BY the time Amelia arrived at the throne room with Luke, a handful of people were already present. She recognized the king, the fourth consort, and Prisca, but the rest were unfamiliar faces to her. One man was likely related to the church in one way or another, judging by his garments, as well as a man in the prime of his life. Since they were before the king, they would be of considerably significant status.
As Luke escorted Amelia in her stunning attire, Prisca and the fourth consort’s gazes stabbed into her like knives. They must have expected Luke, who’d been summoned, but Amelia’s presence had probably taken them by surprise. She almost flinched, but she hadn’t done anything wrong, not to mention that she had Luke right there with her. When Amelia sent a fleeting glance in his direction, he responded with a warm smile—that was enough to invigorate her spirit.
The man in his prime was the first to speak. “I believe that the topic of this audience is Fifth Princess Prisca’s marriage now that she has been recognized as a Saint, but was I perhaps mistaken?” He turned to gaze at the throne.
The king nodded unhurriedly. “Is your body faring well, Amelia?”
It was the first time in years—seven, from Amelia’s perspective—that she’d heard her father’s voice. She’d barely interacted with him outside of exchanging greetings in the first place, so it didn’t invoke any emotion within her, not even nostalgia.
Seeing Amelia bow, the king’s eyes softened with delight. “It has been a while since I have seen your face. I must say that you take after the fifth consort.”
“Thank you for your kind words, Your Majesty,” she said politely. “As for your question… I have never been ill in the past, not even once, and I am in good health.”
After Amelia reported that fact, the king let out a flabbergasted “Huh?”
“I was imprisoned within the bounds of the Fifth Palace at your direction, for I am a disgraceful daughter who would only bring embarrassment to our royal family. That is what I have heard my entire life, but is that possibly wrong?”
She couldn’t care less about the fourth consort’s opinion of her, but she’d been rattled at the fact that the king, her father, had judged her as such an eyesore in the past. In the present, she had enough knowledge to deduce that the fourth consort had likely lied, but it was still undeniably true that the king hadn’t reacted to Amelia’s complete lack of presence in his life. Then again, maybe she couldn’t blame him because she was the daughter of the fifth consort, who’d only joined the ranks of his wives because she was a Saint.
The king narrowed his eyes by a margin. “I have never heard anything more absurd. The report I received was that you were often down with ailments that prohibited you from performing your formal duties and that it is difficult to even visit you since you are resting and recovering.”
“Do I seem that way?” Amelia asked steadily. “I have been working in the fields for many years to survive my imprisonment. I believe my skin is much more tanned than most young noblewomen, and my complexion should be rather rosy.”
Perhaps it was preposterous for a princess to have tanned skin, but it was a testament to how she’d persevered at her palace while pouring in all her heart and soul, as well as a proud symbol that she’d clung to survival despite the odds.
The king examined her face. “That is true.” He paused as her words sank in. “Pardon me. Fields?”
“I would starve with a delivery of merely grains once every month, which is why I am growing vegetables in the fields.”
“Wait.” He furrowed his brows. “What is the meaning of this? Every meal should be delivered to her palace, shouldn’t it?” He shifted his gaze to the man by his side, but the man in his prime shook his head.
Amelia explained, “When my mother was alive, meals—though frugal—were indeed delivered. However, after her passing, the only thing I received was a package of grains once every month. The situation is similar with my clothes—used servant’s clothes would be delivered to me. Due to that, I have gained quite some expertise in cultivating crops, cooking, and needlework.”
The king’s expression clouded. “Fourth Consort. What is the meaning of this?”
Ever so slowly, the woman replied with a graceful smile. “She is making false accusations, Your Majesty. It appears that she has grown somewhat brazen because she has recently been in good health by pure chance.”
The conflicted expression didn’t leave the king’s face. “What about her report on her meals and clothes?”
“Why, I’ve never heard anything more ludicrous. I have poured my heart and soul into her for many years. I even see her as my real daughter… I am heartbroken at her cruel words. I can understand that she is upset because Prisca was recognized as a Saint and that the young Lord Klein is going to abandon her, but surely she didn’t have to go this far.”
She dabbed a handkerchief against the corners of her eyes, painting the picture of grief. Any bystander would immediately assume that Amelia was the wicked one between the two.
As Amelia marveled at the woman’s acting skills, Prisca huddled over to support the fourth consort’s frame. “Mother is right,” the younger girl said before looking at Amelia. “How could you be so heartless, my dear sister?”
Amelia’s voice grew firm. “Give me back my mother’s memento.”
Possibly because they hadn’t been able to process Amelia’s abrupt words, Prisca and the fourth consort both let out a startled “Huh?” in reaction.
“On the day of the ball that was supposed to be my debut in high society, you snatched away a necklace from me while saying that I didn’t have a fitting dress for the event and that you weren’t going to let me debut to begin with. After Mother’s death, most of the articles within the Fifth Palace were taken away. That was the only memento I have left of her. Hurry up and give it back to me.”