Chapter 197
Seeing Natasha Grünehals’s twisted expression, Princess Camille let out a solemn sigh.
“I heard something happened on your way here?”
It had only just happened, so how did she already know? Natasha looked at Camille oddly for a moment, but her suspicion didn’t last long. This quiet future sister-in-law, who rarely left the princess’s palace, had always been strangely quick to hear rumors.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Why are you getting yourself worked up too? I’ll see to it that the engagement is arranged quickly, so stay calm for a while. Abel may not be the most prudent man, but after all these years, his feelings for you are deep. Naturally, he’ll marry you.”
‘Calmly?’ Natasha almost laughed at that word. What could one possibly gain by being calm?
If her mother had stayed calm, she would have had to watch her father hand over House Grünehals to his illegitimate sons. If Natasha had stayed calm, Abelus would already have a whole squad of bastards by now.
A woman marrying a man without a shred of responsibility could never live “calmly.”
And Camille hardly lived calmly herself. Natasha had heard Abelus complain countless times about his sister’s meddlesome nature.
So those who called Camille gentle were fools. Why else would she still be unmarried?
By not marrying, Camille remained a noble princess of the empire for life. But if she did, her status—no matter whom she wed—would inevitably drop.
A duchess, a marchioness, a countess… none stood above a princess. Even a foreign queen, though equal in rank by law, would find it hard to wield more power than the cherished daughter of the mighty Emperor of Bistor.
‘Yes… and it would be even harder to sway a future emperor once he’s enthroned…’
Natasha had always disliked how Camille often summoned Abelus to scold him. It was presumptuous—a way to impose seniority and undermine the woman destined to be Crown Princess.
Reading the discontent on Natasha’s face, Camille continued coldly,
“Della Yusberry, Raina Cort, Kairat Spanner… The women Abel has been involved with so far were all of insignificant status.”
Natasha’s face stiffened.
Names she had nearly forgotten. Once she dealt with them, they were no longer worth remembering.
Those insolent women who dared to cling to ‘her’ man—reaching for a tree they could never climb, mocking the rightful mistress of that place.
So she hadn’t shown them mercy. They were the ones who started it.
“I let it go until now. Turning those women into barren husks could be considered justified revenge, and it kept the Imperial Family comfortable. But after seeing what happened to Duke Elandria, I’ve realized that small things, if ignored, can grow into great dangers.”
Like many old noble houses, House Grünehals possessed a unique poison—one that made whoever ingested it incapable of bearing children for life. (T/N: WAAAIIIITTT A MINUTE!!! So, it was her fault why Nerys was infertile in the first timeline?!)
The same poison Natasha had secretly fed to Della, Raina, and Kairat.
Camille’s tone was that of sincere concern, but Natasha felt only irritation. Her temper flared.
“What danger, Your Highness? I won’t ask how you happen to know about my family’s property, but I am curious why a noble princess would bother collecting the names of such lowly women. Did you think I’d bow my head meekly if you threw those names at me?”
Her tone was insolent, her voice dripping with scorn.
Camille’s eyes blazed.
“Natasha Grünehals, is that what your family taught you about manners?”
“The Crown Prince’s future wife quarreled with another woman because of him, and instead of offering comfort, Your Highness starts with threats? If this is what passes for royal etiquette, then this is my best attempt at it. You say His Highness will ‘naturally’ marry me? Of course he will. Otherwise, House Grünehals won’t stay quiet.”
She could stand it no longer. Natasha rose sharply, her gaze blazing.
“Your Highness, when I marry your brother, I’ll be addressed as ‘Your Grace, the Crown Princess’. I mean no disrespect to your authority, but I see no reason to take lectures on how to handle shameless women who dream of becoming royal mistresses.”
Camille’s face flushed red with rage, then paled to icy blue.
“Natasha!”
Natasha looked down at her coolly, her expression already that of someone who believed herself the equal of a crown princess—because pride demanded it.
“Indeed, Your Highness may call me that as you please. Just as you call your brother by name. But where I go and whom I meet is none of your concern. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone else I must see.”
‘Clang.’ As Natasha strode out, her hand brushed an ornament that fell and shattered against the floor. She didn’t bother to look back.
In the quiet that followed, Camille ground her teeth, then suddenly grabbed a teacup and hurled it toward the door.
‘Crash!’ The imported porcelain shattered into fragments.
A servant approached silently. “Are you all right, my lady?”
“Do I look all right to you?”
Camille hissed sharply. She’d always known Natasha was arrogant—but not this brazenly so.
‘When she marries, she’ll be ‘Your Grace’? She’s practically shouting that she’ll outrank me!’
She needed to be taught her place. But she couldn’t do so openly.
Natasha’s boldness came from knowing Camille couldn’t interfere in Abelus’s affairs—because the Emperor and Empress, wary of their daughter’s ambition, would never allow her to meddle in the Crown Prince’s marriage.
Camille lowered her gaze, cold calculation flickering in her eyes as she began to count the more insidious methods available to her.
❖ ❖ ❖
Joan jumped up the instant she saw Nerys Truydd.
“Welcome, Your Grace!”
“Hello, Joan.”
When Nerys entered the same private room as before, a peculiar scent filled the air. Not a floral or sweet aroma, but the fresh, slightly bitter smell of herbs.
Not the kind usually traded by merchant groups. Nerys took a seat with Dora’s help, while Aaron sat beside Joan.
“What is all this, Joan?”
The reason for the scent was obvious—the marble table between the chairs was piled high with bundles of herbs.
Joan said proudly, “When I brought in the ingredients Miss Shirley asked for, I also procured some tonics to offer Your Grace. They’re said to be very good for married women.”
“Is that really necessary? It hasn’t been long since I got married.”
The phrase ‘married women’ made Nerys immediately guess the herbs were good for pregnancy. In that case, she didn’t need them.
But Joan shook her head. “That’s why you should start early! My mother always said that after marriage, a woman’s health wears down from all the worries. You must stay strong! Now! Take these! For your health!”
There wasn’t much to argue with there. And truthfully, her body ‘had’ been weary lately—though she’d never admit that out loud.
Seeing her hesitation, Dora began gathering the herb bundles on her own. Joan smiled in satisfaction.
“The heart of the Moriér Merchant Group is medicine, after all. And if the head of our house isn’t healthy, it wouldn’t make sense.”
“I’m not exactly sick right now.”
“You’ve gotten too thin again. You looked better for a while, but you’re losing weight.”
“Really?”
When Nerys tilted her head, Joan spoke gently, almost like coaxing a younger sister.
“Health always comes first, Your Grace. These days, our medicinal division has been getting quite a few unusual requests. We’ve received three cases already from young women told they can’t have children. They’re desperate to find a cure.”
“…How unfortunate.”
“Isn’t it? I heard they’re all unmarried ladies, secretly searching for help.”
“Wait—a number of ‘unmarried’ women are getting tested for fertility?”
Physicians couldn’t literally see inside a person’s body. To determine whether one could have children in the future required powerful, expensive magic tools.
Perhaps they were families being thorough in marriage preparations? Nerys frowned slightly, and Joan lowered her voice.
“It seems not. Aaron looked into it—the women were all rumored to be mistresses-to-be of high-ranking men. Specifically, they’d all been seen speaking with His Highness the Crown Prince at public events.”
Aaron added, “If it’s the Crown Prince’s first child, even an illegitimate one, it would carry weight. The family could receive a substantial sum for discretion. Yet every single one of these young women, though seemingly chosen carefully, was diagnosed infertile. People are starting to suspect something’s behind it.”
Nerys’s face went pale.
‘The Crown Prince.’
Her heart started pounding wildly before her mind could form a coherent thought.
Joan stood in alarm. “Your Grace? You look unwell!”
“It’s nothing.”
The words escaped too quickly, almost instinctively.
Nerys tried to steady her breathing, but one thought refused to leave her mind—the shared link between herself and those women.
‘Women who had been with Abelus.’
Throughout her entire marriage, she’d never once heard news of Abelus fathering a child.
She knew what kind of man he was—responsibility was not his virtue. He was not someone who’d worry about illegitimate children.
And yet, even the beloved mistress, Megara Lykeandros, had never once shown signs of pregnancy. That was why the Emperor and Empress had ordered Abelus himself to be examined.
The diagnosis had been clear: the Crown Prince’s reproductive health was normal.
The quiet rumor that began as ‘perhaps it’s him’ had turned into ‘of course it’s her.’
‘The barren Crown Princess.’ The physicians had confirmed it. And as for Lady Megara? She wasn’t even married yet—surely she was simply being careful not to conceive out of wedlock.
So everyone assumed Abelus had merely reined himself in. Or perhaps Megara was simply doing her part to keep him from wandering to other women.
But what if that wasn’t the case?
What if someone simply didn’t ‘want’ any woman to bear Abelus’s child?
Nerys felt dizzy and pressed a hand to her forehead.
“Joan… the matter we were supposed to discuss today—send it in writing to the Grand Duke’s estate. I need to go somewhere at once.”
“Go? Your Grace, your hands are white as chalk! I’ll fetch a doctor—please, lie down first!”
“No.”
She waved Joan off and stood unsteadily, ignoring her maid’s panicked expression.
In her eyes flickered both fear—and a faint glimmer of hope.
“I have to go now. Send for a physician as well… yes, send him with the documents to the Grand Duke’s estate.” (T/N: YESSS!! I am calling it!! Nerys will be preggy sooooooon!!!)