Chapter 4
The world was hushed when Elfreda finally drifted back to consciousness. The soft glow of daybreak, rather than flickering candle flames, filled the space around her.
She blinked against the light, gradually pulling herself upright in the bed.
A sharp ache throbbed in her skull, and her neck felt uncomfortably rigid. A sudden noise of approaching steps made her heart jolt with an instinctive fear.
However, she quickly noted the difference in the sound; these footfalls were light and rhythmic, far more delicate than the heavy presence from the middle of the night. As the morning sun climbed higher, Marchioness Magnum stepped into view.
“I see you are finally up.”
The head lady-in-waiting spoke with a composure that suggested nothing unusual had occurred during the dark hours. Elfreda felt a wave of confusion wash over her.
A procession of attendants followed close behind the Marchioness.
“Your education as the future sovereign begins this very morning. The schedule leading up to the ceremony is grueling; you will have no leisure time to squander.”
The Marchioness maintained a perfectly mild tone.
For a moment, Elfreda remained motionless, questioning if the terrifying encounter had been a mere nightmare. Yet the memory felt far too tangible to be a trick of her mind.
She glanced down at herself, but her skin and clothing bore no scarlet stains.
Perhaps her mind had fractured. It was possible she had imagined it all, despite the vivid image of the brilliant sun that had dominated her vision the night before.
Elfreda let out a quiet, shaky breath as she thought of the man from the darkness.
“…I was nearly killed,” she whispered.
“It sounds as though a frightening dream troubled your sleep.”
The Marchioness dismissed the comment effortlessly, though a flicker of hesitation crossed her face.
“New surroundings can often disturb one’s rest. You will find your rhythm here in time.”
“….”
“Come now, why are you all standing idle? Help the Princess prepare for her day immediately.”
Under the sharp direction of the Marchioness, the servants sprang into a flurry of motion. As they gathered the necessary items, Elfreda found a brief window of solitude.
She paced the room aimlessly before her fingers drifted toward the nape of her neck, searching beneath the heavy curtain of her hair. As she pressed firmly against the skin, she felt a distinct texture. When she pulled her hand away, her fingertips were smeared with dried, dark crusts of red and black.
Her voice was a hollow murmur.
“It wasn’t a dream.”
Sanity had not left her.
The residents of this palace simply seemed determined to convince her otherwise. Even the radiant sun she had seen during the night appeared to be part of that same deception.
A heavy, indefinable weight settled in Elfreda’s chest.
The entire situation was utterly preposterous.
True to the Marchioness’s word, a legion of instructors arrived at Thames Palace that day. She was submerged in lessons covering the Machi tongue, social graces, treasury oversight, and the kingdom’s chronicles. It was an obvious attempt by the crown to transform a supposedly unrefined nomad from Makaeri into a queen worthy of their sophisticated society.
Elfreda chose to endure their rigorous demands.
The curriculum was exhausting, especially since she had only been studying the local language for a few months. Her only solace was the occasional late-night walk near the expansive central pond, where the cool air helped settle her racing thoughts.
Watching the vibrant petals and the silent, fluid motions of the fish brought her a fleeting sense of serenity.
Her existence here felt restrictive and punishing, almost like a disjointed fever dream. She pushed herself to the limit, sacrificing sleep and meals to keep up with the mountain of knowledge expected of her. Through it all, she never breathed a word about the violence of her first night.
She knew the reality of her situation back in Makaeri.
Her father was adamant that she fully integrate into Machi culture. He had even sent her original attendants and guards back home. While he claimed it was to ensure she became a true queen, she suspected it was a tactic to prevent any leaked rumors about their homeland from causing a scandal. It was a cold but effective move.
Under these conditions, Elfreda knew better than to expect her family to seek justice for her attempted murder. Her only hope was that they wouldn’t follow the Marchioness’s lead and brand her as a lunatic.
The man who shone like the sun remained distant and cold toward his future bride.
His lack of interest gave her a reason to keep her secrets. She viewed his detachment as a silent challenge—a test to see if she possessed the strength to wear the Machi crown.
In a way, his apathy was a relief. She often wondered how she would even look at him if they met again. She had no intention of playing the role of a doting wife to a man who had only agreed to this union out of political necessity or fear.
This was why she avoided visiting him, even under the guise of thanking him for the events of that first evening. Her pride wouldn’t allow it. It would be a cruel mockery to try and comfort a man whose family had been destroyed by her own grandfather’s hand.
She resolved to exist as a ghost within the palace walls. If he looked at her, he would only see the faces of the kin he had lost. She assumed that by staying out of sight, she might spare him further resentment.
Elfreda had no desire to fuel his hatred. It was a dynamic she understood well, having lived through similar isolation in Makaeri.
Ironically, this resolution seemed to bring the world into sharper focus.
“Oh.”
A solitary star glittered intensely in the velvet sky above the courtyard. It was little wonder that a man with the brilliance of the sun had managed to fascinate her. As she peered across the water, leaning precariously over the low stone wall, the truth became undeniable.
He was standing right there.
Why had he come? The Marchioness had been certain he would avoid this place entirely.
Panic surged through Elfreda. Encountering him was the last thing she wanted. She tracked his shadows, praying he hadn’t spotted her. For a moment, it seemed she might escape unnoticed. She just needed to slip away and retreat to the safety of Thames Palace.
“…Ah.”
Just as she prepared to flee, her eyes met his across the expanse. Despite the distance, the connection felt as physical as a blow, pinning her in place.
The air seemed to vanish from her lungs.
For the first time since she had been drenched in the blood of another, the memory of his piercing gaze consumed her.
She was suddenly back in that horrific night.
Her breathing became shallow and jagged as he began to walk in her direction. Every instinct told her to run. As she tried to force her frozen limbs to move toward the palace, disaster struck.
“Ah—!”
In her desperation, her coordination failed. Her foot caught at an awkward angle, sending her stumbling. Unable to regain her balance, Elfreda pitched forward.
— Splash!
The water erupted around her as she plummeted into the depths.
The cold liquid invaded her senses, filling her mouth and blocking her nose. She struggled until her strength faded and the world went dark.
Darkness took everything.
Her brain felt as though it were simmering in a pot, and a raw, searing pain occupied her throat.
“Ah… ngh…”
Elfreda let out a pained moan as she forced her eyelids open.
The blur of her vision slowly resolved into a ceiling she didn’t recognize. She couldn’t remember a room like this within Thames Palace.
She lay there, her breath coming in weak, shallow gasps.
“Oh, you’re finally awake!”
A bright, unfamiliar voice chirped nearby. It wasn’t one of the servants she knew. Turning her head, Elfreda saw a young woman with a bob of brown hair. She looked to be her own age, but her uniform was different from those at her residence.
“Stay right there. I’ll fetch the physician.”
The girl hurried out before Elfreda could even acknowledge her. Moments later, a doctor was leaning over her, checking her vitals.
“You’ve developed a very high fever from the shock. I’ll prepare a tonic, but you must remain in bed.”
The diagnosis felt accurate. A deep chill rattled her bones, and her muscles throbbed with exhaustion. Elfreda opened her mouth to ask where she was, but a violent coughing fit seized her instead.
“Cough! Cough, cough!”
“Please, you mustn’t try to speak yet.”
“Ah….”
The agony in her throat was too sharp for words. Wincing, she clutched at her neck and gave a small, defeated nod.
The brown-haired girl watched her with a look of genuine sympathy.
“My name is Ilene. You are currently in the Central Palace, the King’s own residence.”
Elfreda’s eyes widened in shock. Ilene, misinterpreting the reaction as fear, gave a reassuring smile.
“His Majesty brought you here himself after the accident.”
The information was impossible to process. Elfreda felt as though her mind had frozen. Once the initial shock passed, she tried to scramble out of the bed, but Ilene gently but firmly pushed her back down.
“Rest is the only thing you need right now. The Princess must recover her strength.”
“I have to…”
“Listen to the doctor’s orders. You can’t even find your voice right now.”
The sting in her throat forced Elfreda to settle back into the pillows.
She surrendered to Ilene’s care, but peace remained elusive. Her pulse was erratic, racing with a nervous energy she couldn’t suppress.
It was all because of that unexpected sun that had appeared in the dead of night.
The question haunted her: why?
He had saved her life twice now—the very man who had every reason to loathe her existence. He could have walked away and let her perish on either occasion. It was a frustrating realization that he might be a far more compassionate man than she had ever imagined.
