Chapter – 15
“Ah… Mrs. Tilly…”
The other ladies gasped in surprise at her appearance. Even Lady Huliam looked somewhat embarrassed.
Mia Huliam glanced briefly at Psyche before turning her gaze to Mrs. Tilly and asked,
“Um, did I invite you to the salon? As far as I know, your name wasn’t on the guest list.”
“I didn’t come for the salon itself. I just stopped by because my son Warren is here. I also wanted to greet the Marchioness, of course…”
“Still, this isn’t really appropriate. It’d be better if you visited another time.”
“Oh my, was I really that much of a bother?”
Mrs. Tilly pressed her hand to her cheek as if she didn’t know any better.
The more pretentious she acted, the more nervous the other ladies became.
For a moment, all eyes shifted to Psyche, who was quietly holding her teacup.
Since the two of them were together at the center of gossip, it was natural that attention would focus on them.
Psyche, feeling slightly awkward under the concentrated gaze of the ladies, shifted her eyes.
Mrs. Tilly assumed that the delicate princess would become flustered.
Would that fragile little princess run off in tears?
Perhaps.
Even if she didn’t, Tilly thought she could make such a weak little girl cry in less than three minutes.
But Psyche Doson seemed to think for a moment, then set down her teacup and said softly, smiling,
“Well, since you’re here, why don’t you sit, Mrs. Tilly?”
“…Excuse me?”
It was Mia Huliam who asked.
Surprised by the unexpected response, Mrs. Tilly blinked at Psyche.
“I don’t mind; we can all enjoy the tea together. Ah, of course, if the Marchioness is okay with it.”
“Well… I suppose so…”
With Psyche’s approval, Mia felt awkward trying to push Mrs. Tilly away.
Mia took it as Psyche being considerate of her position and guided Mrs. Tilly to a seat, even exchanging a look with Psyche.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Tilly narrowed her green eyes, studying Psyche as if trying to discern her intentions.
What on earth is she thinking?
When Warren and Psyche were betrothed, she had thought Psyche was a pampered, pretty, utterly politically naive princess.
A princess raised with so much love that she seemed too delicate to withstand anything.
Mrs. Tilly quickly replaced her deadly glare with a painted-on smile.
“Oh my, thank you for letting me join despite being late. The scent of the tea is wonderful as well.”
“Yes, the Marchioness brought it from the Eastern Continent.”
The other ladies, not wanting to antagonize her, chimed in politely. Psyche sipped her tea quietly.
Although both Psyche and Mrs. Tilly were center stage, the conversation remained calm, as the attendees were experienced members of high society.
Yet it was unexpected that Psyche, newly arrived from Doson, could sit and sip tea as if she were accustomed to this world.
I heard she’s only been here two weeks, yet she seems so familiar with our society.
Mia glanced at Psyche and thought.
“Oh, I see. You invited southern poets for a reading, yes? Our Warren likes southern writers very much.”
Mrs. Tilly smoothly shifted the conversation to herself and her son.
Ever since she had found her lost son, her world revolved around Warren.
“Lately, he’s been reading novels, saying he wants to try writing. Now that the heavy burden of the dukedom is gone, he seems intent on doing what he wants.”
The other ladies gave her a slightly disapproving look.
Everyone knew the story of Warren, who had become disabled due to his foster brother and had to leave his family.
Mrs. Tilly lowered her cheerful voice and continued with a hint of sadness, tears welling in her eyes.
“In truth, Warren had a talent for dancing too. Every morning, he would practice swordplay to feel refreshed. Seeing him, sweating and smiling, was so lovely.”
Tears shimmered in Mrs. Tilly’s green eyes.
As she quickly turned her face to hide them, a lady beside her anxiously handed over a handkerchief.
“Please, don’t cry, madam.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Such a scene at a gathering…”
“….”
“Now that I think he’ll never take steps on his own… it breaks my heart.”
The other ladies glanced nervously at Psyche.
Mrs. Tilly then brought up Ekali.
“Perhaps I offended ‘that child’. He must have thought he would be the duke for so long… so he probably wanted to keep a wary eye on the sudden return of a brother.”
She dabbed her tears and spoke plaintively.
“I wanted Warren and that child to get along, and Warren tried too… but it didn’t work. That child wanted to hold on to what he had. Perhaps he thought, being an orphan, he would end up on the streets again.”
Mrs. Tilly referred to Ekali as “that child,” almost as if she didn’t even want to say his name, though most didn’t notice.
The other ladies frowned, feeling uncomfortable.
“They don’t know all the details, but hang in there, madam.”
Psyche could intuitively see the pity forming around Mrs. Tilly.
But Psyche Doson knew how Mrs. Tilly and the former duke had treated Ekali after finding Warren.
After finding her son, they busied themselves showing Warren in society.
Since he had been lost for years, that was understandable—but Ekali, who had lived as a prince for years, was abandoned again.
They could have just given Warren the dukedom verbally. Then maybe Ekali would have given up. Why did they hit him, abuse him, threaten him to die? Why don’t they mention that part?
The returned son became the center of social events, and Ekali could not step out of the mansion for a year.
Psyche hadn’t even known whether Ekali was alive or dead during that time.
He only ventured out on rare occasions, when diplomacy required it.
The next time Psyche met him was at her eighteenth birthday banquet.
No matter how small the country, a princess’s invitation to her birthday had to be accepted, so she had sent one deliberately.
Ekali had changed so much over the years.
A dark, gloomy aura covered his pale face.
The radiant light of her childhood first love had dimmed, replaced by a shadowy, oppressive presence.
Wounds peeked through his thin shirt.
From his veined hands to his shoulders, red scars—fresh ones repeatedly reopened before fully healing—marked him.
Seeing them, Psyche inhaled sharply.
“…Ekali. What happened to your back? And your arms?”
Before he could speak, Psyche rolled up his sleeves to check the injuries.
Whipped, scarred, and fresh wounds marked his skin.
At least the corporal punishment had been less frequent since the banquet; new flesh was barely growing on his arms and back.
Who dared punish the prince of the empire like this?
Anger boiled inside her. She wanted to curse whoever had done this.
“Who would do such a thing…”
At that moment, Psyche stopped herself.
Very few could dare punish a prince of the empire.
But why?
Parents loved their children, cherished them as their lives.
Even a princess like Psyche, raised as a treasured daughter after her queen mother passed early, couldn’t imagine being beaten by her father.
Psyche looked at Ekali, voice trembling.
“…Was it your father? The duke?”
“….”
“Why won’t you say anything?”
Psyche, having been loved all her life by her family, trembled and nearly wept.
“What could have happened to them to allow this…?”
Ekali, now twenty-three, looked at her tiredly.
“Do you mean I’m at fault?”
“No. I didn’t mean that.”
Ekali tried to explain, but with a hurt expression, he glanced at her and returned to the empire.
From that day on, Psyche wrote him letters at least once a week.
She wrote about trivial matters: the weather, the name of a bird they had raised, losing a shoe by the lake.
No replies came, yet she couldn’t stop.
Sometimes, she would find newspaper articles about him appearing in society and feel relieved, knowing he was alive.
Psyche worried that he might suffer corporal punishment again or even give up on life entirely, making it hard for her to breathe.
Until the day Warren’s engagement to the Dmeiosis family was fixed, she continued sending letters, unanswered but persistent.
“Goodness, how shameless. Sitting as if she owned the salon when she wasn’t even invited.”
Royle Huens sneered, glancing at Mrs. Tilly.
By then, Mrs. Tilly had taken the center seat of the salon, supported by other ladies’ polite concern. Even the gentlemen who had stepped out for cigars returned to see her in place.
Psyche seized the moment of bustle and stood beside Royle.
“Are you alright?” he asked, concern on his face.
