The Weight of a Crownless Princess
The priest announced, “Training attire has been prepared in each of your rooms. Please change and then gather in the main building’s dining hall.”
With those words, the priest departed, and the princesses scattered toward their respective quarters. Nefetia also pushed open her door and stepped inside.
“Hmm….”
She stood frozen at the threshold, eyes darting around without daring to venture farther. She knew she had to go in, yet her feet refused to move. How could she even describe this place….
White walls, a floor covered in tiles, a rickety wooden bed topped with stiff, coarse cotton. Everything felt so foreign it bordered on terrifying.
Still, she summoned what courage she could and entered. Nefetia reached out and tentatively brushed her hand across the bed. Her eyes widened. The fabric was rough, and the mattress felt as hard as stone. When she cautiously lowered herself onto it, her brows knitted together in a deep frown.
Good heavens, how was anyone supposed to sleep on something this unforgiving!
“Someone, come here.”
The command slipped out from sheer habit. Nefetia froze mid-sentence, realizing she had been about to summon a servant. There was no one outside, of course… how foolish.
With a sigh, she sat there in a daze for a moment before picking up the neatly folded white tunic resting on the bed. She felt a pang of reluctance at the thought of shedding her silk tunic for this crude garment, but since it was one of the rules, she had no choice but to obey.
Here, she was not a princess—she was simply Nefetia.
The soft material of the tunic slid down her rounded shoulders. Wearing only her undergarments beneath a tunic was no different from Kepet custom, yet Nefetia could not bring herself to like the stiff, sack-like thing.
Resigned, she pulled the oversized, baggy tunic over her head and cinched it at the waist with the provided cord. There wasn’t even a single jewel to adorn it; the plainness made her look exactly like a slave.
Wearing a displeased expression, Nefetia tugged the cord tight, then began removing the golden ornaments from her wrists and ankles one by one.
How on earth had the noble Queen Mahati endured this process? Naturally, Nefetia’s thoughts turned to her mother.
To the royal family of Kepet, jewelry was far more than mere decoration—it was a symbol of supreme authority. Removing each piece and placing it into the wicker basket proved far more difficult than she had imagined.
After some hesitation, Nefetia finally pulled the jeweled crown from her black hair and laid it inside the basket as well.
Now all that remained was her bare body, the crude tunic, and a pair of worn leather sandals. Her wrists, ankles, and neck felt strangely empty without their usual adornments, leaving her with the uncomfortable sensation of being naked.
She would have to go outside like this. The very thought made her feel as though she were walking around completely exposed… how mortifying.
Nefetia looked down at herself. The rough tunic was not only hideous but seemed positively harmful to one’s health. The coarse fabric rubbing against her bare chest sent sharp, tingling sensations all the way to the sensitive peaks.
Her mind naturally drifted to the way Arkin had looked at her. To appear before him in such a state… it was no different from a lion whose mane had been cruelly shorn. Where had the dignity and authority of a monarch gone…?
Dejected, Nefetia set the wicker basket on the bed and turned away. In any case, it was time to leave.
Nefetia cracked open the door and cautiously peeked outside. Were the others still inside?
“Oh.”
At that moment, her eyes met those of another princess who had been pacing alone in the empty corridor. They had not yet been formally introduced, so Nefetia did not know her name, but the girl spotted her first and greeted her warmly.
“Um… you’re the princess from Kepet, right?”
Nefetia was still unaccustomed to being addressed that way. She gave a small nod and studied the other girl closely.
“Yes. And who are you?”
“I’m Petra from Stonegard.”
Stonegard. The Rock Kingdom, was it? Or was it the Stone Kingdom? Nefetia stared at her for a moment before continuing.
“I see. Petra. What is your business with me?”
“Business? Uh, well…”
Petra’s glossy black eyes, smooth as river pebbles, rolled around in mild confusion. She made a sound that could have been either a laugh or a groan, then finally let out a crooked little smile.
“Usually at a time like this, you’re supposed to introduce yourself too… ah, never mind. Forget it.”
Petra waved her hand dismissively, a wry smile still on her lips, and got to the point.
“Actually, there’s something I’m curious about. Are you close with the prince of Solinar?”
“Solinar? Ah, you mean Prince Arkin?”
It was a welcome name. A hint of a smile touched Nefetia’s face. In contrast, Petra’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Close enough to call him by name? I didn’t realize the two kingdoms interacted that frequently.”
Nefetia answered calmly.
“Well, everyone here is supposed to be equal. Of course, Prince Arkin and I share a rather special relationship…”
Just then, two more figures emerged into the corridor and approached. One was a pink-haired princess with flowers tucked into her hair; the other was a pale, quiet princess with black hair adorned with pearls.
“Oh my goodness, I look exactly like a slave!”
The pink-haired princess glanced down at her plain tunic with a dramatic sigh, then whipped her head around. She seemed intensely interested in the name “Arkin,” because she closed the distance in an instant and inserted herself into the conversation.
“Arkin? You mean Prince Arkin Seilir?”
Her eyes sparkled as she raised her voice, then glanced at Nefetia as if suddenly conscious of her presence.
“I-I was curious too! I saw the two of you sitting side by side earlier, before the opening ceremony began.”
“You’re all going to become his friends anyway. What’s so surprising about that?”
Nefetia found their heated reactions genuinely puzzling. Why were they making such a fuss?
“Well, it’s not exactly like that…”
The princess from the mountain kingdom with her hair in two braids gave a somewhat sour response.
“That prince didn’t seem the least bit interested in me or any of the other princesses. At least from what I saw, the only person he spoke with comfortably was you.”
“Ah, that’s because…”
How should she explain it? That from their very first meeting in the forest she had felt an intense and special connection? That although he might not believe it, they were fated partners?
“Arkin and I…”
Nefetia carefully weighed her words, selecting them with great caution.
“…have formed a rather special friendship, you could say.”
To Nefetia, it was a carefully chosen phrase. But at that moment, Amalfi’s eyes lit up like stars.
“A special friendship? What does that mean? How do you form one?”
She suddenly stepped closer, cheeks flushed as though overcome with excitement. Her round face had turned entirely pink.
“If only I could share a special friendship with Arkin Seilir too. Did you see him at the oath ceremony? That golden hair, and how tall he is—doesn’t it make your heart flutter?”
Amalfi’s cheeks glowed as she chattered on, her voice full of dreamy enthusiasm.
“You know, love is the greatest value of all.”
“I’m sorry to shatter the romance of Floria, Princess Amalfi, but you should abandon any thoughts of romance with princes from other nations. Not only is it strictly forbidden by the regulations, it would only create endless complications for everyone involved.”
Petra cut her off bluntly. Once Amalfi’s excitement had cooled somewhat under the chill of reality, Petra seized control of the conversation.
“So, Princess of Kepet. What I’m really curious about is this: Prince Arkin seemed incredibly difficult to approach. How did you manage to become so close so quickly?”
“Well… it was simply by chance. We happened to meet in the forest.”
Nefetia gave a simplified explanation. She had gone for a walk after disembarking from the ship, encountered Arkin, exchanged a few words, and somehow they had become friends. Of course, she tactfully omitted the part where she had touched his face or felt that special sensation.
“How disappointing. I should have gone into that forest too.”
Amalfi frowned, looking genuinely regretful.
Nefetia watched her for a moment, then pressed her lips together tightly. It would be best not to describe their forest meeting in too much detail, she decided. Especially not the fact that Arkin was her Hetasept.
“Just a coincidence? I’m jealous. Since Arkin will one day become the leader of the alliance, it would have been good to greet him in advance.”
Petra added her own lament, her reasons differing slightly from Amalfi’s.
“Did you know? In the Solinar Kingdom, a prince must obtain unanimous approval from all eight tribes before he can ascend the throne. That alone is incredibly—”
“Enough.”
A cold voice suddenly cut in, slicing Petra’s words short. Princess Serena of Lakelium stood there with an icy, expressionless face.