Chapter 393
In the Royal Garden, countless rare peonies were vying to bloom. Layer upon layer of petals, having soaked up the warm sunlight, glowed with a rich, almost fiery intensity. The air hung heavy with a cloyingly sweet fragrance. Clusters of young noblewomen gathered, casting demure smiles beneath lowered lashes as their eyes flitted with subtle, unspoken glances.
Among them, the most eye-catching were Natasha and Freya. Natasha was dressed in fitted martial attire, her long hair pulled back into a simple ponytail–no makeup. She moved and spoke with bold, sweeping gestures, utterly unrestrained. It was a manner more befitting a man than a lady. At her approach, the noble young ladies all shied away in distaste.
Freya, clad in plain robes, her face sallow and haggard, would gasp for breath after just two steps. She looked so sickly, it seemed she might collapse in the garden at any moment. Freya pressed a handkerchief to her mouth, her frail frame convulsing with violent coughs. There, stark against the white fabric, spread a fresh stain of blood.
The Queen sat in her golden court robes, her natural regal bearing undeniable. A composed, gracious smile played at her lips as her gaze, mellow as polished jade, slowly swept across the blooming faces of the noble maidens assembled before her. Her fingertips lightly tapped the rim of a jade cup. Though her voice was not loud, it carried clearly to every young lady present as she spoke. “The scenery is particularly lovely today, and seeing you all, as radiant as flowers, truly delights this Queen. Fermin now shoulders the burdens of the state, and he needs an attentive companion who understands and supports him–”
The Queen paused mid-sentence. Just then, Freya leaned against the tree in a coughing fit, her hands trembling as she unfolded her handkerchief.
The Queen’s heart skipped a beat, a flicker of panic crossing her face. ‘So Kurtis’s granddaughter is nothing but a sickly weakling?’ she thought, curling her lip inwardly. “Useless wretch. Can’t even hold on to the good fortune right in her hands.”
The Queen then turned her gaze to Natasha. She saw Natasha in martial attire, speaking with Fermin. Her expression softened. ‘At least Fermin is taking the initiative. Securing the Minister of Finance’s allegiance would serve us well,’ she thought. But before the Queen’s smile could fully bloom, Natasha landed a punch squarely on Fermin’s chest. The Queen’s face drained of color as rage flared within her. How utterly insolent,’ she thought. ‘How dare she strike Fermin in public?”
Just as Fermin was about to summon Natasha for questioning, he forced an awkward smile. Rubbing his sore chest where she had struck him, he gave Evelyn a formal bow and said, “Evelyn, your martial prowess is truly unmatched. I concede defeat most willingly.”
“What is the meaning of this?” the Queen asked her attendant.
The attendant leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Evelyn declared that if anyone could best her, she would willingly hand over her prized thoroughbred.” Fermin was a horse enthusiast, and his stables were filled with prized steeds. Yet not a single one could truly be called a legendary steed. Evelyn had somehow acquired one, and Fermin coveted it immensely. He wanted to see this legendary horse, so Evelyn seized the opportunity to propose a wager: if he could defeat her, the horse would be his. Fermin was brimming with confidence–he didn’t believe for a moment that he could lose to Evelyn, and he was certain that marrying into Fermin Manor was every noblewoman’s dream. So he readily agreed to Evelyn’s terms. But within three moves, Evelyn had sent him flying.
The Queen’s face instantly clouded over. ‘A sickly weakling and a mannish brute,’ she fumed inwardly. “What good would it do to bring them into Fermin Manor? Would we be constantly nursing one with medicine, or just sit back and watch Fermin get beaten black and blue?” The Queen’s face darkened, and the entire room held its breath.
Although Fermin had lost face, he dared not show his displeasure in front of so many people, for fear of being called petty. Forcing a smile, he addressed the crowd, “No harm done, no harm done. It was merely a friendly sparring. I didn’t expect Miss Beren to be so formidable.”
Natasha, without a hint of false modesty, acknowledged with a smile, “You were too kind.”
This sight made the Queen knit her brows tightly. ‘Natasha,’ she thought decisively, ‘I will never allow her to enter Fermin Manor.'
The Queen swept her gaze around the garden and spotted Evander. He stood tall and dignified in a white robe embroidered with pines, cranes, and the moon. At twenty-two, Evander was still unmarried. The Queen glanced at Natasha again. With her mannish, tomboyish look, she actually seemed a perfect match for that bookworm, Evander. “If those two ended up together, their married life would be anything but dull,” the Queen mused.
Just picturing Evander’s delightfully chaotic household, the Queen felt her earlier gloom melt away.
After matching a few more couples, the Queen dismissed the assembly. As for Freya, the Queen never spared her another glance throughout the entire event.
Arthur summoned the Queen and inquired, “Did any ladies catch your eye today?”
The Queen replied. “Indeed, there were two.”
Arthur asked, “Oh, which family’s daughter is she?”
“The daughter of Yarden from the Beckham family, Viola Maynard,” the Queen replied. After the Leonard case was concluded, Yarden was promoted to Federal Bureau Chief. Arthur’s brow furrowed slightly. Yarden was Michael’s maternal uncle. Though the Osborne family case hadn’t implicated him, he couldn’t shake a nagging unease. The Queen knew exactly what Arthur was thinking. Wasn’t he just worried that Fermin might form political factions?
“While it might seem a slight to Lady Viola for her to become a side consort,” the Queen explained, “she wouldn’t be marrying into an ordinary family. It’s the illustrious imperial family, so it wouldn’t be a humiliation for her at all.” At the mention of “side consort,” Arthur’s brow relaxed.
“True,’ he thought, ‘it’s just a side consort. Nothing to make a fuss about.’ He nodded, assenting, then inquired, “And which family is the other one from?”
“Blanche Webster, daughter of the Censor-in-Chief,” the Queen replied.
Arthur nodded. “You’ve made your selection, my Queen. Handle the rest as you see fit.”
The Queen poured a cup of tea for Arthur, offering it to him with a flattering smile. “Your Majesty,” she said, “in addition, I have also found a suitable candidate for Evander’s consort. Natasha, the daughter of the Minister of Finance, is accomplished in both character and beauty, and is about the same age as the prince. I believe she would be an excellent match.”
Arthur took the tea and paused to think. “Natasha? I do recall her. Alfred dotes on his daughter–he’d give her anything she wanted, even the stars. If I remember right, she’s also skilled in martial arts, isn’t she?” The Queen’s smile faltered for a moment. Thinking Arthur disapproved of the match, she quickly adjusted her tone and said, “If Your Majesty is displeased, this humble consort shall continue searching for more suitable candidates.”
Arthur raised a hand, signaling the Queen to stop. He rose to his feet and began pacing back and forth across the hall, his face set in a deep, contemplative frown. The Queen felt a pang of anxiety, certain Arthur would reprimand her for mishandling the matter. To her surprise, Arthur said, “Evander is too headstrong by nature. An ordinary woman can’t handle him—he needs someone strong enough to keep him in line and knock some sense into him.” At the mere mention of Evander, Arthur’s temper flared. His son had a stubborn, blunt nature–he never minces his words. More than once, this had left Arthur seething, his face turning livid.
Precisely because of this, he’d never given Evander any official post, letting him idle away at home all these years. “Once the Crown Prince is appointed,” Arthur resolved, “I’ll banish him to his territory--so he won’t be a thorn in my side here in Pidence City.”
The Queen quietly breathed a sigh of relief. She had never seen Evander as a rival. ‘Even if he marries the Minister of Finance’s daughter, that blockhead won’t be able to stir up any trouble,’ she thought.
Arthur decisively settled Evander’s marriage arrangement and the selection of Fermin’s side consorts. Before long, the imperial marriage decrees were delivered to all the noble households. When Natasha received the imperial decree, she was completely stunned.
“With the way I acted at the flower-viewing party, forget about being a side consort–even the noble families in Pidence City wouldn’t dare to marry me,” she thought. Yet Arthur had betrothed her to Evander. It was completely unexpected.
Alfred turned toward the Imperial Palace and bowed deeply three times. “This humble old minister gives deepest thanks for Arthur’s boundless grace.” Tears of joy streamed down his wrinkled face. This imperial marriage decree from the King had come at the perfect moment. He’d been worried sick these past days; after Natasha’s outburst at the flower-viewing party, no family in the capital dared to marry her. He’d resigned himself to supporting his daughter for life, never expecting the King would solve such a huge headache for him.
The eunuch delivering the decree quickly helped Alfred to his feet and said with a cheerful tone, “Alfred, make sure to prepare well–just wait for the big day to celebrate the wedding.” In the blink of an eye, Alfred had become Evander’s father-in-law–a meteoric rise in status.
However, Natasha gritted her teeth and snapped, “I won’t marry.”