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“You’re the one who needs to stay sharp, Valentin. Don’t forget that I am the Princess. If I so much as get a tiny scratch, you’ll have to pay for it.”
“I’ll do my best. It’s my first time carrying someone else, after all.”
What?
At that moment, Lara’s hind legs kicked off with even greater force.
My hair, fluttering wildly in the headwind, blocked my vision. The trouble was that I hadn't even thought to tie my hair back, having been granted permission to accompany them so suddenly. This consistently rude man! I shouted at the top of my lungs.
“You said it’s your first time! Will you take responsibility if I fall off? Ride slower! No, walk for a bit first, and then run once I’m used to it!”
Valentin’s chest, pressed against my back, heaved slightly. Was he mocking me? Before I could be consumed by the question, a low voice whispered in my ear.
“I am not the one running; Lara is. She’s a very swift friend, much like her owner. How about renaming her ‘Swift Lara’?”
Despite the dizzying surroundings, Valentin’s clear voice shot into my head like an arrow, embedding itself firmly. Ignoring the goosebumps rising up my spine, I gripped the reins tighter.
Lara running? He must be lying. He was clearly trying to torment me. This was absolutely not a victim complex. Was his request to ride with Vasily just a ploy to scare me?
“Relax your right thigh more.”
Nevertheless, Valentin’s riding skills were surprisingly stable; even while perched lightly on the saddle, my body didn't sway much. It was partly thanks to the irritating fact that Valentin corrected my posture whenever I started to forget.
After crossing the meadow, the speed gradually decreased. As the gallop transitioned into a trot, I felt a strange sense of lingering regret.
Then, the large hand that had been holding the reins with me suddenly reached under my hat and brushed through my stray hairs.
Startled by the sudden action, I froze, forgetting to breathe, but Valentin’s goal was simply to neatly tuck my disheveled hair behind my ear.
“Look straight ahead.”
“I’ve been doing that for a while.”
I barely managed to swallow a sigh that threatened to escape. Stuttering like an idiot was the embarrassment of a lifetime. Valentin must have heard it, right? He probably thinks I'm some dim-witted Princess who is all talk.
“A nightjar is singing. It’s a migratory bird that flies to Ohala between spring and summer.”
“...Its song is cute. I wonder if it looks cute too?”
In truth, I hadn't heard it. I didn't have the luxury to focus on such things.
“No, it’s not particularly cute. It’s closer to being ugly, like little Lara.”
“What?”
“I said it’s closer to being ugly, like little Lara.”
I stealthily turned my head to glare at Valentin. 'Little Lara' was indeed the name of my pony. I admit she's ugly. But the fact that he compared her to me—since my height and build are significantly smaller than those of my peers—somehow made me uncomfortable. And when on earth did he see my pony?
Pretending not to notice, I ignored his lesson as he pointed to a random bird taking flight, claiming, ‘That is a nightjar.’ He hadn't even checked with binoculars; how could he know what species a bird flying away so quickly was? Does he really take me for a fool?
“Valentin.”
As the sun dipped, a red twilight settled over the waist of the city of Makhachkala.
Vasily, who had tied his horse to a small stump next to a large zelkova tree, approached us. He reached out his hand to me and made a light request.
“Lara, you go rest by the lake for a moment.”
Being lowered to the ground in his arms, I turned away habitually. Normally, children aren't allowed to join adult conversations. Although I am very intelligent and mature for a thirteen-year-old, I knew that in times like this, playing the part of a quiet child as they expect makes it easier to get whatever I want.
“That is fine. There are parts I wish to ask the Princess as well.”
Me?
“How about asking her separately later?”
“It concerns something I must tell the Crown Prince.”
I glanced at Vasily. He studied Valentin’s face with a sharp gaze, as if weighing his intentions, then gave a crisp nod.
I quietly approached the zelkova tree and sat down, huddling with my knees pulled up. Vasily asked,
“Fine. Then I shall ask first. You mentioned there is a prophecy to deliver to me; is this truly a matter that can be disclosed only to me and not the Holy See?”
“I have never converted to gabhilism.”
“I am aware you have no such obligation. However, you have no obligation to inform only me, either.”
While Vasily and Valentin spoke, I picked up a fallen twig and poked around the dry vegetation. A prophecy. I wonder if he can tell me tomorrow's weather.
“They might become bothersome if they find out. But as long as the three of us here keep our mouths shut, nothing will happen, will it?”
“You’re being uncharacteristically careless, Valentin.”
“You understand, don’t you, Princess? Our future depends on your lips. The conversation we have here today must never leak outside.”
What kind of prophecy? Tomorrow's weather? I answered indifferently.
“Yeah.”
If it was a prophecy to be told secretly only to Vasily, that would be one thing, but if it was a prophecy I was allowed to overhear, it was obvious it would be something trivial. For example, that Valentin would go bald early... or that someone in the imperial family would get a severe stomach ache in a few days...
But the reality was different.
“Crown Prince Vasily Nikolayevich Novarov. In the future, Your Highness will ascend the throne and become infamous as the Tyrant Vasily, only to lose your life to rebel agents and assassins in the fourth year of your reign. This is a future exactly seventeen years from today, and thereafter, Grand Duke Tatyana, who was practically Your Highness's strategist, will follow the same path.”
Unable to say a word, I could only roll my eyes and look at Vasily.
Tyrant? Agents? Valentin’s gaze, so cold and frigid it felt as though it had been tempered in an iceberg, was fixed near Vasily's brow.
The face I hate most. My skin crawled.
Instinctively, I approached Vasily and gripped his hand tightly. Normally, Vasily would have looked at me with a puzzled expression to meet my eyes, but now he was indifferent, as if he had erased my very existence from his sight. Instead, he asked Valentin in a flat voice,
“Just in case I'm mistaken. Are you joking right now?”
“Would that be better?”
Vasily fell silent for a moment.
“What about Ivan and Larisa?”
“Unfortunately, I did not see a future regarding those two. To be precise, it would be more accurate to say they ‘have no future.’”
The atmosphere turned sour. Vasily let go of my hand and glanced at my face.
“Lara, pretend you didn't hear this and go to the lake...”
“No, I wish to hear the Princess's opinion.”
“Do not cross the line, Valentin. I am already granting you enough convenience. I suggest you stay behind that line.”
I grabbed Vasily's hand again. The more monotonous his voice became, the more desperately I clung to him. Tyrant, tyrant. I do not believe blindly in prophecies. Nevertheless, among the future Valentin spat out, the word 'tyrant' alone refused to leave my ears.
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