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As soon as the red velvet was swept aside, my eyes met a pair of purple ones. They belonged to Vasily, the Crown Prince of the Ohalla Empire and my elder brother.
“Larisa.”
Vasily didn't look stern. Instead, he let out a hollow laugh, looking at me as if I were utterly absurd, before scooping me up and trapping me in his arms. Only then did he pinch my cheek with a mock-scolding expression, though it wasn't scary or painful.
“I wondered where this cute little troublemaker had disappeared to. You certainly tried your best to coax Valentin. Unfortunately, you picked the wrong target.”
I thought so too. Of all the people to get caught by, why did it have to be that Crown Prince's lapdog!
Vasily, who knew nothing of my hollow frustration, apologized with a troubled look to the beauty—the one called Valentin.
“My apologies, Valentin. I assume this child threatened you with all sorts of reasons?”
“She did warn me that she would shave my head bald if I did not assist her.”
I've never seen such a heartless fellow in my life.
In my thirteen years of existence, I had never met someone so stubborn. Did he not feel a shred of pity for a young girl who was about to get scolded by the Crown Prince? Did he really have to report it exactly as it happened? Does this cold-blooded man have no sympathy for a child who secretly skipped class just to meet a Yorkshire Terrier?
“What? Now there is truly nothing you won't say, Larisa. I cannot let today's incident slide. I shall have to inform Mother later.”
Vasily pulled at my cheek, his gaze growing more solemn. Of course, it didn't hurt at all, but my mood had already been fouled beyond repair.
“You were unlucky this time, Princess Larisa. You chose a most unsuitable collaborator.”
The Chamberlain, who had ratted out my disappearance to Vasily, whispered spitefully. I couldn't take it anymore. I pointed a finger at the mean, silver-haired beauty, Valentin, who was standing there blankly.
“Wait! I am Princess Larisa Nikolaevna Novarov. If you don't want to suffer later because of today, shut up and tell me your name.”
Valentin's lips curled upward in a clear expression of ridicule.
“I cannot give my name to someone who boasted about shaving my head. I shall strive to stay out of Your Highness's sight from now on. May I take my leave, Prince Vasily?”
“Yes, you must be tired, so go and rest. Do not take this child's words to heart.”
“Where do you think you're going? Tell me your family name! Wait, I said stop! No, fine, just tell me your family and then go!”
The arrogant Valentin didn't even pretend to be intimidated as he brushed past me while I was held by Vasily.
I glared at him with wide eyes, hoping he would look back even once, but he simply continued on his way. I could only be escorted away helplessly, grinding my teeth in a vow of revenge.
Though I had sworn revenge, that momentum didn't last long.
There were several reasons, but the biggest was likely that two days had passed since then. Secondly, unlike Mother, Father doesn't nag me much for mere truancy. Thirdly, it wasn't as if I had skipped history class for some grand reason.
I simply hated history class.
'It's not just that I hate it; it's the worst.'
Math, geography, foreign languages, theology, and arts and sports classes like piano, painting, and horseback riding weren't bad. Only history class was hateful. To be more precise, Imperial History was fine. It was the Royal Family History class that I hated.
Every member of the royal family, starting around the age of twelve when they leave the care of their tutors, is required to take Royal Family History to instill pride and dignity as a member of the Novarov Imperial House. Therefore, as the second daughter and youngest princess of the Ohalla Empire, Royal Family History was a subject as important as foreign languages.
This class was boring to death.
It wasn't exciting like national history, it wasn't a headache like foreign languages or math, and it wasn't fun like cricket or horseback riding. It was just, simply, dreadfully boring. The most terrible flaw of this class, where one had to read and memorize every single long-winded boast of the ancestors, was the escapeless boredom.
How terrible was it? Every time history class approached, my stomach would ache, and I would shiver with a sudden, unprecedented chill.
I felt sorry for the professor, Sir Bercha, but I intended to continue skipping history class whenever I had the chance. However, this truancy wouldn't hinder my life in any significant way. After all, I was a noble, intelligent, and promising princess.
Setting my complaints aside, there was a fourth reason why my interest in that beauty of an ambiguous age—neither boy nor man—named 'Valentin' had cooled.
Among the few and narrow circle of people around me due to my birth, the person most knowledgeable about this fourth reason was Tatyana, the eldest daughter of the Novarov Imperial House and my biological sister, four years my senior.
“You spend all your time inside the castle, so it's only natural you wouldn't know. He is the eldest son of the Dmitriev family, and he was granted two life peerages before even reaching the age of majority. He turns seventeen this year and is scheduled for his coming-of-age ceremony next month. It will be quite a sight.”
“At seventeen? How is that possible?”
The silverware, sparkling in the morning sunlight, clinked softly. Tatyana, who had elegantly scooped up some cranberries, chewed and swallowed before answering.
“My little kitten, Lara. Were you dozing off during theology class? Valentin Dmitriev is a prophet of gabhilism, the first born in nearly a century. Thanks to his prophecy, the Kingdom of Cherensko, which avoided the Great Flood, granted him land and the title of Baron. Over five thousand people had their lives saved. For a similar reason, he likely received a sizable estate and the title of Viscount from the Kingdom of Oblonsky. He is also the Pope's absolute favorite, so he must have been mentioned constantly in theology class.”
Having finished her long explanation on my behalf, as I was ignorant of politics, Tatyana took a handkerchief and gently dabbed the corners of my mouth. After a few dabs, she smiled with satisfaction and whispered, kissing my cheek.
“So, try not to take an interest in him. Vasily and I will carefully select and filter the perfect person to be your husband. Valentin's name won't even make it onto the preliminary list.”
I thought he just had a great face, but he's a hero who made a name for himself everywhere without even relying on his family's reputation?
The strangely relaxed and arrogant attitude he showed two days ago began to make some sense. Not that everything about him was understandable, though.
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“He's so great, so why can't he marry me? Is he really better than me, a princess? He isn't.”
“Don't go around saying things like that, Lara. One must always be humble. How many times do I have to tell you that looking down on others based on status is an unbecoming attitude for royalty?”
The one who spoke up instead of Tatyana was Ivan, the second son of the Novarov Imperial House and Tatyana's fraternal twin. I looked at Ivan, who was barely touching his breakfast, and asked Tatyana again.
“So why can't he marry me?”
“Are you ignoring me?”
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