The pale-gold-haired girl lifted her snow-white chin and fixed her gaze on Faust without blinking.
In the sunlight, dressed in the clothes she had sewn herself, Prince Faust's charm hit her like a wave, nearly stealing the breath from Viviana's lungs.
The girl's exquisite violet eyes shimmered with light. One hand clutching the front of her bodice to hold back the heartbeat that threatened to burst through her chest, she bit down on her silver teeth:
"I've changed my mind, Your Highness. I truly don't want to let you go."
"!!"
Faust nearly fell off his horse.
Come on, he thought. Everything was in place, and the only thing left was the final push. If the protagonist of the Cinderella script was having second thoughts, then all of Faust's careful maneuvering would become a joke.
Don't you dare run away. Get back here. I'm trying to give you both your happily ever after!
"Viviana?! What are you..."
Fortunately, Viviana was not the sort of person who went back on her word. She had made a promise to Faust, and nothing would make her break it.
She shook her head slowly. "Your Highness, I have no intention of stopping you. It's just... how long do you plan to be away? How am I supposed to pass the time with all this longing?"
"It won't be long. From the Kingdom of Aurum to Wintertide, the shortcut takes about a month. And if anything comes up, I'll summon you to my side."
The pale-gold-haired girl furrowed her willow-leaf brows.
"The Kingdom of Wintertide has long been shrouded in mystery. Even with your status as a nobility of the occult arts, which should grant you a measure of immunity, you might still run into trouble. Being forcibly detained, for instance. If it came to that, how would I ever receive word from you?"
I've only ever been illegally detained once in my life, and it was by you, for three whole months!
Faust looked at the girl's pretty face, creased with worry and concern for his sake, and nearly laughed out loud.
Still, Viviana's point was not without merit.
Faust held no illusions about the safety of this journey. In the story of Snow White, the "Prince" was perhaps nothing more than a final walk-on role at the very end, but this fairy-tale world had a habit of rewriting itself. Who could say what might happen?
From what he understood of this world's "Wheel of Fate," the hidden forces guiding things from above would never be so merciful.
Besides, Faust refused to allow himself to be a forgettable extra on someone else's stage.
He thought it over, then said to Viviana, "How about this: it's still early spring now. One full summer should be more than enough to complete the journey. If I haven't returned by then, come and find me regardless of whether I've sent a signal or not."
With a clear promise now between them, the shadow that had hung over the pale-gold-haired girl's eyes vanished in an instant. She nodded firmly.
Viviana took Faust's hand and said with quiet gravity, "Autumn. I'll come for you in autumn."
Beyond Viviana's reluctance to part, the farewells with everyone else were considerably more subdued.
After all, a prince slipping out to roam the world was an utterly ordinary affair in this world, hardly worth the kind of heartbreak that would kill you.
Even Faust's foster father couldn't be bothered to come and see him off. The man simply tossed out, "About time you got some practice. By the time I was your age, I was already a celebrated adventurer," and left that as his parting blessing.
Whatever the case, Faust set off at last.
.........
While the Prince of Aurum rode forth with a heart full of ambition, he had no idea what a tremendous stir the proposal letter he had sent, written purely as a pretext to leave, had actually caused.
In Faust's mind, the Kingdom of Wintertide had simply and decisively refused a ridiculous request, perhaps even mocked his apparent madness at a court session or two.
The truth, however, was far from so mild.
In the royal capital of Wintertide, that ancient city, vast and immense as it was, cradled by valleys of wildflowers and winding streams, always carried about it an air of deep and settled quiet.
At the highest point of the capital stood a castle of solemn grandeur and ornate beauty. It was the seat of the royal family and the nerve center of the entire kingdom.
On the last day of each week, the ministers of the realm would gather in the castle's great hall of assembly to discuss the affairs of state.
Yet at this week's routine session, the ministers had fallen into a panic unlike any they had known before.
Inside the audience chamber, minister after minister, each robed in black trimmed with silver thread, wore expressions of despair, wringing their hands and sighing:
"Why... why has it come to this..."
"We suppressed every last piece of information. We kept the princess under house arrest for all these years. No one from outside should ever have laid eyes on her!"
"And yet... and yet a prince from the Kingdom of Aurum has sent a marriage proposal, delivered through a formal letter of state, asking for the princess's hand."
"What even is the Kingdom of Aurum? A paltry little nation that only gained independence a few decades ago! What right do they have to seek our princess's hand? Has that prince lost his mind?!"
"It is precisely because such a thing should have been impossible that this only proves we have failed. Even with every scrap of information suppressed, even with the princess's very existence all but erased, we could not stop her renown from spreading."
"..........."
Just as the mood in the chamber was sinking toward its darkest point, a slender young man with refined, scholarly features rose to his feet, his presence alone stilling the restless crowd:
"My colleagues, please, calm yourselves."
The ministers of Wintertide turned toward the man with his medium-length dark green hair.
"Lord Arcturus, you hold the office of Prime Minister. What is your read on the situation before us?"
When Her Majesty the Queen chose not to involve herself in day-to-day affairs, the minor matters of governance were left in the hands of the Prime Minister. And the man standing before them was, without question, the anchor every minister relied upon.
The outwardly youthful Prime Minister clasped one hand behind his back and gave his colleagues a measured nod.
"The situation is plain enough. As much as I dislike admitting it, the plan we set in motion all those years ago has failed."
"Whatever the cause, news of the princess's existence has not only reached the outside world, but a foreign prince who has never once laid eyes on Her Highness has been moved to propose marriage solely on the strength of her reputation for beauty. Something so far beyond the norm can only mean one thing: the curse is still in effect."
Arcturus let out a long sigh and shook his head slowly.
"I would not dare claim the curse is entirely without remedy. But at the very least, this round belongs to fate, not to us."
The ministers all wore expressions of bitter reluctance.
"We are well aware of all this, Lord Arcturus. The question is what we do next. Do you have a proposal?"
"I do. In fact, there is only one course of action left to us now."
Arcturus said it without hesitation. He swept his gaze across the assembled ministers, then drew a long breath, dropped to both knees before the seat of honor at the head of the chamber, and drove his forehead against the smooth polished floor tiles with a force so fierce it opened a raw, stark wound.
"Your Majesty, I beg you to execute the princess."
"......"
Beyond the heavy black curtain, a silhouette of striking, ripe beauty was barely visible, dark hair cascading like a waterfall down her back all the way to the floor, a semi-transparent veil hanging from the brim of the black crown at her brow and obscuring the Queen's face.
This assembly had never been attended by the ministers alone. The sovereign of Wintertide had been present all along.
Yet throughout the proceedings, the Queen had not said a single word. Only now, with Arcturus prostrated before her in supplication, was the Queen of Wintertide compelled to respond:
"Execute... my daughter?"