Like butterflies scattering pollen, the maids carried rumors from place to place with eager wings.

Those deliberately assigned to pass by his bedchamber were the very ones known for their loose tongues—naturally so.

Thus, before even half a month had passed, there was no one left who did not know the tale: that the Duke and the Baron’s foster daughter secretly bloomed with passion by night.

“My lady spends the entire morning asleep, and aside from the occasional visit to the stables, she remains in her chamber.”

Failin’s report was flawless, and yet Aiden felt a vague irritation he could not name.

‘Is she trying to tame the horse, perhaps to escape on it?’

The thought struck him as foolish.

The horse had been spared, not because of any kindness or mercy, but simply on a whim.

‘And yet, it seems, the woman has drawn hope from it.’

A foolish hope. In the end, both she and the beast would die soon enough. Their time had only been delayed.

Lost in thought, he did not notice the day slipping away.

When at last he lifted his gaze, the sky was painted thick with sunset, its heavy hues grating subtly against his mood.

Turning slowly, he stood with his back to the wall of glass and gave his command.

“Spread the rumor to Jace Gould. Let him hear that Beth Gould is with me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The moment Failin departed, his aide Denis entered the study.

Aiden accepted the envelope held out to him.

Its surface gleamed faintly and it was sealed with yellow wax bearing the royal emblem of a radiant Fernansia blossom.

“Your Grace, this is from Her Majesty the Queen.”

It seemed the sordid rumors had indeed reached the very top of the kingdom.

[The Duke of Strilland and the foster daughter of Baron Luce are invited to the May Festival.]

The May Festival, a spring banquet hosted by the royal family of Aetania, was held two months later than in other nations.

This reflected the nature of the neutral kingdom, in which trade and diplomacy were of the utmost importance. By holding the festival later, every trade envoy and diplomatic minister from abroad could be sure to attend.

As they had to be received with impeccable courtesy, preparations for the banquet took a long time and the celebration was grander than any other.

However, inviting a mistress to such a politically significant event was without precedent.

Even Aiden had not expected this decision.

He tossed the letter onto his desk. The thin paper fluttered down like a leaf.

“So, Her Majesty wishes to see my lovely mistress for herself.”

“It would appear so.”

The aide quickly retrieved the letter, glanced at his master and briskly drew out a handkerchief to dust the oak desk. This was a habitual act born of his long-standing knowledge of Aiden’s meticulous nature.

Aiden watched the specks of dust scatter.

[You must become my husband.]

“…….”

[I have three conditions.]

The Queen’s proposal, written in her own hand, was disconcertingly calm—yet firm.

‘I knew she was bold, but I didn’t expect her to be quite so forward.’

Aiden’s thoughts drifted back.

Until last year, the throne belonged to her second brother, a tyrant who had murdered his elder brother and seized his sister-in-law.

The usurper had been searching for a pretext to dispose of his younger sister as well.

Princess Elvita had been forced into a betrothal with the ageing Baron Luce, resulting in her being condemned to political exile on the border.

However, remarkably, the Baron disappeared at just the right moment.

“Baron Luce was secretly killed.”

“By the Princess?”

“Yes. It seems she borrowed the discreet hand of Prisada.”

With the Baron removed, Princess Elvita had launched her rebellion.

This was only possible thanks to the support of Strilland and the powerful Prisada.

Strilland had acted out of loyalty to the late king, while Prisada had done so in the hope of seeing a gentler ruler on the throne of Aetania.

With the tyrant’s death, Baron Luce’s disappearance was swiftly forgotten, along with the betrothal.

It was a cruel twist of fate: once again, marrying into the House of Luce brought only disgrace.

“What will you do, Your Grace?”

“…For now, I must obey her summons.”

The Queen was no trivial opponent.

Although her domestic power was still growing, she had the backing of Prisada.

Furthermore, Strilland was bound to Prisada through trade. Earning the Queen’s enmity would serve no purpose.

It was this calculation alone that stopped Aiden from rejecting her outright.

“Then I will arrange for you to attend together.”

“Do so.”

“Yes, my lord. If there is nothing else…”

As Denis gathered his papers, Aiden’s slight gesture made him pause.

“The maids will have to be dealt with. They’ve served their purpose.”

“Yes, then…”

“Send them to the main estate in Zernok.”

Those gossipy butterflies would now carry their chatter southwards on the wind.

Understanding his master’s intentions, Denis bowed deeply.

“As you command, Your Grace.”

When his aide had departed, Aiden stood in silence for some time.

A slant of sunset spilled across the desk, brushing his broad shoulders.

“During the promised year, please protect me.”

Her voice flowed to his ear like a gentle ripple, her eyes clear as rain-soaked skies sharpening in hue.

At the memory of that tingling sensation lingering on his fingertips, his throat bobbed.

How many times now?

That barbarian woman invading his thoughts again and again.

Each time she came unbidden to mind, something within him felt trampled.

It was absurd how much a mere touch could affect him. He felt like an inexperienced young page experiencing the throes of youth for the first time.

Immature. Clumsy.

And yet, despite the storm raging inside him, there was nothing to show on Aiden’s face.

His gaze swept over the desk, stained orange by the setting sun, before he crossed to the window and calmly drew the curtains shut.

The terrible glow that had filled the room vanished completely.

◯◯◯

The garden was awash with yellow daffodils, bathed in the sharp warmth of the afternoon sun.

Butterflies of the same color fluttered lightly overhead. The scene was pure peace.

Sveta took it all in, then sipped her tea.

“Does His Grace treat you kindly?”

Lady Nora split open a large orange with the flat of her palm. She plucked a ripe wedge and handed it to Sveta.

“Mm…”

Sveta’s eyes curved like a crescent moon as she bit into the tart fruit and swallowed.

“…He listens to my requests.”

When she smiled faintly, Lady Nora’s round cheeks swelled into a smile of her own.

Lady Nora had long served the Luce household, faithfully attending Dalia even now. Lately she had begun seeking Sveta often, and Sveta could not help but suspect Dalia had sent her as a watcher.

As though aware of this unease, Lady Nora asked hesitantly,

“Will you be going to His Grace again tonight?”

“That is none of your concern.”

Before Sveta could answer, a hard voice cut in.

Startled, Lady Nora jerked her head, swallowed up in the massive shadow looming over her.

It was Sir Failin.

The maid flushed under his sharp gaze, the impropriety of sitting at table with her mistress suddenly laid bare. She sprang up and bowed low.

“Thank you for the orange, Lady Nora.”

“Y-yes, my lady. Then I’ll take my leave.”

Dismissed with elegant finality, she gave a strained smile and hurried away.

Chewing the last of the fruit, Sveta lifted her eyes to Failin.

“I saw you coming from the woods. Did you slay more of the Zloytan remnants?”

His blunt brown eyes fell on her, lingering briefly at the corner of her gaze before slipping away.

“…….”

“Are you always this taciturn, Sir? Or is it only when it’s me who speaks to you?”

“…I am not one for words.”

Sveta smiled faintly.

“I thought as much.”

“…….”

For a moment, his hawkish eyes seemed to soften.

“You need not go to my lord’s chambers tonight.”

“Why not?”

“He is away on business regarding the trade ships. He will not return for three days.”

“I see. I nearly spent the night waiting outside his door for nothing.”

It would have been nice if someone had told her sooner.

The Duke ignored her completely. Although she was his mistress in name, his coldness bordered on the excessive.

He never once responded to the formal evening greeting she offered him every night.

Each time, he treated her as though she didn’t exist, disappearing behind the bed curtains and leaving her alone in silence as sharp as a blade.

By morning, walking back in nothing but a nightgown under the weight of whispers had seemed unbearably long.

Why did it hurt so much? Would it have hurt less if she had known from the beginning that it would be like this?

“…His Grace is a man of few words as well, isn’t he?”

“It was sudden, my lady. He would have found it difficult to tell you himself.”

Failin replied in defense of his master.

“Perhaps so. Thank you for letting me know, Sir.”

“Shall I remain close by?”

“As you please.”

“Yes, then.”

She glanced back over her shoulder, but he had already disappeared. Nevertheless, she could still feel his gaze lingering on her.

Left alone, Sveta sat for a while, absently turning a piece of fruit in her hands.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps startled her and she jumped to her feet.

The Duke’s mother was approaching from a distance.