Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 161

In the quiet office, Miesa closed her eyes.

Could he truly be dead? Even as she issued orders, the reality of the news hadn’t fully sunk in. She couldn’t quite grasp the fact that she would never again feel his warmth or hear his voice.

If the usually steadfast Madam Cladnier had fainted upon hearing the news, it was a sign that this report wasn’t just a baseless rumor. Miesa sat frozen, her thoughts finally arriving at that conclusion. Time seemed to have stopped in the room, with only the shadows cast by the sunlight creeping across the floor to indicate its passage.

As dusk fell and the light grew dim, the office remained utterly silent. Madam Manere, waiting outside, cautiously opened the door and peeked in. The queen, still sitting in the now-dark room, hadn’t moved an inch.

Seeing this, Madam Manere quietly lit the candles and left once more. Miesa remained unaware of anyone coming or going as she spent the night in stillness.

At dawn, with her senses returning to her, Miesa slowly rose and opened the window. Though it was already June, and the air was sticky and hot, the early morning breeze was as refreshing as always.

Could he really be gone from this world?

She had carried on as if nothing were wrong, but deep down, a small part of her had always held onto hope. And now that the news had come, the flames of anguish that had been burning inside her began to dim.

She could tear apart the room in rage, or throw herself out of the window in despair. But Miesa did neither, because she knew all too well that no amount of struggling would bring back the dead.

All she could do was gaze at the brightening sky. As the sands of time slipped through the cracks of her fractured heart, the weight of her sorrow drained away, leaving her hollow inside.

Even the tears would not come. Expressing her emotions seemed meaningless now, and she no longer had the strength to do so.

Who knows how long she stood there?

In the distance, she saw a flock of birds take flight. Unconsciously, her eyes followed their movements. She realized, belatedly, that even seeing birds no longer made her feel suffocated or paralyzed. Miesa gripped the windowsill a little tighter.

She finally understood what Madam Cladnier had meant. Her thoughts were clearing up, becoming more focused.

Even if he had died, his memory hadn’t disappeared without a trace. Miesa could still hear his voice in her mind and vividly remember his face. Most importantly, everything Eirik had left behind was etched into her soul, and no one could ever take that from her. So, even if his form was gone, in a sense, he was still here with her.

Just because his breath had stopped didn’t mean her love for him had ended.

Miesa shut the window. She knew she would briefly fall into grief again when Grand Duke Hagail returned and confirmed the situation, but that was alright. As long as she was alive and as long as people remembered him, Eirik would continue to exist. She had decided to believe in that.

To cherish their love for even one more day, she had to live one more day herself. Resolving this in her heart, Miesa gave orders to Duke Salachez, who was lingering outside the door.

“When Grand Duke Hagail returns, I will go to Sidate myself to settle things. Start preparing now.”

The news of the margrave’s death spread quietly through the palace. However, the queen’s demeanor remained so composed that the court officials couldn’t hide their confusion. How strange it was that the queen, who would shed tears over the smallest things, seemed unfazed by the margrave’s death.

“After sunset, no one is to approach the royal bedchamber until dawn.”

But the queen spent half of each day locked in her bedchamber.

“Unless the kingdom is on the verge of collapse, no one is to disturb me.”

Though they agreed to her face, Duke Salachez still wandered the corridor a few times, unable to shake his worry. Naturally, he was promptly blocked by Captain Tilberg.

“What if something happens to Her Majesty while she’s inside?”

“She’s simply retiring to bed early. You needn’t worry, Duke. Rest assured,” replied the captain of the royal guard as he stood firmly at his post, preventing Salachez from getting any closer.

Tilberg didn’t look well. He was troubled by the queen’s increasingly frequent conversations with herself. If anyone else took notice, they might start questioning the queen’s sanity.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

Miesa sat down at the table, staring at an empty chair.

“The fact that the Cladnier family guards this kingdom’s borders alone is rather unnatural, isn’t it?”

She scooped a handful of sweets from a small dish and placed them in front of the empty chair.

“Oh, that’s right. You don’t like sweets. I’ll prepare some fruit tomorrow.”

Poor Eirik. He had spent more than half of his life on the battlefield, eating nothing but dried vegetables. Gazing at the empty space, Miesa sighed and peeled a piece of candy, placing it in her own mouth before speaking again.

“What do you think about completely separating the Central Defense Force from the Capital Guard? With both being under the control of the Crispin family, the scale has grown too large, and it seems like they’re mismanaging it.”

The imaginary Eirik offered no response.

“If we split them up, the two forces could keep each other in check and strengthen their military capabilities independently. The Capital Guard could be…”

Miesa lowered her voice, cautious of anyone overhearing.

“Tilberg could handle the Capital Guard. After all, once the grand duke ascends the throne, the captain of the royal guard will be replaced.”

But there was a critical flaw in her plan. What if the central military grew too powerful and eventually threatened Cladnier? She couldn’t think of a way to prevent that.

Eirik would have been able to advise her. Miesa missed his voice, but as she put another candy into her mouth, she smiled.

“Let’s put that plan on hold for now. I’ll talk to the grand duke about that boring stuff. For now, let’s discuss something more fun.”

Since they couldn’t talk in the morning, Miesa treasured these moments, her conversations with the unseen Eirik.

“Where did we leave off yesterday…?”

Miesa spent a long time talking to her imaginary Eirik. After all, it increased the chances of seeing him in her dreams.

“Yesterday, we made flower crowns in the field, remember?”

Miesa stood up and spun around. “You were worried when my dress got stained with grass, weren’t you?”

When she woke up that morning, the smiling Eirik she had dreamed of was gone, and her dress, stained with grass in the dream, was perfectly clean. She missed the warmth of his presence, but she didn’t feel hopeless.

“Tonight, let’s throw a banquet in the dream.”

Miesa giggled as she mimicked the dance Gella had taught her. “They say this isn’t a dance for banquets, but we did attend one together once, didn’t we?”

That day, she hadn’t been able to enjoy the dancing; she had been too busy pretending to be crazy.

“I didn’t even have a chance to watch others dance. Why, because Vermel and Anika were still alive back then—”

And Eirik was alive too, back then.

At that thought, Miesa shook her head. No, she couldn’t dwell on his death. If she let her guard down, the imaginary Eirik would quickly transform into a cold corpse.

“Oh, right, what was I saying…”

Too late. Eirik’s image had already changed. Now, she would have another nightmare. Miesa desperately tried to erase the vision of Eirik’s charred face from her mind.

“No, not that. I’m thinking of the time in the garden when you used to cradle my head in your lap…”

But the vivid image of cold, dead Eirik was too overwhelming to push away.

“If that’s how you’re going to be, then just disappear already.”

Miesa cursed the stubborn image of Eirik’s lifeless body. She lashed out with a phrase so harsh it could have roused him from the dead.

“I might just find myself a new husband.”

She had tried many things, but this always worked best. The cold eyes of the imagined Eirik seemed to turn toward her, but Miesa continued taunting him without hesitation.

“I should start thinking about what kind of man I want next.”

Eirik’s face, though cold, now appeared flushed. Of course, it wasn’t from health but from a mix of rage and frustration. Still, it wasn’t frightening at all, so Miesa teased him playfully.

“Let’s see, family status…”

Actually, family status didn’t matter since she wasn’t serious about remarriage. She rolled her eyes again. What else was important in choosing a husband?

“Appearance…”

Gella had fallen for the grand duke because of his looks. But when Miesa thought of all the noble lords she had met at the Central Palace, none of them could compare to Eirik.

“Then personality…”

Personality didn’t matter either. What man could tolerate a wife who spent her nights muttering and acting strangely? Miesa sighed quietly and decided to make peace with her imaginary Eirik.

“…There’s no one like you.”

Back when Miesa had begged Eirik to consummate their marriage, she had been terrified that Vermel would kill him, leaving her to be sold off somewhere else.

“But I don’t have to worry about that anymore. That’s a relief.”

Miesa smiled. Her imaginary Eirik returned to his usual self, smiling gently at her. That was a relief too.

“Tonight, let’s go back to the field and finish making that flower crown you started for me.”

Miesa hugged a pillow tightly, pretending it was Eirik, and drifted off to sleep.