Marked by the Ruthless Princess

They only watched the stars for a short while before the Crown Princess casually sat down. Tilting her head back, Lucille Everard observed Lina Riley, who was still gazing at the night sky. Amusement flickered in her eyes, impossible to hide.

"Won't you make a wish? Even if the shooting star has already passed, it doesn't matter."

Noticing Lucille had settled down, Lina realized she did have wishes—more than one. Ultimately, she didn't want to repeat her past life's tragic path.

A heavy feeling crept over her heart again as her thoughts drifted to her elder sister. Lina's expression turned serious as she spoke: "Your Highness, I have a request. I hope you will grant it."

Lucille disliked how Lina addressed her as a subject, as if an unbridgeable distance lay between them despite their closeness. She patted the spot beside her and thoughtfully brushed away some dust. "Sit."

Lina hesitated, but seeing how Lucille's face darkened under the moonlight, she dared not delay. She complied, sitting down at Lucille's side.

Satisfied, Lucille nodded and kept her eyes on the stars. "Speak," she said.

Sitting so close, Lina could catch the faint scent of plum blossoms, reminding her of those intimate nights. Remembering those moments in her calm state felt absurd, making Lina even breathe more softly.

She imitated Lucille, looking up at the starry sky, and spoke in a quiet voice: "Your Highness, I would like to ask you to look after my sister. The Riley family has suffered a sudden blow. She cannot withstand the coming storms on her own, and since I must follow you into battle, I cannot stay to protect her."

Lina's heart thumped anxiously. Was she overstepping her bounds? After all, their relationship was more of an exchange of interests than anything else—no special favors promised. She worried this might be too forward.

The silence of the night pressed in, allowing Lina to hear her own quickening heartbeat. She turned to look at Lucille, but in the deepening darkness, she could no longer see her face clearly.

This sudden loss of sight unnerved Lina. She was not afraid of the dark per se, but fading vision triggered memories of losing her eyes in her previous life. She had tried so desperately to see, only to watch her world blur until nothing was left but darkness. She had wandered alone in that darkness for a long time, until a great fire had burned away all her bitterness and resentment to ashes.

Lina began to tremble. She had grown too comfortable in this life, almost forgetting that she was once a vengeful ghost crawling from the flames.

"You're afraid of the dark?"

A spark of light pierced the night. A lantern's glow illuminated Lina's face, and a gentle voice pulled her back from those haunting memories. The warm glow danced playfully, as if celebrating its arrival.

Lina stared at the lantern that suddenly appeared between them. Its light formed a small world of warmth and brightness. As the lantern moved aside, Lina glimpsed Lucille's smiling face. "How about now? Still afraid?"

"…No, not anymore."

At that moment, Lucille shone even brighter than the candlelight and the stars overhead.

Lifting the lantern slightly, Lucille's tone was neither glad nor angry. "Again, you petition me on someone else's behalf. What about you?"

Lina had never truly considered her own desires. She always lived for others—for Ravenwell's stability, for Sophia, Willa, and Winnie, so they wouldn't repeat their past tragedies. And…

Lina looked at the person beside her, who was also looking at her. In the Crown Princess's eyes, there was only her reflection. Could this be considered a secret rendezvous?

That thought felt too daring, so Lina kept it to herself.

Lucille wasn't pressing for an answer, merely reminding Lina that she should reflect on what she herself wanted. Gently shaking the lantern, Lucille said, "I'll arrange something for your sister. You can go south with me without worry."

Lina's heart filled with gratitude, washing away her earlier confusion. "Thank you, Your Highness."

Still, where had this lantern come from? Out here in the wilderness, a lantern appearing out of nowhere was peculiar. Perhaps the Crown Princess had prepared it in advance, knowing they would be stargazing.

As Lina considered this, she noticed Lucille's garments were thin and unsuitable for the cold. Lina glanced at her own clothes, pondering what to do.

Before she could decide, Lucille began a story with a soft, wistful tone: "My mother left this lantern to me. She said that if I missed her, I should light it."

Lina's scalp prickled. She hadn't intended to stir painful memories. The lantern looked ordinary, not something from the palace. Everyone knew Lucille's past wasn't simple. People saw only her achievements, forgetting her difficult childhood.

Lina felt clumsy and uncertain. This required gentle comfort. After careful thought, all she managed was a stiff, "My condolences, Your Highness."

The awkwardness of her words actually amused Lucille for a moment, but the laughter soon faded into silence. The flame, as if sensing its owner's mood, flickered more quietly now.

Silence returned, that dreadful silence. Lina felt she should do something. She always teased Willa for her lack of tact, but now Lina saw she was just as inept. She couldn't think of the right words at all.

Lucille's thoughts drifted far away. She rarely recalled those no longer present, since many of them she had personally disposed of. Nor did she often think of her mother.

Her mother had been a gentle woman with a soft smile and a talent for playing the flute. Lucille inherited that talent, though she hadn't played for a long time. Yet gentle souls had no place in the cruel depths of the palace. Without cunning, one couldn't survive. Lucille understood that better than anyone.

Lucille sighed. "I don't know why, but around you, I want to say more than I usually do."

Hearing this, Lina's heart quieted. The words implied that she was special to Lucille. A subtle delight passed through Lina's heart, too quick to grasp.

She studied Lucille's profile and realized she'd been staring. Embarrassed, Lina lowered her gaze and spoke softly, "If Your Highness doesn't mind, I can be your listener."

Lucille smiled, teasing gently, "You're not afraid anymore?"

Debts upon debts—Lina had already given so much of herself. What more could she lose? Her life was but one, and she'd already pledged it. Embarrassed, she tried to shrug it off, "Your Highness jests."

Lucille had no desire to tease further. She sighed and allowed her memories to resurface.

In the previous reign, the palace teemed with consorts, princes, and princesses. The late emperor had so many children that she rarely recognized them. Lucille was one of the many who passed unnoticed, except that she behaved differently from others, climbing trees and roofs without the slightest princess-like demeanor. She would perch on rooftops, scaring her mother and the maids half to death.

From the rooftop, the sky looked vast and free. Her mother, unable to control her, would have a ladder brought, then climb up herself. As a concubine out of favor, the mother's antics went unnoticed by the court.

Sitting beside her daughter, the mother's voice was as gentle as a spring breeze. "My dear, why do you like it up here?"

Lucille would point at the sky—once, a white cloud drifted where her finger aimed. As a child, she rarely smiled. No matter how serious her young face tried to appear, she looked adorable. Her mother misunderstood, smiling and patting her small head. "You like the clouds?"

Lucille shook her head. Her gaze leaped over countless high walls, puzzled. "Mother, when can I leave the palace?"

Her mother's hand froze. Then she hugged Lucille close. "When you grow up, my dear. I will watch over you."

Though Lucille was precociously clever, she was still just a child. Nestling into her mother's embrace, she closed her eyes gently.

She had believed these moments ordinary. She knew the palace was treacherous. At times, she found it incomprehensible. The late emperor was fickle, and none could hold favor for long. Why compete so viciously for such a fleeting affection?

Lucille scorned these people, yet they destroyed her mother. A mere glance, a temporary notice, had sparked jealousy. Someone poisoned her mother's beloved flute. The poison was meant for Lucille; ordered by those who instructed the Imperial Physicians not to treat her. In the midst of a heavy snowfall, her mother had cradled the poisoned Lucille, kneeling in the snow, begging the emperor for help. For an entire day, she knelt, and never saw the emperor's face.

In the end, her mother used a foolish method—trading her own life to save Lucille's.

Lucille's voice was calm, as if recounting another's tragedy. Lina could only listen, imagining how hard that life must have been. She recalled her own mother, who died young, leaving her with only blurred memories.

"I must be rambling," Lucille said, voice tinged with apology.

Lina quickly responded, "Not at all!"

Such sorrowful memories rarely surfaced for Lucille. Reliving them made her feel both weary and vulnerable. She looked at Lina with a quiet plea in her eyes. "I'm tired. May I lean on you?"

Lina froze. She could hardly refuse. Yet leaning on her shoulder might be uncomfortable. Without thinking, Lina blurted, "If you're tired, Your Highness, you can rest on my lap if you wish."

The moment the words escaped, Lina regretted them. Why say something so audacious?

But before she could flounder further, a gentle weight settled on her lap. Lina froze, not daring to move. She wouldn't even look down, only up at the stars, thinking absurdly: The stars are so beautiful…and so warm?

Her thoughts jumbled. Stars weren't warm. It was her lap that felt warm. Summoning courage, Lina glanced down and realized Lucille was already asleep.

Lina didn't move. She carefully extracted the lantern from Lucille's hand. Holding it up soon made her arms ache, and she began feeling sleepy too.

Drowsiness overcame her. Before closing her eyes, Lina fumbled to extinguish the lantern and remove her outer robe, gently covering Lucille with it. Accepting her fate, she drifted into sleep.

Not long after Lina fell asleep, Lucille opened her eyes. Gone was the sorrow and frailty, replaced by her usual composure. She noticed the garment covering her and smiled softly. Standing carefully to avoid waking Lina, she looked down at the peacefully slumbering girl.

"Not even a shred of caution," Lucille remarked, voice gentle with humor. "It seems you trust me completely."

A voice from the darkness spoke quietly. "Your Highness, we have a lead on Reginald Riley's death."

Lucille was unsurprised. Her face chilled as she asked, "Speak."

"Before departure, General Riley met with the Fifth Princess."

Victoria Ashwood? Lucille had almost forgotten about her. Neglecting a player in this game had led to disaster.

The unseen informant continued, "The poison is an old toxin, once favored by the late Royal Concubine. The palace where she lived shows signs of recent disturbance."

Lucille understood enough. "You may go."

"Yes, Your Highness."

When silence returned, Lucille let out a mocking laugh. Glancing at Lina's sleeping face, Lucille couldn't resist pinching her cheek, her smile turning more genuine. "Silly girl, you believe anything."

Seeing Lina frown in her sleep, Lucille released her hold and sighed softly. "Well, trusting me is not a bad thing."

With that, she scooped Lina into her arms and headed back.

It struck Lucille as odd. She could have come alone, especially since there was indeed a secret lair nearby. She had intended to put Lina under a spell, luring her here for hidden reasons. But now, carrying Lina back in her arms, Lucille no longer remembered her initial purpose. All she knew was that the weight in her arms felt strangely reassuring.