What truly mattered most to her?
Was it the kingdom, her family, that so-called knightly spirit, or rely lasting peace within her heart?
The high-stemd glass gently swayed, fine red wine shimring into tiny fragnts of light beneath the lamplight, like a sea scattered with moonlight. The liquid’s rising surface on either side resembled coastlines where waves ebbed and flowed.
Iris gazed through her wine glass at Astrid. The latter’s flawless, snow-white neck delicately swallowed the wine, then upward along that elegant curve of skin, past an equally refined chin, toward two lips as tender as cherry blossoms, opening and closing softly.
"This is Miss Iris’s final night in the Valeria Empire. Tomorrow you will depart by carriage back to your holand."
Astrid’s voice was gentle, her srizing red eyes calmly fixed upon Iris’s face, observing the slight furrow in her brows.
"Given the long, exhausting journey ahead, why not cherish this ti properly?"
She could understand part of Iris’s current confusion and hesitation. The Kingdom of Velys was steadily spiraling downward, and as soone close to its core power circles, yet feeling utterly powerless, Iris’s inner turmoil must be excruciating.
She hoped the King would find alternative solutions to internal conflicts, instead of outsourcing the problems, continuously delaying and indulging until ultimately committing unforgivable sins.
Iris sighed softly, pressing her lips to the rim of the glass. Tilting the cup, the wine overflowed past her upper lip, seeping into her mouth through a narrow gap.
The faintly astringent liquid touched her tongue. The initial sensation was like cold blood, but then a gradually sweet spread, reminding Iris it was rely an ordinary glass of red wine.
"That’s true."
After half a minute, Iris’s dark brows relaxed slightly. The sky-blue hem of her dress swayed back and forth with her leg movents, rippling across the porcelain-white tiles.
"Such a beautiful night, I shouldn’t easily waste it."
Astrid’s words couldn’t imdiately solve her problems, nor alleviate the inner conflict and unease weighing on Iris.
But one thing was certain, Astrid hadn’t been wrong.
Allowing negative emotions to fester served no purpose for her right now. No matter how conflicted or troubled she felt at this mont, it wouldn’t positively impact reality.
After a brief spell of lancholy, Iris lifted her head and handed the remaining half of her wine to a servant, requesting a sweeter fruit juice instead.
"Apologies, Miss Astrid."
"Perhaps the wine is intoxicating. I feel a bit sluggish after drinking."
Alcohol did have the function of numbing nerves and inducing emotional release, but for an executive like Iris, whose body had suppressing enhancents, its effects were dismissed.
Astrid didn’t expose Iris’s clumsy excuse. She simply smiled faintly and spoke softly.
"The juice at the banquet has been infused with the stem root of red lily, which helps sober one up. If Miss Iris feels she might get drunk, she should drink a bit more."
"Understood."
After the exchange, Astrid politely nodded at Iris.
"Then I’ll let Miss Iris enjoy so juice to clear her head. I must excuse myself for a mont."
With that, Astrid turned, her exquisitely tailored dress gently fluttering. Her slender heels tapped rhythmically against the marble-tiled floor.
Besides representatives from the Kingdom of Velys, there were many others at this banquet whom Astrid needed to cultivate relationships with.
For instance, Lydia, now a serialized novelist in the Empire Weekly, or Miss Linda, whose father was gradually aligning with the reformists and who also had a personal connection with Lyra.
All great things began from small beginnings. Even if these individuals’ opinions carry little weight regarding the entire imperial succession, Astrid would still strive to win them over.
Additionally, there were potential defectors from the Crown Prince’s camp, and most crucially, Duke Charles and the Velmont family, their stance was paramount.
Iris’ gaze lingered on the scene of Astrid laughing and chatting with a petite noble girl in a creamy-colored puff dress. After a long while, Iris sensed a sound approaching from behind. She turned, there stood Monica, the Saintess of Light, wrapped in a white dress that accentuated her alluring figure.
Following Iris’s gaze, Monica knew who she was looking at. She said nothing, rely adjusting the sheer scarf behind her back before raising her glass to clink with the princess.
Iris remains silent. After a mont, she lifted her own glass and lightly tapped it against Monica’s in midair.
The future was unpredictable. Even if things didn’t go well, they wouldn’t necessarily turn out utterly terrible.
It all depends on human effort.
.......................
Considering the exchange student will depart on her return carriage early the next morning, this farewell banquet did not last until the early hours like most noble gatherings.
Just past ten, the noisy reception hall fell quiet. The lights were extinguished, leaving behind an empty venue and moonlight streaming through the windows.
It was late. Astrid chose not to return to Elizabeth Academy of Magic for rest, but instead stayed overnight in the palace. Her companions Amalia and Lyra naturally did the sa.
After bathing and changing into a light nightdress, Astrid had just entered her bedroom when she saw Amalia erging from the walk-in closet.
"Looking for sothing?"
Two cups of calming tea, prepared earlier by Elise, sat on the nightstand. Astrid sat on the edge of the bed, using wind magic to dry her hair while sipping the tea gently.
She’d consud quite a bit of alcohol earlier. Her body felt slightly warm. Drinking so calming tea now would help her fall asleep faster and ease the slight discomfort in her head.
Inhaling the faint tea fragrance, her mouth and throat filled with warm liquid, Astrid mused that at this rate, the head maid would spoil her into becoming useless.
Amalia shook her head in response, approaching in her little bear-shaped slippers.
"I was just putting Monica’s changed ceremonial dress into the laundry bin."
"After all, all the clothes in sister’s closet are clean. Mixing them isn’t good."
Without the following explanation, Astrid wouldn’t have thought much of it. But Amalia saying this gave her a strange feeling.
Would Amalia really care about sothing like this?
Probably not?
Thinking this, she took a few more sips of tea. Her hair was nearly dry.
Seeing Astrid place the cup back on the nightstand, Amalia, who had been waiting nearby, kicked off her slippers and softly leapt into her sister’s arms.
"Hug , sister."
"Hugging you~"
To outsiders, such dialogue might sound childish, but for the two sisters, it was perfectly natural.
It had beco a long-established habit from years of living together.
Amalia loved holding hands with her, loved hugging her, she enjoyed almost every affectionate gesture and was eager to do it daily.
Sotis Astrid recalled her sister from her previous life. Although they had loved each other deeply, the other had never expressed it through such passionate physical gestures, and she herself had rarely taken the initiative.
Wrapping her arms around Amalia’s back, gently supporting the dress so the soft, fragrant girl could rest both feet on her lap, Astrid quietly inhaled the fresh scent emanating from Amalia’s body, her mood gradually calming.
Perhaps differences in personality lead to different ways of expressing affection.
Amalia especially cherished these intimate monts when they were alone, leaning against each other.
She wondered how she’d comfort this incredibly clingy younger sister once they started sleeping in separate beds.
"I want to hug you longer," Amalia said.
Even though they’d still be hugging under the covers later, since Amalia had voiced it, Astrid wouldn’t refuse.
"Alright."
After all, she truly spoiled her younger sister.
Ti passed minute by minute. Astrid spoke softly.
"How did you feel about tonight’s banquet, Amalia?"
"Was there anything that made you unhappy or uncomfortable?"
Whenever she was around, Astrid mostly held Amalia’s hand, except for that brief mont when she accompanied Monica. During that half-hour, she had left the head maid to watch over Amalia.
Amalia didn’t respond imdiately. Instead, she rested her head on Astrid’s shoulder. After a few seconds, she whispered.
"There was—"
"Because there were too many people?"
"No."
Receiving a denial, Astrid felt puzzled. Her fingers gently twisted strands of Amalia’s hair, silently feeling the girl’s heartbeat against her chest.
"Hmm? What made my little princess unhappy?"
Could sothing have happened during that half-hour?
Hearing Astrid’s gentle, soothing tone, Amalia didn’t keep her discomfort bottled up. She answered softly.
"I spoke a few words with Lucas."
As the words left her lips, Astrid’s eyes sharpened, her voice lowered slightly.
"What did he say?"
Sensing Astrid’s concern and tension, Amalia’s unease over ntioning Lucas dissipated sowhat.
"Just so ordinary pleasantries."
"But... I don’t like his eyes."
Unlike the past, when his gaze carried disdain and resistance, now Lucas’s eyes hold a heavy sense of intrusion. Although he concealed it well behind his gentle appearance, it still couldn’t escape Amalia’s naturally acute perception.
As expected of Valeria blood, depravity ran in his veins.
"..."
Astrid fell silent after hearing this. After a long pause, she spoke.
"Did he do anything to you?"
From Amalia’s blind spot, Astrid narrowed her eyes slightly. Her once-beautiful red eyes now radiated intense aggression.
She knew how despicable Lucas was in the original story. If not for Hibbort’s presence, and Astrid being the most favored imperial daughter, he probably would’ve already made moves against this adopted royal daughter.
Thinking back, the second prince’s desperate final strike in the original story, which completely wiped out the crown prince’s lineage, could be seen as protecting all the won of the empire.
"No," Amalia replied. "Elise was there. She helped out."
This simple sentence eased Astrid’s mind slightly.
"That’s good."
Worry made one lose clarity, she had forgotten the head maid was present.
In terms of reliability, Elise was unquestionably number one in Astrid’s eyes. If she acted, there would be no mistakes.
Hearing that the crown prince was involved, her sister’s first reaction was concerned over whether she’d been hurt, rather than asking if she’d revealed inappropriate information. Amalia closed her eyes, her two smooth, round knees instinctively pressing tightly against Astrid’s thighs.
"Sister..."
"Hmm?"
"I really hate him."
Previously, Amalia had equally disliked all those bearing the surna Valeria. But after tonight, Lucas carries a much heavier weight in her hatred.
If there was an opportunity... she’d find a way to ensure Lucas could never have any filthy thoughts toward her sister again...
There must be a permanent solution...
Violent emotions quietly spread within her heart. Amalia controlled her breathing, careful not to let this feeling be detected by Astrid.
Sister had said she disliked people with cruel dispositions.
Then... she’d do it secretly?
On the other side, hearing Amalia’s words, Astrid gently stroked her head, her pink lips parting softly.
"In the future, I’ll try to minimize your encounters with Lucas."
If soone was hated, it was best to avoid them altogether. Amalia needed experience and exposure, that was true, but it didn’t an her older sister should force her to interact with people she disliked.
Especially since Lucas held no value for Amalia. There was no need to endure such aningless suffering.
"Mm," Amalia softly acknowledged, then added hesitantly.
"Then... Can my sister do the sa...?"
More than herself, she cares about Astrid.
"..."
"Yes."
Beyond necessary family banquets, Astrid had barely t Lucas a few tis. The crown prince had so many beauties to attend to on a daily basis, why would he have ti to chat idly with her?
Besides Astrid, deeply disliked this lust-blinded crown prince.
Hearing this, Amalia fluttered her eyelashes a few tis, lifted her face, and kissed Astrid’s neck.
"Sister, a kiss."
"Alright, a kiss for you."
Astrid obligingly lowered her lips, pressing a kiss onto Amalia’s forehead.
"If anything makes you unhappy, tell anyti, Amalia."
"I will, sister."
Listening to the little girl’s soft, sweet voice, Astrid curved her lips into a smile, slowly reclining backward. Amalia naturally sprawled across her sister’s chest, like a koala clinging to a tree.
"Ti to sleep, Amalia."
"Mm."
Pulling up the covers while still maintaining their embrace, feeling the tangible warmth and fullness in her arms, Amalia pressed her knees together, her smooth legs lightly entwining Astrid’s.
"Good night, sister."
Good night.
The lights went out. The room was left only with silver-white moonlight.
Amalia’s hand lay flat against the fabric of Astrid’s back, her slender white fingertips lightly touched, as if gently plucking the strings of a harp.
The night grew deeper, everything was exceptionally quiet. Yet within this tranquil atmosphere, Amalia thought of Lucas again, anger silently accumulating in her heart.
Her nominal older brother... actually harboring such unforgivable thoughts toward sister...
Bastard.
Her inner displeasure subsided, then resurfaced again, continuously tugging at Amalia’s desire to sleep.
Drowsily entering the latter half of the night, Amalia opened her eyes, gazing at the snow-white face so close to her, her heart softly thumping against her chest.
Suddenly, she thought of sothing she’d never considered before.
Even soone as filthy as Lucas... dared to covet sister...
So... is... her younger sister...
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