CHAPTER 140
"Tristini!"
Arabelle rushed to Tristini, who had fainted and fallen beneath the sofa.
She knelt beside Tristini, who lay collapsed on the carpet, and took her hand.
It was as cold as ice.
Arabelle carefully lifted Tristini’s head and placed it on her lap.
Unlike her cold hands, Tristini’s forehead was burning with a high fever.
Arabelle slipped her arms under Tristini's frail back, trying to lift her back onto the sofa.
However, being smaller and more delicate than Tristini, it was too much for Arabelle to lift the limp body on her own.
She briefly hoped that the Emperor might help, but there was no sound from behind her.
Although Arabelle was known for not being particularly perceptive, she understood that this was not the time to ask the Emperor for help.
The Emperor's anger toward Tristini was natural, the kind of feeling any husband who loved his wife would have.
Arabelle hadn’t asked the Emperor to forgive or understand Tristini.
She believed it wouldn’t be respectful to her husband, who had risked danger to protect her.
Instead, she had only asked to speak with Tristini for a while.
Arabelle attempted to lift Tristini’s body by wrapping her arms around her and using her back and knees to raise her, but it was no use.
After a while, it seemed Arabelle changed her approach. She sat on the sofa and bent forward deeply.
She hooked her arms under Tristini’s armpits, trying to drag her up onto the sofa.
She exerted so much effort that her face turned bright red, as if it might burst.
Between her tightly clenched lips, a strained groan escaped along with her labored breaths.
The Emperor, looking down at the unconscious Tristini with a dispassionate gaze, clenched his teeth.
He didn’t care whether the ‘thing’—a word he could barely stand to use to describe her—lived or died.
But… in front of his wife, that ‘thing’ had collapsed, causing his tender-hearted wife to be distressed.
The one who should be punished was Tristini, yet it seemed Arabelle was the one suffering, and this irritated him.
As Arabelle struggled to lift Tristini, her strength gave out, and she slipped to the floor along with Tristini's body.
At that moment, the Emperor’s dark eyebrows twitched.
Arabelle quickly got up and tried again, but Tristini’s body still wouldn’t budge.
It was clear that Arabelle would exhaust herself over something so insignificant.
If she got sick from this… He remembered how he had spent a week just watching Arabelle after their wedding night, as she had caught a cold from overexertion.
He had been unable to be with Arabelle for five days because of the antics of that mangy pup and the Lumen Savior wannabe.
Five days? No, to be exact, six days, considering they had slept in separate rooms the night before the wedding to avoid being tired on the big day.
Just thinking about it made his blood boil. He should have ensured Tristini met the same fate as that wolf pup.
As he cast a harsh glance at Tristini, he noticed Arabelle’s face, now glistening with sweat.
“Ha…”
The Emperor let out a short sigh of resignation.
He took a pair of black leather gloves from his uniform jacket pocket, put them on, and walked forward.
Arabelle’s eyes widened slightly as she saw the Emperor approaching.
Her dark eyes shimmered with relief.
With a cold gaze, he looked down at the limp body.
The Emperor slowly bent down and reached out with his arms.
Being careful not to let Tristini’s body touch him, he extended his arms as far as possible and slipped them behind her back.
He lifted her easily and dropped her unceremoniously onto the sofa, as if tossing a burden aside.
His displeasure was evident in his expression as he removed the gloves that had touched her body and threw them onto the floor.
Arabelle’s shoulders flinched slightly as the gloves hit the ground.
However, she said nothing. She knew how much the Emperor was holding back.
But still…
Arabelle looked at Tristini, her eyes tightening.
Her eyes, which couldn't lie, revealed her conflicted emotions.
She knew she should hate her…
But her gaze held more pity than hatred or resentment.
The Emperor’s red eyes quietly took in Arabelle’s expression.
For his wife, it was the hardest and most painful thing to hate someone.
Arabelle placed her hand on Tristini’s forehead and spoke.
“I need to get some cold water. A damp cloth will help bring down the fever.”
As Arabelle started to rise, the Emperor’s large hand gently pressed her shoulder, making her sit back down.
Their eyes met briefly, holding each other’s gaze.
The Emperor crossed the room and retrieved a water bottle from the shelf.
Arabelle took a handkerchief from the pocket hidden in the folds of her dress.
She extended her hands to receive the water bottle from the Emperor.
Splash!
“Y-Your Majesty…!”
The sound of the water hitting Tristini’s face and Arabelle’s startled voice rang out simultaneously.
The Emperor had poured the water directly onto Tristini’s face.
It wasn’t an accident; he had targeted her deliberately and poured it on her.
It was almost like slapping someone with water, using a flick of the wrist.
Arabelle’s widened eyes took in the Emperor’s expression.
For the first time since entering the room, he looked pleased.
The Emperor explained calmly.
“It’s a method used in battle to wake up unconscious soldiers, whether friend or foe. It’s quite effective, so it’s used often.”
His cold gaze added,
“Look. Her eyes are twitching under those closed lids.”
As the Emperor said, Tristini, after receiving the cold water, started coughing.
“Cough, cough.”
After several coughs, she finally managed to open her eyes.
***
Underground prison.
Creak.
A small, square window built into the prison door opened.
Two hands holding a tray reached through the rusted opening, then quickly withdrew.
Caroline lay on the hard bed, which lacked even a mattress, facing the wall.
It was time for the evening meal.
She didn’t need to look to know what it was.
It would be dried-out bread without even butter and a watery soup with no solid ingredients.
For now, her pride outweighed her hunger.
She chewed the inside of her cheek and closed her eyes again.
But then…
A delicious smell wafted into her nose, making her mouth water.
It was the smell of freshly baked bread with cream and tender, well-seasoned lamb.
Caroline turned abruptly towards the door, her eyes narrowing as she fixed her gaze on the tray lying on the floor. The meal she usually enjoyed was now glistening temptingly on the plate, beckoning her. Her once dull eyes, stripped of their light, began to sparkle with hope.
"Of course," she thought, sneering inwardly at her weak-willed husband. Caroline rushed towards the tray. Not only was there bread and roasted lamb, but also fresh, colorful seasonal fruits and a glass of exquisite red wine. It was a dinner worthy of her standards.
She assumed the meal was a gesture of reconciliation from her husband. Although the prison food was terrible, external meals were permitted. Despite being embroiled in the current scandal, her husband was still the head of the Resang Ducal House. Surely, they could afford to send her delicious meals three times a day.
"No matter how angry he pretends to be, it’s useless. He’ll realize my value once I’m gone," she thought, picturing her husband, who couldn’t even choose his own outfits without her.
A mocking smile played on the corners of her lips. Now that her husband had started sending her food in prison, she figured the time until her release might be shorter than expected.
Suddenly, an unbearable hunger gripped her. Her hands began to tremble uncontrollably.
She plopped down on the floor and huddled over the tray. There was no table, no fork or knife, but that didn’t matter. She grabbed the food off the tray with her hands and began shoving it into her mouth.
She picked up the bread and lamb with dirty hands, taking a huge bite. Grease coated her hands and mouth.
"Ugh, ugh," she choked, trying to swallow a large chunk of meat without properly chewing. She buried her face in the plate, eating frantically as if someone might take the food away from her. Half of the wine spilled down her chin as she gulped it down. Not wanting to waste any, she licked the wine off her hand.
"Ugh, it’s honestly unbearable to watch," a voice sneered above her. Caroline looked up.
Her eyes widened in disbelief, trembling with shock. Empress Dowager Natalia stood there, gazing down at her with disdain. The Empress Dowager’s blue eyes shimmered with contempt and disgust.
Only then did Caroline feel the cold wine trickling down her chin. Her vision cleared, and she looked down at her filthy, greasy hands.
Her whole body shook with shame. She tried to maintain her composure, glaring back defiantly, but her vision blurred with tears.
"Do you like your dinner?" Empress Dowager Natalia asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Your child is imprisoned, and as a mother, I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing."
Caroline clenched her fists tightly, her expression hardening with anger. She spat out the last remnants of her pride. "Get out! Who asked for your food? Get out, I said!"
The Empress Dowager chuckled, her tone dripping with mockery. "After all, you’ve already eaten every last crumb."
"I don’t need it! Don’t ever pull a stunt like this again!" Caroline screamed, picking up the empty plates and hurling them to the floor.
"Don’t worry, I won’t come back even if you beg," the Empress Dowager replied, a smirk playing on her lips.
The Empress Dowager had come to this filthy, stinking prison for one reason: to witness the downfall of her adopted daughter with her own eyes.
If there was anyone she despised more than Maxwell, it was Caroline. Their mutual hatred was no secret.
Back when the late emperor was alive, they had fought over his love and attention. After his death, they had battled for control of the imperial power. When Maxwell ascended the throne, they had torn each other apart to maintain their hold on power.
The Empress Dowager opened her peacock feather fan, a smirk playing on her lips. "You always thought you were the smartest one, but look at you now, falling faster than anyone else. You should have listened to your mother and behaved."
"Arrrgh!" Caroline screamed, baring her teeth and clawing at the Empress Dowager.
But before she could reach her, the door flew open, and guards rushed in. They pinned Caroline to the ground, holding her down with their knees as she thrashed and screamed.
The Empress Dowager looked down at her, meeting Caroline’s wild, bloodshot eyes.
With a flick of her wrist, she tossed a set of papers onto the ground. "These are the divorce papers from the Resang Ducal House. I thought I’d bring them to you myself."
***
As the Empress Dowager emerged from the prison, her face was flushed with the thrill of victory. But her expression soon darkened with seriousness.
"If I make a wrong move, I could end up like her," she thought.
It was yet another reminder of how dangerous and cunning the emperor was. But soon, very soon, she would see him fall, ruined by his own weaknesses.
Her eyes gleamed with anticipation, hidden behind the fan she twirled delicately.
***
In the quarters of the Lycanor delegation—
Through her blurred vision, Tristini saw Arabelle’s face. There was no hatred, disgust, or anger in her expression. Her large eyes were filled with nothing but pity.
As their gazes met, Tristini bit down hard on the inside of her cheek.
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