The maid had yet to grasp the meaning behind my words before she was rendered even more stunned by what I did next.
Without hesitation, I seized her wrist—and with a swift motion, drew a deep slash across my own arm. Blood surged forth, staining the tablecloth and my tattered gown a vivid crimson.
Lifting my gaze, I managed a triumphant smile just before releasing a pained groan loud enough to capture the attention of everyone at the table.
"Elysia!"
Brayden reacted first. His chair toppled backward as he sprang to his feet and rushed toward me, grasping my bleeding arm, his voice thick with alarm.
"What happened to you?!"
"Oh heavens—sister Elysia!"
Aurora followed, then the others. Chaos broke out, though I doubted more than a few of them felt genuine concern for this fragile body I now inhabited.
I cast them a pitiful glance, speaking in a trembling, frightened voice meant to stir their sympathy. Only by playing this part could I reach my goal.
"I'm sorry… I've ruined everyone's meal…"
Osmund looked deeply displeased, especially with Reynold present. Of course—he had to restrain his temper and maintain composure for appearances' sake in front of the Crown Prince.
"Tend to Elysia at once," Osmund ordered coldly, directing his words to the maid still frozen at my side. Startled, she bowed hastily and ran off in search of the first-aid kit, not without a final shocked glance cast back at me.
But before she had even left the room, Reynold suddenly rose from his seat as if to leave. Impatient already? No—he couldn't walk out now. Not when everything hinged on this moment. I didn't endure this pain for nothing.
In a faint voice, I addressed him: "Forgive me… Your Highness… for disrupting your breakfast…"
"What nonsense are you spouting?"
The words came through clenched teeth—sharp, cold, furious. Was that it? Had I failed?
But then he strode toward me.
From his pocket, he drew a handkerchief. Without the slightest sign of revulsion, he carefully wiped the blood away and began tending to my wound himself.
What on earth?
I blinked, too stunned to react. The others were equally astonished.
"Your Highness… what are you doing…?" Brayden asked cautiously.
"Would you prefer to watch her bleed while waiting for the servant to return?"
His tone was matter-of-fact. Rational, even. But why was he doing this?
Maybe… just a flicker of compassion from the otherwise cruel crown prince? After all, we had grown up together…
A feeble explanation—but I had none better.
"Elysia, I expect an explanation for this disgraceful behavior."
A sharp, frosty voice shattered the strange atmosphere. Only then did I remember my true purpose.
I turned to the speaker—Catherine, eyes hard with disdain. She was clearly displeased to see her future son-in-law so attentive to someone else… especially me.
I bowed my head slightly and murmured a polite thank you to Reynold. He offered no reply, simply returned to his seat.
Then I looked toward Osmund, whose brows were furrowed tightly.
Time to resume my role as the pitiable, mistreated daughter.
"I'm sorry… I was just so hungry, I couldn't control myself…"
"Utter nonsense!" Osmund slammed a hand on the table. "Do you claim our noble house has left you to starve?"
I shrank back in mock fear, shoulders trembling just enough to seem convincing.
"I… I'm truly grateful for the food and shelter you've given me. Even a few moldy scraps of bread would be enough…"
"What did you just say?"
Osmund's voice dropped, but it no longer carried the same anger. He was catching on.
Good.
Encouraged, I continued, letting my voice waver with practiced fragility.
"But lately… there's been no bread at all. I was just so hungry… I came here… I'm sorry, Father…"
For good measure, I forced my eyes to glisten with unshed tears. That ought to be enough. He would understand what had really been going on with his second daughter.
I said nothing more—just slumped weakly into Brayden's arms.
"The Grand Duke seems to be quite consumed with his duties," Reynold said lightly, though his tone carried a subtle bite. "As a member of the royal family, I must commend your unwavering devotion, Your Grace."
Why was the tyrant defending me today?
I peeked up cautiously—and found Reynold looking straight at me, lips curled into a faint smile. Amused, almost?
Startled, I buried my face back into Brayden's firm chest. Say what you will about the man, but he was surprisingly sturdy.
"I would never dare… Forgive me for displeasing Your Highness," Osmund said, voice taut with barely masked frustration.
"I believe it would benefit you to take some time away from court—perhaps to reconnect with your family. Don't you agree, Grand Duke?"
"Indeed, Your Highness."
"Then I shall inform His Majesty of your leave."
With that, Reynold made his exit—granting Osmund a convenient excuse to excuse himself from the awkward spectacle, and more importantly, to address the mess within his own household.
As soon as Reynold disappeared, a cacophony of breaking porcelain and Aurora's frightened cries filled the air.
"Father…"
"Elysia!" Osmund's voice was low and dangerous. His glare bored into me, brimming with rage, as if he wanted nothing more than to tear me limb from limb.
But excuse me, sir—aren't I the victim here?
I met his murderous gaze without flinching. Let him look.
Apparently unprepared for my defiance, he faltered slightly before his tone softened.
"Was what you said… true?"
"I would never dare lie to you, Father."
The trembling was gone from my voice now. I spoke with clarity—calm and unwavering—as I laid bare what Elysia had been enduring all this time.
"…Very well. I'll look into it," he said at last, collapsing into his seat. He rubbed his temples with one hand and gestured to Brayden with the other.
"Take her to her room."
"Yes, Father."
As Brayden guided me out, I caught the stares of those who had once looked at me with disdain and contempt. Now their eyes were wary—curious, even. None more so than Catherine. Her eyes burned with fury, as if she wished she could strike me down right there.
Too bad for you, dear Catherine.
I will live. And not just survive—I'll live well. I won't cower under your cruelty anymore.
"Why did you do that?"
We were outside the dining room when Brayden finally whispered the question. My head was spinning, and I couldn't even bring myself to look up at him.
"Oh? You're allowed to fight back, but I'm not?"
"That's not what I meant, Elysia," he sighed.
"I don't want to rely on anyone's mercy ever again. The only person I trust… is myself."
Brayden stiffened. I could feel it—his fragile, sickly little sister no longer sounded like someone he knew. For a moment, it was as if I were a stranger in his arms.
Elysia's body was weaker than I'd thought. My vision blurred, my legs gave way, and I collapsed—caught just in time by Brayden.
It seemed the hunger and blood loss had finally drained the last drops of strength from this frail frame.
Would I really die this time?
If so, this would be the most anticlimactic death yet.
* * *