Throne realized something with sudden clarity—fear had no place here. The revelation hit Ranni like a physical blow, her brow furrowing deeper as her eyes flashed a silent challenge.
"Are you declaring war on me?"
"I'm done showing weakness to you."
"Does this involve Throne?"
"Exactly. You've got your ideals—I've got my mission."
She squared her shoulders.
"I've sacrificed as much for him as you have. Why should I back down?"
Their one-eyed stare-down would've been comical if not for the tension. Ranni broke first, baffled. When had this stubborn fool grown a spine? Her gaze flicked to the man in question. Throne was wholly absorbed in gnawing a pig's trotter, his survival instincts screaming at him to play dumb, deaf, and very, very stupid.
Ranni cleared her throat.
"Throne. Anything to add?"
He looked up, solemn as a judge, and raised the greasy bone.
"The Carian chef's skills are exceptional. I'd like to shake their hand."
Playing dumb, are we?
No—he's been glued to my side. Couldn't have slipped off to conspire with Melina.
Someone else is meddling.
Her glare swung to Millicent, who met it head-on, chest puffed out in defiance.
Fine. Malenia, even your copy's turning against me?
Ranni's teeth ground together. Across the table, Throne peeked through his fingers at the Valkyrie's combative stance and nearly facepalmed. You brat. Digging your master's grave with both hands.
The dining hall's opulence did nothing to soften the atmosphere. Three women radiated hostility—a wronged lunar princess, a battle-ready clone, and a certain idiot charging ahead like a bull seeing red. Not quite swords drawn, but close enough to taste steel in the air.
Melina's emotions churned. Reluctance. Obsession. Mostly sheer stubbornness flaring up at the challenge. She wouldn't yield. Wouldn't hide. Even setting Throne aside, she had to prove something—to Millicent, to herself—as if waking from a long delusion of defeat.
Throne buried his face in his hands. His plan had been simple: Ranni acted tough but knew when to fold. With him mediating, she'd grudgingly accept Melina eventually.
He hadn't accounted for Millicent cannonballing into the situation, stirring up chaos until even placid Melina stood her ground.
Malenia really is my curse. Got me killed last time. Now she's tossed me into this bloodbath.
The tension prickled against his skin like static.
Another word would only make things worse. He returned to demolishing the trotter, mentally noting to flick Millicent's forehead later. Idiot. Since when are you the justice brigade?
"Throne."
Ranni's voice dripped venom.
"You're pretending."
She could compromise for him. Never for Melina. Let that blockhead win now, and who'll lead tomorrow? Besides—Her eye twitched. That damned Primeval Sorceress isn't even here yet. That witch is the real problem.
"Not pretending. It's genuinely delicious. Ask Melina."
"The cooking is adequate," Melina said flatly. "But inferior to mine."
Ranni's laugh was sharp as broken glass.
"A royal chef with centuries of service, outdone by you?"
"Facts are facts. And even if he surpassed me—" Melina tilted her head.
"What's that to you, Princess?"
"Oh, look—the iron tree not only bloomed, it sprouted thorns."
Throne cleared his throat softly.
Natural density could be terrifying. Unintentional sharpness cut deeper than malice. Ranni's expression darkened. Truth stung worse than mockery.
"Don't underestimate me. Even these trivial skills are within my grasp; I just haven't felt the need to show them off."
"Trivial? Good food makes Throne happy. He's praised me several times. Right, Throne?"
Throne wished the table weren't so damn long. He couldn't reach across to shut her up. He thought for a moment, then said with a straight face, "Don't judge what you don't know. Ranni never said she couldn't do it."
"Princess, shall we settle this with a contest?"
Ranni's glare could've ignited wood. She nodded, refusing to back down.
"Fine. I won't suppress you with combat power—that would be unfair."
Melina's eyes narrowed. Even she could hear the jab at her strength. She leaned forward, a cold smile curling her lips.
"No need to compare. You've already lost."
"Why?"
"How would someone as lofty as you ever step into a kitchen? Hmph. You cling to power and status, but unfortunately, someone doesn't care for that high-and-mighty air."
Ranni's eye twitched. The hit landed. Throne was a man of the grassroots, a soldier who'd clawed his way up. Different backgrounds—perhaps the only distance between them.
'Melina's harder to handle than I thought. I assumed Sellen was the bigger threat.' "If you don't try, how do you know it's impossible?"
'Princess, mind your dignity. Since when did you start bickering?' Throne set down the pig's trotter and cleared his throat.
"Enough. Stop dragging trivial matters onto the table. What matters now is—"
"Shut up!" Both women snapped in unison.
Throne blinked, shrugged, and buried his head. A blockhead wouldn't understand social nuance.
Melina smirked, her gaze teasing.
"Shall we begin?"
"Fine. I'm not afraid of you."
Ranni clenched her teeth, unsure why she was bickering or why she'd made such a bold claim about her weakest skill.
'The chefs are loyal. I'll issue a gag order later. Say it was to experience life. Maybe I can salvage some dignity and gain a bit of affinity. But Iji and the others will see through it.' She shot Melina a glare, feeling the woman was her personal nemesis. Worse, she'd accepted the challenge.
'When did I become so muddled? No, it's his fault!' Ranni glanced back at Throne. He looked just as helpless.
'Blame Millicent,' he thought. Once Melina set her mind to something, she wouldn't budge. He stood up. If he didn't give Ranni a way to save face, she'd hold it against him later. He let out a burp.
"Alright, I'm full."
"That's not true. I've been the one cooking this whole time. I know your appetite."
'Enough.' 'No, I need to win this round.' 'And what does winning prove?' 'I don't know, but it'll let out some pent-up anger.' "Are you finally giving up? Apologize now, and I'll pretend nothing happened."
'Great. Another person who values face over everything and suffers for it.' Throne rolled his eyes. He prepared to give up on trying to fix this and wait for them to fight until they were covered in blood before coming out to clean up the mess. He just stared hard at Millicent. The girl, chewing on lamb chops, looked confused.
She considered for a moment, then flashed Throne a triumphant thumbs-up. The gesture screamed: Look what I did—lit a fire under Melina, turned her into a real fighter. Now shower me with praise.
Throne choked back laughter, pounding his chest to keep from coughing blood.
"Please, Princess."
"Stop mocking me. Use my name from now on."
"Let's go then, Ranni."
"Who said you could—" She cut herself off, teeth grinding. "Only Throne gets that privilege."
"You just did."
Ranni's face flushed crimson. She couldn't decide if Melina was genuinely clever or just weaponizing stupidity. Dragging her feet, she shuffled toward the door—which swung open before she touched it. Miriam stood framed in the doorway, eyebrows climbing her forehead at the sight of the two women side by side.
This didn't match her memories. The princess and Melina had always been at each other's throats. Yet here they were, walking together like... Her expression softened into awe. Of course. The princess's magnanimity knows no bounds. She's dismantled the greatest obstacle already. Iji will weep when he hears.
"Miriam. Report."
"Princess, fresh intelligence on the Two Fingers Church."
"Speak."
"Bishop Cross attempted to reach the Northern Sacred Tree. Verification confirms they're locked in stalemate outside Elphael—Cleanrot Knights barred their entry."
"Odd. Unless they threatened Malenia directly, why block the Church?"
"Rumors suggest the knights guard someone. A physician treating Malenia."
"A Perfumer?"
Ranni's lip curled.
"They're useless against Scarlet Rot. Besides, Perfumers answer to the King. Why protect her?"
"Unclear, Princess. Only that it's a woman."
"Teacher!"
Throne's voice cracked.
"It's Sellen—it must be!"
"Rein it in."
Ranni's glare could frost glass.
"This proves nothing. Perfumers have turned traitor before."
"My gut says it's her. I'd stake my life on it."
"So you'll abandon everything to fetch your precious sorceress?"
Throne cleared his throat.
"Gelmir comes first. Leyndell blocks the northern routes anyway."
Better. Ranni hid her relief. But that ancient witch brings complications we can't afford.
Midnight painted Raya Lucaria's third-floor plaza in silver and shadow.
"I'm off."
"Don't die. If things turn, fight dirty."
She pressed a sealed scroll into Miriam's hands.
"For Rykard. Our terms and limits are detailed inside. The haggling? That's your specialty."