Her name was Lyra. She was undoubtedly from somewhere in the West—that much was immediately obvious from her appearance. That was the first thing we learned about her. She kept her introduction refreshingly short and got straight into the task at hand, all business.
She didn't treat us any differently than her normal customers—clearly indicating that our royal status meant absolutely nothing to her in her shop. She herself was dressed quite elegantly, wearing fine fabrics and jewelry that spoke of wealth and taste. And there was an unmistakable air of natural royalty surrounding her. The way she carried herself with perfect posture, the way she moved with unconscious grace—it was all more than enough evidence of noble birth.
She must be a runaway princess, I thought internally. Then I realized there was a strong chance she might actually be a runaway princess from somewhere in the far Western kingdoms, fleeing some political catastrophe.
Arvid seemed to be thinking along the same lines. The next question he asked was enough evidence of that suspicion.
"How long have you been living here in Arpa?" he asked with studied casualness to the woman, who was currently busy taking my measurements with a cloth tape, her hands moving with practiced efficiency.
She didn't stop her work at his question. She simply chuckled lightly, the sound musical.
"I've been here almost twenty years now," she answered without hesitation. "And before you ask the obvious follow-up question—yes, I'm originally from the West. And yes, I was once a princess from a now-ruined kingdom called Yougru. It doesn't exist anymore. It was destroyed in a succession war."
She stated all this matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather.
Arvid didn't seem to be satisfied with that brief answer. His expression showed he wanted more details.
"I was never informed that there was such an esteemed person living among us in Arpa," he said with a somewhat somber, almost reproachful voice. "This is the kind of information that should have been reported to the emperor."
"That oversight was entirely my fault, Your Majesty," Prince Yarun interjected quickly, stepping forward. "I take full responsibility."
"She was my friend, a pen pal of sorts," Prince Yarun explained, speaking rapidly. "We corresponded for years. When she asked to come here for safety, fleeing the civil war in her homeland, I simply let her in and provided protection. I did ask permission from the previous emperor, of course. Your father approved it."
Arvid looked at his uncle with an odd, penetrating expression. The normally composed man was now visibly sweating, small beads forming on his forehead. Is there something more going on here? The intense gaze that Arvid directed at both of them seemed to be assessing something deeper, searching for hidden truths.
After a few long seconds of tense silence, Arvid opened his mouth to say something. But Prince Yarun was quicker, jumping in defensively.
"It wasn't like that," he said with a breathy sigh, anticipating the accusation. "I know my wife wouldn't like me saying this publicly, but Lyra and I were just friends. Nothing more, nothing less. Despite my wife's understandable worries and suspicions over the years, I've never been disloyal to her, and I never will be."
He said this with such conviction that it rang true.
"But you brought a child home twenty years ago," Arvid said suddenly, his voice taking on a harder edge. "A toddler, devastating your wife emotionally. You refused to talk about his origins or explain where he came from, making him your acknowledged bastard child in everyone's eyes. Your wife, Lady Arundathi, has never been the same since that day. She became withdrawn and bitter. So uncle, what exactly am I supposed to do with this information now?"
Arvid's eyes pierced his uncle, peering into his very soul. Prince Yarun didn't dare to answer, his mouth opening and closing.
But someone else reacted strongly to that information. Lyra, who had been carefully ignoring all the tense conversation until now, suddenly paused mid-measurement. Her hands showed a slight tremor, betraying her emotional state. Well, this is getting interesting, I thought.
Because Prince Yarun remained stubbornly silent, Arvid continued his pointed questioning.
"Your wife was pregnant with your first legitimate son when you brought that mysterious toddler home—I heard the story from the palace gossip," Arvid said, his voice controlled but sharp. "After that incident, your wife Lady Arundathi never appeared before the public again for years, because she felt so humiliated. You raised that boy as your own son, giving him your name and status. But you must know that you can't escape the stigma that it left on your family? No one will believe that you simply picked up an abandoned child from the street to raise out of charity. Everyone will always believe that he was your affair child, born from an illicit relationship."
Arvid continued, but this time instead of looking at Prince Yarun, he deliberately shifted his gaze to Lyra, who was now trembling like a leaf in the wind.
"Well, that's all old news from twenty years ago," Arvid acknowledged. "I was just a toddler myself at that time. All I know is what I've heard through the years. Now that boy is already grown and married, with children of his own. And I couldn't help but notice something interesting at family gatherings—that one of his daughters, your granddaughter, has striking blue eyes exactly like sapphire jewels. That particular shade is quite rare in the South, unless someone comes from one of the coastal shore regions like Turga or Kalamatha where foreign sailors sometimes settle. But here in Arpa, located miles away from any shores? That's extremely rare. But even rarer when both of her parents supposedly have brown eyes."
Arvid gave a long, meaningful look directly at Lyra, waiting for her reaction.
The woman had stopped trembling at some point during his speech. In fact, when she met his gaze, she looked absolutely determined and composed. She looked straight into Arvid's eyes and said, ever so nonchalantly, "I think it's odd myself. Genetics are strange."
And she smiled slightly, completely unbothered.
That loaded conversation ended right then and there, but we left the shop with important new knowledge of this discovery.
---
As we walked back toward the palace through the now-darkened streets, Arvid broke the silence.
"Have you ever heard about the double royals?" Arvid asked me seriously. I shook my head, telling him no.
"It's a popular tradition, or more accurately a deeply held belief here in Selon," he explained. "It's the belief that imperial blood is strongest when both of the heir's parents are of royal birth. It's believed that princes born from two royal bloodlines are the most suited for the imperial throne, having the best claim. It's something deeply rooted inside Southerners' very veins, almost religious in nature. The Selonian imperial family has historically gone above and beyond to acquire double royal princes in their direct bloodline."
He let out a heavy sigh.
"But it's not every day that some Western kingdom sends their princess willingly to Selon to marry them off to the emperor," he continued. "Those political marriages are rare and difficult to arrange. In the absence of foreign princesses, the imperial family began to marry their own sisters instead, to keep the royal blood pure. But the genetic results were often not good at all. The emperor before my father had a severely deformed first son born from his own sister. The boy couldn't walk or speak properly. No one wanted him to become emperor. That's why, even though my father was significantly lacking in birth status—since his mother was merely of noble birth, not royal—they still had to appoint him as the crown prince instead."
Arvid walked several steps further without speaking, clearly organizing his thoughts.
"But things changed dramatically when my grandfather the emperor married a princess from the Sagar Kingdom," he continued. "She gave birth to my fourth uncle, Prince Yarun. My father was almost dethroned to give the crown to this new double royal blood prince. If it wasn't for the fact that my father had already carefully built strong political support for himself over the years, he could have been thrown away entirely. Discarded like a chess piece that didn't serve any purpose anymore once a better piece appeared."
Arvid took a few steps further ahead of me, then turned around to face me directly.
"My father almost killed his baby brother," he said quietly, the words heavy. "In fact, he went to Sagar Kingdom's princess's palace one night with a sword and assassins, fully intending to murder an infant to protect his claim. What stopped him at the last moment was the Sagar Kingdom princess begging desperately for her son's life. She asked him not to kill her innocent son, promising that she would publicly disgrace herself to make his claim to the throne illegitimate. And that's exactly what she did."
His voice grew softer. "She publicly claimed that her son was not actually royal—that he was born to her and her lover, not the emperor. It was a complete fabrication, but she swore to it. If it wasn't for my father backing her story and protecting her from the consequences, she could have been executed by my grandfather the emperor for adultery. But at that time, my father already had more political influence than the emperor himself, so he was able to protect them both from harm."
Arvid paused, looking troubled. "But still, I can't help but wonder—didn't they at least secretly hate my father for doing them so dirty? For forcing them into that lie? Although Prince Yarun was still called a prince, my fourth uncle was forever a disgraced child in the eyes of the court. Although that compromising information was kept under relatively tight covers and no one dares to openly disrespect him, everyone knows the story. Everyone whispers."
"That's certainly one complicated family story," I told him, not knowing what else to say.
"Yes, my family is deeply messed up," he agreed. "Even though my father was only of noble birth on his mother's side, he still had to marry a Western continent princess to give birth to a proper double royal prince—me. Someone who he eventually fell genuinely in love with, despite the political arrangement. But that wasn't supposed to be a happy ending. It never was. She was murdered before they could enjoy their love."
He stopped walking and looked at me straight in the eyes, his expression vulnerable.
"Rhia, if I told you that one of the reasons why I married you was because I wanted a double royal prince as an heir—would you hate me?" he asked quietly.