chapter 22

Just two days after the incident, the news of Irene's engagement to the nephew of the King of Valerian spread like wildfire. Whispers filled both kingdoms, echoing through halls, corridors, and streets. Everyone was talking about it—about that unexpected engagement.

At the palace, the moment the news reached Selina's ears, she moved like a storm, her steps fueled by anger and disbelief. She burst through her mother's door, shouting:

— "Mother! What is everyone talking about? Has the world gone mad?! How could that filthy rat get engaged to someone of that level?!"

Queen Elvira was seated with complete calm, unmoved by her daughter's outburst. She slowly turned and motioned for the servants to leave, then said quietly:

— "Calm down. There's no need for all this fury."

Selina's anger only intensified. She stepped closer and snapped:

— "What are you talking about?! I'm in a relationship with General Martan and planning to marry him… and that rat gets to marry a king?!"

Her mother gave a faint, sharp smile before responding in a low tone:

— "You were the one who was supposed to take her place... But lucky for you, she was there."

Selina's expression froze. She looked at her mother, confused:

— "What? What are you saying?"

Queen Elvira replied firmly:

— "That little mouse's marriage wasn't by chance... It was planned from the beginning. Your father believed the King of Valerian—the old enemy—didn't deserve a bride of royal blood. So he chose her... and kept her hidden all these years for this exact purpose. All of it… for a few lands that that kingdom will offer your father."

She stood as she continued:

— "That girl will be sent to a kingdom where everyone will despise her from within, due to the war that only recently ended. She will be seen as shame wrapped in a ribbon of politics. That's what she deserves. As for you… you're far too valuable to be sold off like that."

Selina's features relaxed, her brows lifted, and she burst into mocking laughter before saying:

— "So… I was angry for nothing! How ironic… Didn't they say her mother was a spy from Valerian? If that's true, then trash has finally been thrown into the trash bin."

Then she added, amused:

— "But mother, didn't the servants tell you why she was locked up in her room?"

Elvira said coldly:

— "I don't know. She must've understood her position and showed a bit of resistance to the king… and got exactly what she deserved."

Selina laughed again, this time darker:

— "Hehehe… Is she smart for understanding quickly, or stupid for standing up to father? … I hope no one attends her wedding."

Elvira smirked wickedly:

— "No one will. There won't even be a wedding celebration. Just a small ceremony at a chapel."

Selina erupted into hysterical laughter:

— "Oh my god—my stomach… Poor Irene. Did you really think you were royalty just because you had one belated public appearance?"

Then she added, her voice dripping with scorn:

— "Irene… you miserable little wretch… Even if you marry a king, you'll always be a nobody. Father should've married you off to a servant or some nameless guard. But no matter… if this is all just some pathetic alliance, then I don't care anymore."

---

In her isolated wing within the palace, Irene was recovering—slowly.

Despite the pain that still clung to her body, and the fact that she hadn't eaten for days, she hadn't stopped studying. Not for a single day. She ignored her pain as if it didn't exist. She had grown used to hunger since she was a child… and a body that had been humiliated so many times no longer flinched.

A full week passed.

Her confinement finally ended.

Though bruises still marked her body, King Arxen—clever as ever—had struck in places that wouldn't show. No marks on her face, no bruises on her wrists—only hidden ones: ribs, shoulders, thighs… But her soul bore the deepest wounds.

When the servants entered her room that morning, they were shocked by her appearance.

She was thinner than before… her face pale like a fading shadow, and her eyes swollen from sleepless nights. They offered to help her bathe, but she refused with a soft voice—clinging to what dignity she had left.

She sat for the first time in days and silently ate her first meal. A small portion, as if afraid her body would reject it if she ate more.

Later that afternoon, the head servant entered, bowed lightly, and said:

— "Tomorrow, you will resume your studies. By order of the king."

Irene nodded slightly, answering softly:

— "Thank you."

---

The following day, her tutor arrived.

As soon as he stepped into the room, he froze. He stared at Irene in shock, then asked gently:

— "Miss Irene… are you alright?"

She replied with an eerie calm:

— "I'm fine. Shall we begin?"

The tutor sat across from her and opened his notes. But before he could speak, Irene said:

— "I've memorized all the books you gave me."

He blinked in disbelief, then opened one and asked a few questions. To his amazement, she answered confidently and precisely, even quoting passages word for word. He was stunned. How had she managed to learn all of this in just seven days? But he didn't dare ask—the answer was in her eyes.

Then he opened another notebook and said more formally:

— "These are the king's instructions… Everything you need to know about appearing in the royal hall—where nobles and elite councilors gather. From how to tilt your head, to where you sit, when to speak, and when to remain silent."

Irene listened with focused attention.

And in her heart, she whispered:

"You're digging your own graves with your bare hands..."

---

A few days later, the lessons ended.

Irene now knew everything she needed to.

It wasn't much, but in a place like Iscard… it was worth gold.

Irene was changing.

Even the way she thought… the way she planned… had transformed.

And for that—all thanks is to her greatest enemy