I’m Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway

"Our situation," she said.

Wait, was this some kind of Confucian nonsense about how the eldest should marry first?

My guess was only half correct.

The queen continued,

"Percival is at the right age, and holding the wedding before the end of the season will allow for more blessings from the nobility."

Before the end of the season?

That means they’re planning the wedding this autumn?! That’s way too soon!

If they needed noble guests to attend, couldn’t they just hold it at the start of the next season instead?

But then… my question answered itself.

Right after the word ‘right age’ left the queen’s lips, Percival’s mouth twisted slightly—and she turned to him with a knowing smile.

"In early spring, Tristan may become busy in a distant place, so let’s plan for an autumn wedding instead. A wedding without the younger brother in attendance wouldn’t do."

"A distant place?" Tristan frowned. "Mother, you mean—"

"Yes, you’ve guessed correctly. Your father and I have decided that you will become the new ruler of Blue Atrium."

What.

My heart lurched—it felt like someone had suddenly thrown me into the air, yelling “congratulations!”

Seriously?

I turned to Tristan.

He looked just as stunned as I felt.

But the way the queen was gazing at her son, brimming with pride, gradually solidified my shock into certainty.

"We’ve received positive reports from Count Braum and the commanders regarding your recent deployment," she continued. "Even Sir Arthur spoke highly of you. If you govern Blue Atrium, there shouldn’t be much resistance from the residents."

"……."

"……Aren’t you happy, Tristan?"

As expected—Tristan didn’t even attempt a polite, social smile.

"A-ah, no. I am happy. It’s just… so sudden…"