Chapter 19
Under Cecil’s strict guidance, Edna embraced the role of a prince. The queen’s instructions were harsh; survival depended on protecting the throne, and Edna could only do so by masquerading as a prince.
It wasn’t until Edna reached the age of ten that she began to realize her difference from other boys. Despite Cecil’s efforts to stunt her growth with various herbs, nature prevailed. As a precaution, Cecil meticulously cleared the surrounding area to conceal Edna’s true gender, while intensifying her education as the designated successor.
With her keen intellect, striking beauty, and golden hair symbolizing her noble lineage, Edna became the envy of all women. Though her swordsmanship lacked raw power, her technique surpassed most. However, Cecil, aiming for the perfect successor, found fault even in Edna’s superior Latin knowledge and her dignified demeanor.
Over time, Edna grew weary of the harsh reality of concealing her identity. She felt suffocated, unable to live freely.
Life at court was ruthless. Intrigue and false accusations were rampant, particularly towards Edna, the king’s sole heir. She couldn’t let her guard down, not even in sleep.
At fifteen, Edna yearned to flee the castle. Yet, whenever she betrayed a hint of longing, Cecil interrogated her, asking, “Eden, what does that expression mean?”
To the public, she was Eden. Edna was a name known only to Cecil, Edna herself, and the heavens.
“It’s nothing,” Edna replied, turning away from her mother’s icy gaze.
Alone, Cecil addressed Edna, “Do you understand why I’m making these sacrifices?”
“Yes, Mother. I understand. It’s all about securing the throne.”
“Yes, yes, I understand,” Edna replied wearily, her ear practically calloused from hearing Cecil’s warnings countless times before.
Nevertheless, Cecil persisted in her clear, unwavering voice. “If your true identity is revealed, all my efforts will be in vain, and my life will end at the gallows. You will suffer a humiliating existence, ruled by ignorant men, vulnerable to the schemes of those seeking to seize the throne.”
Edna had grown accustomed to these admonitions, but Cecil continued undeterred. “Women are given nothing in this world. That’s why I want to create a world where you carve out your own destiny with your own strength. I don’t want you to endure the same fate as me, so remain vigilant. The throne will soon be yours, as Ducaine III’s reign falters.”
The thought of whether she could maintain her facade without detection briefly contorted Edna’s face with bitterness. Perhaps it would be possible with Cecil’s guidance. After fifteen years of hiding her true self, Cecil would ensure their success, even if it meant erasing Edna’s own desires.
“When you ascend to the throne, never emulate your disgraceful father’s actions,” Cecil emphasized. “A true king commands both respect and fear, akin to the sun, not wallowing in filth like a swine. That is the kind of ruler you will become.”
Edna silently lamented her lack of agency in her own life.
I never had a choice from the moment I was born into the royal family, she thought. Must I simply hope for my father’s demise? Is there no possibility of coexistence?
However, she dared not show her inner turmoil. The consequences of discovery were too dire. If Edna’s true gender was exposed, Cecil would lose her life, and Edna herself would face insurmountable repercussions. The burden of secrecy weighed heavily on her shoulders, a burden she bore alone.
Occasionally, when she ventured out disguised as a hunter, Edna purposefully meandered through the bustling market streets, observing the people with a mixture of curiosity and yearning.
Her longing reached its peak when she beheld the renowned “flame glass” destined for a new cathedral. Its magnificent beauty seemed to embody the freedom she so desperately craved. It was her first encounter with stained glass, a trend already sweeping through other countries with explosive popularity.
The colored panels shimmered as if ablaze with light, captivating Edna with their grandeur. She circled beneath the window, immersing herself in the luminous spectacle. In that radiant display, she found a fleeting respite from the harsh reality that bound her.
At sixteen years old, as Ducaine III’s tyranny reached its zenith, resistance among the lords began to surface. Despite urgent reports flooding in, Ducaine III, inebriated throughout the day, remained indifferent to them. His judgment, already clouded by syphilis, had deteriorated further. Each report was met with boastful claims of the capital city’s strength and his ability to quell any rebellion.
Chapter 19
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