Chương 205: Chapter 63: Li Meilan

Upon leaving the test, with the fresh air laden with approaching humidity, her steps deviated almost by instinct toward Meilan's workshop. She remembered that the little goldsmith, or rather, the little princess, used to be absent for periods of time to search for exotic materials, as she had done the previous year. Perhaps she would not be there. But pushing the door, which gave way with its familiar creak, she saw her.

Meilan was motionless in front of her workbench, her back straight, her arms suspended in a perfect balance. Between her fingers, slender and sure, she held delicate tweezers. Beneath the lamp of clear light, an exquisite gold necklace was beginning to take shape. It was not a simple piece; it was a work of mind-boggling complexity.

Gold filigrees as fine as hairs entwined forming stylized waves, on each crest, set with millimeter precision, there were tiny gems: emeralds that captured the green of Selena's eyes, sapphires of deep blue, rubies like drops of blood, and diamonds that refracted the light into microscopic rainbows. The foreign patterns; they evoked entwined sea serpents, abstract flowers, fluid symbols that spoke of an ancestral and refined art.

Selena stopped at the door, awestruck, almost unwilling to disturb that Spartan concentration, that sacred communion between the artist and her creation. But it was Meilan who, with the sharpened perception of someone accustomed to being observed, noticed the presence. She turned her head, without letting go of the tweezers, and her dark eyes, always so expressive, met Selena's. A slow, mischievous smile formed on her lips. —Oh, a murderer came for me!

—she exclaimed, raising her voice with sarcasm so blatant that it was comical. Selena approached, a smile responding to hers. —Murderer? —she asked. Before Meilan could add anything, she poked her softly in the side with a finger. —She has stabbed me! Someone save me! Treason! —exaggerated Meilan, dropping the tweezers with a theatrical click and bringing a hand to her chest, feigning mortal pain.

Laughter erupted between the two of them, a clear, genuine sound that filled the workshop and dissolved the solemnity of the moment. Meilan wiped away an imaginary tear of laughter. —I haven't seen you since before my birthday. You are one of those friends who are not forgotten, but who mysteriously don't come back… you are weird sometimes, Selena. She looked her up and down while Selena stood in front of her. Meilan was, indeed, taller. Only a centimeter, perhaps two, but the difference was noticeable.

A late growth spurt, a fulfilled promise of clinging adolescence. —Now the dwarf is another, from what I see —said Meilan, adopting a tone of measured, playful arrogance— Let me repeat your own advice to you: 'So I wouldn't grow because of the weight of my lies', isn't that what you used to say? Selena laughed, the sound warm and carefree. —That's right, princess of Jingdao. The words fell like a spell of silence. Meilan's smile froze.

Her eyes, always so lively, opened wide, absolute surprise erasing any trace of mockery. The air in the workshop seemed to grow denser. —If it were because of the weight of your lies —continued Selena, her voice low but clear— perhaps you would have never passed the size you were as a baby. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it She let the implication settle. Meilan was paralyzed, motionless as a jade statue suddenly struck.

Selena raised her left hand, showing the braided steel ring with obsidian, the one she always wore on her pinky. —So… a ring of the Pact of the Waves, friend? —she asked, her tone now soft, almost conspiratorial— I know everything, little liar. And if perhaps… you tell me the truth, I'll tell you mine. She measured her with her eyes, waiting, offering an exchange on the razor's edge of trust. Meilan did not release her breath.

Her lungs seemed to have shrunken, her eyes did not blink, fixed on Selena as if trying to decipher an impossible code on her face. The seconds stretched, heavy. Until, finally, a long, trembling sigh escaped her lips, breaking the spell. The mask of the girl goldsmith cracked, laying bare a solemn, adult expression of vulnerability.

—Tian hai gongzhu —she murmured, the words in Jingyu sounding strange and musical in the air laden with metal shavings and wax— We don't even have names for those who aren't royalty that they can pronounce. Even in our history, many of us are only remembered as 'the imperial princess', a title, not a person. She had lost all trace of childhood on her face; her features seemed more defined, more severe, carved by a thousand-year-old lineage.

In her eyes there was a pride that only those who know the world belongs to them possess, it was very different from haughtiness, closer to divine right. —Isabella Elizabeth Selena de Solendra, Marchioness has been disseminated. I am Li Meilan, Tian hai gongzhu. Or, as every subordinate must refer to me… diànxià. I am the sixteenth in the direct line of succession to the Jade Chrysanthemum Throne.

—She dropped the solemnity with another sigh, more tired this time— That is how they wish for me to act every time there are official eyes on me. It is exhausting. That's why… that's why I gave you the ring. Because you are like me, at the end of the day. Proud of what you are, but not because of having been born into it. But because of how you were formed. Humble to the soul. I don't wear ostentatious jewels or imperial silks in my day-to-day either.

She lowered her head for a moment, the blush rising up her cheeks making her flush, she was embarrassed hiding her eyes. —And I have cried, more than one night, for the food of my homeland, for the sound of the market under the rain… for the normalcy I never had, and you don't know how much I miss the Mù dā. —She raised her head, and now her eyes shone with a different light, a mix of relief and determination— The ring…

I knew that if you were going to see His Majesty Thaerón IV, having it, he would have to be more careful with you. Giving it to you is giving you the protection of a friend who declares that you have the status of a foreign princess, even here, in Erabergh. I knew you would hate being chained by another title, another obligation. I hated it too… until I convinced dad.

Her chest was heavy despite the years that had passed, it was clear that she didn't want to talk about that anymore, and yet, she revealed it to her friend. Upon pronouncing the word 'dad' her face reflected two emotions: one affection and another exasperation. —To give me permission to come here, hidden, to study this art in a country where no one reveres me or watches my every breath.

—She paused, and a mischievous smile, that of the real Meilan, peeked through— Please, don't call me 'princess' anymore, seriously… or I'll have to look down on you while you wash my feet. She said it was like a playful challenge, an attempt to recover the lightness. Selena leaned slightly, an exaggerated gesture of courtesy. —Yes, if that's how you like it, Your Majesty —she said, with a fake solemnity. Then, making a feint of kneeling to take her foot, she provoked the desired reaction.

Meilan couldn't hold it in. A clear, uninhibited laugh burst from her throat, completely breaking the tension. —Alright, alright! You don't have to do it, dear subject —she teased, still laughing. After the laughter of both subsided, Meilan spoke again, her tone more serious but warm. —The Pact of the Waves… is the oldest and most powerful mutual protection treaty between Jingdao and Erabergh. One that, even to the most humble citizen of my land, gives the right to be treated as an equal here, and vice versa.

If I say you are my equal, that this ring certifies it… you will be respected as such in any court, before any noble who knows the symbol. —She extended her arm and pulled her into a quick but firm embrace, then whispered softly— Thank you for your painting. Its shapes, inspired by the sea as you said in your note… remind me of the cliffs of my land, of the mist over the water at dawn.

It is not a jewel, but it is the most valuable thing a busy and powerful marchioness could make for a poor exiled princess, isn't it? She laughed at her own sarcasm, the sound full of a camaraderie that went beyond titles, kingdoms, and secrets. The marchioness sketched a smile that didn't quite reach a laugh. They were simply two women who saw each other as humans, humans finally behind all the masks they had never wished to wear.