Marked by the Ruthless Princess

All around the estate, red lanterns were hung to ward off the chill brought by the snow. Reginald Riley stood at the entrance alongside a throng of servants, his usually stern face softened by a rare touch of tenderness.

Lina Riley stood behind her father, studying his broad back. Inevitably, thoughts drifted to her previous life. After Sophia Riley took her own life, Reginald sank into despair and eventually died under enemy arrows. Later, Lina succeeded him, driving back the enemy within three months. Recalling these memories, she realized she felt little genuine affection for this father of hers.

A silvery jingle approached through the snow-blanketed world. Soon, armored soldiers came into view, escorting a simple carriage. The tinkling came from tiny bells hanging around the horses' necks. Nearing the gate, the soldiers split neatly into two ranks, allowing the carriage to halt at the entrance.

A hand lifted the curtain. A black-garbed attendant, her long hair tied high, stepped down first, then reached into the carriage to help the passenger within. Lina Riley was genuinely glad to see her elder sister again. Although Sophia Riley was deeply beloved, she had always carried a proud streak beneath her gentle façade. Unfortunately, the two sisters had never been close.

Aided by the attendant, Sophia Riley alighted. She hadn't faced the biting wind during her journey; soft furs had lined the carriage. Now, stepping into the open air, the cold seized her, and she raised a hand to her face as she coughed.

Reginald Riley hurried forward. Seeing his daughter's discomfort, he frowned and commanded, "Hurry and help the eldest miss inside."

Servants rushed in a flurry to usher Sophia back into the warm interior. In the confusion, someone jostled Lina. Luckily, Daisy Harper was there to steady her, and soon only Lina and Daisy remained, watching the bustling crowd vanish indoors.

Even if Lina had never seen life and death, she wouldn't have cared about such slights. But Daisy, young and outspoken, felt indignant on her mistress's behalf. "All that fuss over a cough," she muttered.

Lina shot her maid a warning glance and gently covered Daisy's mouth, prompting the girl to fall silent. The entire household was in an uproar over the eldest daughter's return. Lina, ever discreet, slipped quietly back into her own small domain.

Seated on her bed, Lina Riley contemplated what had occurred at this point in her previous life. If memory served, after Sophia's return, Lucille Everard—the Crown Princess—heard that General Riley's beloved daughter had come home and summoned the family to the palace. It was during that visit Lina chanced upon Victoria Ashwood being beaten by palace maids. Uncharacteristically moved, Lina stepped forward to save her.

After that, Victoria Ashwood, seeking to repay the favor, reached out to Lina repeatedly. At first it seemed inconsequential, but events spiraled. Victoria shielded Lina more than once, risking her own life, and Lina—never having known such care—felt it wasn't bad to remain at her side.

Yet stepping toward Victoria meant stepping deeper into a vicious struggle for the throne. Ultimately, Lina abandoned her philosophy of lying low and leapt into the whirlpool of imperial power plays, trapped there for thirteen years.

Now Lina narrowed her eyes, hiding a rekindled hatred. She could hardly wait to meet Victoria Ashwood again, this time on very different terms.

Elsewhere, in the study of the general's mansion, Sophia Riley reclined on a chair layered with furs. The black pelt beneath her made her pale face look even more fragile—like a finely crafted porcelain figure that might crack at the slightest touch.

A delicate scent of tea hung in the air, a quiet barrier between father and daughter. Reginald Riley could not conceal his anguish. Sophia resembled her mother in many ways, even inheriting frailty. He had sought countless physicians, but none offered a cure. Left with no choice, he focused on nourishing her, praying she'd live as long as fate allowed.

Sensing her father's worried gaze from the corner of her eye, Sophia managed a faint smile. "Life and death follow their own decree, Father. There's no need to fret."

Reginald Riley only shook his head. He pushed the teacup on the table farther away and sighed, "I must ask the Crown Princess for help. With her influence, she can surely locate that strange, temperamental physician."

Just the mention of Lucille Everard gave Sophia pause. She frowned and spoke decisively, "Father, think carefully. The Crown Princess is unpredictable. One misstep could bring disaster to the entire family. It's too dangerous."

Merely recalling that formidable figure made Reginald's blood run cold. He, a seasoned general with illustrious merits, might daunt ordinary folk. But that madwoman feared nothing. After killing someone, she could effortlessly replace them with a more capable figure. She bore grudges, dismissed both men and women alike, and was famed for her beauty. Many would-be suitors had tried their luck, only to meet gruesome ends.

Most infamous was the foreign prince who insulted her. Lucille Everard personally executed him and led her troops to break his capital city. Now, that nation's royal family toiled as slaves, and from time to time the Crown Princess would pay them a visit. If anyone dared slack off, she cracked a whip without mercy.

The more Reginald Riley considered it, the more his legs trembled. He discreetly pressed a hand to still them, wiping cold sweat from his brow. Yet the sight of his daughter's wan face hardened his resolve. He would take this risk.

Making up his mind, Reginald pondered how to arrange a meeting with the Crown Princess. Her movements were erratic, making it nearly impossible to find her. Were it not for Sophia's deteriorating health, he would never consider involving that terrifying woman.

Just as he was lost in thought, hurried footsteps sounded outside the study door. A rap on the door, and a young servant's breathless report followed: "General, Samuel Whitaker has arrived with a royal decree. The emperor summons you, along with the eldest and second miss, to the palace. He says the Crown Princess will be present."

Reginald felt a rush of relief—like a gift delivered right to his doorstep. He helped Sophia rise so they could go out and accept the imperial command.

Lina Riley knelt quietly behind her father as he conversed with Samuel Whitaker. Always so unobtrusive, she was easy to overlook. She watched the politeness and empty exchanges with half-lidded eyes, a heavy stone of worry at last easing in her heart. Everything was unfolding as it had in her previous life. That was good—it meant her rebirth had not derailed fate's course.

Yet if she could return from the dead, who was to say others could not as well?

Absorbed in these thoughts, Lina unconsciously straightened her spine—a habit ingrained from her past life. This small change drew some attention.

Sophia Riley noticed her younger sister deep in thought, the girl's face carrying a certain heroic air. Sophia was surprised. Though she returned home from time to time, Lina had always lurked in the distance, head bowed. Sophia could scarcely recall her sister's features. Now, seeing Lina's poised, spirited bearing, she felt a hint of admiration and the desire to grow closer.

So, Sophia called out kindly, "Lina, what's on your mind?"

The sudden address startled Lina. She was puzzled by her sister's unexpected concern. In her previous life, Sophia had never shown such interest. Only on her deathbed had Sophia looked at Lina properly. Could Sophia, too, be reborn? But if that were so, why bother forging a closer bond now?

Quashing the suspicion, Lina lowered her head and answered neatly, "I've never been to the palace before. I'm just a bit nervous."

It was a perfect excuse. Sophia believed her instantly. Noticing Lina's modest attire and sparse hair ornaments, Sophia removed a gold hairpin from her own hair and placed it in Lina's hand, smiling gently, "Don't worry. Tomorrow, just stay behind me."

Lina blinked, thanking her in confusion. The pin felt heavy, the delicate gold filigree shaped into a swallow clutching a red gemstone. Before Lina could refuse such a precious gift, Sophia began to cough again.

The attendants rushed forward, whisking Sophia back inside. Soon, the bustling scene drifted away, leaving only Lina and Daisy Harper at the gate.

Lina eyed the hairpin thoughtfully. In her previous life, Victoria Ashwood had owned the very same pin. Victoria never wore it, but occasionally took it out to polish and admire. Lina recalled rumors that Sophia had once lost her beloved hairpin in the imperial palace, and since the palace was restricted, it could not be retrieved.

Now Lina understood how blind she had been, both literally and figuratively, in her past life. Everything had been so obvious if only she had looked. From the start, Victoria's love belonged to Sophia, not Lina.

Daisy rubbed her neck sheepishly. "The eldest miss is actually quite nice."

The maid's simple assessment wasn't wrong. Sophia was indeed a good person—someone who'd willingly sacrifice herself for the sake of the realm. Had her health permitted, she might have become a legendary general in her own right.

Back in her room, Lina carefully locked the hairpin away in her jewelry box. Standing by the window, she noted the plum blossoms in full bloom. Drawn outside, she savored the faint fragrance mingled with the crisp winter air, half-closing her eyes in quiet contentment. But lingering too long in the snow made her eyes ache.

Lina cherished her sight deeply now and quickly retreated inside. As dusk fell, she thought about what might happen the following day and decided to rest early to restore her energy.

After a simple wash, Lina lay down and soon drifted into slumber, her mind heavy with anticipation and lingering fears.

In her dream, she stood before her own grave. The tombstone was old and weathered, yet fresh spring weeds sprouted among the cracks. A faint scent of plum blossoms chilled the air. Someone approached, quietly pouring a bowl of clear wine at the foot of the grave.

A nameless sorrow pressed down, stifling as a heavy shroud. Lina strained to see the white-robed figure who mourned at her grave, but she could not discern the woman's face. Judging by her figure, it seemed to be a woman, but no memory offered any clue.

Lina tried to draw closer, but each attempt only pushed her further away. She dared not move again, only watching from a distance as the stranger grieved wordlessly.

The woman placed the empty cup aside and withdrew a flute from her sleeve. Lifting it to her lips, she played a melody laden with despair, regret, and simmering fury—yet beneath it all was an unfathomable longing.