Winter Bud - Chapter 12

“Wait for the night.”

The large hand that had gripped her hair patted her fragile back. It was like he was pushing her, telling her to go. Nanna fled without even bowing once to the Duke. Just then, the sky was covered with dark clouds. The main palace was still quite a distance away. Raindrops that had started to lightly dampen the ground quickly turned into a heavy downpour.

Nanna ran like a woman being chased by a robber with a knife, clutching the hem of her dress. Lifting the voluminous skirt high enough to bare her ankles, she sprinted awkwardly, but she didn’t care.

Had there ever been a day when she looked proper? Had she ever been graceful or dignified?

“It doesn’t matter.”

Nanna sobbed through clenched teeth. Suddenly, her feet tangled, and her ankle gave way. She toppled forward ridiculously fast.

“Ah!”

A sharp scream burst from her red lips. The scrapes on her palms and knees stung. As she looked at the raw, red scratches, she noticed the shadow falling over her crown. The man towering over her had a giant’s build. Almost as big as the Emperor…

The bones, the frame. There was only one man who resembled him so closely. Nanna’s wet cheeks trembled as she bit her lips. When she lifted her head, Duke Everhardt bent one knee. Even after taking countless lives, his elegant hand moved swiftly as he gripped her chin.

“You’re crying.”

“D-Duke.”

“Are you crying out of shame?”

At his low question, she bit her lips. Nanna stared blankly at him. Was she truly crying out of shame, as the Duke said? Or was it simply because the humiliation tormented her? But it was a meaningless question. Nanna didn’t think too deeply about it. Maybe she was nothing but a whore, as they said. In the past, she had served her young mistress while secretly sleeping with her mistress’s father.

The men who had taken her in the brothel were no different from those who swallowed her now. The Emperor who devoured her wasn’t much different either. Nanna now knew the Emperor and the Duke were of the same breed. They were always gentle, caring, and warm toward Stateira, but to her, they were not.

It was different because it was her. Nanna could never become Stateira. She couldn’t take her place or be like her. Her looks and her status were completely different. How could they possibly treat her the same way?

She knew it, and still she cried. It wasn’t that she wanted to become Stateira, but she wanted to receive even the smallest fraction of the respect Stateira had. Instead of crying out loud, Nanna bit her lips until they bled.

“Your confinement in the Western Palace isn’t truly related to me.”

“….”

“If you’re deposed, I’ll simply adopt another woman as my daughter. The Emperor wants to maintain an alliance with me. A political union is nothing but another word for binding together.”

Nanna lowered her gaze. She couldn’t understand what he was saying. It only sounded like he was telling her she didn’t matter. She already knew that, so she only wanted to hear the main point. What did he want from her? What did she need to do?

“If you say Alexis is my son, I can help you.”

The hand gripping her chin wiped her wet cheek. His touch was gentle. It was different from when he gripped her wrist or the back of her neck. Nanna shivered. Her lips trembled.

She thought of Alexis. Like Freya, he only resembled her. That was why sometimes the Emperor seemed to think the boy might not be his own. But even if that were true, Nanna couldn’t see why it mattered. The Emperor was indifferent to Slan and Stella, who were unquestionably his. Alexis was no different. Why did it matter whose child he was?

Nanna was just a lowly woman, so she couldn’t understand. She pressed her hand absently to the ground, then slowly raised her eyes at the Duke’s voice urging her to answer.

“…Why does it matter whose son he is?”

Nanna was genuinely curious. She couldn’t see why it was important whose care Alexis grew up under. And besides, the Duke surely didn’t intend to raise Alexis in his own mansion. Too many eyes were watching. So why did possession matter? Why did they have to decide whose son he was? Either way, Alexis would never inherit the throne.

If Slan couldn’t inherit the throne, the Emperor would make Stella the Crown Princess. If, at the founding of the dynasty, it seemed improper for a woman to inherit, then he might beget another child through her, or he might borrow another woman’s womb instead.

But Alexis. Was it necessary to go this far over that child? Was there truly a reason to shatter the peace of that baby? Nanna stared blankly at him.

“Why does it matter where he grows up? Even if Alexis is your child… you don’t need any child who isn’t Lady Thea’s.”

“….”

“You told me so yourself. That you didn’t need them.”

Nanna remembered that night. To be precise, she remembered the Duke’s face when he said he didn’t need one. In front of Nanna’s tears as she said she wanted to have his child, he had remained consistent. And so, Nanna….

“Alexis is His Majesty’s son. So….”

Leave that child alone. Don’t shatter his peace. He’s my child. He grew in my womb, and I delivered him from between my legs. Nothing else matters. You told me yourself that you didn’t need any child who came from my womb.

***

There was no sound of a door opening. Nanna thought of the long strides. Of the Emperor’s long and powerful legs. As men of Eda blood, once called “giants,” both the Emperor and the Duke were well over 190 cm tall.

Even though Stateira had been small in stature, she had never feared them. But Nanna always lost her breath when she stood before them. Even seeing only their shadow made her hair stand on end. As Nanna recalled the events of the day, she swallowed dryly and slowly raised her gloomy gaze. The Emperor looked no different from when she had seen him under the wisteria trellis. Her grip on the blanket tightened bit by bit. She rose and sank to her knees.

The Emperor’s face showed no surprise. Instead of telling her to rise, he sank into the armchair. He poured amber liquor into a glass filled with ice, prepared by an attendant. Then, as was his habit, he bit down on his pipe.

“Did the Duke say the same thing again?”

His red lips asked elegantly. Nanna couldn’t bring herself to lift her head. From time to time, the Emperor asked Nanna whether Alexis was truly his son. Slan and Stella both resembled him. Only Alexis, he said, did not. In truth, the Emperor wasn’t particularly attentive to the children. But he knew at least that Stella, among them, resembled him strikingly.

That insufferably difficult girl resembled him in many ways. Which only made Alexis more suspicious. For the possibility that a child named as a prince might not carry the Emperor’s seed was no small matter.

It was a very terrifying, dreadful matter. Nanna’s eyelids trembled faintly. She shook her head. She said it was impossible. She said such a thing had never happened. The Emperor only laughed. She looked up at him, feeling as though she was stepping on blades.

“…No.”

“If he seeks you out, then what else is left but to quarrel over possession of the boy?”

“That’s not true, Your Majesty.”

Nanna released the breath she had been holding. She wasn’t sick, yet whenever she stood before the Emperor, breathing felt so hard. She kept exhaling at the wrong rhythm, and her heart beat uncomfortably, strangely. It was because she was afraid. Nanna feared him. Whatever words he spoke were dreadful, and sometimes she even hated herself for fearing him so much. It wasn’t that she found it improper; it was that she couldn’t endure it.

Why couldn’t she imitate Stateira? Why couldn’t she resemble her even a little, not even enough to stand at her feet? But now Nanna didn’t think such things anymore. All of it was meaningless, foolish questions. And so….