Prologue

In later years, Giselle sometimes pondered. What if, at that moment, that white butterfly hadn’t fluttered across her path? How might her destiny have unfolded then? Giselle wondered whether she would have quietly spent her life in a desolate tower in the deep forest along the border. Or perhaps, in some way, she would have still found the letters from him, the emperor. It was unknown.

Nonetheless, Giselle still believed she should be grateful to that white butterfly. With its delicate two wings dancing lightly through the air, it invited her into the forest of fresh green. It was a clear morning in the season when winter had finally receded, and the arrival of spring could be sensed. Accompanied by a servant, Giselle ventured deeper into the forest than usual. She was searching for something.

At that time, Giselle had turned eighteen. Her hair was a pale brown, appearing like honey-hued amber when sunlight shone through it. However, it wasn’t a particularly remarkable hue. Her eyes matched her hair in colour, large and wide, yet her facial features were gentle and serene, giving her an air of maturity. She wasn’t awkwardly proportioned but didn’t possess the striking beauty that drew people’s attention. Giselle understood her appearance in this way.

“It’s quite elusive, isn’t it? That mushroom we’re looking for. Perhaps it’s still too early for the season,” Frieda, Giselle’s maid, muttered to herself, adjusted her thick round glasses and moved her hidden eyes restlessly.

“That’s odd... Today was supposed to be the ‘day to find what we’re looking for,’ but I can’t find a trace or a shadow... My cards indicated this. They’re never wrong,” Frieda said, her eyes hidden behind the thick round glasses darting around busily.

Giselle smiled. “You’re right. But you can go back if you want. This is just my whim.”

As Giselle reached for the basket held by Frieda, the maid with round glasses hastily clutched the basket, and her eyes widened. “Your whim? Lady Giselle! You’re far too kind! This mushroom hunt is all for the town’s apothecary, isn’t it? You, a member of the royal family, shouldn’t have to do such things.”

In response to Frieda’s indignant tone, Giselle shrugged casually. “However, I’m the one living in this forest. It’s faster if I do it myself. The apothecary lives in the town and can’t wander around looking for mushrooms and herbs anymore, especially with his bad back.”

“You don’t need to explain that to me. I know that even without you telling me,” Frieda said, shaking the empty basket and sighing dramatically.

“Oh, if only the princesses of the capital had hearts as pure as Lady Giselle’s, this country would have been much more pleasant.”

In these deep woods, no one should have been able to overhear, so Giselle remained silent. Because of her outspoken nature, Frieda had been demoted from serving at the royal palace in the capital to attending Giselle in this remote border area. Over there... freedom of speech wasn’t exactly encouraged. In that sense, Giselle might have found happiness by being estranged from her stepmother, confined to a tower in the distant forest on the border far from the capital. The fires of war didn’t reach this place easily.

“I am... merely the third princess from a concubine. I never had the chance to be pampered like my elder sisters,” Giselle said.

“And because you weren’t raised by that wicked queen... right? Understand, Lady Giselle. The term ‘concubine-born’ is nothing more than the First Queen’s jealousy of your mother. Lady Julianna was the acknowledged Second Queen, and you, Lady Giselle, being the daughter of that union, should rightfully be the third princess following the two legitimate sisters. You should have had a luxurious life in the royal castle,” Frieda explained.

Unable to confirm or deny, Giselle offered an ambiguous smile. While she did yearn for her father’s affection at times, she didn’t often wish for a lavish life in the palace. Giselle, being at that age, did feel some envy toward her older sisters, who had opportunities to wear beautiful dresses and meet handsome gentlemen at balls. However, that was a love-struck kind of envy, not a desire for luxury.

“I have you, Frieda. I never find myself bored with you and your mystical card readings.”

“Well, I suppose that’s true...” Frieda pushed up her round glasses with her index finger, her tone implying that she wasn’t entirely opposed.

Frieda, known for her sharp tongue, also had a peculiar fascination with card readings that bordered on the religious, which was one of the reasons for her demotion. Using palm-sized cards adorned with mystical illustrations, she predicted the future.

“But you know, my cards have been saying this for a long time. Lady Giselle, you have the potential to become a queen someday.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes. By the way, today was supposed to be the ‘day to find what we’re looking for,’ but that ridiculous mushroom is nowhere to be found...”

“You can’t predict where the mushroom is with your readings?” It was meant as a joke, but Frieda straightened up earnestly. “Well, if you want a hint, I have one. ‘Follow the white breeze.’ But there’s hardly any wind blowing.”

The white breeze...

Strange words, indeed. The two of them ventured a little deeper into the forest. When dried and used in concoctions, the mushroom they were searching for was said to be effective against the prevalent spring fever. It grew in the marshes deep within the forest, requiring them to venture beyond the tower where Giselle and her companions resided. They had to approach the border near the Armande Empire, the enemy nation they were at war with. Since early mornings still retained a chill in the air despite being spring, Giselle wore an inconspicuous deep green hooded cape.

“Lady Giselle, if we continue this way, we’ll soon reach the border.”

“I know.”

“In the past, you could go in without a care. Even though the frontline is much farther west, with the ongoing war, it would be trouble if you were captured crossing the border. As a princess, you could be used as a hostage.”

Giselle nodded, though she didn’t believe she held much value as a hostage. Her father, King Leopold, would choose the nation’s victory over Giselle’s life. There was no room for doubt about that.