Chapter 6: Blood Price of a Crown

Clarissa, sensing his unease, smiled. "She’s been Crown Princess for years and still comes and goes as she pleases. If she says she won’t come, she doesn’t. I really envy her. Don’t worry, Your Highness. She won’t get into trouble. She just wants you to worry a little. Maybe it’s childish, but… maybe that’s how you two are."

For the first time in seven years, Sebastian hesitated. Doubt crept in, twisting his certainty like a knife.

Seeing him frozen, Clarissa gently offered, "You barely ate breakfast. Let me have them make lunch—"

"No need."

Still restless, Sebastian hurried to Elise’s rooms, his footsteps quickening with every step.

Dark clouds gathered outside, threatening rain. Elise’s vegetable garden looked wilted. She’d only had one maid, now wringing her handkerchief anxiously by the fence.

"Your Highness, the Crown Princess always did everything herself. She never let me help…"

Sebastian’s heart twisted.

He remembered the east wing, the days when he didn’t know where his next meal would come from. If the kitchen staff showed up, it was a lucky day. If his brothers intercepted them, then he went hungry.

After he brought Elise into his life, she never seemed to realize a prince could go hungry. She paced the courtyard for days, then finally laughed one afternoon, saying soon they’d have their own little kitchen.

Only then did Sebastian realize—she wasn’t worrying about when to leave, but about how to plant fruit and vegetables in that barren courtyard.

Plant in spring, harvest in fall—peaches, plums, and a yard full of green.

Elise found an old hoe, tied it with rope, and filled half the yard with plants, muttering to herself all the while. That desolate place suddenly felt more alive than the grandest banquet.

Thinking of this, Sebastian smiled, remembering how he’d never been invited to a royal banquet. Even at last year’s autumn hunt, he was only there because the second prince needed someone to take the blame.

He stood under the eaves for a while, and it was as if he could hear Elise reciting old nursery rhymes: "Grandpa hoes beans east of the stream, Elise weaves chicken cages."

No, that’s not right—it’s the eldest son who hoes beans, the middle son who weaves cages…

Elise couldn’t read, but she could cook, plant, and defend herself.

When the second prince framed Sebastian, his mother’s few words sealed his fate. By the time Elise heard, Sebastian’s back was already bloodied.

She raced to Lady Marston’s rooms, nearly tripping as she ran. She’d once saved the ninth prince from drowning, so Lady Marston owed her a favor. The steps at the queen’s wing were steep; Elise tripped and split her chin open. She saved him, but kept the scar.

Storms raged. Sebastian walked inside and saw the arrow on the wall—the one that had wounded Elise.

Her wound had barely healed when, during the royal regatta, the king decided to hold a banquet at the summer palace. Because of the earlier framing, Sebastian was included.

The summer palace was less secure; acrobats and music troupes came and went. Somehow, an assassin slipped in.

A flash of white—a blade aimed straight at the king.

Elise appeared out of nowhere, leaping forward in the chaos and taking the sword in her back.

Old wounds barely healed, new ones added.

Sebastian, frantic, pressed her wound, voice shaking. "You’ll be okay, Elise. You’ll be okay."

He was trying to reassure her—and himself.

Elise survived, again.