contain herself and spoke first.

“I was wrong.”

Upon hearing her words, a vague expression flitted across his face, as if he didn’t want to listen to that particular statement, a subtle sense of regret passing by.

“No need to say that.”

But now Deatrice knew the meaning behind Lucius’s “No need to say that.” It wasn’t just a matter of her not being at fault; it conveyed that his inner wounds still remained, regardless of what she said, so there was no need for futile effort.

Because of that, Deatrice stubbornly apologized.

“I shot the gun for no reason and messed everything up. You were hurt, so revenge should have been your prerogative. I made you hated by the Emperor, and turned your once-favorable position into a mess in an instant.”

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

“Why are you apologizing to me like that?”

But Lucius sighed at her apology, rubbing his forehead.

“Though I’ve nagged you occasionally, I’m not your father. You shot that person instead of me. Do you think I’d begrudge you while calculating losses?”

“Then why were you angry?”

If he thought that way, why didn’t he look at me once during the ceremony? Her expression seemed to ask that question. But Lucius was taken aback.

Deatrice seemed to believe that sharing everything and having no secrets was ideal for lovers, but Lucius didn’t share that belief. Sometimes, not sharing could be more beautiful—for example, his current state of mind.

When he first heard that she had shot the prince with a gun, he was surprised, but it didn’t confuse him to this extent.

Upon hearing the news, Lucius furrowed his brow and exclaimed ‘What?’ multiple times before eventually bursting into laughter. She still had the ability to surprise him to such an extent, and he found it even more admirable.

However, as soon as he saw her in her riding attire, his initially excited heart sank. She stood there with a look he had never seen before.

She stood there with an ambiguous attitude, between a refined lady and a rough appearance.

Her slightly disheveled clothes, wind-blown hair hastily tucked under the hat – she couldn’t appear as free-spirited as she used to.

After that face, pointing a gun at Frederick, and shooting it.

Suddenly, he felt disgustingly uncomfortable. What he had thought trivial a moment ago became vivid as he gazed upon her face.

It was as if he could see the events that Frederick and Deatrice had gone through in three dimensions right before him.