The Abandoned Princess’ Secret Bedroom - Chapter 12: Glory Regained

It wasn’t clear what Almandite was scheming, but Llewellyn disliked the idea of him using her preferences as leverage to manipulate her. Even if he took Tristan along, it seemed like he was trying to avoid situations where they would be alone together.

“Sir Jayard, are you knowledgeable about horses?”

“Yes, I am well-versed,” Tristan replied.

“They say the Zakat tribe starts horseback riding as soon as they can walk. Is that true?” Llewellyn asked curiously.

At this, Tristan let out a faint chuckle, catching Llewellyn off guard. It was the first time she had ever seen the normally stoic man display such an expression.

“People like to say that, but children who have just learned to walk don’t have the strength in their legs to ride horses,” Tristan explained.

“I see…” Llewellyn nodded, feeling a bit sheepish at his serious answer.

“Then, at what age do they actually start riding?” Almandite interjected.

The smile on Tristan’s face vanished instantly, replaced by his usual stern expression. Llewellyn didn’t notice the shift, but it was glaringly obvious to Almandite.

“At five years old,” Tristan replied curtly.

“What?” Llewellyn’s eyes widened in shock. While riding from birth might have been an exaggeration, starting at five wasn’t much less astonishing. Seeing her disbelief, Tristan smiled again.

“Sir Jayard,” Almandite spoke up, his tone measured.

“Yes, Duke Hvitserk,” Tristan responded, his gaze steady.

“You are truly a loyal knight.”

Tristan’s expression flickered with confusion at the unexpected comment. Llewellyn, on the other hand, realized what Almandite was getting at.

“I am…”

“Which is why I hope you’ll continue to faithfully serve the princess,” Almandite said with a sly undertone.

What kind of nonsense is this now?

Llewellyn caught a glimpse of Tristan stifling a laugh. It wasn’t a warm or amused smile, but one that bordered on mockery. It was the first time she realized that Tristan’s seemingly stone-like face was capable of such nuanced expressions.

“I am fulfilling my duties well.”

The atmosphere grew tense at Tristan’s sharp response.

These two… are they not on good terms? But why would they be at odds? Surely, it’s Almandite’s attitude that’s strange, right? Jumping straight to speaking informally like that…

Of course, Llewellyn had no intention of getting involved in whatever undercurrent was brewing between them. Instead, she quickly walked over to where Almandite’s horse was tied under a tree.

“Circle!”

The golden horse with its white mane was unmistakably one she had ridden in the past. As soon as Llewellyn approached, the gentle mare grew excited, lowering her neck and pushing her face toward her. Llewellyn let out a delighted laugh, one that came so naturally she didn’t even realize it.

Like the girl she had been before any misfortune had ever touched her, she embraced the horse tightly. A sting of emotion pricked at her nose, but she fought back the wave of sentiment.

“Is this Circle’s foal?” she asked.

“Yes,” came the reply.

Llewellyn turned her attention to the colt tied nearby and extended her hand with a smile. The slightly smaller horse leaned forward and pressed its long snout against her cheek. Llewellyn giggled, delighted.

“Do you like horses, Princess?” Tristan, who had been standing silently, suddenly asked.

Llewellyn shook her head. “I like all animals.”

“…Truly?”

“Yes. When I was young, I raised birds, dogs, cats, and even horses,” she replied brightly, glancing back over her shoulder as she spoke. Her cheerful smile stretched so wide that her cheeks puffed up. Her softly curving eyes flickered toward him briefly before returning to the horse.

Watching her radiant smile, Tristan found himself awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. His throat felt dry, and he swallowed reflexively.

It was then that Almandite spoke.

“Princess, since you’re here, why not take a ride?”

“What?” Llewellyn looked at him, surprised.

“It seems like Circle would love to carry you again,” he said, gesturing to the horse straining against its tether to get closer to her.

Smiling at the eager animal, Llewellyn hesitated for a moment. It had been so long—perhaps it would be nice to ride again.

“I’m not exactly dressed for it… but I suppose taking a quick lap wouldn’t hurt,” she said thoughtfully.

Almandite extended his hand to her, and as she gazed at it, her mind drifted back to a distant memory—a time when her mother was alive, and the world had seemed so blissful. A time when the prospect of becoming family with this man had filled her with joy.

However, there was no return to those days. Llewellyn’s reality had shifted far too cruelly.

“Sir Tristan, could you help me up?”

“Of course.”

Tristan extended his hand to her with practiced courtesy. Unlike Almandite’s hand, Tristan’s was broad and thick-fingered, clearly shaped by years of wielding a sword. When Llewellyn grasped it and mounted the horse, her body immediately felt steady.

After smoothing down her skirt, she sat tall in the saddle, gripping the reins with an air of composure.

“Are you familiar with riding?” Tristan asked.

“Yes, I rode often when I was younger,” she replied with a faint smile.

“……”

“Though, unlike the age of five, it was at thirteen when I started,” she added playfully.

Perhaps it was seeing a horse she had often ridden in her childhood, but Llewellyn seemed a little lighter than before, her mood visibly lifted. She chuckled softly, nudging the horse forward to trot around the paddock at a gentle pace.

The two men watched her in silence.

“This is the best I can do,” Almandite murmured under his breath.

Tristan turned his head toward him, surprised by the cryptic comment. Almandite, still smiling faintly, had his eyes fixed on Llewellyn’s retreating figure.

The best I can do? Tristan’s brows furrowed slightly as he followed Almandite’s gaze. Llewellyn’s posture on horseback was surprisingly stable, a testament to her earlier claim. Slowly, the gentle trot turned into a faster gallop.

Instinctively, Tristan tensed. Since he had become her knight, the princess had hardly engaged in any physical activities. For her to suddenly push the horse to such a speed after so long—wasn’t it dangerous?

“Princess…!” Tristan started.

“Leave her be,” Almandite interrupted.

“Duke—”

“The princess is not reckless enough to put herself in danger.”

“……”

“Five years ago, you said you were assigned to her after I left, didn’t you?”

The stoic knight nodded, his worry still visible in his furrowed brow. Almandite, however, seemed to revel in that concern. He took perverse satisfaction in knowing he understood Llewellyn better than this simple knight ever could.

With a smug air, he continued, “You wouldn’t know, but everyone remembers.”

“……”

“She was always the star in moments like these.”

The sound of hooves thundered across the paddock. When Tristan looked up, he saw the golden horse darting across the field, Llewellyn’s figure commanding all attention. People around the paddock, drawn by the energy of the scene, had stopped to watch her, as if bewitched.

Almandite’s gaze was rapt, an almost worshipful expression lighting his face as he watched Llewellyn.

Then, his lips curled into a cool, self-satisfied smile as he glanced at the captivated spectators.

Look. This is my most treasured gem.

He looked as though he were showing off the crown jewel of his collection, proudly parading it for all to see.

Tristan shifted his gaze back to Llewellyn. Against the backdrop of green grass and a vivid blue sky, her auburn hair billowed in the wind like a flame. Her long skirt fluttered wildly as she urged the horse forward. Though her movements weren’t perfectly graceful, there was a vibrancy and life to them that was undeniably beautiful.

What stood out the most was her expression—a radiant, lively smile that was utterly captivating.

It had been five long years since anyone had seen the princess move like this. Five years since the “Abandoned Princess” had fallen from grace. If not for her father’s rejection, if not for the events of that time, she would undoubtedly have ascended to the highest place of honor.

*

Pamela bit her lip, her sapphire-blue eyes blazing with barely concealed fury. Her body trembled as the scene unfolded before her. Even at this riding event, it seemed the “star” had already been chosen: the daughter of the Countess of Empore, one of Pamela’s allies.

By elevating the Countess’s daughter, Pamela had hoped to win over the stiff-necked Count Empore, bringing him firmly into her camp. Pamela was determined to expand her influence before Duke Brion returned.

But then Llewellyn had mounted the horse she used to ride so often, instantly commanding everyone’s attention.

Even though Llewellyn’s clothes were old and plain, they couldn’t overshadow the brilliance she once possessed. The nobles would remember—how radiant and captivating she had been when she was the beloved princess of the kingdom.

Look at her now. Even now, the princess wore that clear, unblemished smile—one that Pamela detested with every fiber of her being.

And the way she skillfully guided the large horse, galloping with confidence, gave off an air of authority that could not be ignored.

Llewellyn’s presence burned itself into the minds of the nobles watching. She might have lived quietly, hiding in the shadows for the past five years, but she was still unmistakably a princess.

As the weight of that truth sank in, Pamela bit her lip harder, her attention shifting to Bastian, who had risen from his seat. Her eyes widened in alarm, and her heart sank with a heavy thud.

Even Bastian was captivated by Llewellyn.

He gazed at her, his blue eyes shining with admiration as she rode. The intensity of his gaze made Pamela’s heart pound dangerously fast.

Something must be done…

Pamela bit her lip again. She couldn’t kill Llewellyn. Doing so would spark outrage across the nation, and countless people would rise to overturn the kingdom in retaliation. And there was the issue of Almandite Hvitserk—he had openly declared his support for Llewellyn. Pamela couldn’t ignore the fact that she had certain… ties to him.

“Almandite Hvitserk…” she muttered darkly under her breath.

Perhaps it would be best to drive him away. Yet, the House of Hvitserk was the only noble family with enough honor and influence to challenge her half-brother, Duke Brion.

Even if she wanted to expel Almandite Hvitserk, it wasn’t a viable option. The Hvitserk family belonged to the prestigious Five Houses, and Almandite had chosen to settle in the capital. If she were to drive him out, the other heads of the Five Houses would not stand idly by.

Pamela also knew that Marquis Gutteringer, ever the cunning observer, was watching her carefully.

Furthermore, the mere presence of Almandite Hvitserk, blessed by the patron deity, had calmed the unrest among the people. The city’s morale, which had been strained by the recent purge of the slums, had significantly improved thanks to him.

So, would it be best to crush Llewellyn instead? Perhaps she needed to “educate” her once more.

“Mother.”

Pamela snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of a man’s voice.

Bastian was standing before her, looking at her with those clear, blue eyes.

“Do not touch Llewellyn.”

“…Your Majesty.”

“When will we ever see Llewellyn like this again?”

“…….”

“I wish to see more of the way she used to be.”

Bastian’s piercing gaze met Pamela’s. He was a son who usually obeyed his mother without question. However, when it came to matters concerning Llewellyn, he allowed no compromise. This was precisely why Pamela had never directly threatened Llewellyn’s life—she knew how resolute her son was on this subject.

“Do you care for that girl more than your own mother?” Pamela asked coldly, her voice trembling with restrained anger.

“How could such a comparison even be made?” Bastian replied, looking genuinely troubled.

Pamela’s heart pounded erratically. She couldn’t stand it—Llewellyn had to be dealt with. Somehow, some way… Pamela resolved to find a method.