The Munchkin Princess Wants to Run Away Chapter 23

“This must be your first time in the south. Have you enjoyed your stay?”

The countess watched Ivanna sip her tea, nodded with satisfaction, and continued the conversation.

“Yes. It’s just as beautiful as I’d heard.”

She had been told that, if not for the drought, wheat would be growing across the vast fields.

Spring had only just given way to summer, and this should have been the time when fresh green shoots began to sprout. It was a shame she hadn’t been able to witness such a beautiful sight.

They had said that sowing would be possible once the rain came, but they would be using a teleportation magic circle on their way back to the capital.

She would probably never get to see those fields that supposedly looked as though they were covered in gold.

“If not for the drought, you would have seen the prosperous south, which is practically the heart of the empire. It’s fortunate that the rain has finally come.”

“I’m disappointed, too, but I’m glad the drought has been alleviated.”

Ivanna agreed with the countess and set down her teacup.

She would nod along to whatever the woman said for a little longer, then leave.

Ivanna pretended not to notice the maids standing behind the countess, watching her.

They, too, were looking her over as though trying to assess her worth, just like their mistress. They would never dare behave this way in front of a truly authoritative imperial princess.

‘They say tea parties are usually warm and friendly on the surface, even when everyone has ulterior motives.’

The countess seemed to have decided that Ivanna wasn’t even worth pretending to be friendly toward.

“I would have liked to show you around the garden, but unfortunately, the rain has made that impossible.”

Even if the garden had been filled with blooming flowers, Ivanna had a feeling the countess would never have invited her to take a walk through it.

“Instead, I’d love to hear about the latest trends in the capital. I’d like to hear some lively stories from the younger generation.”

At the countess’s gentle smile, Ivanna paused.

‘Is she really planning to make an enemy of me?’

Or was she implying that discussing such things was the only thing a duchess like Ivanna was capable of, and that she should keep her mouth shut and live quietly?

Ivanna had never participated in high society, neither as a princess nor as a duchess, so she knew nothing about the latest fashions or rumors circulating in the capital.

However, through Elisa and Anthony, she had learned enough to understand what was happening there.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you much, either, as my frail health has kept me from socializing.”

“Oh, dear. I’d heard that Your Highness was in poor health, but I never imagined it was true.”

For the first time since offering tea to her guest, the countess lifted her own cup. Its aroma was bitter, unlike Ivanna’s tea.

Ivanna deliberately let her shoulders droop in a pitiful manner.

“As you know, I’ve been in poor health since childhood.”

It was absurd to suggest that a member of the imperial family, descended from a bloodline blessed with divine power, could be physically weak.

But Ivanna decided to brazen it out. It was already common knowledge that she was a princess who had failed to receive divine power and was therefore frail.

“I shouldn’t have brought up such a topic.”

The countess gave her a sympathetic, sorrowful look.

“I’ve spent so much time alone that I doubt I have any stories you might find interesting, Countess.”

Since she couldn’t provide the sort of conversation the countess wanted, Ivanna hoped to bring the tea party to an end as quickly as possible.

Anthony, there’s no tea party filled with laughter and cheerful chatter here.

Ivanna swallowed a sigh at the atmosphere, which was nothing like what she had expected. Perhaps she should have pretended to be frightened by the duke’s suggestion and declined the invitation.

“I’m much the same. You must have had a difficult time as well, Your Highness.”

“You’ve been ill, too, Countess?”

She already knew this, but naturally pretended otherwise.

“Yes. That’s why I was so excited to have a guest after such a long time. What did you usually do in your room, Your Highness?”

The countess nodded as though she understood completely before changing the subject.

Ivanna had been worried about what she would do if the woman continued to attack her, so this was a relief.

There was an obvious answer to a question like that, after all.

“When I was feeling well, I would take a walk in the garden or read books in my room. That was about all I did.”

Ivanna smiled innocently, as though she knew nothing. In truth, perhaps the countess had no ulterior motives at all.

As she had said, the woman had spent a long time bedridden and might simply have been happy to see someone.

Perhaps the reason Ivanna was so wary and felt so uncomfortable was that her own mind had become twisted.

She swallowed a faint sigh along with her tea.

The pain of being abandoned and the anxiety of deceiving others always put her on the defensive.

Even though she tried not to be that way, whenever someone spoke to her, her first instinct was to wonder whether they were looking down on her.

It was too late to blame everything on the god who had failed to grant her divine power at the proper time. By then, parts of her had already been broken.

Ivanna didn’t know why the countess had wanted to have tea with her, but it didn’t feel like a gesture of pure goodwill.

She mocked herself for having expected an ordinary, pleasant tea party.

Just when, exactly, did hope disappear?

“You and I are quite alike. You must have had a difficult time, too, young princess.”

The countess spoke with a sorrowful expression.

“If you don’t mind, may I ask what kinds of books you read?”

“I read a lot of poetry and literature.”

In reality, she had mostly read books about politics and economics. Being abandoned hadn’t stripped her of the right to enter the imperial library.

Whenever she had nothing else to do, she would hide away in the library, avoiding people’s eyes.

She had occasionally seen her family members visiting the imperial library, but whenever that happened, she would always leave first, almost as though she were fleeing.

‘I often regretted not trying to speak to them.’

But back then, she had simply been too afraid.

She couldn’t bring herself to gather the courage to speak to her family, afraid that doing so would only confirm once again that she had been abandoned.

From a distance, she would look at her father’s face once, then at her siblings’ faces.

She could only gaze longingly at the faces she missed from afar before turning away.

“Difficult books only give you a headache, after all.”

Ivanna spoke as she pushed thoughts of her family out of her mind.

There was no reason for a duchess who would be confined to her room to be particularly intelligent. Ivanna waited for the countess to respond with something along the lines of, I suppose that makes sense.

“Then we have similar tastes. Have you ever read the poems of Mariel de Lucerne?”

“Of course. My favorite is Dawn.”

Mariel was the empire’s most celebrated female literary master. Her writing was warm and full of comfort.

“So you like her most famous poem. It contains such beautiful lines about watching the sun rise at daybreak and finding hope.”

The countess nodded with a pleased expression.

“What do you think the hope in Dawn represents?”

“Perhaps the hope each person carries in their heart?”

Ivanna offered a suitably vague interpretation. There had been times when she had hoped the gods would grant her divine power again, too.

“Each person’s own hope. How beautiful. But what if we look at it in terms of the entire empire?”

Why was she asking Ivanna that?

Their eyes met.

The countess’s gaze was steady and calm.

If Ivanna answered as she always did, pretending to know nothing, the tea party would end without further incident.

That was what she wanted most, yet Ivanna felt wronged.

It was the god’s fault that she hadn’t received divine power at the proper time. Why should she be the one to bear the blame?

The countess’s question, too, felt like a reproach for failing to receive the divine power that could have benefited the empire.

Clutching her teacup tightly, Ivanna opened her mouth.

“Perhaps, at a time like this, people might hope for someone who could put an end to the drought.”

She met the countess’s eyes and spoke firmly, as if declaring that it wasn’t her fault.

‘If I revealed my divine power, could I become someone’s hope, too?’

At the same time, a desire Ivanna had kept buried deep inside her cautiously raised its head.

“Someone with the divine power of water, for instance.”

She was supposed to live quietly and want nothing, just as Duke Reynold wished.

But whenever someone dug at her wounds like this, she couldn’t help wanting to snap back. She had often been scolded as a child for her stubborn refusal to lose.

Every now and then, that stubborn streak would wave at her as if to remind her that it was still alive.

“Oh, how fascinating. Indeed, such a person could become a source of hope not only for the empire but for the entire continent. Is that your hope as well, Your Highness?”

Hearing the countess ask that after her answer, Ivanna smiled bitterly.

“No. I shouldn’t wish for something I have no right to hope for.”

Unless the empire was on the verge of complete collapse, she had no intention of openly using her divine power.

Even before her marriage, she had already unleashed her power as far as the areas around the capital to make it rain.

Judging by the rain this time, it seemed that using a great deal of power could affect nature.

She could make an excuse to the duke about wanting to travel, visit various territories, and bring rain to each of them. That should solve the drought.

But it wasn’t time for her to step forward yet.

Ivanna lowered her eyes and lifted her teacup. There was no reason to reveal her true feelings to someone who wasn’t on her side.

This was enough.

At least the countess hadn’t criticized her posture, which meant Ivanna still remembered the lessons she had received as a child.

It was a relief that some parts of her were still useful.