The welcoming banquet had devolved into this chaos—something the Emperor could never have predicted. Now, no one had any appetite for food or drink. The Emperor hesitated, wondering whether to dismiss the unrelated guests and let the main parties handle the rest themselves.
Prince Damien of Southlyn seemed to read the Emperor's mind. Before the Emperor could speak, Damien, as if muttering to himself, said, "That's strange. By rights, Miss Feng is hardly lacking in beauty. With such a living, breathing stunner in his hands, how did Crown Prince Terrence manage to resist? If it were me, I certainly wouldn't have been able to hold back."
So Crown Prince Terrence had Serena Feng in his grasp, and still let her keep her innocence? Did Terrence suddenly grow a conscience and decide to spare her? No, that can't be right—if he truly had a conscience, he wouldn't have targeted Miss Feng at all. So maybe, just maybe, Crown Prince Terrence isn't... capable?
Prince Damien put on an expression of sudden realization, then quickly shut his mouth—as if he'd just noticed he'd said something he shouldn't have.
Uh... With those words, Prince Damien had voiced everyone's secret suspicions. The throne hall fell silent. No one dared to speak.
At a moment like this, a single wrong word could be fatal. Everyone stared at Crown Prince Terrence, waiting to see how he'd explain himself. If he couldn't clear this up, soon the whole realm would know: Crown Prince Terrence is not a man!
Serena Feng suddenly realized that this venomous snake, Prince Damien, was actually kind of cute—so long as he wasn't aiming his poison at her. The way he was needling Crown Prince Terrence was almost endearing.
Not capable!
For a man, this was the greatest humiliation. To be called 'not capable' as a crown prince—how could Terrence endure it? His handsome face turned pale, then flushed, and the mixture of pity and contempt in the eyes of those present made him feel even more exposed. If not for his pride and position, he would have stormed out right then.
In that moment, he finally understood just how much courage Serena Feng must have needed when she walked the streets, facing the pointing fingers and scornful stares all alone.
Crown Prince Terrence shot a fierce glare at Prince Damien, but Damien refused to back down and met his challenge head-on.
Embarrassed? Angry? Heartbroken? Aggrieved?
Crown Prince Terrence, just grit your teeth and take it. This is only the beginning. Once Princess Yara marries into Eastlyn, she'll get the same treatment. She wants to play the noblewoman? Fine—I'll make sure every lady in the capital looks down on her, and every woman in the noble circle shuts her out.
Can't do it?
There are things Serena Feng can't do, but this? She's ninety percent sure she can pull it off.
She'd helped Lady Ning, the Heir's Consort, deliver twins and save all three lives. Her reputation was already spreading among the capital's noblewomen. Add to that Second Madam Hsieh's confirmed pregnancy, and those two feats alone were enough to convince the city's elite of her medical skill.
According to Madam Sun, plenty of ladies in the capital were asking about her. If she weren't staying at the Sun estate and it wasn't so inconvenient to receive visitors, those women would've come calling long ago. If she wanted, Serena could make over seventy percent of the city's noblewomen owe her a favor.
These days, nine out of ten married women have gynecological issues.
Cough, cough.
Letting the tension drag on like this was pointless. The Emperor gave a couple of polite coughs, breaking the stare-down between Crown Prince Terrence and Prince Damien. He wanted nothing more than to spark a war between Southlyn and Lyndaria, but he also knew that if things really blew up, the two might just join forces against Eastlyn instead.
Prince Damien of Southlyn was fanning Crown Prince Terrence's anger toward Eastlyn. If he proposed an alliance, the two countries might join forces—and Eastlyn would be the one to suffer.
"Third Prince, enough joking," the Emperor said, feigning displeasure as he rebuked Prince Damien. Damien had no intention of truly falling out with Crown Prince Terrence, so when the Emperor offered him a way out, he took it and laughed heartily.
"Your Majesty, you're being too harsh. I was only following Miss Feng's logic and voicing my own speculation. There's no need to get angry—see, even Crown Prince Terrence isn't bothered. The innocent have nothing to fear. I know Terrence's character well; when he was choosing a consort in Southlyn, plenty of noble ladies admired him, some even willing to follow him without caring about their status." Damien's words were half slap, half sweet talk.
"Third Prince, you flatter me. Southlyn's noble ladies are elegant and gentle—I could never bear to wrong them." Crown Prince Terrence was no fool. A moment ago he'd been at odds with Prince Damien, and now the two were smiling like old friends.
Politics has no permanent enemies, no permanent friends—only permanent interests. In this back-and-forth, Crown Prince Terrence was clearly considering an alliance with Prince Damien.
Really, Damien's words sounded like mockery, but were actually a reminder: Terrence was in this humiliating position because of Eastlyn. The two of them shared a common enemy.
Serena Feng quietly wiped her brow, shedding a mental tear for the Emperor. He was going to have a headache over this. But none of it concerned her—as long as she kept herself safe. After tonight, her feud with the Lyndarian royal family was out in the open.
And of course, her feud with Prince Rowan was now public too. Serena glanced at Rowan's brooding face and found herself feeling a bit sorry for him.
Prince Rowan was truly a tragic figure. He wanted both power and beauty, but the throne was still far away—and the beauty had already become his brother's wife.
Serena's gaze on Prince Rowan was so intense that he couldn't ignore it, even if he tried. When he looked up, he caught the unmistakable sympathy in her eyes.
Sympathy?
Prince Rowan's expression turned cold, his eyes flashing. But when he realized Serena Feng meant no harm, and remembered his injured leg, he suddenly couldn't face her and awkwardly looked away.
Serena Feng had never owed him anything. It was always he who owed her. Without Serena, he might already be dead—or, if he'd survived, he'd be a crippled prince with no hope of competing for the throne.
Thinking of this, Prince Rowan's face softened a little. He wanted to tell Serena he wasn't upset anymore, but when he looked up, she was no longer watching him.
A faint ache tugged at his heart, as if he'd lost something important.
When you looked at me, I didn't care; but now that I want to look at you, I find your eyes no longer hold me.
That thought came out of nowhere, leaving Prince Rowan frozen. He wanted to figure out why he felt this way, but just then the Emperor swept his hand, ordering the ministers and courtiers to withdraw. There was no need for unrelated parties to remain.
Everyone loved a good spectacle, but only if it didn't cost them their lives. Matters between nations—even those involving romance—were serious business. The civil and military officials left without hesitation, and Serena Feng was happy to slip out quietly as well.
"Be careful on the road." As she left, Nolan Dongling—Ninth Royal Uncle—made a point of warning her. Serena knew he wouldn't say such a thing without reason; he must have noticed something and wanted her on guard.
Serena nodded, indicating she understood.
Careful? An assassination attempt?
If that's really the case, things could get ugly...