"Condolences on the passing of the late King… may the earth receive him," the old woman spoke, her head bowed low as her wrinkled fingers slowly caressed the hands of Oriana, whose face remained cold and unmoving.
The pale moon hung halfway in the sky, casting a thin silver glow across the silent courtyard, its light catching only the stylish silver pin in Oriana's red hair.
From somewhere in the darkness, a cock crowed sharply, slicing through the stillness as though mourning the fallen king… or perhaps merely testing whether death had left something worth feasting upon.
The candle lanterns hung upon the trees, their faint golden light flickering through the dense forest in a way that felt almost unnatural.
Unlike any other king, King Quade had once suggested that his body be buried not in the regular mortuary, but in the forest. Though the strange request had sparked curiosity among many, nothing could be done about it now.
After all, it had merely been words he had jokingly said to his guards while hunting.
The exact words he had spoken were: "I love the forest. It is great for hunting. In fact, if I die, my body shall be buried there."
He had said it jokingly to one of his guards.
Yet perhaps there truly was power in the tongue… because now his body lay beneath the very trees he had once laughed beneath.
Oriana stood before the grave.
Her long red hair fell down her back like a serenaded flame, she wore a long black dress that brushed against the forest's soft, almost moist soil. Her expression was cold as she stared at the grave while the guard slowly poured sand upon the coffin.
Silence fell, broken only by the soft sift of sand slowly covering the grave
Her deep green eyes held no remorse and no rage—only calmness. Her expression could barely be seen beneath the thin black veil covering her face. Soft sobs drifted through the still air like distant echoes, yet her shoulders did not shake.
Of course, gazes drifted toward her. Of all people who should cry loudest, it was supposed to be her—after all, the king had been dear to her heart.
But she simply stood there.
It was almost as if she were merely waiting for the burial to end so she could leave.
Earlier that day, Oriana had gone horse riding not far from the castle. She had returned only after the argument with the King her elder brother the day before—she had stormed out in anger and had not spoken to him for the rest of the day—as she wanted to settle things with King Quade regarding her being old enough for marriage.
That was why she decided to visit his chamber that afternoon—immediately after finishing her ride, as she had not heard from him.
But when she opened the door..
The king's body lay on the floor.
Pink.
Pure pink.
A strange and unnatural color for death.
Only the heavens knew how she had felt at that moment. After the death of her parents, seeing such a thing numbed her in ways she could never properly explain.
They had died when she was only six, and their deaths had also remained unknown. The shoulder she had once cried on, and had once cleaned her tears, now lay before her motionless.
Was this some hereditary curse?
That the deaths within the royal family were always… unexplained?
Not to mention the king's death itself was mysterious. A person turning fully dark pink, like the color of crushed roses with strawberries—was not natural.
They had buried him immediately, as they did not want to keep the king's dead body in the castle for more than a day; it was considered bad luck with such a strange death.
The night wind hissed sharply through the forest, rustling the leaves above as a black crow flew through the air and landed softly on a nearby branch.
A sharp breath left Oriana's lips, almost irritatedly, at the background noise of cry.
Now, the sobbing behind her began to grate against her bones.
Slowly, she lifted her hands and adjusted the veil over her face.
Eyes immediately turned toward her.
They had not seen her move from that spot since the burial began, and that slight movement of her arms alone had already drawn attention.
Her lips rubbed together elegantly, almost as if she wanted to feel the smooth layer of lipstick upon them. Her tongue slipped out slowly, tasting the faint cherry flavor that added a slight sweetness to her dry mouth.
"Oh… he was a good man."
"Yes, he truly was…"
She heard the whispers and quiet sobs of the people around her, as if they were made loud enough for her ears.
Yet Oriana knew most of them were not there only to mourn.
Many had come with another intention entirely—to bring their sons to marry her, so that their blood could claim the throne.
After all, she was no longer a princess.
She was now queen, as the king was dead.
Oriana finally moved.
The soil softly covered the faint imprint of her silver heels, which had sunk slightly deeper into the earth after standing in the same position for so long. She began walking toward the forest exit.
Eyes widened in shock as she passed. The crowd shifted awkwardly to make way for her, curiosity painted across their faces.
Why would the princess—no, the soon-to-be queen—leave when the burial had not even ended?
They had not even said the final prayer.
It was said that when rituals like this were not properly completed, it could bring a curse upon a person's head.
And now she was queen.
Did this mean the curse would fall upon the head of the entire kingdom?
A particular old woman among the crowd watched Oriana as she exited.
Her trembling hand moved slowly to her chest, her breathing turning shaky. In her seventy years of living, she had never seen anything like this… ever.
Her body suddenly lost balance.
Before she could fall properly, people rushed and caught her.
Gasps rippled through the crowd, eyes shifting quickly from the old woman… to the dark forest entrance where Oriana had disappeared.
Oriana squatted down, not minding her gown as it soaked into the damp soil beneath her. Her eyes watched a centipede struggling to turn itself over, its many legs twitching helplessly against the earth.
Her gaze traced its movements.
A small tilt touched her lips.
It was painful rather than a smile. In fact, it could not even be considered a smile. It was like a broken bottle being forced back together—the more one tried to fix it, the more pieces shattered away.
She had not truly left the burial.
She was standing at the other side of the clearing, to the left of the ceremony's entrance. The centipede had simply caught her attention, and to the others it appeared as though she had already gone. After all, it was night, and one could not really see.
Her gloved hand moved slowly.
Her deep green eyes followed the creature as her finger gently turned the centipede over. It curled instinctively, its body tightening as if searching for balance, before finally scurrying away and disappearing into the bushes.
Oriana slowly stood as she dusted her finger. Coldness moved to her feet, as it seemed the place her gown had rested had been wetter than the surrounding ground.
Just as she took a step forward—
Voices drifted through the trees.
Her body stilled in place.
"This now confirms she is the reason for the king's death… we must hang her!"