A pale gray shadow cast upon a snowy white field.

I saw red drops of blood staining it.

Faint traces on untouched snow tightened around my pounding heart like a vine of thorns.

A growing tension pulled at me from my toes upward, as if constricting my very being. Helpless, I simply stared at her, my lips sealed shut.

“...”

“Well then.”

In the silence, Mirian approached the round table where we had been sitting and took a seat. She chose a spot diagonally across from the princess and slightly away from the king.

In fact, it was closer to where I sat.

Was there significance in her choice of seat? Or was it simply the nearest vacant spot?

Countless thoughts swirled in my mind, threatening to drown me, but Mirian, unfazed, spoke with remarkable calm.

“What were you discussing?”

“What else? The engagement of my beloved daughter. Naturally, her betrothed will be the great hero.”

“It seems the matter has progressed quite far already.”

“My apologies for not consulting you in advance. It was a thought that struck me just this morning.”

“It’s fine. When have you ever consulted me about state affairs?”

Her tone might have seemed laced with hostility to a casual listener, but Mirian nodded gracefully, as though agreeing without a trace of resentment.

“I agree. It’s about time the princess marries, and finding a better match would be nearly impossible. Especially if she likes him, there’s nothing more to say.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Above all, if it’s a decision made by His Majesty, there’s no room for doubt.”

“Hmm.”

“Then, is it settled?”

With that, Mirian glanced at the king with a detached expression. Her posture, still not leaning back against the chair, suggested she might leave at any moment if given permission.

This seemed to dishearten the princess, who subtly displayed her disappointment.

The king, noticing this, gently intervened to keep Mirian in place.

“Well... in truth, we didn’t gather to discuss the engagement. While that’s the official reason, I mainly wanted us to have time to talk. Surely you’re curious about the hero.”

“I imagine Your Majesty has more questions than I do.”

“Of course! He’s going to be my beloved daughter’s husband. And naturally, a mother would take even more interest than her father.”

“...”

“So I’m asking you to stay. Take this chance to chat with the princess as well—it’s been a while.”

The king’s insistence left the queen unable to rise, though it didn’t lift the lingering awkwardness. A heavy silence hung over the table until the princess broke it with some effort.

“Come to think of it, we haven’t had much time to talk since my return. The events have kept us all so busy.”

“That’s the challenge of being a king. There are so many who need me that I rarely have time for my adorable daughter. But don’t misunderstand, hero—it’s a privilege to be so loved.”

“Every time we try to have a real conversation, you bring up politics, Father.”

“My apologies, dear. It’s just hard to believe you’re really back. Perhaps that’s why I keep slipping into such talk.”

“Father.”

“It was a hellish time—beyond what you can imagine.”

The sincerity in his subdued voice was unmistakable. The princess, seeing his darkened expression, attempted to lighten the mood with a joke.

“So no more deer hunts from now on, alright? They’re dangerous, and the deer don’t deserve it either.”

“One of the worst decisions of my life. I can still remember that day. The horses collapsing, the screams of men, and the dragon’s enormous wings blotting out the sky.”

“For a moment, it felt as though the heavens had disappeared, as if light would never return to the world.”

“That was the first creature of such size I had ever encountered—and the most malicious. Even the kingdom’s finest knights screamed like children.”

“Ugh...”

“And yet, having brought back the head of such a beast, how could I not accept this man as my son-in-law?”

As the king recounted his nightmare, he suddenly turned a warm gaze toward me. All I could do in response was offer modest words.

“I was fortunate to have good companions by my side.”

“A textbook answer! But fitting for a hero. I heard you came straight to the palace upon arriving in the capital. Were it me, I’d have headed for the finest tavern and summoned some women first.”

“Father!”

“Just kidding, just kidding. What? Did I say something so terrible? A man can have such aspirations, can’t he? Especially one as robust as this. Oh, look at those broad shoulders—and those hands!”

The king, realizing his slip, grasped my hand in an attempt to steer the conversation elsewhere.

The callouses on our hands met, and he exclaimed with exaggerated admiration.

“Now these are the hands of a true warrior. Honestly, knights these days are far too delicate to feel manly. Do you have a preferred weapon? Something from the kingdom? Or elven-made?”

“In the field, I didn’t have the luxury of choice. I used whatever I could get my hands on. Against the dragon, an elf companion wove a bow from ash wood and her own hair.”

“They say a master never blames their tools—it seems that saying was meant for you. A man with such a sturdy build wouldn’t let his weapon dictate his fate. No wonder the princess is so taken with you.”

“...”

“Isn’t that right, my dear? His hands alone are twice the size of yours. And with such a man, it’s no wonder you couldn’t contain yourself.”

Though his behavior was improper for a king, the princess didn’t seem entirely displeased. Gently, she placed her hand over mine.

“What good are big hands if he’s too timid to talk to me? It took him ages to hold my hand like this naturally.”

“Please, my dear, call it chivalry. And just so you’re clear, not every man’s hands are as firm as that.”

“Oh my, really? I thought everyone in the world was like you, Father.”

“You have no idea how lucky you are to have a hero in your life.”

“Lucky, indeed. A miracle.”

The princess gave a final kiss to the back of my hand before releasing it. Two fleeting sources of warmth brushed against my hand, quickly fading into a faint residual heat.

My gaze drifted toward the one person who hadn’t yet held my hand. By chance—or perhaps not—they looked back at me.

“...”

“...”

It was only a fleeting moment, natural enough to pass without comment. After all, suggesting that she touch my hand in this situation would certainly be odd.

But before logic could reign in my thoughts, my lips moved of their own accord.

“...I heard you have a talent for reading palms.”

“...”

“If it’s not too much to ask, might I trouble you for a reading?”

I extended my hand toward her, my heartbeat already echoing in my ears. Mirian gazed at me briefly, then lowered her eyes.

“That’s rather bold—asking a queen to perform the tricks of a street fortune-teller.”

“...”

“But as a way to pass the time during a meal, it doesn’t seem entirely inappropriate.”

Her voice was tinged with a hint of mockery, cold enough to pierce my chest, but the reward for enduring it was undeniable.

“Straighten your hand.”

“Yes.”

“Palm facing upward.”

I followed her instructions, extending my hand as straight as I could. To my surprise, when Mirian placed both her hands over mine, a warmth I hadn’t expected radiated through.

It was just a simple gesture—holding a hand—but because it was her, I savored every detail in silence.

The faint veins visible beyond her wrist.

The soft scent of her perfume wafting subtly.

Her smooth fingers, unadorned by a single ring.

“...”

“...”

I noticed her ring finger bore no trace of any metal. Perhaps sensing my gaze, she lightly traced the edge of my wrist with her fingers.

Then, as if deliberately, her nail grazed a spot where a thorn had pierced my skin days earlier. Instinctively, a soft groan escaped my lips.

“...”

“...Ugh.”

I must have blushed, for the princess quickly intervened, her voice urgent.

“So, what do you see in Alpheus’s palm?”

“A coffin of stone.”

“What?”

“A beheaded dragon.”

“What does that mean...?”

“A princess blindfolded with a silk band.”

The words she spoke were too fragmented to be called a fortune, yet Mirian shook her head as though her reading was complete.

“It seems the lines on his palm have worn down; I can only glimpse the past.”

“Ah...”

“Well, that should suffice. Hero.”

She withdrew her hands. Instinctively, I wanted to hold onto the warmth that lingered, but I managed to pull my hand back, restraining myself.

Her scent, however, was not so easily erased. The fragrance of Mirian continued to cling to my senses, carving her presence into my chest.

“Hm. That wasn’t a bad diversion after all. While magic is often seen as the craft of the wicked, it can be quite entertaining when used well.”

“...Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Speaking of which, I recall meeting a fortune-teller once. An old hag who squawked the moment she saw me, declaring I’d become king one day...”

The king seamlessly transitioned into recounting a tale of his youth. While it wasn’t particularly engaging, it provided a convenient distraction, allowing me to compose myself.

Meanwhile, the princess slid her chair closer to me, her breath almost brushing against me due to the proximity.

“Palm reading is fascinating.”

“It is, indeed.”

“Should I learn it too?”

She playfully nudged my shoulder before grabbing my hand. Unlike Mirian’s delicate touch, the princess’s grip was rougher.

But her intent was unmistakable—her grip was firm, as though she wished to overwrite the presence of Mirian in my mind. It was tight enough to almost hurt.

When the brief meal concluded, everyone returned to their respective quarters. The king to his chambers, the hero to his companions, and the witch to her secluded room.

But someone followed the queen as she walked away. Sensing the presence, she turned, meeting the princess’s gaze.

“Princess.”

“Your Majesty.”

The princess’s voice was unusually cautious for someone addressing her mother. The queen, her tone devoid of emotion, asked:

“What is it?”

“I realized I hadn’t properly greeted you since my return. Have you been well, Your Majesty?”

“Thank you for your concern.”

“You seem thinner than before.”

“...”

Perhaps the queen intended to end the conversation there. But the princess, persistent, pressed on.

“Your complexion seems paler too—not that it looks bad, of course.”

“You’ve lost weight as well.”

“Life outside wasn’t exactly easy.”

“I imagine so.”

“Of course, Alpheus took good care of me, so it wasn’t too difficult.”

The princess spoke with a suggestive tone, observing the queen’s reaction. Yet the queen’s expression remained indifferent.

As they stood in silence, the princess’s gaze fell upon the queen’s neck, noticing something that had caught her attention earlier during the meal.

“That mark on your neck—it’s too large for an insect bite.”

“Autumn insects are particularly vicious.”

“Is that so?”

The princess questioned habitually. The queen, her face as cold as ever, replied curtly:

“Go rest.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Their conversation ended there. The queen walked away, heading toward her secluded quarters without hesitation.

The princess, however, didn’t leave immediately. She stood still, watching the queen’s retreating figure, lost in thought.

Eventually, she gestured behind her. Without needing to call out, a maid stepped forward.

“Your Highness.”

“There’s something I need you to do.”

“Just say the word.”

The maid bowed without questioning her intent or motive. From the moment the words left the princess’s lips, she was ready to act.

A rare trait in the palace. The princess found satisfaction in that, turning her gaze to the queen’s now-distant figure.

There, in the fading image of her mother, she murmured a word more familiar than “queen.”

“Witch.”