Chapter 15
Oh, is that her from earlier?
With a shove through the crowd’s shoulders, Magnus approached and stared at the Kepet Princess with wide eyes.
“My uncle told me that the Kepet Princess Nefetia is called half-divine,” he whispered, tugging Arkin’s sleeve. The surrounding noise forced him to shout to be heard.
“In the matriarchal society of Kepet, she’s practically the legitimate heir to the Sun God. So the Sun God dotes on her endlessly—hundreds of years, maybe a thousand? In any case, we’ve received the oracle that the Sun God’s blessing will protect her for a few centuries. Impressive, right?”
Arkin didn’t answer. Instead, he stared at the palanquin carrying Nefetia. From that distant height, glowing like sunlight, she passed through the palace gates and kept vanishing into the far distance until he finally looked away.
“Trying to squeeze into that grand procession makes me feel downright gloomy.”
Magnus grumbled. Arkin walked in silence without a word. But ever since he’d looked up at Nefetia’s palanquin earlier, something in his stomach began to churn. A chill sweat broke across his back, and a faint dizziness swept over him. He blamed it on the humid weather of Credo. After all, he had worn thick clothes while climbing the hill—nothing out of the ordinary.
Passing through the massive arched entrance and reaching the courtyard of the white marble building took what felt like another eternity. The cause was, of course, the dazzling procession of the Kepet Princess. Now that Magnus had spotted her descending from the palanquin, his face twisted with displeasure.
“Hah. It’s been a while since we came in, and now you’re saying you’re getting down?”
The elegant princess stood straight-backed and gave a solemn nod to the half-dozen men gathered before her palanquin. Arkin, watching her, pressed his temples and furrowed his brows. His headache was worsening by the second.
The men with broad shoulders bowed deeply at the princess’s feet. Nefetia stepped lightly down onto their firm shoulders and exposed backs. As soon as her feet touched the ground, the men dropped to their knees and cleared the path for her.
“…What a lot of fuss.”
Arkin clicked his tongue while frowning. Magnus nodded in agreement.
“We’d never see anything like this in Solinar. Should we head over there?”
But why? As he tried to follow Magnus, Arkin realized he could no longer control his own body. His feet were glued in place, as if adhesive had been smeared on them.
What?
A startled Arkin tried to move his legs, but his body had turned rigid like bronze. He stood frozen, staring at Nefetia. Suddenly, every sensation from their first meeting in the forest roared back to life and slammed into him like a wave.
Why? Why, again…?
Can this symptom appear even without touching Nefetia?
Wrapped in the scorching, vivid sensation racing along his skin, Arkin couldn’t tear himself away. He stared fixedly toward the princess.
Golden eyes of Nefetia kept flashing before him. That pure curiosity and pull in her gaze whenever she looked at him—like the sun illuminating the forest…
…What nonsense are you saying? She’s a pervert princess! I’d rather be eaten!
Another Arkin sneered at him in disgust.
It felt as if his soul had split in two. Space and time twisted, his vision warped and spun.
Those sharply defined golden eyes and dense black lashes. The bizarre, hot-cold-sweet-sour sensation of her hand in his—how it flashed through him.
Is this really madness?
Arkin desperately grabbed hold of the other version of himself who kept stepping toward her.
Luckily, a shred of reason remained. The other Arkin, refusing this sorcerous situation, began thrashing the mad version with a wooden stick.
Insane fool! Snap out of it! This is exactly when you should be coming to your senses!
“Your Highness, are you all right?”
Magnus’s voice rang insistently in his ear. Arkin nodded vaguely, but he still couldn’t catch his breath and his chest felt tight.
“…I’m fine. I just…”
He had to find his reason. This was an abnormal situation. When things got like this, he needed to use Solinar’s traditional mental cultivation. Imagine the quiet of the deep forest, breathing in the cold winter air, and slowly exhale…
“Huuu.”
He took a deep breath, puffing out his chest several times.
The forest. The winter forest. Thinking of the forest…
But Arkin’s efforts were in vain. The air here was cold and clear, not the winter forest he imagined, and a stranger had appeared before the Kepet Princess.
“Oh, Your Highness. Look there—Prince Draconis of Igninof, is it?”
The young man leading the retinue at his sides wore a white tunic beneath a short set of armor. The moment he saw the flame-red hair shot through with orange streaks, Arkin’s mind snapped back.
Prince Draconis of Igninof.
He had glimpsed him years ago at the Lake Kingdom’s summer festival in Lakelium. Their conversation had lasted barely a moment, but Arkin had disliked him on sight—and now he disliked him even more.
That same arrogant, displeasing gaze remained unchanged. And the way he clung to women and spewed smooth nonsense…
He smiled slyly and approached Nefetia, spreading his arms as he spoke to her. Arkin watched Draconis with displeasure. Why had he come dressed like a warlord for a peace and friendship training event?
Arkin couldn’t see his face because he had his back turned, but he could see Nefetia’s expression. Caution was clearly written across it as she looked at Draconis.
Caution? Huh.
Arkin let out a silent sigh of relief. If she had smiled, he would have felt even worse.
Yet oddly enough, it was strange that she wore such a look while guarding someone. Ironically, he had only met her once—briefly—and already felt this way.
“From Prince Draconis’s perspective, getting along with her would make sense. Kepet and Igninof are both great powers with aggressive tendencies. From our viewpoint, it’s a threat and a nuisance, but that’s beside the point.”
Magnus added with a snort.
“Anyway, Your Highness, you should go now. We have to present the tribute.”
The servant had said he needed to deliver the tribute to the priests, but Arkin found it impossible to ignore those two and decided to send Magnus first.
“Go ahead, Magnus.”
“Eh?” Confused, Magnus hesitated before leaving. Arkin watched them both, still glaring at Draconis.
Draconis dropped to one knee in a theatrical manner before Nefetia. He rattled on at length as if earnestly explaining something, then suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her toward himself. His red hair slid slowly down, and he kissed the back of her hand. At the same time, a stone-like discomfort surged from a corner of Arkin’s chest.
What if Nefetia felt that same ‘special sensation’ from Draconis too? If the feeling that was special to him was actually something anyone could feel?
Arkin unconsciously stepped forward. Draconis still hadn’t released her hand and was tracing something on her palm with his fingers. Meanwhile, the look on Nefetia’s face as she glanced at him remained unreadable.
His stomach felt sick and his head throbbed. The back of his neck burned, and he furrowed his brows. He wanted to leave the spot, yet he also wanted to stay and watch more. A nauseatingly warm feeling swirled around him. But why? Why couldn’t he shake off this sensation?
Arkin stood rooted in place as if nails had been hammered into his feet.
“Her Highness Amalfi of Floria!”
Once more, loud music rang through the courtyard. It was brighter and livelier than Kepet’s melody. Led by a trumpet, a huge flower carriage thundered forward, turned sharply, and blocked the path, cutting off Arkin’s view.