Irynsis waited until the servant shut the door and departed. From the flustered way he had left, she was certain no one would dare come near for some time. If, later, they found her gone, they would assume—as Cassion had said—that she had returned to the guest wing.

It had been sudden, but she was satisfied with how neatly the situation had been handled.

“Cassion, you can get up now—”

Her words were swallowed against his chest as his weight pressed her down. His hot breath fell against her lips, kindling them with heat. Plainly, she was not the only one satisfied with the outcome—Cassion showed no intention of moving away.

“This isn’t… the time.” 

She stammered, her lips breaking apart only to meet his again and again.

“It’s been far too long.” 

Ever since he learned she was with child, Cassion had treated her body as though it were sacred. There had been countless fleeting touches and expressions of affection, but never anything that could lead into a long night together.

His restraint had been so severe that Irynsis once asked Scarlett whether spending the night together was truly forbidden during pregnancy. Even when the physician assured them that, at this stage, moderation was harmless, Cassion had withdrawn from her with monk-like discipline.

‘I can’t trust myself to stop…’

At the sight of her husband hanging his head miserably, Irynsis had laughed helplessly.

When she told him she was fine, he had treated her as though she were made of glass. And now, when it was not fine at all, he pressed himself to her without hesitation.

“Mmh…”

His tongue traced deeper, more insistent, until the kiss grew thick with longing. At last, Irynsis drew back and tapped her finger lightly against his forehead.

“Come to your senses. Is this the time?”

“Ha… I’m going mad.”

He sighed, leaning back only to bury his face against her stomach.

“Forgive me, child. Your father is useless—no divine power, and no self-control.”

Once more, he had given their unborn child something to forgive.

Irynsis let out a breath of laughter. Thanks to him, the tight tension coiled inside her had finally eased. But now it was truly time to move.

“Let’s go.”

“Right.”

Moments later, the lounge door opened quietly. Thanks to the servant’s orders, the corridor outside lay in utter stillness, and Cassion and Irynsis walked freely.

“This way.”

Irynsis remembered the palace paths all too well—countless times, across both lives, she had walked them. No one hindered them as they pressed toward their goal.

“This garden is where the path to the Crown Prince’s palace meets the guest wing.” 

She explained, stepping into a small, carefully kept garden. Here, at least, it would not seem strange to claim she had stepped out for a stroll.

“This is where we part.”

Irynsis intended to slip into the Crown Prince’s chambers, while Cassion would wait in the garden in case of trouble.

“Be careful.”

He brushed back her hair and kissed her lightly on the forehead before watching her go. He could hardly bear to let her walk away alone, but there was no choice.

The soft crunch of grass underfoot echoed through the quiet garden. Irynsis even let her gaze wander, as if she truly were no more than a lady out for a leisurely stroll. With nearly the whole household attending the banquet, there were no eyes to see her, but she kept every step cautious. She was just mapping her path toward the Crown Prince’s quarters when—

“Well, well. Who do we have here?”

From behind a tree, a group of figures appeared. Irynsis masked her startlement and greeted them with a composed smile.

“It’s been a long time.”

“Indeed, Your Highness. Far too long.” 

Elodie replied, striding forward in all her finery with several maids in tow.

“And what, pray tell, are you doing dressed like that at the height of the banquet?”

Her eyes raked openly over Irynsis’s robe draped over a nightdress. The maids behind her shifted uneasily, gauging Irynsis’s reaction to the insult.

“I was weary and left the hall to rest in the guest wing. I’ve stepped out for a short walk.”

“Dressed like that, and alone?”

Elodie sneered as though she had just heard the most absurd excuse.

From the moment she had seen Irynsis in the hall, her mood had soured. She herself had been forced to slip in discreetly, waiting for the emperor to retire, while Irynsis had stood proud and unashamed in full view.

Every detail of Irynsis’s attire rubbed her the wrong way. How galling that her own lot was to imitate this woman’s taste—especially when Irynsis’s garments and jewels, contrary to her own, seemed to suit her perfectly.

Unable to endure it, Elodie had bullied the maids the prince had assigned her, forcing them to change her outfit before she came out again. The prince was easily pleased so long as she satisfied him in bed; tonight, she would at least dress to her own taste.

The crimson silk embroidered with gold gleamed like roses in bloom, lifting her spirits for the first time that evening—until she ran into Irynsis.

Though clothed in nothing more than a nightdress and robe, Irynsis carried herself with elegance and innate dignity. The sight shattered Elodie’s fleeting sense of triumph.

“Tell me, since when was your every step in the palace to be reported to me? Are you so exalted now?”

Suppressing the stirrings of unease at Elodie’s attempt to detain her, Irynsis lowered her voice, calm but cutting.

“Has the training of the Crown’s maids sunk to such a pitiful level?”

The spark leapt where neither of them had intended. The maids stiffened, bracing for the inevitable.

“Even if the Crown Prince holds you dear, how can a commoner dare block the path of a duchess? And you dare stand idle while she does so?”

“We beg your pardon, Your Grace.” 

The maids, as though waiting for this moment, rushed forward and pulled Elodie back, shielding her behind them.

“What do you think you’re doing? Let me go this instant!”

“This is the Duchess. If you do not restrain yourself, even His Highness the Crown Prince will not protect you.”

Elodie’s temper only worsened. Among the maids, her reputation was already poor. Though she enjoyed the Crown Prince’s favor, her status was beneath theirs, and yet she showed them not the slightest respect.

“Ugh, fine! I’ll go! Get out of my way—I’m going back to the hall!”

Stamping her foot, she allowed herself to be dragged off toward the banquet hall by several maids.

The senior maid turned to Irynsis and bowed deeply. 

“Forgive us, Your Grace. Shall we escort you back to the guest wing?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. My husband will be joining me shortly.”

Hearing this, the maid seemed to understand Irynsis’s state of dress and exhaled in relief.

“I see. In that case, We shall withdraw.”

With a respectful bow, the maids stepped back. Irynsis turned as if to head toward the guest wing, only to redirect her steps toward the Crown Prince’s palace.

She was not the only one to encounter an unwelcome guest in the garden.

Cassion, circling around by another path, found himself face to face with none other than Declan.

“And who do we have here?”

“…I greet Your Highness the Crown Prince.” 

His manner was polite, but his jaw clenched tight. He could not understand why Declan was here. Before he and Irynsis had left, Declan had still been in the hall, exchanging tedious greetings with the nobles.

“And what brings you this far?”

“My wife is unwell. I left her to rest in the guest wing and stepped out for some air.”

“Is that so?”

It sounded like no more than idle words of courtesy, but there was weight behind them. Declan’s lips stretched into a slow smile.

He had followed upon hearing that Irynsis had gone to the guest wing. He knew she was with Cassion, but curiosity had driven him out nonetheless.

‘Do you, too, remember your past life?’

One day, the memories of his former life had suddenly returned, and now they were wholly his own. In those memories, Irynsis’s every step had been dazzling—so delightful, in fact, that they had amused him.

Each new turn in his life, each change in the repetition, had come with her. Soon, Declan had realized she was struggling to break free in this life.

And so he had meant to test her. He might have arrived a little late this time, but there was still plenty of opportunity. Declan was a hunter who savored tightening the noose around his prey, little by little.

He was just about to suggest Cassion continue his walk when a knight came running toward them in a panic.

“Your Highness!”

“What is it?” 

Declan asked coldly, irritated by the lack of decorum. But the knight had no time for formalities.

“Princess Bianca—!”

“What happened to my sister?”

“She, she has been stabbed!”

The knight’s cry froze them both. Declan, so composed, and Cassion, already taut with worry, were struck equally speechless.