The Contract Marriage for Attilenta's Revenge - Chapter 38

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Atilenta’s Revenge: A Marriage Contract — Episode 38
“Are you hoping to ask for something now, just as you did on our wedding night?”
As I faced him grinding my hair between his palms, the sudden memory of his sharp, merciless expression when he had pressed me about my conversation with Antonio surfaced unbidden.
I could not afford to lie to him, yet neither could I speak the truth.
So I resolved to weave truth into falsehood.
“No, Your Highness. As I mentioned before, you entrusted this matter to me.”
I made every effort to appear composed.
“With an important event approaching, I wished to read ahead and report to you — which is why I used my ability at this early hour.”
“You have not done so each time, though. The day of the Sword Dance Performance when you saw my brother, I received no report that you had used Magic.”
Henrik was right.
But now I had a convenient excuse at hand.
“Until now, Your Highness had been helping me greatly and taking care of many things. I have been focused solely on delivering information from various spies as promised. This time, though — the matters you had spoken of from the past kept weighing on my mind, and I had an odd premonition, so I acted accordingly.”
“And?”
“I read of a danger that would befall you, Your Highness, at the Hunting Ground you are to visit.”
“Tell me. Now.”
Henrik’s voice had returned to its natural register — hushed and cold as the pre-dawn air.
Henrik, who had released my hair and shaken the moisture from his hands, now looked directly at me. Or rather, he who had not averted his gaze from me throughout this entire early morning.
His expression was always composed and at ease, as if my strange excursion into the bath at this hour was entirely beneath his notice.
I glanced down to ensure my robe lay properly, straightened myself once more, and opened my dry lips to speak calmly.

* * *
Lesicza made regular visits to call upon the king. As the eldest son, it was only natural duty — there was no need to distinguish himself by comparison with his other siblings, who were each fulfilling their own roles.
‘Lesicza. How was Henrik’s Wedding Banquet?’
The king always received his son with an unchanging face and tone. It had been so from the first moment Lesicza could remember. Cold, firm, and naturally commanding even without effort.
Such was he even while attended by courtiers and knights and receiving treatment for various ailments. Of late, whenever his mind cleared, he would pose such questions in an offhand manner.
‘If Your Majesty is curious about Henrik’s bride, summon her now. There is no one in this realm who would dare refuse you.’
It was hardly unusual — there were more than a few in society who had become curious about her.
Since the king could scarcely rise on his own, Lesicza reached out gracefully to ring the bell. But the king stopped him.
‘No matter. We shall meet in time.’
Lesicza looked down at his father with eyes devoid of particular feeling.
It was fitting that he who had always belonged on the throne would not wish to show himself in this pitiful sickbed state. Naturally, it made sense.
Lesicza knew he would do the same. So the son extended his consideration toward his father’s infirmity.
‘I shall make inquiries and report to you next time we meet, Your Majesty.’
In truth, it was also for himself.
Baren — that man working in the Royal Stables. How conveniently he had always been to manage.
A limb he had long commanded.
When word came that Henrik had departed for the Southern Region, Lesicza, as always, sought to ascertain his younger brother’s movements. Henrik had returned safely even from that distant battlefield and had gained great renown. Thus, for Lesicza, this was not a choice but a necessity.
Yet.
The information Baren conveyed diverged from what Lesicza discovered through his own inquiries. They had always been consistent before.
A premonition struck him that something was gravely amiss. After multiple cross-verifications, Lesicza confirmed without doubt that Baren’s intelligence had been corrupted.
The timing was peculiar. It began right after Henrik brought in a bride.
Yet rushing accomplished nothing. After more time had passed, Lesicza eventually sent Baren back to his homeland — time was needed both to install someone more suitable and to demonstrate to his younger brother that his own affairs had not been compromised.
Fortunately for Lesicza, even the ailing king had taken interest in her. To her, with whom Lesicza had exchanged little beyond formal courtesies, he spoke with deliberate kindness. It had been a personal overture.
‘You have experienced many events of late. The customs here must differ considerably from your homeland. What do you make of this place?’
That Lesicza’s conversation with Henrik’s bride would be recognized by Henrik as a gentle warning was certain. If, thereafter, Henrik were to look after her more attentively, how should that be received?
Lesicza considered that simply resolving this question would itself be a significant achievement.
Whether Henrik was conscious of it or not, when the younger brother and his wife went to pay respects to the king, word reached him that the queen had been present at the occasion.
Upon hearing this, Lesicza murmured softly.
“If she is truly a weakness, Henrik…”
His brother had always moved about attended only by knights and such subordinates. In short, he had been alone.
Until he took her.
So at last you have such a person too.
“This is something we have not discussed…”
Lesicza could not suppress the smile that threatened to escape. He certainly needed to speak with him about what to do at the Hunting Ground. At once, he summoned a trusted servant.

* * *
“Your Highness. Since you will be hunting today, I believe you would find this garment more comfortable — it has less adornment and fuller skirts for easy movement.”
The dress Poznan had laid out early this morning was less ornate, with skirts cut generously to facilitate activity. It was a new gown commissioned from the dressmaker’s workshop that Poznan had recommended.
“Poznan, I like this dress too.”
Even as I expressed approval to her, I swallowed a sigh that no one else could hear. What did the dress matter? I only hoped nothing would go amiss at the Hunting Ground.
In recent days, the entire Royal Palace had been consumed with preparations for this occasion. Ordinarily I passed my days in leisurely fashion, but this time, before setting out for the hunt, I found myself occupied with gathering clothes and supplies—unable to venture to the Library or anywhere else.
Even I was rarely so occupied receiving the various visitors who came to the Prince’s residence, which made it all the more difficult to ask Henrik anything at all.
At least I had been able to confirm directly whether Henrik’s safety would be assured or not—for that I was grateful.
What I had read that dawn through my mirror work showed that today, at the Hunting Ground, a particular incident would unfold, disguised as an accident.
Henrik’s arrows were to be secretly exchanged for a different kind—in the Warehouse where bows and necessary hunting supplies were kept before the hunt.

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