TPOP 91

Chapter 91

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When Felix arrived at the emperor's bedchamber, the physician was covering the emperor's face with a clean cotton cloth, his expression grave.

All the servants in the chamber who had discovered the Crown Prince knelt and prostrated themselves. Felix stepped over the multitude of backs and heads to stand at the head of the large bed. He abruptly pulled away the cotton cloth the physician had placed over the dead emperor’s face.

A middle-aged man, pale as a corpse, lay still with his eyes closed. The face bore no resemblance to him whatsoever. The curve of the closed eyelids and the melancholy corners of the mouth had been taken by Eisen.

"He passed peacefully."

The voice that emerged, clearing his throat, was dry and cold.

"Such an undeserved end. The world isn't exactly fair, is it, Duke?"

Hugo, who had rushed over upon hearing the news late at night, bowed his head.

Felix felt no regret whatsoever over his father's death. This time, even Hugo Christen did not reproach his nephew's indifference. He too had waited for this very day for many long years.

The Emperor had abandoned the Empress. He pretended ignorance about the assassin's backer, though it was obvious, and busied himself shielding his mistress and her family. It was an unprecedented scandal: the Empress was found with her heart cut out in the very heart of the Empire, yet no investigation was conducted.

And as if that weren't enough, the Emperor sided with Eisen and Count Montagne, bolstering their influence and granting them power too formidable to ignore.

Thirteen years passed before he could reclaim what had been so absurdly taken from him and solidify his dominance within the palace. Yet some anger never fades, no matter how much time passes.

Yet unexpectedly, Felix bent over his father's corpse.

Placing his hand on the left chest where the heart no longer beat, he gently patted his father.

"I can understand you to some extent, Father."

Felix now understood that once one began to regard someone as 'lovable,' it could lead to irrational choices. A chuckle escaped his twisted lips.

"No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn't accept it. There were more than a few times I wanted to tear this place apart just like that. It's a relief I avoided being labeled a filial rebel, isn't it?"

The sight made the onlookers' spines tingle. The Crown Prince's smiling face was eerily beautiful.

Felix examined each wrinkle on the late emperor's face, pondering how to depict it. First, he would paint a horse on the canvas. The fierce white stallion he had personally chosen and gifted to his father.

He would place that remarkable creature—the one that had thrown the emperor from its back, rendering him immobile—in one corner of the composition. But then, how should he position the corpse...? Soon, a satisfactory concept formed in his mind.

Felix straightened his back. This much devotion to his father was sufficient.

"Bring the late emperor."

"Yes, Your Highness."

The funeral was to be conducted according to imperial tradition.

Attendants draped black satin over the emperor's body. It was plain velvet, devoid of any pattern. The imperial symbols that should have been embroidered were absent, yet no one raised an objection. For the fabric had been chosen by the Crown Prince three years prior.

Felix had prepared everything for this day: the coffin to hold the body and even the color of the velvet drape.

"Inform the church of the late emperor's passing."

The knight who received the order dashed toward the imperial chapel as if flying. Before half an hour had passed, the tolling of bells echoed from the church spire. For the birth of an imperial family member, the bells were struck seven times; for their death, thirteen times.

The clear, resonant chimes spread through the pale dawn. Suddenly, Felix thought that clear, resonant sound resembled Diana's voice.

The joy he felt upon seeing his father's body faded like a bubble. For some reason, he longed to see Diana. Though it had been less than thirty minutes since leaving her at the secondary palace, her touch already felt faint.

Should he go see her one more time before morning? He had pushed her limits past midnight, so she should sleep until noon at least. Then, if only for a moment, he could see her sleeping face…

But the chamberlain delivered unwelcome news.

"The nobles request an audience, Your Highness. Shall we open the chapel?"

"They're quick, aren't they?"

The Emperor's coffin would be moved directly to the chapel. The nobles gathering meant more eyes watching. He would have to show himself before them for at least half a day.

Dawn was still four or five hours away. Felix sighed irritably and turned away. Attendants holding black funeral robes were waiting for him.

***

The bathroom echoed with the sound of water. Emile dismissed all the other maids and bathed Diana alone.

Large and small bruises covered her pale skin. Diana gripped the bathtub wall anxiously, but her hands lacked strength and kept slipping.

"I can do it, Head Maid."

"It'll be quicker if you let me."

It was a meaningful remark. Diana instinctively realized Emile had been assigned the task of sending her away from this place.

With swift movements, Emile washed her, then dried her thoroughly with a towel and dressed her. It wasn't Diana's maid's uniform, nor the cumbersome dress she'd worn in the main palace. It was pants, a shirt, and a vest. Unlike the absurdly oversized men's clothes she'd worn before, these fit her perfectly, as if tailored for Diana herself.

The vest's pocket felt heavy. Emile's low voice brushed her ear.

"Can you ride a horse?"

Diana's mouth went dry.

"I can ride."

It might have been impossible before, but now the spirits were by her side. As long as she clung to the horse's back, they would guide her direction.

"Okay. A carriage would draw attention; a horse is safer. Catherine will be waiting at the stables. She'll drop you off at the edge of the hunting grounds. Beyond that point, the horse can't run. Just descend to the valley below, and those waiting for you will be there."

"There's a valley?"

"Yes. A stream flows down there. Drink this first."

Emile pressed something into Diana's hand. It was a small, slender glass vial, barely the size of a finger.

"I can't say when it will take effect, but—"

Emile's hand movements grew hurried as she glanced out the window. The Crown Prince's personal knights were entering the palace's main gate. If security here tightened, Diana couldn't be sent out.

Time was short, so drink the medicine as you go, Emile said, leading Diana out of the bedroom. The container seemed different from the medicine she'd taken for weeks, but given the situation, there was no time for suspicion. The medicine was far more bitter and astringent than the previous ones.

Diana barely swallowed the medicine and let herself be led away.

They exited not via the usual central staircase, but through a narrow staircase at the far left end of the corridor. The warm dawn air brushed her cheeks.

A bell tolled in the distance.

"Perhaps His Majesty..."

Emile paused briefly. After thirteen chimes sounded, she slowly changed the subject.

"Even if His Highness finds you, you must never utter the names of those who aided you, including His Grace the Duke. This was an act you undertook entirely on your own. Even if you tried to blame it on the Christen family, it wouldn't hold weight. Do you understand?”

"Yes, I understand."

Diana's attention had already shifted elsewhere. Ahead, she heard the sound of horses snorting.

After a moment of wandering, her gaze finally settled on a horse pawing at the dirt with its hooves. Even if she fled like that, it was doubtful she could safely reach the valley below.

"Diana, you really must—"

But Emile fell silent again. Life was returning to Diana's pale green eyes, eyes that had been dull and lifeless for a month.

Though she had never welcomed the presence of the unknown maid who had appeared beside the Crown Prince, Emile couldn't bring herself to stop her. The words warning that staying here would not be good for her melted from her tongue like snow.

She understood why the Crown Prince couldn't bring himself to kill that girl, why he had to spare her. At the same time, she thought she understood what he had been trying to capture in those dozens of sketches he drew and discarded.

Now, a strong will to live radiated from the maid, who finally looked like a living person. Her face, a blend of joy and hope, was more beautiful than ever.

Emile gave a small nod.

"Farewell."

Diana bowed her head in return. Her body was at an awkward angle, her greeting directed off to the side, but Emile made no effort to correct it. Reaching out into the empty air, she murmured softly to the receding figure of the woman's back.

"Go far away. Never return. For His sake, and for your own."