The Last Dahlia

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The flags of the five kingdoms were flying high in the wind on the final day of the tournament, with a crowd gathered at the spectators' stands, eager to catch a glimpse of the renowned Rose Princess and the lucky man who would have her as his bride. There was not an empty seat in the house, and everywhere the sounds of gregarious laughter and chatter filled the air as people eagerly anticipated the arrival of the princess.

Today, the king had granted special permission for the princess to be shown to the rest of the world, the precious jewel that he had protected so well all these years, in anticipation of this day when he would finally place her in the safe hands of another. In exchange, he would not have lost a daughter, but gained a son. As such, the king of Dahai was in especially high spirits, especially considering that the champions of his two ideal candidates had successfully managed to make it to the final round. No matter who won the tournament today, he would leave as the ultimate winner.

The two champions who would be contesting the final round were already standing in front of the stands, quietly facing each other across the courtyard—Shoya, entirely in white, and Baixun, in the contrasting shade of black.

"Announcing the arrival of Her Royal Highness, Princess Naying of Dahai!" the king's attendant declared to the crowd. Immediately, a hushed silence fell across the stands as everyone strained their necks eagerly to catch the first glimpse.

The moment the princess rounded the corner and appeared in full view, there was an audible exclamation of awe that went around the spectators' stands. There she stood in her regal gown of liquid gold and her golden mask, looking as if she had just descended from the heavens upon the rays of the sun. There was not a single person present who was able to tear his or her eyes away from the princess.

Rouge-tinted lips curling upwards in a reluctant smile, Yuehwa continued walking, trying her best not to swear because of the amount of effort it took to make each step. Beside her were two palace maids dressed in their sea blue, both of whom also wore veils that hid the lower halves of their faces; one of them was the real princess, shakily following behind Yuehwa.

The king smiled broadly when he saw his daughter approach, saying, "Ah there she is! I was beginning to wonder what was taking so long. She takes after her mother, does she not? Back in the day, everyone said that my queen was the fairest across all the lands!"

The rest of the royal guests nodded in agreement, with the exception of Lady Kang who was seated to the king's left. She looked as though she was smiling as she listened to his words, but those who were observant might have noticed the slight twitch of displeasure at the left corner of her lips when she heard him.

Yuehwa took her seat up on the royal grandstand, on the other side of the king. The minute she sat down, she immediately spotted Shoya standing at the left side of the courtyard, no longer with bloodstains on his clothes but still looking paler than he should.

Idiot, he already got what he came here for, why's he still going through with this?

For all his supposed cleverness, Shoya was probably the biggest numbskull she had ever known. In his current condition, she wasn't even sure if he would last ten moves against Baixun.

She glanced quickly to her left, where the crown prince of Feng was seated. He was engaged in casual conversation with one of the king's ministers, as if the match that was about to take place had nothing to do with him whatsoever. When he caught her looking his way, he lifted his cup in the air and subtly tilted his head in acknowledgement, his thin lips curving upwards in a confident smirk.

Yuehwa scowled and immediately turned the other way.

Further down the right side, she saw Maroo looking pallid, his hands wringing his clothes so tightly that the whites of his knuckles were showing. "I'll bet all the gold in the royal coffers that Park Maroo isn't the crown prince of Gi," she muttered under her breath. There was nothing about him that suggested that he was a prince, with the exception of the clothes on his back.

On the contrary, there was one person that she increasingly felt could be the real deal.

Tracing the trajectory of Maroo's intense gaze, she found herself looking at Baixun, who was standing on the right side of the courtyard flippantly tossing his sword from one hand to the next. That handsome guard who always seemed to be freely roaming the palace, appearing at all the wrong times with his easy demeanour and lackadaisical ways. She always had the niggling feeling that something didn't quite meet the eye when it came to Baixun, but she was never quite sure what it was.

Today, she finally had it figured out.

Her fingers toyed with the tiny bottle of poison she was hiding in the palm of her hand. She would have slipped this into the congratulatory toast that the princess was to personally offer the victorious prince at the end of the tournament. Nothing fatal, but it would leave the world believing that the prince had a chronic, debilitating ailment, and convince the king of Dahai to retract his promise of betrothal.

But if the Prince of Gi won, then perhaps she needn't use it after all.

Turning to girl standing on her left, she whispered, "You fancy Baixun, don't you? How would you like it if he were the one that you were to marry?"