Author: 唇亡齿寒 / Lips Gone, Teeth Cold
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Interlude 4
Furth passed through the heavy drapes of the Queen’s chamber and, as expected, found Her Majesty in the sun-drenched courtyard.
Queen Noia I was sitting on a bench under an elm tree, holding her communication device, but her gaze was fixed on the grass a short distance away. A breeze stirred, gently swaying the branches, and the spots of sunlight filtering through the leaves danced ceaselessly on her black gown.
Furth, the Queen’s personal maid, had served her for over thirty years. She knew that the Queen was once again lost in her memories. When the princess and prince were young, they often played on that patch of grass, and the Queen would sit where she was now, watching them with a smile. Years had passed, the children had grown up and no longer played before their mother, but to her, they would always remain children. Even Furth sometimes had the illusion, as if the young prince and princess were still playing on the grass.
She blinked, assuring herself that the figures of the children were merely an illusion caused by the dazzling sunlight, then quickly approached Queen Noia I and curtsied.
“Your Majesty, your gown is prepared. Please return to your chamber to dress.”
The Queen remained silent, still staring at the sunlit grass. Thinking she hadn’t heard, Furth repeated, “Prince Annot’s wedding begins in three hours, Your Majesty. We must dress you soon.”
Only then did the Queen look away from the grass, her eyes flitting over Furth’s face before returning to her communication device. Furth knew without asking that the Queen had been reading old messages again. Just a glance at the beginning, and she recognized it—a letter from Duchess Madonna. They were cousins, and after the Duchess moved far away, they could only correspond by letter. This particular letter was written about twenty years ago when Princess Alveira had just been born, and the Queen had suffered a serious car accident. Duchess Madonna had written to express her concern.
The letter began:
Dear Noia,
You had a car accident! Oh, how could this happen! I heard about your accident on the news and couldn’t believe it! I wish I could fly to your side right now! Could it really just be an accident? Was someone trying to harm you? Oh, if only I had been there…
The tone was unusually intense. Duchess Madonna was a brave and straightforward woman, usually more cautious and polite in her letters, but she must have been truly distraught when she wrote this. Her alarm was justified; the Queen had nearly lost her life in that accident. Thankfully, by divine grace, she survived. But since then, the Queen’s personality had changed—once a diligent and caring ruler, a gentle wife, and a loving mother; she became reclusive and melancholic, neglecting her duties, which she left to the Chancellor and her ministers. Her relationship with her husband deteriorated day by day. Even when Prince Sorey was unfaithful, the Queen ignored it, retreating further into the seclusion of the palace and avoiding any contact with him. Only after the deaths of Madonna and her husband did she briefly return to her old self, taking in their son Darius, an orphan, and caring for him with great affection.
As Darius and the princes grew, however, the Queen reverted to her previous reclusive state. Furth didn’t understand what had happened to her and didn’t dare speculate. She could only do her best to take care of the Queen’s daily needs and ensure her comfort.
Today was supposed to be a joyous occasion, with Prince Annot getting married. His bride was the granddaughter of the Chancellor—a girl of plain appearance but gentle disposition, well-educated, and a match suitable for the royal family. Furth understood that marrying into the Greenwald family would give the Chancellor even more control over the government, but she had watched Prince Annot grow from a boy into a dashing and elegant young man. Now he was marrying a fine lady, and Furth sincerely hoped this happy marriage would help him overcome past sorrows, regain confidence, and become a worthy heir to the empire.
Queen Noia I seemed less pleased, though she rarely seemed happy about anything.
“The gown is ready?” she asked, her voice soft and listless, as if she hadn’t recovered from the car accident twenty years ago.
“Yes,” Furth replied. “Mr. Howard designed it specifically for today’s wedding. It will suit you perfectly.” Mr. Howard was the royal family’s exclusive fashion designer.
The Queen nodded, thought for a moment, then asked, “Is it black, like always?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The Queen had always favored wearing black, and when she went out, she often wore a black hat, which might make one think she was in mourning or perhaps a widow. Furth didn’t understand the Queen’s preference but would never contradict her choices, even if she decided to wear a swimsuit in public.
Queen Noia I frowned slightly, seemingly dissatisfied with the answer.
“Attending Annot’s wedding in black? That doesn’t seem right.” It seemed the Queen had only just realized her preference might not be appropriate for celebratory occasions. “I remember having a champagne-colored gown that I wore at Madonna’s wedding. Is it still around?”
Furth remembered that gown. Lord, Madonna’s wedding had been almost thirty years ago. Was that gown still to be found?
“Uh, it should be…” she hesitated, “but I’m not sure where it is…”
“Then find it quickly,” the Queen ordered. “I want to wear it to the wedding. Hurry, or we’ll be late.”
“At once, Your Majesty.” Furth quickly curtsied and hurried back to the chamber, instructing her subordinates to search through storage for the old gown. It turned out to be much easier than anticipated. The gown was quickly located. The Queen’s former garments were carefully preserved in a special cabinet, regularly taken out for cleaning. The champagne-colored gown was still in good condition, albeit a bit old, but its style was so elegant and sumptuous that it remained fashionable even after decades. A matching shawl could cover any signs of wear.
Furth had the gown placed in a wooden box and carried it back to the courtyard.
“Your Majesty, the gown has been found.”
The Queen raised a hand, gently caressing the fabric as if touching a child. “I can’t believe it’s been so many years…” she murmured.
“Please dress now, Your Majesty,” Furth urged again.
This time, the Queen didn’t refuse and followed her back to the dressing room of her chamber. Many maids were already there, waiting to help her dress. As soon as the Queen entered, a maid took her coat and began arranging her hair and manicuring her nails. Furth personally helped her into the champagne-colored gown. Surprisingly, after all these years, the gown still fit perfectly. The Queen’s figure hadn’t changed much. Once dressed, Queen Noia I seemed ten years younger. The mirror reflected her regal and elegant demeanor, her youthful beauty polished by time into a mature, restrained allure, still radiantly charming.
Furth then brought a matching shawl. The Queen, seeing the shawl, gasped in surprise. “My goodness, I’d almost forgotten about it.” She held the shawl, hands trembling. “Isn’t this the one Madonna knitted for me?”
“Indeed, Your Majesty.”
The Queen clutched the shawl to her chest, eyes closed, seemingly lost in the joy of rediscovering something precious, yet also possibly recalling her sister’s departure and feeling sorrow.
“No…” After a long pause, she finally uttered a word. “No, this is an omen.”
“What?” Furth asked, “What kind of omen?”
“I remember just after receiving the shawl Madonna sent, I got the news that her husband had died in battle.” The Queen took a deep breath. “I remember the first time I wore this shawl for a walk, and when I came back, you told me Madonna had killed herself.”
“Your Majesty…”
“This is an omen…” The Queen shook her head vigorously. “Take it away! No, burn it! Burn it and let me never see it again!”
Furth didn’t understand why the Queen suddenly became so angry. To her, these were merely coincidences, but the Queen, superstitiously, believed they were omens. Presumably, the years of misfortune had made her suspicious.
“Very well, Your Majesty, then let’s choose another shawl…”
Before Furth could finish, the dressing room door was flung open with a bang, and a flustered servant rushed in, panting. “Your Majesty… it’s terrible! Something terrible has happened!”
The maids screamed and pulled the curtains to shield the Queen. Furth stepped forward, scolding, “Her Majesty is dressing. How dare you barge in like this! You deserve to die for this!”
The servant bowed his head. “I’m… I’m terribly sorry, Furth, but it’s urgent…”
The Queen’s voice came from behind the curtain. “Let him speak, Furth. What has happened?”
With the Queen’s permission, the servant spoke fearfully. “It’s Prince Annot! The Prince… he’s killed himself!”
“What?!”
The dressing room erupted in shock, and Furth, disbelieving, covered her mouth. “That’s impossible!” she exclaimed loudly, “Absurd! Today is his wedding day. How could he… Where did you hear such news?”
“It’s coming from the wedding venue. Everything’s in chaos outside!” The servant was nearly crying. “The prince shot himself, and by the time the doctors arrived, he was already… already…”
Furth gasped, her vision darkened, and she fainted. The last sound she heard before she fainted was the Queen’s sigh behind the curtain.
“Really?” The Queen’s tone didn’t seem at all surprised. “Annot… He’s braver than me.”
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