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On the day she received her terminal diagnosis, the only thing that came to mind was that name.
Grand Duke Curtis Siermaiem. The master of the North and the shield of the empire.
And three years ago, the fairy-tale knight who had saved her from the monsters.
If there was one fault in him, who wore his shining reputation like a halo, it was this.
That he had dared to save her.
She headed to the capital to take revenge for that. She had only one goal.
Before she died, to receive a kiss on her forehead from her longtime unrequited love.
If she could only receive that, she did not mind dying on the spot. For the rest of her life, she begged for that one thing alone.
And after a fierce courtship, the answer that came back from him was,
“You said you wanted the position of my wife. Not that you wanted to become the Grand Duchess Siermaiem.”
A marriage proposal.
“You ought to be against it.”
One that was the exact opposite of what she had wanted.
“You should want the position of Grand Duchess Siermaiem, but not the position of my wife.”
A hollow proposal, one where she would share only his honor instead of his heart.
Even a corpse could stand by his side, she thought, and yet Eleanor took the ring.
She had no choice but to nod. No other option existed for that question.
