87 - Alone
Mariana stood there for a moment longer after her father’s final words, her mind refusing to catch up with what had just been decided for her.
Alone. The word echoed louder than it should have.
In the novel—she was sure of it—her entire family had attended the Crown Prince’s birthday. It was a grand political appearance. A show of unity. Power. Influence. The Forebros Grand Dukedom never missed something like that.
So why now…?
Her brows furrowed. “Father,” she started slowly, voice careful, “in events like this, shouldn’t the whole family—”
“We are not leaving because we want to.” Grand Duke Maximus cut in calmly.
That alone was enough to silence her. Because her father was not someone who made excuses. If he said something like that, then it meant there was no room for negotiation.
Mariana’s fingers curled slightly. “… what do you mean?” she asked quietly.
Maximus stepped forward, his presence firm, grounded, unshakable. “There has been an anonymous report.”
Her chest tightened.
“Rebels,” he continued, “have been spotted within Forebros territory.”
Mariana’s eyes widened. “… what?”
“I will return immediately to handle it.” Maximus said.
Her heart skipped. That explained him. But not the others.
“And your eldest brother,” Maximus added, glancing toward Eirwen, “will remain to manage the internal affairs of the duchy.”
Grand Prince Eirwen nodded. “As the heir, it falls to me.”
Mariana turned to him instinctively. “Brother…”
Eirwen’s gaze softened slightly. “We won’t be gone long.”
But that wasn’t reassuring. Not when everything was happening at once.
Maximus continued. “Aguerico.”
Grand Prince Aguerico straightened. “I’ll be leading the knights to the South.”
“South?” Mariana repeated.
“There are reports of rebel movement there as well.” Aguerico said simply. “If they’re coordinating, we need to cut them off early.”
Her stomach sank further.
Multiple locations…?
This wasn’t random.
“Alistair.” Maximus called.
Grand Prince Alistair, who had been leaning lazily against the wall, pushed himself upright with a sigh. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” He waved a hand. “Small kingdom. Gaaquiel. Suspicious new organization. I’ll go snoop around.”
Mariana blinked. “… you’re going alone?”
He grinned. “I prefer it that way.”
That didn’t help her nerves.
“And your mother...” Maximus said lastly.
Grand Duchess Darelene smiled gently. “I’ve been invited for diplomatic talks.”
“… another kingdom?” Mariana asked.
“Yes.” Darelene nodded. “It cannot be postponed.”
Silence. Everything clicked into place. One by one. Every single member of her family had a reason—a valid, unavoidable reason—to leave. And that left—
“… me.” Mariana whispered.
Maximus looked at her. “You will represent the Forebros Grand Dukedom.”
Her breath hitched.
“Attend the Crown Prince’s birthday,” he continued, “as our sole representative.”
Alone. Again, that word.
Mariana nodded slowly. “… understood.”
I don't have a choice anyway...
But before she could sink too deeply into her thoughts, Maximus stepped closer. Then—unexpectedly—he leaned down and pressed a kiss against her cheek.
Mariana froze.
“Don’t worry too much.” He said, voice softer than before.
Her eyes widened slightly. “Father…”
Eirwen stepped forward next, placing a hand lightly on her head. “We’ll be back as soon as possible.”
Aguerico crossed his arms but gave her a small nod. “Try not to cause trouble.”
“That’s my line.” Alistair snorted.
Darelene gently cupped Mariana’s face. “Be careful.”
Mariana swallowed. “… I will.”
But something still felt off. Very off.
—
The next morning came too quickly. Mariana barely felt like she had slept at all before she was being shaken awake by maids.
“Grand Princess Mariana, please wake up.”
“Mmm… five more minutes…” She mumbled, half-asleep.
“No, Your Highness. We have preparations.”
Preparations...?
Her eyes snapped open. “… right.”
The party.
She sat up slowly, dread settling into her chest. From that moment on, she had no control over her own body. Dresses. One after another.
“No, too dark.”
“This one doesn’t highlight her complexion.”
“The silhouette is wrong.”
“Too plain.”
Too much. Too little. Too something.
Mariana stood there like a mannequin as maids circled her, adjusting, replacing, criticizing. “I feel... like livestock..." She muttered under her breath.
No one heard her. Or maybe they ignored it. Colors were debated endlessly.
“Pastel suits her better.”
“No, something brighter—”
“No, elegance is key.”
Fabric brushed against her skin over and over again. Corsets tightened. Loosened. Tightened again. Her head started to ache.
And then, “Grand Princess Mariana, you mustn’t eat.”
She froze. “… excuse me?”
“Her Grace’s orders,” a maid said gently. “We must maintain your figure.”
Mariana stared at her. “Yo-You’re joking.”
“We can provide water.” That was worse.
“Ju-Just... water?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Mariana felt her soul leave her body.
This is torture...!
Hours passed. Massage oils. Hair treatments. Skin care. Perfumes. Accessories. Her body felt like it didn’t belong to her anymore. And all the while, that feeling. That creeping, unsettling feeling.
Something's wrong.
Her thoughts wouldn’t stop circling back. Her family gone. Rebels appearing everywhere. A new organization in another kingdom. And... Zafiel.
Her chest tightened. “I don’t like this…” She whispered under her breath.
But no one noticed.
By the time they finished, the sky had already darkened. Mariana stood before the mirror. And for a moment, she didn’t recognize herself.
A pastel pink off-shoulder gown hugged her figure perfectly, soft fabric flowing elegantly down to the floor. Gold embroidery shimmered faintly under the candlelight, delicate and refined.
Her hair had been styled into a messy braided bun—intentional, controlled imperfection that somehow made her look even more graceful.
And around her neck, the amethyst necklace. Still there. Always there. She reached up instinctively.
It doesn't budge! ... of course, it never did.
“… tch.”
Behind her—
“Oh my…”
“She’s beautiful…”
“Like a goddess…”
The maids whispered, eyes wide with admiration. Mariana stared at her reflection.
Beautiful...? Maybe...
But all she felt was—uneasiness Like she was walking into something she couldn’t escape from. Like a stage had been prepared. And she was already standing at the center of it.
Her fingers clenched slightly. “… I really don’t want to go.” But she would. Because she had to.
And somewhere far away, someone was waiting.