“Your two brothers must have taken after him,” Dana went on. “They were so gentle. The nanny who raised them used to say she barely had to lift a finger.”
Eugene’s smile faded, a slow dread curling in her stomach.
“…And me?” she asked warily.
“You…” Dana drew out the word, pretending to think, “you didn’t take after your father. You took after me.”
“Mother,” Eugene said flatly, narrowing her eyes.
Marianne, seated nearby, lifted her teacup and politely turned away, though the corner of her mouth twitched with suppressed laughter.
Dana’s tone took on a teasing lilt. “If something didn’t suit you, you would cry so hard you nearly stopped breathing. Sometimes, you’d even convulse. I can’t tell you how terrified I was. I’d raised two boys before you and never seen anything like it. I panicked and summoned every nanny who’d looked after me as a child.”
She laughed softly, the memory still vivid. “One of them took one look at you and said, ‘Goodness, if this child isn’t the young lady’s daughter, I don’t know who is. She’s exactly like you when you were little.’”
Dana glanced at her daughter with affection as Eugene slumped back, groaning in defeat.
Her mother’s tone grew more tender.
“But over the years, you’ve calmed. You’ve grown.”
Eugene met her mother’s gaze, understanding the unspoken meaning behind her words. With Marianne in the room, Dana had chosen her phrasing with care—but Eugene heard what was truly being said.
What kind of person would I be if I’d lived my whole life in this world?
The thought passed through Eugene’s mind like a whisper. Her soul, flung into this world by a cruel twist of fate, had been forced to grow in an unforgiving environment. There had never been space for her to fully be herself. Bit by bit, her sharper edges had been ground away. Each wound she endured taught her restraint—how to hold back, how to endure. If one wanted to be generous, they could say she’d matured.
“What if Rohid grows up to be as stubborn as a mule?” she said, half in jest, half in genuine concern. “I worry I won’t be able to handle him properly.”
“If the parents stand tall and upright, so will the child,” Dana replied calmly. “You and the Fourth King need only lead by example.”
Eugene smiled faintly. “You’re right. There’s no need to worry. That man is his father, after all.”
A faint sound signaled the approach of a maid, and their conversation paused. Before the maid could speak, Eugene’s expression lit up with anticipation.
“The prince must be awake from his nap,” she said.
“Yes, Your Highness,” the maid replied with a bow.
“Is he on his way here?”
“Yes, but…” The maid hesitated. “His Highness insists on walking by himself.”
“What?” Eugene said, startled.
Even for an adult, the distance between the nursery and this room was no short stroll. For a toddler who had only just begun to toddle with support, the journey could take all afternoon. The attendants following him at his pace would be exhausted—and more importantly, Rohid could make himself ill from the exertion. He had before.
Clicking her tongue, Eugene rose from her seat.
“I’d better go fetch him myself.”
Though only a few hours had passed, the mere thought of seeing her son’s face again brought a smile to Eugene’s lips and urgency to her steps. Watching her hasten off, Dana let out a soft chuckle.
“What’s got her in such a rush?”
“…There was never a time I was happy to see His Majesty act like an adult,” Marianne said quietly. “He never had parents he could be a child with. The late king was… a stern man.”
Dana glanced sideways. Marianne’s eyes were glistening red. Without a word, Dana lifted her teacup and took a slow sip.
“It warms my heart to see the young prince so loved by his mother,” Marianne continued. “The palace I once knew was cold, rigid, and lonely. But somehow, it’s grown so warm. Truly, I couldn’t ask for more.”
Dana felt much the same. Having once believed her daughter lost forever, now to see her living a full and happy life with a family of her own—there was nothing more to wish for.
***
Just before the active season began, Kasser had been away on a multi-day circuit of the desert. He returned late at night.
The first thing he did upon arrival—still covered in grit—was ask the chief chamberlain after his wife and son. Hearing that all was well, he gave a short nod, satisfied.
After washing off the thick layers of sand, he stepped out of the bath only to be met by an official rushing in with a stack of urgent documents. One glance told him the night was far from over—he would be heading to the office instead of bed.
But before that, he made a quiet detour to the queen’s chambers.
The curtains had been drawn, letting in a soft spill of moonlight. In the dim glow, he saw the two of them asleep together. One adult-sized silhouette, and one much smaller form nestled beside it. Both were turned partly on their sides, curled up in nearly identical poses.
He moved quietly to sit at the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb them. The blanket had slipped down to Eugene’s waist, so he gently pulled it back up to her chest. The night air had turned cooler—perhaps a sign the active season was near.
“…When did you get back?” Eugene mumbled, half-asleep. She had become a light sleeper since giving birth.
“Just now,” he whispered.
Her lips curved faintly, eyes still closed. “You know… today, Rohid walked five steps all by himself.”
“In just those few days?” he said, surprise flickering in his voice.
She let out a soft laugh and added, “You should’ve seen his face when he plopped down after five steps. He looked absolutely devastated—like the world had ended.”
Their hushed voices fell silent when Rohid stirred in his sleep.
“Is he awake?” Kasser asked in a whisper.
“No,” Eugene murmured after a moment, watching him closely.
They both exhaled in quiet relief, exchanging smiles laced with amusement. Then, leaning closer, Kasser pressed a series of gentle kisses—first to her lips, then her nose, and finally the corners of her eyes.
“I’ve got some work to take care of,” he said softly. “Go back to sleep.”
“Mmh… See you in the morning.”
At the door, he paused and looked back. For a moment, he stood there, still and silent, taking in the sight of his wife and child nestled together in the warm embrace of sleep. No painting, no matter how masterful the hand behind it, could ever rival such a perfect image. The fatigue of days spent crossing the desert lifted from his shoulders in an instant.
***
The next morning brought unwelcome news.
“That creature has shown itself again?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the aide confirmed gravely.
The beast—centipede-like in form—had once again appeared near the outer wall. Its purpose, as before, remained unclear.
It had first surfaced during the last active season, and Kasser had personally driven it off twice. Still, the creature returned twice more before the season’s end, lingering for hours before vanishing without a trace.
“I understand,” Kasser said. “Maintain close surveillance. If there’s any change in its behavior, report to me at once.”
“Yes, sire.”
As the aide withdrew, Kasser stood and made up his mind—this time, he would speak to Eugene about it.
