Winter Bud - Chapter 9

Stella’s name was taken from the name of the Emperor’s lawful wife and only beloved, “Stateira.” Looking back at the history of the name Stateira, it had once belonged to the goddess worshipped by the ancient kingdom that was the origin of the Old Empire, and it was also the name of a beautiful woman whom the kingdom’s conquering king had taken as his wife.

Duke Sermione of Everhardt said that he had taken the name from his wife’s mother, Marchioness Georg. Strictly speaking, his wife had named their daughter before she died.

Stateira shortened her long and elaborate name to “Thea.” That was how her father and her friends all called her. Her fiancé called her that as well, and later, when she became Empress, even her maids and servants who served her called her “Empress Thea.”

Nanna too, back when she was her lowly maid, would sometimes call her “Lady Thea.” But once she was appointed Empress, she simply called her “Your Majesty.” At the time, she never imagined that the daughter she bore would be called “Stateira II.” No, strictly speaking, she never imagined she would bear a child with her mistress’s husband.

She had never dreamed such a thing would happen, nor had she ever desired it. Loving him alone had been a separate matter entirely.

“Uh, hwaa—”

Stateira II. To distinguish her from Thea, Nanna herself had given her daughter the nickname “Stella.” The child couldn’t be soothed easily. When she faced the father she feared, she stopped crying for a brief moment, only to fling herself into her mother’s arms and burst into tears again. Holding Alexis, Nanna looked down at her daughter in fluster.

The Emperor’s gaze was indifferent. Even though she was his daughter, named after the woman he loved, his eyes were cold. It was not the first or second time she had seen that merciless gaze, but once again, Nanna’s chest burned. But what use was her fury? She handed Alexis to a maid for a moment and began soothing Stella.

“Stop crying, Stella. His Majesty and the Duke will scold you.”

“…No. I don’t want to.”

Stella shook her head, clinging to her frail body. Nanna could guess without asking what had happened. Stella hated her etiquette teacher. Strict and old-fashioned, the middle-aged woman was not someone any child would like, but Stella’s dislike was excessive. And yet, unlike with Viscountess Schvalen, her nanny, Stella had never once asked for her teacher to be replaced.

Already, her teachers had been changed more than twice. And there were many people Stella disliked. Aside from her mother, her brother, and her baby brother, she said she disliked everyone. She disliked her father the Emperor, her grandmother the Empress Dowager, her nanny Viscountess Schvalen, and even her personal maid, Nancy Maple.

“What about your friend Liriana?”

“I don’t like her either.”

“What?”

“I said I don’t like her. I hate Lirian!”

“But you play with Lirian often. Just two days ago, you even gave her a doll as a gift.”

“I don’t care. I don’t like her. She probably doesn’t like me either.”

“That’s not true, Stella.”

Nanna was deeply shocked by her daughter’s claim that she even disliked her friend. She had never thought the girl who played with her so often would be rejected, yet Stella vehemently repeated her denials. Looking gloomily at her child, Nanna asked, “Why does our Stella dislike so many things?”

Stella stared back at her blankly, then whispered, “I like Mom. I like Brother Slan and Alexis too.” That was all she liked. Was it normal for girls her age to have so few likes and so many dislikes? Nanna couldn’t tell. With a gloomy face, she stroked her daughter’s black hair.

Her face, more like the Emperor’s than Slan’s, looked like a miniature version of him. Because her father was handsome, Stella too was a strikingly pretty girl. The Empress Dowager, a well-known aesthete in society, said of her prickly granddaughter that she was as pretty as a doll. She even said that when Stella grew up, she would be a beauty to shake the entire continent.

Thick black waves of hair, shining honey-colored eyes. A face like a white flower blossom, plum-colored cheeks, and red, plump lips. Stella was truly a beautiful girl.

But what did it matter? She was stubborn and a crybaby. It was understandable that the Emperor called her a “foal” and disliked her.

“Liri likes Stella.”

“No. That girl and that girl’s mother… they called Mom….”

Stella faltered, her face looking wounded, like a ripe apple. She pressed her lips tightly together as if swallowing back what she wanted to say, until at last, at her mother’s coaxing voice, “Stella,” she finally spoke.

“A whore. They called you a whore.”

“What?”

“I don’t know! I hate Liri. I hate you too, Mom! I hate you!”

Stella pushed against her chest and burst into tears. She didn’t try to run away, but covered her eyes with her sleeve and wept bitterly. Nanna forgot even to comfort her daughter and only stared blankly before belatedly pulling the small body into her arms.

Like a child, Stella wept sorrowfully in her mother’s embrace. When had it been? How many days ago? Nanna thought perhaps it was simply because she was a girl that Stella cried so often. Then she recalled her own childhood. Soon her shoulders drooped.

When she was young, Nanna had no mother to hold her when she cried. Though her birth mother was alive, she had always been cruel to Nanna. So she might as well have been absent. And her drunken father…. Nanna turned her weary face toward the two men.

The Emperor hated the sound of a child crying. Yet what were children if not beings who cried? It was their means of survival, their way of expressing what they wanted. Stella was no different. Though she was overly fussy and clumsy in expressing herself for her age, in the end, she was just a child of seven.

And yet, the Emperor said he hated the sound of children crying. That was why he didn’t even come near. And Duke Everhardt? He loved his daughter dearly, but he did not permit her to become pregnant.

Yet he considered Alexis his own son….

‘Foolish man.’

Nanna glanced darkly at the Duke, then turned away. Seeing the child cry, the Emperor didn’t comfort her but summoned her nanny. Contrary to Nanna’s expectation that he would send the princess somewhere out of his sight, he instead told Viscountess Schvalen to take her.

Nanna’s face stiffened.

“I will take my leave as well….”

“You have something to say to me, don’t you, Empress?”

The Emperor twisted his lips into a crooked smile. He turned first. Nanna, feeling her heart pound, looked at Duke Everhardt. His green eyes were calm. With a dark expression, Nanna followed them.

The place the Duke led them to was the greenhouse garden once so loved by the last Empress of the Old Empire. Named after the Old Empire, it was called the “Valocan Garden.” Its structures and nature seemed unrefined yet restrained. They passed the beautiful fountain and went toward the wisteria trellis. The violet buds had just begun to form, like little pinecones, and it was exceedingly beautiful.

As the cool breeze chilled the nape of her neck, Nanna fixed her gaze on the Emperor’s chest. He seemed to know. Every time she said she would meet the Duke, he showed some reaction, whether large or small. Nanna swallowed dryly, choosing her words.

It was her habit to prepare answers before he asked questions. A habit she had kept since long ago, back when she was Stateira’s maid.

“I never knew you depended so much on the Duke. As expected of an adoptive father and daughter, the two of you seem quite close.”

“Your Majesty.”

Nanna glanced at Duke Everhardt beside her and parted her lips. Without even asking the Emperor’s permission, he put a pipe to his mouth. Startled by his disrespectful bearing, Nanna hung her head, her face twisted in anguish, as though she might die of shame.