The pungent scent of blood filled the room. Fresh blood streamed down from my sliced hand, tracing a line along my arm before dripping, drop by drop, onto my face and pillow. Panicked, I tightened my grip on the blade in a desperate bid to keep the assassin from rising off me, and an agonizing pain surged through my hand as if it were being torn clean apart.
Before he could move, Duke Prodiad was faster.
Kicking the door open, the Duke dragged the assassin off me in an instant and slammed him hard against the wall. Before I could even register the shock of the Duke growling furiously as he pinned the man down, Celine rushed into the room, letting out a shrill scream at the sight of my blood-drenched face, arm, and hand.
“Lady Scarlett! Are you all right?!”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
Honestly, I wasn’t fine at all. But relatively speaking, the one in far greater danger was that assassin, not me. Ignoring her frantic fussing, I addressed Duke Prodiad—or rather, the assassin gripped firmly in his grasp.
“My blade is enchanted with a spell. If you don’t want to rot alive from the inside out and die of blood loss, you’d better start talking.”
Though my threat went unanswered, I carried on.
“I know exactly who you are. Unfortunately for you, I have an exceptional memory for faces. Confess right now, and I’ll spare your life. But if you refuse…”
I offered him an elegant smile.
“I’ll toss you into the sewers to feed the rats.”
The gently delivered words carried immense weight. Staring at the boy, whose build made him look around seventeen or eighteen at a glance, I gave a bright smile. Throwing him to the rats was a bit cruel, even by my standards. But what of it? I was petty to the bone.
“Hurry up. Before I expose your identity myself. You know the truth, don’t you?”
Keep quiet now, and you die a meaningless dog’s death.
Korkel, Senior Pello, and Senior Trichel arrived in a rush, their faces pale with horror as they looked at me. Behind them came Celine with a first-aid kit; as she lifted my hand and staunched the bleeding, Senior Trichel, who possessed some medical training, hastily disinfected the wound and wrapped it in bandages. The gash was deep enough that my hand throbbed as if it were severed, but I forced the pain down and kept my eyes fixed on the assassin.
Yet not a single word crossed his lips, even as the wound I carved into his neck began to fester and suppurate in an instant. Right up until the knights arrived, tore away his mask, and relieved Duke Prodiad of his grip, the boy did nothing but glare at me with eyes brimming with venom and hatred.
The intruder who had dared sneak into my bedchamber in the dead of night was the very same young boy who had sat at the very end of the negotiation table, quietly watching the proceedings.
“Is he dead?”
“Not yet, but he looks close to death.”
I lifted my left hand and tested a slight flex, but a sharp, numbing ache shot through it, forcing me to bite my lip and set it back down on the desk.
Following the assassination attempt last night, a knight had fetched a military doctor from the encampment, allowing me to receive proper treatment. Celine had hovered by my side grumbling about how a castle could lack even a single physician, looking more pained than if her own hand had been mangled. Though I said nothing, I found her reaction amusing and patted her head.
Locked away in the dungeon, the assassin never uttered a word, but the five of us easily recognized him as the lad from the fifth seat. Duke Prodiad had nearly torn the boy apart in a cold, rigid fury upon realizing he was an assassin from Sierra, and it took everything I had to hold him back. Of course, I held no soft feelings toward the intruder either.
“We recovered a Negotiation Agreement from his person. It stipulated that Winchester would take only Beliche. He likely intended to force my signature. After all, a magic-bound signature used in negotiations holds legal force.”
“Are they insane?! Barbarians to the very end!”
Korkel slammed his hand against the desk with a crack, startling Celine beside him. I gave Korkel a quiet look, signaling him to sit, before turning away.
“They haven’t shown themselves yet! Sierra, after sending an assassin!”
I understood Korkel’s frustration, but I could only watch him in silence. How could Sierra possibly react? They would inevitably feign ignorance and claim no involvement. Then they’d insist the boy acted entirely on his own. I could already picture the brazen words they would spout, shouting as their faces flushed red.
“What nonsense is this! Our Sierra would never stoop to such acts!”
Yes, just like that.
When the day of the formal negotiations arrived, we all sat at the table with stiff, solemn faces. Since there was no limit on attendees for the formal talks, our side was reinforced by Duke Prodiad and several knights, but Sierra fielded the exact same delegation from the first round. Or rather, to be precise, one seat was empty.
Sitting opposite Prince Collins, I caught a glimpse of Grand Duke Closer’s face turning crimson with outrage.
“Someone attempted to assassinate me. And that assassin happened to be a man of Sierra. The days when feigning ignorance resolved everything are over, Grand Duke Closer. We live in an era where principles matter.”
My voice was so calm and even that, were it not for the bandage wrapped around my left hand, the incident might have sounded like a tale from some distant land. Grand Duke Closer looked ready to breathe fire as he glared at me, reminding me vividly of our very first encounter. What an unbearable nuisance he was back then.
Prince Collins, by contrast, wore an expression of utter chill. The ease and smiling composure he displayed during the first round had vanished without a trace as he spoke.
“We bear no responsibility for what that man devised entirely on his own.”
“Do not presume our intelligence is as base as your own.”
Celine’s ringing voice cut through the air. Grand Duke Closer fixed a menacing glare upon her, but unlike the way she had trembled on the first day, Celine met his eyes with a sharp glare of her own. As her pink eyes locked onto him, Grand Duke Closer’s expression crumpled in irritation.
The tense standoff dragged on. I let my gaze sweep across the Sierra representatives seated across from me, then raised my left hand to speak.
“Let us take a recess.”
Korkel looked at me at the suggestion of a break. Senior Pello took one look at my emotionless face and was the first to rise from his seat. Amid the rustle of attendees reluctantly standing in small clusters, I turned my eyes toward Prince Collins.
“Your Highness, may I have a word with you in private?”
The Prince took his seat again. Duke Prodiad remained standing by my side, his eyes lingering on me. I offered him a slight smile and shook my head, reassuring him I would be fine.
Once everyone, including Duke Prodiad, had tactfully cleared the room, I broke the silence.
“I am disappointed.”
“In what, exactly?”
“I placed my faith in Sierra, never imagining you would resort to such a clumsy trick.”
My words were pointed. Prince Collins let out a faint chuckle and spoke.
“I repeat, we had nothing to do with it.”
“Perhaps so. Not that I believe you. But in truth, none of that matters to me.”
Prince Collins knitted his brow at my languid tone. Leaning back in his chair, he questioned me as I sat across from him with my legs crossed, watching him intently.
“What are you getting at?”
“Your Highness. The Lord of Sorel cannot hold his tongue. He will confess to anything if paid enough, just as he did for you.”
“How I discovered this is irrelevant. But understand this, Your Highness. I hold a great deal of evidence. I could present every single piece to you if you wish, though you hardly seem eager to see it, so I will cut straight to the heart of the matter.”
Catching my breath, I looked straight into his sharp, piercing eyes.
“Grant every single one of our demands.”
~
I glanced lightly around the room, taking in our surroundings, before smiling again.
“The soundproofing in this negotiation chamber is dreadful, you know.”
“Then I shall scream. That His Highness Prince Collins, overcome with shame, attempted to murder me. That he lunged at me, unable to bear my threats. Heavens, how beastly of him. And what threat was that, you ask? Ah—”
Letting pure delight wash over my face, I spat out every word at Prince Collins with deliberate precision.
“Two nights ago, the sole niece of the King of Winchester nearly met her death at the hands of Sierra.”
“Tell me, is that not reason enough to reignite the war? His Majesty is already boiling with immense discontent toward Sierra. The one who quelled that fury was my mother. But if harm comes to me, my mother will be the very person handing His Majesty his sword.”
“I know full well the underhanded schemes Sierra pulled in the ice trade with Yula. Despite your monopoly agreement, you colluded with Heint across the border to export ice on a national scale. I wonder what face Yula will make when they find out?”
“They will be positively furious. Think of how much wealth Yula generated through the ice trade, only to realize that sum was merely a fraction of what they were owed. They will feel utterly deceived. A rift will form between Yula and Sierra—not a catastrophic rupture, but certainly deep enough for them to stand idly by if Winchester and Sierra resume their war.”
“…Winchester’s losses would hardly be trivial either.”
“Oh, but we can still fight. Unlike Sierra, whose forces are utterly depleted.”
My throat felt dry and scratchy. Lifting the teacup from the desk, I took a sip, letting the bitter, astringent aroma linger on my palate. Then I pressed on.
“In all the continent, Yula is the only nation willing to side with Sierra. Winchester is powerful, and falling out of our favor carries far too steep a price. But now, even Yula will turn its back on you. Goodness, whatever will Sierra do then?”
“Having no troops left, you’ll likely conscript commoners to form a militia. But how could simple peasants ever stand against Winchester’s well-trained knights? Regrettably, Winchester’s forces will advance straight into Sierra’s heartland. After all, nothing is easier to carve up than a country whose borders have crumbled.”
“Once we breach your interior, do you honestly think Winchester will stop at stationing troops? We will march straight on your capital. Who knows? Perhaps your nation will be wiped clean from the map.”
“Insolence!”
Prince Collins slammed the desk, and the playful smirk on my lips hardened into cold stone.
“The insolent one here is you, Prince Collins.”
“A defeated loser in war, daring to negotiate with us on equal terms! You bribed the Lord of Sorel Castle and sought to butcher me—a lady of a ducal house and the King’s own niece! In truth, that alone hardly bothers me. But the most unforgivable insult of all!”
“Is that you dared to think you could make a fool out of Winchester.”
Watching the Prince’s face flush crimson, I cheered inwardly. Ah, as expected, trading polite pleasantries simply isn’t my style.
Prince Collins glared as though he wished to tear me apart at my final whisper. In return, I gave him the sweetest, gentlest smile I could muster and parted my lips.
“So if you wish to prevent all of this from coming to pass, sign the treaty at once and shut my mouth.”
“A hundred and seventy years ago, Sierra posed a question to us. Allow me to return it to you now.”
“Is it not far better to become a colony than to have your entire kingdom erased?”
I whispered the words, sweet and deadly as the devil’s own temptation.
