Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Chapter 118: Ch. 117: Big Brother is Watching

Upon exiting the carriage, I reach for the necklace in my pocket, feeling content at its touch. Today has been a day of many revelations. First of marriage, then of my mother. They serve as reminders that my time is short and I must be decisive in my next steps.

I look down at my slender ankle in pity. She is the only one, other than Augustus, who may not enjoy what happens next to the fullest.

In a way, Augustus and I share more similarities than Julian and I. Julian and I have both lived previous lives, but I’d like to think I’ve grown and changed since my days as Maria, the college student whose fiance cheated on her with her best friend. Julian, I could practically smell his former, middle-aged, upper-class self beneath his young flesh. Not to mention, in this world, Julian has ties to a powerful family and is content to coast through life. He still felt guilt, but Julian doesn’t have it in him to shake the status quo.

Augustus on the other hand, is a puppet, like me. A cherished one, but a puppet nonetheless. He has lost his mother as well and is the tool the noble faction opposing House Duvernay wishes to use to dull the illustrious family’s power in the future. Aside from the fact that Augustus may still have PTSD from dealing with me at the warfront, a conclusion I have reached from the way he scurried out of view every time I saw him in the distance, I would have been better off trying to develop a partnership with him as opposed to Julian.

Besides, he’s the crown prince and the future emperor if nothing goes wrong. A future emperor would be far more useful to have in my corner as opposed to an idle prince. But the excitement of dealing with a fellow Traveler had overcome my common sense in the past, to the point that I was able to overlook our incompatibility and the many slights of Julian.

“Marie?” I say, stopping where I stand. I’d been taking the path back to the central palace so I can arrive before Augustus, but now I realize I don’t want Marie to be there when I deal with Augustus. To some extent, Marie still thinks of me as a pure and good child, and I selfishly want to preserve that image in front of her.

“Your highness,” she answers.

.....

“I wish to play outside. Can you please fetch some toys from my apartments? Please look for my golden ball in particular. I will not play without it,” I tell my nursemaid. I feel a tinge of guilt inside, as the golden ball I speak of was knocked out of a window by accident a few weeks ago and never found again. But the distraction should serve long enough for me to do what needs to be done.

Marie’s face brightens. I know how much she yearns for me to play and idle around like a normal child, so I feel bad for fooling her in this way. She is so diligent with me, even sternly instructing the armor-clad guards standing like statues before the entrance of the central palace to watch me carefully.

The moment Marie disappears inside, I waste little time. For once I’m not under the supervising eye of my attendants, maids, or Marie. Save for an assassin leaping out of the bushes for me, the guards do not care what I get up to. It’s quiet and almost peaceful, but not for long.

I can hear footsteps approach the path I’m conveniently standing smack-dab in the middle of and take a deep breath. Closer and closer my brother comes. He has a few attendants and with the wind blowing against my back, I can already smell the faint horse manure odor that accompanies the grounds near the barracks.

“Augustus!” I chirp with more energy than my high school’s cheer captain belting out our school song.

My older brother has learned. Without saying a word or even laying eyes on me, he gives me the widest possible berth on the path. The wariness that hung in his downturned gaze, I put that there. I feel strangely proud of it for some reason.

Augustus moves with the dexterity of someone who was strictly trained by the best in the land since he was old enough to pick up a sword. His steps are light as he dances around my obvious trap in the center of the path, even if I were to rush up to him I wouldn’t manage to make contact with Augustus.

Yes, my masterplan to trap Augustus in conversation is just to brush by him, fall, and get him to take responsibility for my injury. I dare you to come up with a better plan.

Augustus may have escaped my clutches, already far beyond me down the path before I can blink. But like any other prince, he walks around with attendants, and they certainly don’t share the same dexterity as he does.

It’s easy as cake, seemingly walking by one of the slower attendants who can’t move out of the way fast enough and tumbling to the ground. And as always, I’m dedicated to my performance. Faking an injury? That won’t be enough to guilt Augustus into coming back to check on me.

If nothing else, Augustus’ fatal flaw in the webnovel was his good heart and typical white knight personality. Any person suffering injustice was championed by Augustus (although I seem to have been conveniently left off out of this treatment). With a real injury, my odds of keeping Augustus long enough to work with me will be heightened.

The things I do for... power.

I twist my ankle mercilessly as I tumble down, the white arc of pain bolting up my shin letting me know that my performance may have been a tad more dedicated than I would’ve liked. I wince for real, a loud sound that freezes all the attendants in their tracks. You’d think with everything I’ve been through my pain tolerance would have increased by now.

Seeing the frozen bodies before me, I blink away the heat building in my eyes and throw my best accusatory glare at them. I feel bad for perhaps scaring a few years off their lives, but ultimately I won’t do anything to them, I just need Augustus’ attention. And he knows that too, because in the distance where he was eating up ground with his long legs, my oldest brother has stopped in his path home. Even if his white knight nature never protected me, he will never allow his attendants to suffer.

“How could you?” I wheeze out. My voice isn’t loud, but pain drips from each word, causing the attendant to fall to his knees without a word.

He knows he did nothing. I know he did nothing. But he doesn’t dare to protest and I feel like a terrible brute lording over him with my power in the same way I’ve demonised others for doing. In my heart, I beg for Augustus to storm over quickly so I can stop this farce of a power play.

“My sincere apologies, your highness. Please punish me as you see fit,” the attendant in a quiet voice. He is a picture of subservience. A flashback of me biting my tongue before Empress Katya comes to mind.

“It’s not a big d... I mean, you dare order me to punish you?” I bite out, struggling on how to draw out the conversation until Augustus finally succumbs.

“I was presumptuous, your highness. I don’t dare to predict your intentions,” the attendant replied.

He’s good, as expected of someone in my brother’s service. Other servants would be cowering or have pissed themselves by now. Were these the people the emperor put around my brother? People who could protect him and keep him out of trouble?

I smile to myself and the attendant’s head dips lower, misconstruing my mirthless grin at my lack of importance for rage. But the smile inadvertently serves another purpose: luring Augustus into the poorly constructed trap I made.

As sloppy as the fake injury act is, I can finally understand why all the two-faced second female leads in romance novels carry this in their back pocket. It is incredibly effective, to the point I almost look forward to using it on a less innocent target.

“Have you had enough fun yet?” Beads of sweat sparkle on Augustus’ forehead, relics of a fierce sparring session with Lord Wolfgang. His brow is pinched as he glares down at me like he wishes to run me through with a sword. This look suits him far better than the meek avoidance I saw earlier. It’s understandable why Peppermint gave him so many moments to stand up for others, this is where Augustus’ personality truly shines.

Unfortunately, today’s task at hand is not to admire the male lead but to endear myself to a valuable ally. Hence why I went all out on making sure my injury was real rather than fake.

“Does this look like fun to you, Augustus?”

I tug up my skirt, causing the attendants to turn around faster than the speed of light and for Augustus’ scowl to deepen. It looks just like our father’s.

My ankle is already chubby and swollen, the flesh adopting a painful red color that would make anyone feel tenderhearted to see such a wound on my tiny ankle. When I roll my foot in a circle, I grit my teeth from the faint agony that follows.

“Just heal yourself. Why take it out on an attendant you ran into?” Augustus chastises.

I roll my eyes. “My gift of healing only extends to those outside of my own flesh. I cannot heal my body.”

Augustus lets out a loud breath, but he peers closer at my let to make sure my injury isn’t fake. His large hand wraps around my ankle as he rubs it to check for makeup.

“Ow, OW! Hey! What the fuck, man!” I yell, slapping away at his arm with my good hand. “It’s not fake, alright?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Augustus says. A faint look of guilt flashes over his face but he stomps it out quickly.

“Those were desperate circumstances, something I don’t ever expect you to never understand,” I answer sharply, throwing in a jab between my words as even more pain flares from my ankle. It increases my determination to forge a partnership with Augustus, the price I’ve paid is too high to walk, no hobble, away with nothing.

Augustus pinches the bridge of his nose, looking away as he collected himself. “What do you want?”

“Dismiss your people.”

“What do you want, Winter?” he asks again with faint anger in his tone.

“Well done saying my name this time,” I reply sarcastically. “But no answer until you dismiss your people.”

My older brother gives me a hard look, one partially obscured by the long locks of dark hair that faintly cover his hair. It seems he is trying to grow out his hair to look even more like our father.

He waves his hand and the attendants disperse on command in the disciplined manner all palace servants possess. It’s practically inhumane, like reminding me more of well-trained dogs than people.

“I just want us to get to know each other better,” I say with a lazy smirk designed to piss people off.

It works and Augustus bristles immediately. “You did not seek me out and delay my return to my quarters simply to tell me this, did you? Because if so, that is absurd.”

“But you’re my big brother, isn’t it normal for me to want to get to know you better?” I pout up at him, tugging at the pant leg closest to me rather pitifully.

My cuteness, which would have melted Marie or my attendants to a puddle, seem to frighten Augustus even more. He blanches, perhaps experiencing flashbacks of when I held a letter opener to my neck while talking to him in a charming baby voice.

“D-Don’t do that. Don’t.” He stares at me like he’s seen a ghost, which feels slightly offensive.

“Fine, fine, fine. I won’t,” I murmur playfully. “Did you miss me?”

Augustus keeps staring, too shell-shocked to speak.

“Boring,” I mutter under my breath. “Well, I sought you out because I want us to establish a partnership with one another.”

“Absolutely ludicrous. Never.” Augustus doesn’t even consider my words for a heartbeat.

“How typical of men like you to be so cocky. And you’re not even a man yet,” I tell the newly minted 17-year-old. Noblemen of the Erudian Empire debut in society and become adults at the age of 18 so I technically am not lying.

“Your point?” My oldest brother’s patience is clearly at its limit.

“Father has paved you a road even nicer than this one to the throne. But without me, just like today, you will never make it across unscathed,” I warn Augustus, slowly peeling through the layers of arrogance. “You think like a man, that all you need to achieve power is strength, a good heart, and maybe a little bit of pedigree. I can tell you without a doubt that you are wrong. And your way of thinking may cost you your life one day.”

Of course, with the female lead, Clara, there to tear off Empress Katya’s mask before Augustus so he could realize the true danger in his path, the crown prince will be fine no matter what in the future. But unfortunately for Clara, I will become the one who helps him navigate the delicate nuances of power that women understand best.

“You dare to curse the crown prince?” Augustus scoffs. But there’s been a change in his temperament. He’s stopped yanking his leg from my grip and though his face doesn’t show it, he is keen to listen to my words.

“Father is powerful, but even he can only give you the royal guard, a majority of the army’s generals, and at best half of the faction that opposes the Duvernay family. However, the army is stationed outside the gates of Radovalsk. In case of a revolt, those associated with the Duvernay family, who would most certainly back a Duvernay prince instead of you, have more than enough forces within the capital to take care of the royal guard. You’d be dead before the sun set on the revolt and the crown would be on Julian’s head by dawn.”

Augustus swallows dryly. “You’re wrong. The empress said both she and Julian do not seek the throne, they just wish to live peacefully,” he counters. His voice is weak, I’m getting through to him.

“Am I? Your mother may not have been as destitute as mine, but the daughter of a former Master of Coin does not inspire much loyalty from this blue-blooded throng we have the misfortune of interacting with regularly. You should be able to discern as much for yourself. But a Duvernay,” I tsk lightly. “Even the most destitute gambler would put money on them. Today she tells you she does not want the throne, but I must ask. If tomorrow she tried to take it, could you stop her?”

Augustus opens and closes his mouth for a few seconds. I give him the benefit of the doubt, as he is actually a teenager and as intelligent as he probably is, he still possesses an inane trust for the adults around him. For an ordinary kid, Augustus is exemplary, but as a member of the imperial family, he needs to be better. I’m laying all my chips on him and I cannot afford to lose.

“Father, he could-” he scrambles for an answer, but I cut him off immediately.

“Enough about Father! Enough about the emperor!” My tone is emphatic as I slap the ground with each sentence. I’m already fuming at his mention. “He may seem like a god, but Father is a man. And no man is impervious to death or all-knowing. Your blind trust in him is foolish. Do you know what you look like to me? A fat pig being raised for the slaughter. And you don’t even know it, just like the foolish pig that eats from the troughs of his would-be murderer.”