Predatory Marriage

The slave rescue had been a complete success. For a while at least, there would be no more Kurkan slaves seen in Estia.

Leah beamed, unable to hide her jubilation. She wanted to grab someone and tell them what she had done, and how proud she was of what they had achieved. But as always, she had to settle for imagining it.

It would not be a good thing if it was known that the Princess of Estia was secretly sneaking out of the palace.

Her stepmother Cerdina strictly controlled all her comings and goings, and severely chastised any recklessness. If it weren’t for the help of Count Valtein and her ladies-in-waiting, Leah would have spent her life locked in her palace.

But today, she couldn’t mind it too much. Her heart was singing with joy.

Leah slipped into the palace garden well before sunrise with a smile on her face. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and the garden was very still and somehow somber, pale green with the early season.

She rubbed her arms, suddenly chilly.

There was no sign of anything moving, but suddenly she felt strange. Leah came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Blain, standing in the middle of the garden.

He was supposed to be going hunting with his grandfather, Count Weddleton. She hadn’t expected to see him at the palace for a few days. Dressed in hunting clothes, there was something strange about him, beyond his sudden appearance.

Leah’s lips trembled.

At first glance, it might seem a trick of the garden lights. But even as she blinked and looked again, it was unmistakable. Blain’s hair was a shining, golden blond.

Blain’s head turned as he felt her gaze. His eyes burned with anger.

“Leah!”

His voice shattered the silence of the early morning, and he strode toward her, lifting his hand.

“……!”

Reflexively, Leah ducked, her eyes squeezing shut. But fortunately, this time he didn’t slap her. Instead, he grabbed her by the hair, shoving his face into hers.

“Open your eyes.”

She opened her eyes. Beyond his blue eyes, blazing with anger, she could still see that golden hair. There wasn’t a single strand of silver.

“What, were you out wandering the streets?” The hand gripping her hair trembled. Blain drew a deep breath. “I thought you ran away.”

Inside, Leah laughed at the thought, but she bit her lip to keep it to herself. Lifting her hand, she pulled his hair back, and Blain’s eyes widened in shock.

It wasn’t just retaliation for him pulling her hair. She had to check that that was his hair. It felt real, and suddenly everything was very, very serious.

“Your…hair…” She said inarticulately, with a stiff tongue. But her confusion was fully communicated to Blain. His smile was devious, and there was no fear, only contempt in his face.

Did this mean he wasn’t her brother?

He wasn’t part of the royal family of Estia?

As they stared at each other, there was suddenly a voice behind Blain.

“Blain!”

Blain let go of Leah’s hair.

“…Mother.”

The woman’s lips were red as hawthorne berries.

“I told you to pay attention to when you take your potion,” she scolded him. “Why don’t you listen to your mother?”

In spite of the fact that her son’s hair had suddenly changed color, Cerdina was very calm as she handed Blain a bottle. Only Leah was confused, watching Blain drink every drop of the strange liquid, and only after it was gone did Cerdina’s attention shift to the girl.

Her eyes went greedily to Leah’s silvery hair, the symbol of the royal family, brilliantly illuminated beneath the light of the fading moon. A shiver ran down Leah’s spine as Cerdina slowly swayed toward her, and embraced her as gently as if she were a flower.

“Leah, my darling daughter.” As she stroked Leah’s hair, she bent her head, bringing her lips close to Leah’s ear, and the sound of her voice was like poison. “You have seen something you shouldn’t have. You will forget today.”

Cerdina laid her hands on Leah’s shoulders and looked straight into her eyes.

“……!”

Suddenly, she had an excruciating headache. Cerdina gripped her to keep her from falling, and Leah didn’t understand why her stepmother kept saying…

“Forget. Forget. Forget.”