LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 8
Chapter 8: Shared Bed, Two Thoughts (2)
A pale shadow cast across the pristine white snow, its edges tinged with a faint gray.
Amidst that untouched field, I saw a crimson streak, faint but unmistakable. A drop of red that no one had stepped on, tying my heart in thorny vines.
The tension gripped me, starting at my toes and pulling upward with a suffocating force. Frozen in place, I stood silently, staring at her.
“…”
“Well then.”
Breaking my reverie, Mirian moved toward the round table and took a seat. She positioned herself diagonally across from the princess, a little farther from the king. Technically, she was sitting closest to me.
Was there a meaning to this seat choice? Or was it simply the most convenient vacant spot? Lost in a whirl of speculation, I spiraled into my own thoughts while Mirian, calm and composed, began to speak.
“What were you discussing?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just planning my beloved daughter’s engagement. Naturally, the groom is our great hero here.”
“So, the matter has already progressed that far.”
“Apologies for not consulting you beforehand. It was a spur-of-the-moment idea this morning.”
“No need to apologize. When have you ever consulted me about state affairs?”
Her tone could easily be mistaken for hostile, yet she nodded with a surprising calmness, giving her assent.
“I agree. The princess is of age, and one could hardly find a better match. If she’s happy, even better.”
“That’s wonderful to hear.”
“Besides, if it’s a decision Your Majesty has made, there’s no room for doubt.”
“Exactly.”
“So, is it decided now?”
Her eyes rested briefly on the king. Though she maintained an indifferent expression, her posture, still upright and tense, made it seem like she would leave at the first chance.
The princess, noticing this, looked slightly hurt. The king, catching her expression, stepped in to pacify the situation.
“Well… to be honest, we’re not just here to discuss the engagement. That’s just the official pretext. I wanted to create an opportunity for us all to talk, to spend some time together. Surely you must have questions about the hero, don’t you?”
“I imagine Your Majesty has more questions than I do.”
“Of course. He’ll be my daughter’s husband, after all. But in some ways, a mother’s curiosity is bound to surpass that of a father’s.”
“…”
“All I’m asking is for you to stay. It’s a chance to catch up with the princess as well.”
Reluctantly, Mirian remained seated. Yet her cold demeanor persisted, leaving a heavy silence hanging over the table.
The princess, perhaps uncomfortable with the quiet, spoke hesitantly to break it.
“That’s true. Come to think of it, we haven’t had much time to talk since I returned. With all the events, it’s been hectic.”
“That’s the downside of being a king. Too many people need me, leaving little time for my precious daughter. Ah, but don’t misunderstand, hero. A king is loved because of that demand.”
“Just as we’re finally having a proper conversation, you have to bring politics into it, Father.”
“Forgive me. Honestly, I still can’t quite believe you’re back. Perhaps that’s why I keep misspeaking—it’s the relief catching up with me.”
“Father.”
“It was truly a hellish time, more so than you could imagine.”
His voice grew quiet, tinged with genuine sorrow. The princess, noticing the dark shift in his mood, offered a lighthearted comment to lift the atmosphere.
“Then maybe no more deer hunting, Father. It’s dangerous, and the deer don’t deserve it.”
“One of the worst decisions of my life. I can’t forget that day—the horses collapsing, the screams of the people. And above it all, the enormous wings of that dragon, stretching across the horizon.”
“It felt like the sky itself had disappeared, as if light would never return to the world.”
“It was the largest, most terrifying beast I’d ever seen. Even the kingdom’s finest knights screamed like frightened children.”
“…”
“How could I not make the man who slew such a creature my son-in-law?”
Turning to me, the king’s eyes softened with warmth. All I could do in response was offer humble gratitude.
“I only succeeded because I had great companions.”
“A textbook response, fitting for a hero. You even came straight to the palace upon arriving in the capital. If it were me, I’d have headed straight for the finest tavern to summon women.”
“Father.”
“I’m joking, I’m joking. What, is that so inappropriate? A man can have ambitions like that, especially someone as strong as him. My goodness, just look at these hands—broad and powerful.”
Perhaps realizing his misstep, the king tried to steer the conversation by grasping my hand. Feeling the rough calluses against my own, he exaggerated his admiration.
“Now these are a warrior’s hands. Honestly, many knights today are so scrawny they don’t feel like men at all. Do you have a preference for weapons, hero? Royal-forged? Elf-crafted?”
“In the field, I used whatever was available. When facing the dragon, an elven companion crafted a bow for me from ash wood and her hair.”
“A true craftsman doesn’t blame their tools—clearly, that saying was made for you. With a body like yours, how could mere weapons control you? No wonder the princess is smitten.”
“…”
“Isn’t that right, dear? His hands alone are twice the size of yours. How could you not be drawn to such a man, even if he acted cold?”
It was an embarrassing, overly personal comment, and quite inappropriate for a king. Yet the princess, far from displeased, placed her hand lightly over mine.
“What’s the use of big hands? He was so shy he could barely talk to me. It took forever just to hold hands naturally like this.”
“Call it chivalry, my dear. And let me clarify: not all men’s hands are as strong as his.”
“Really? I thought everyone was like you, Father.”
“You don’t know how fortunate you are to have a hero in your life.”
“I do. It’s a miracle.”
With a soft kiss to the back of my hand, the princess let go. The brief contact left a fleeting warmth that quickly dissipated.
Then, as if drawn by instinct, my gaze drifted to the one person who hadn’t touched my hand. At the same moment, her eyes met mine.
“…”
“…”
It was a fleeting exchange, barely a second long. Ignoring it would have been the natural course. After all, inviting her to touch my hand in this setting would have been strange.
But before reason could assert itself, my lips moved of their own accord.
“…I heard you’re skilled at palm reading.”
“… If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to ask for a reading.”
I quietly extended my hand toward her. My heartbeat pounded so loudly that I thought even she might hear it.
Mirian stared at me for a long moment before lowering her gaze.
“It’s a bit impudent, isn’t it? Asking a queen for the whims of a street fortune-teller.”
“…”
“But as idle amusement at the dinner table, it might suffice.”
Her tone suggested that my excuse, though flimsy, was acceptable. The cold cynicism in her gaze pierced my heart, but the reward was clear.
“Straighten your hand.”
“Yes.”
“And face your palm upward.”
I followed her instructions, holding my hand out as straight as possible. Then her hands covered mine, and to my surprise, warmth radiated from her touch.
It was such a simple gesture—just holding hands—but because it was her, every sensation felt heightened.
The faint, delicate veins visible beneath her wrist. The subtle fragrance of her perfume, softly invading my senses. Her smooth fingers, unadorned by any rings.
“…”
“…”
Her bare ring finger drew my gaze. Noticing, Mirian lightly brushed her fingers over my wrist, almost as if to interrupt my thoughts.
Then, deliberately, she grazed the spot where the thorn had pierced me the night before. Her nail scratched the tender area, drawing a quiet gasp from me.
“…”
“… Ugh.”
I was certain my cheeks flushed red. The princess, noticing my reaction, leaned forward and asked with some urgency.
“So? What do you see in Alf’s palm?”
“A stone coffin.”
“What?”
“A dragon with its head severed.”
“What does that—”
“A blindfolded princess.”
The words were too fragmented to be called a proper prophecy.
Yet Mirian spoke no more, merely shaking her head as though that was the end of it.
“His palm must be worn down. It seems I can only see the past.”
“Ah…”
“Well, I believe that’s enough. Hero.”
She withdrew her hands, and I instinctively reached out as if to reclaim the warmth. Realizing this, I quickly restrained myself and pulled my hand back.
But her scent lingered. It clung stubbornly to my senses, embedding her presence deeper into my chest.
“Hmm. That wasn’t such bad entertainment after all. Magic often gets a bad reputation as the tricks of scoundrels, but when used wisely, it can be quite amusing.”
“…Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Now that I think of it, I remember meeting a fortune-teller long ago. A mad old woman who screamed I’d be king the moment she saw me…”
The king naturally shifted into one of his tales. Though it wasn’t particularly engaging, it provided a convenient distraction. Feigning interest, I nodded along.
Meanwhile, the princess scooted her chair closer to mine, so near that even her breath brushed against me.
“Interesting, isn’t it? Palm reading.”
“It is.”
“Maybe I should learn how to do it too.”
With a playful bump of her shoulder against mine, she grasped my hand. Unlike Mirian’s delicate touch, her grip was firmer, a little rougher.
But her determination was incomparable. As though trying to erase the imprint of Mirian from my mind, the princess held my hand tightly, almost painfully so.
***
The short dinner concluded, and everyone departed to their respective chambers. The king returned to his bedroom, the hero to his companions, and the witch to her secluded quarters.
But someone followed her. Sensing the presence, she turned and saw the princess standing there.
“Princess.”
“Your Majesty.”
Her voice was unusually cautious when addressing her mother. Mirian’s reply came cold and devoid of emotion.
“What is it?”
“I realized I hadn’t properly greeted you since my return. Have you been well, Your Majesty?”
“Thank you for your concern.”
“You seem a bit thinner than before.”
“…”
Perhaps Mirian had no intention of continuing the conversation, but the princess pressed on persistently.
“Your complexion also seems paler. Not that I’m saying you look unwell.”
“You’ve lost weight yourself.”
“Life outside wasn’t exactly easy.”
“I imagine so.”
“Though Alf took good care of me, so it wasn’t too hard.”
The princess spoke with deliberate intent, her gaze carefully studying Mirian’s reaction. But Mirian’s expression remained unreadable, cold as ever.
As they stared at each other, the princess’ eyes drifted to Mirian’s neck. The mark she had noticed throughout dinner was still there. Without hesitation, she asked about it.
“That mark on your neck—it’s rather large for a bug bite, isn’t it?”
“Autumn insects are fiercer.”
“Are they?”
The princess reflexively questioned her, but Mirian responded curtly, her icy tone brooking no further inquiry.
“Go and rest.”
“Yes. You too, Your Majesty.”
Their conversation ended there. Without hesitation, Mirian turned and walked toward her distant chamber.
But the princess remained where she was, staring after her mother’s retreating figure, lost in thought.
After a moment, she gestured behind her. Though not explicitly called, one maid stepped forward immediately.
“Your Highness.”
“I have something I need you to do.”
“Anything, Your Highness.”
The maid bowed deeply, ready to act without asking questions. The princess noted her unwavering loyalty with satisfaction before turning her gaze to the far-off silhouette of the queen.
There, as her mother’s figure shrank into the distance, the princess murmured a word more familiar than “mother.”
A word laced with subtle intent.