Asella had no objections. Blinking several times in surprise, she happily accepted Margot's candidacy as Mariel's tutor.
---
A few days passed.
"Uncle Zeke!" Mariel cried joyfully the moment she spotted the man's distinctive red hair. "Come quickly! Over here!"
Asella watched the girl with quiet warmth as she bounced up and down in eager anticipation. Zeke had promised to give her a ride on his shoulders—a prospect that had consumed Mariel's thoughts for the entire morning.
"What kind of uncle am I?" Zeke grumbled, feigning indignation. "I'm only twenty years old! I'm far too young and dashing to be anyone's creaky old uncle."
Mariel tilted her head to one side, her expression one of innocent confusion.
"What?"
"Haven't I told you a hundred times? I'm *twenty*! Where else in the world could you find such a young and handsome man?"
"Hmm..." Mariel tapped her chin thoughtfully with one small finger. "Then what should I call you?"
"Ah! There are so many beautiful words in the world to choose from!"
"What words?"
"Fine knight! The magnificent Zeke! The dashing—*ow!* What's with this stupid habit of hitting people over the head?"
Raizen had appeared out of nowhere, materializing like a bolt from the blue, and delivered a hefty smack to the back of the "magnificent" knight's skull.
"My apologies, Your Highness." Raizen bowed politely to Asella, completely ignoring Zeke's disgruntled whining.
"It's quite all right, Lord Raizen." Asella couldn't suppress her laughter.
_These two are always inseparable, yet so utterly different. How do they manage not to kill each other?_
"And yet, please forgive this idiot," Raizen continued, his tone diplomatic even as his eyes promised violence. "He's an ignorant fool, of course, but there's no genuine malice in his actions." He turned and fixed Zeke with a look that could have roasted him alive. "Where are your manners? I can't take my eyes off you for a single minute."
"What did I do wrong *this* time?"
"How dare you presume to tell a young lady what she should call you?" Raizen shook his head with weary reproach, then glanced back at Mariel with considerably more warmth. "Young miss, please don't trouble yourself with such nonsense."
"Nonsense?"
"He's always spouting nonsense. So next time, feel free to give him a good kick."
"Tired of living, are you?" Zeke muttered darkly.
"You know very well how to find your way to the capital, don't you, Zeke?"
The young knight, who had been preparing an angry retort, immediately snapped his mouth shut.
The threat of being dispatched to the capital—far from the action and any chance for glory—remained the most effective means of controlling his behavior.
"That's it! I understand everything. I'll keep quiet. Completely quiet."
"Uncle Zeke, *please* give me a ride! You promised!" Mariel raised her arms beseechingly, her eyes sparkling like sunlight dancing on the sea's surface.
Usually, children irritated Zeke terribly. Their neediness, their noise, their constant demands—all of it grated on his nerves. But not this girl. Not Mariel.
Zeke bent his knees, grasped the child firmly around her small waist, and hoisted her up onto his broad shoulders in one smooth motion.
"Wow! It's so high up here!"
"Of course it's high! Do you have any idea how tall I am?"
"How tall?"
"Hee-hee-hee!"
"*How* tall? Tell me, tell me!"
Raizen shrugged his shoulders in weary resignation, muttering something that sounded distinctly like: "Only the grave corrects the hunchback..."
Zeke whirled sharply in his direction and let out an exaggerated whinny. "Neee-igh!"
Mariel, perched astride his powerful shoulders, burst into peals of delighted laughter as Zeke began prancing around the courtyard like an overgrown stallion.
---
Over the past several days, Asella had managed to gain considerable insight into the castle's principal figures.
Thanks to Mariel's studies, she found herself in constant contact with Margot, Raizen, Zeke, and the head butler, Fabian.
_This won't be easy,_ she thought to herself, observing them all with careful attention.
Margot and Raizen were meticulous in everything they did—every word measured, every action deliberate. Even Fabian, who projected the warmth of a kindly grandfather, actually possessed a remarkably insightful and sharp mind beneath that genial exterior. He missed nothing.
Only thanks to the reckless Zeke did this entire company find themselves occasionally forced to relax, and only then did Asella manage brief respite from the formal atmosphere that pressed down upon her like a physical weight.
But that didn't mean she could afford to lower her guard. Not for an instant.
_No one can be trusted in Benvito Castle. All of these people were assigned to me by the Grand Duke himself._
_How long can we hide this?_
No one had noticed Mariel's awakening yet. But Asella couldn't rest easy. Too many watchful eyes followed her and her younger sister's every movement, relentless in their observation. Her anxiety only deepened with each passing day. She had no idea how much longer this fragile peace would hold.
_What will happen when Calix Benvito learns of Mariel's awakening?_
_Why did he marry me?_
Lately, this question had tormented her constantly, circling through her thoughts like a carrion bird. And she could find no satisfactory answer.
At first, Asella had assumed he'd married her so he could eliminate Adele Charts' daughter without obstacles or complications. If the Grand Duke wished to wipe her from the face of the earth, it would require minimal effort. Who in society would trouble themselves over the true cause of his wife's death? A convenient illness, a tragic accident—the explanations practically wrote themselves.
However, after living within the castle walls for several days, she had begun to suspect this wasn't the case at all. There had to be another reason. Perhaps he intended to use her somehow?
_Is it because of the Charts abilities?_
Since she hadn't awakened at the appointed time, most people had concluded she was a failure—bereft of her bloodline's legendary talent. However, there remained those who had never abandoned hope that her gift might still manifest in the future.
Perhaps the Archduke belonged to their number. Those who possessed even superficial knowledge of the Charts' astonishing abilities considered their power simply incredible—the stuff of legends and fearful whispers. But among such people lurked those who longed to exploit this power for their own ends.
And yet, this theory confused Asella even more deeply.
_Does Calix Benvito truly need the Charts abilities?_
The man was already immensely powerful and wealthy beyond measure. He had no reason to feel threatened by anyone in the Empire. If he so chose, he could likely seize the throne itself. And it wouldn't prove difficult at all.
_Then why...?_
Asella nervously tugged at the sleeve of her dress. Her fingers brushed against the small, round object she always kept hidden in her clothing. It was a mysterious item—something the priest had secretly pressed into her palm on the very first day she arrived at the castle.
"Remember," he had whispered at that moment, his voice barely audible. "The Temple is always open to you."
When Asella found herself alone, she had attempted to discern the object's purpose. But it appeared to be nothing more than a smooth white stone, unremarkable in every way. She had tried rubbing it, squeezing it, even speaking to it—but nothing happened. No glow, no warmth, no magical response whatsoever.
For reasons she couldn't articulate, however, she felt compelled to protect it. And she was absolutely certain she must never show it to anyone.
_One day, this item will prove absolutely essential._
No—she wasn't merely hopeful. She was *certain* of it.
Her gaze drifted to her sister, who was currently "riding" at full gallop atop a "huge red horse."
The girl, her cheeks flushed with joyful excitement, laughed loudly as she leaned over Zeke's shoulder to urge him onward.
"Faster, faster! Uncle Zeke!"
"What kind of uncle am I to you, really?"
Perhaps the moment would come when everyone around her would finally reveal their true colors—when the masks would slip and the knives would emerge. And when that day arrived, this mysterious object would prove its worth on her behalf.
_It couldn't be coincidence. The priest who blessed me didn't slip this thing into my hands without reason._
Asella tucked her hands deeper into the wide ruffles of her sleeves, her fingers curling protectively around the stone.
_I must be extremely careful._
---
"Your Highness!"
Asella turned quickly toward the voice.
Lady Roman stood behind her, elegantly dressed as always, her long auburn hair beautifully styled in soft waves that caught the afternoon light.
"The priest has arrived. You should meet with him."
"The priest?"
For a single heartbeat, fear flickered in Asella's eyes before she could suppress it. She had only just been treated. Why would another priest be summoning her now?
Asella's hand moved instinctively to cover her wrist, safely concealed within the wide lace of her sleeve. The only person who knew about her injury was Mariel.
_Then how did they know...?_
Asella struggled to keep the anxiety from showing on her face.
"But why is this necessary?"
"We need to confirm that your treatment was completely successful. Additionally, the priest's blessing will strengthen your constitution and calm your nerves." Margot's tone was reassuring but firm. "Please don't worry, Your Highness. It's merely standard divine healing."
"But I feel perfectly fine," Asella protested. She tried to sound casual, but her voice trembled treacherously.
_If the priest examines my injuries closely, he'll realize that one of my arms was healed by supernatural power—power that didn't come from the Temple. And then Mariel's secret will be exposed._
"There's truly no need for a follow-up treatment. I feel wonderful."
"Wounds inflicted by magical beasts often develop various complications over time," Margot explained, her tone patient but brooking no argument. "We simply must ensure your complete recovery. We cannot afford to be anything less than extremely careful with your health."
"Because of my injury on the road, everyone has gone to so much trouble..." Asella lowered her gaze apologetically. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
"There's no need whatsoever to apologize, my dear. The attack was so unexpected that even our seasoned escort was thrown into confusion."
Asella's mind went suddenly, terrifyingly blank at these words.
_How could I have forgotten?_
There was still someone who wanted Mariel dead.
The events of that day crashed through her memory like a thundering wave.
The beast's eyes, glowing with that eerie, unnatural light. Its obsessive, relentless attack aimed squarely at their carriage. And its terrifying roar when it finally spotted Mariel through the window—a sound of recognition, of *purpose*.
_Why did I allow myself to forget this? The monsters were targeting Mariel specifically._
Asella swallowed hard, her throat suddenly parched. She turned to face Margot directly.
"Were you able to discover who was controlling the magical beasts that day?"
Margot's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. She paused, clearly considering her response with care, then finally answered.
"Most likely, the demonic beasts that inhabit the mountain passes simply went mad during the mating season. It's an unfortunate but documented phenomenon."
Asella couldn't help but notice how cautiously Margot chose her words—while simultaneously trying to discern why the Grand Duchess was asking such pointed questions.
And Asella also knew, with absolute certainty, that Margot was lying.
_Demonic beasts are solitary creatures by nature. They never form packs. Never hunt cooperatively._
_I distinctly remember the look in that monster's eyes when it discovered Mariel. That wasn't bestial hunger—it was recognition. Purpose. This couldn't have been an accident._
_It was intentional._
_And Lady Roman... she's clearly avoiding the question. Deflecting._
_Why?_