The Contract Marriage for Attilenta's Revenge - Chapter 24

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Atilenta’s Contract Marriage for Revenge 024
At Varsha’s gesture, Sir Krakup, who had been standing quietly near the Balcony curtains, extended a thin glass filled with clear liquor.
Varsha set Marie down on the floor with the gentlest touch, then took a sip of the drink. A short sigh escaped at the end of her seamless, economical movements.
“In the end, I suppose… I’m not happy about marrying into the Opole Family.”
Henrik studied his sister’s complexion carefully and gave a slight nod. Once those amethyst eyes had sparkled like the lights illuminating this Banquet Hall, but now exhaustion clung to Varsha unmistakably.
Varsha’s betrothed was the second son of the Opole Family, regarded as a loyal subject of the reigning king.
“As for Binnitcha… his status is reasonably impressive.”
In High Society, young Prince Binnitcha of the Opole Family had a solid reputation as a capable administrator. But that wasn’t all.
From Henrik’s assessment, he cut a temperament that was neither ostentatious nor obtrusive.
If Henrik was to contemplate a future where he became king, Varsha’s husband could not be too prominent or conspicuous.
Thus, a son of the Opole Family seemed a fitting choice to adequately support Varsha’s standing.
“You’ve allied yourself with the Biauvi Family head.”
“Truly relentless in their consistency.”
Varsha took another sip and shook her head. Had this been her private space alone, her expression would have registered exasperation.
The nobility below would hardly dare stare openly at two members of the royal family, yet Varsha maintained her composure nonetheless.
“They’re checking you while simultaneously keeping watch over what will become your house.”
By Henrik’s reckoning, it was a rather clever scheme. They sought to tarnish Varsha’s reputation as a princess incapable of managing even one person, thereby ruining her match to a respectable family.
If a servant steals a jewel, the master’s honor suffers equally. The Biauvi Family needed only to acquire one pawn, clean up afterward, and feign ignorance.
“They work so hard at destroying my image.”
Varsha’s shoulders trembled slightly as she recalled an earlier incident. It had happened when she was far younger than now.
At a gathering organized by a noble house in league with the Biauvi Family, Varsha had been given different dress instructions from everyone else.
A malicious trick designed to brand her as an unsophisticated, inexperienced princess ignorant of current fashion. With Henrik’s discreet help, Varsha had navigated the incident and confronted the gathering’s host.
Cleverly, the woman had feigned horror—how could she dare commit such an offense against a princess?—and bowed her head in apology, making it impossible for Varsha to pursue the matter harshly.
Later, that woman had beaten the maid who delivered the invitation with merciless fury and cast her out without a single coin, so Varsha had heard.
“All bluster and no substance.”
Varsha took another sip and frowned slightly. For some reason, tonight’s drink tasted more bitter than usual.
“In any case, you caught the rat… so that’s fortunate, isn’t it?”
“Varsha, your reputation won’t suffer from this.”
“That’s exactly why one must handle people well ordinarily. You do it splendidly, brother.”
Henrik began by reassuring her about what concerned her most. Even when Varsha demurred out of politeness, his manner remained unchanged.
“Varsha. If it isn’t something someone deliberately orchestrated, you’re managing more than adequately.”
In the end, Varsha laughed softly and picked up Marie, who was nuzzling her leg, cradling her against the plush sofa as she settled in comfortably.
Even if this incident spiraled into further complications, she had faith that her brother would handle it well.
“I’m grateful for such kind words. But there is one thing…”
Varsha narrowed her eyes as she continued.
“You didn’t orchestrate it yourself, did you, brother? The person I know wouldn’t make such a spectacle of searching for someone.”
“Bia told me.”
“Does she seem to suit you well?”
At the direct question, Henrik fell silent in thought.
No—there was nothing more to consider.
“Quite fascinating, actually.”
Henrik found it a pleasure to speak his true feelings about that woman to his intimate sister. The words that left his lips quickly became a ready affirmation, settling comfortably within him.
He’d said something similar to Sir Krakup not long ago—that she was amusing, like watching a prickly small creature.
“Was it that way from the first time you saw her?”
Henrik remembered clearly the day he first saw her. Beyond her manner of speech, the gaunt, skeletal thinness of her appearance.
Upon reflection, he might well have mistaken her for someone below the age of majority by Bwendofska standards.
Though he’d heard beforehand that she was the divorced wife of a duke of Francia.
The moment Henrik laid eyes on her, he thought the duke had rather peculiar tastes. Of course, it made no difference to Henrik.
“She didn’t strike me as merely docile.”
Henrik agreed with Varsha’s assessment. That woman was genuinely purposeful, resolute, and strong-willed.
Whenever her homeland or former husband came up, she grew decidedly cold.
Henrik understood this: though she might appear rational and detached at first glance, her true motivations were profoundly emotional.
She sought nothing less than revenge against those who had abandoned her.
“You’ve reached the same conclusion as I have, Varsha.”
As he stroked the whimpering Marie with affectionate fingers, Varsha slowly opened her lips.
“Hmm. Do you think it will remain that way?”
Henrik understood Varsha’s intention. It was a concern about whether his decision to bring that woman here for political reasons would continue to pay dividends.
In his sister’s immediate view, there was ample possibility that Francia, her relations’ homeland, might yet cast further aspersions.
But in truth, she harbored only intentions to destroy her own country. Henrik had tied the first knot well, and he believed he would continue to do so.
“There’s no cause for concern, Varsha.”
As it happened, Atilenta carried such dishonor that she couldn’t even set foot in her homeland’s banquets, so Henrik found it rather fortunate.
From the start, he had no intention of granting the suitable woman the king had provided him with any honor or power.
Varsha whispered very quietly.
“Did the king send her right away?”
“Without hesitation, and quite eager to be rid of her. I must have been quite the nuisance to him, so it was only natural.”
Varsha ceased her caressing of the cat and regarded Henrik with a peculiar gleam in her eyes.
“A princess whom the king doesn’t cherish. How curious.”
At those banquets, the daughters of noble houses had been busy displaying their beauty. Such efforts were neither particularly aggressive nor especially tiresome.
One thing was certain: the youngest princess had never been among the king’s options.
Looking at the outcome, the king’s attitude had turned out very well for both Henrik and her.
“Brother. It seems to me there was another reason he took an interest—something beyond what appears on the surface.”
Henrik recalled the bloodstained marks that had lingered in the bathroom. She’d scrubbed them away with some effort, it seemed. He could still hear, vividly, the sound of her violent coughing as she’d slipped into the bathroom without his knowledge.
He understood her intention to conceal it and said nothing, but within his own palace, there was no one who could truly hide anything from him.
“It was that she bore her discomfort in silence, and kept her promise despite the strain.”
“Most people would rest when they’re ill.”
“Such people are rare.”
“When I so much as cough, those around me make a fuss. Besides, there’s really no need to hide it. It’s an opportunity to appeal to a delicate, feminine image.”
“That kind of resolve—I’ve only seen it on the battlefield.”
Henrik regarded her without pity, and lightly at that. She was not the sort to want trifling sympathy.
“Then her appearance—was it to your taste, brother?”

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————