Cordelia swayed where she stood. Ian reached out quickly and steadied her. She recoiled on instinct and pushed him away. But where he had yielded easily before, he now wrapped a firm hand around her shoulder.

“You don’t look like you can walk on your own. Lean on me.”

He murmured. She bit her lip. If I told you that falling flat on the floor by myself would be far better than being propped up by you, would you let me go?

In the end she swallowed the retort in silence. It was less a matter of preserving her dignity in front of the priest and more that exhaustion and resignation had crushed every last shred of her will.

The priest, having finished the ceremony, returned with the marriage contract and a quill pen. The groom signed at the bottom of the contract first, and then it was the bride’s turn.

She took the quill and touched the nib to the paper, then stopped. She knew that once she signed, there would be no going back.

“Princess.”

Ian prompted her quietly. Cordelia swallowed. Feeling her half-brother’s gaze boring into the back of her head, she slowly dragged the nib across the paper.

She finished her slow signature and let the quill drop. Ian immediately bent to pick it up.

He handed the quill back to the priest, who collected it along with the contract and carefully rolled the paper up.

That document would now be registered as an official record of the church and kept safely in its archives. For as long as it existed, Princess Cordelia would be Ian Lakenon’s wife, wherever she went and whatever happened.

Cordelia took a halting step backward. But the harsh reality would not permit her escape. Ian Lakenon’s large hand came to rest gently on her shoulder.

“Princess.”

Cordelia did not answer. She only stared at him, pale as a deer frozen before a predator. Ian sighed quietly. His low voice came out soft.

“May I carry you? I’m afraid you’ll collapse if you try to walk.”

The princess still said nothing. Ian decided that asking had been enough.

He slipped one arm around her shoulders and the other beneath her knees and lifted her in one motion. Cordelia, suddenly held against his chest, startled.

“Put me down.”

“Please bear with it until we reach the room. I genuinely don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.”

“What does it matter to you whether I get hurt…”

What right did a scoundrel who intended to take her by force have to worry about her? Then she remembered that his ‘concern’ could never be genuine, and a cold smile crossed her lips.

“Then again, my body is as good as your property now, so I suppose it does need to stay in one piece.”

Ian faltered at the quiet, cutting words. But he said nothing in the end and walked on, carrying her.

Michael watched with an unreadable expression. Ian met his liege’s gaze with a steady look as he passed.

“We’ll take our leave.”

“…Congratulations to you both.”

Michael replied plainly. Cordelia glared at him, and he answered with a cold smirk. Then he added in a clear voice.

“Make sure the wedding night is properly seen to.”

Cordelia’s color faded further. Ian glanced at her face, then looked at his liege and answered with a respectful bow.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

He gave a brief nod and carried Cordelia out of the chapel. The cool breeze of a late spring evening tangled through both their hair. The bride’s white skirts trailed behind her like a ghost.

“I’ll take you to the room.”

Ian said. Cordelia did not reply. It wasn’t only that she was afraid of what might come out if she opened her mouth.

Ian walked on, indifferent to his bride’s silence. They arrived at a small, neat building facing the chapel, a place known by the nickname ‘Pearl Palace’ for its white and luminous exterior.

Cordelia knew well what the building was used for. Royal children leaving the main palace to start their own households typically spent their wedding night there before departing for their new home the following day. Those who were especially favored sometimes stayed on for years rather than leaving right away.

Which she would be was uncertain. Would she leave tomorrow, or would she find herself stranded there for a long while?

Either way, one thing was certain: tonight something terrible was going to happen to her. Her brother’s cruel command about the wedding night echoed in her head.

Ian carried his frightened bride to the bridal chamber. A palace attendant waiting outside opened the door. Ian went in and the door closed. The sound of footsteps retreating on the other side faded away.

“…I’ll set you down.”

Ian whispered. He carefully lowered his silent bride onto the bed.

Cordelia sat on the edge of the bed, clasped both hands tightly in her lap, and stared straight ahead to avoid Ian’s eyes. The knuckles showed white where she pressed them together without realizing it.

“Princess, you don’t have to sleep with me tonight.”

Cordelia looked up in surprise. She met his dark violet gaze head-on as he stood beside the bed looking down at her. He went on in a quiet, unhurried voice.

“His Majesty wishes for me to have children with you, so we will have to share a bed at some point. But it doesn’t have to be tonight. If you wish, the wedding night can wait. Until you feel more ready.”

“…Ha.”

Cordelia let out a small, hollow laugh. Until she felt more ready, he said, which by that logic meant they would never share a bed at all.

Even so, she had no desire to mock him for it. For once, she wanted to feel nothing but pure gratitude, free of hostility or suspicion.

The thought of being beneath him right now made her feel sick. Putting that moment off as long as possible was her most honest and desperate wish.

Still, she could not answer carelessly. Michael’s reaction weighed on her.

Ian had said his liege wanted children from the two of them, and Cordelia had just heard the new king’s explicit command to see the wedding night through. Was it all right to go against that order?

“What about the king’s command? My brother seems to want you to take me.”

“That’s true, but he didn’t specify that it had to happen tonight, so it should be fine.”

“…Is it all right to interpret a royal command that loosely?”

“For me it is. His Majesty will overlook a small workaround like that.”

Cordelia was at a loss for words. She was taken aback by how deep her brother’s affection for her husband was, and how much her husband trusted that affection in return.

“Why do you want to put it off? What do you gain from it?”

She could not guess at his true intentions. What on earth was he thinking? How many times had he even seen her, to go this far out of his way? Cordelia looked at him steadily, with a wariness that bordered on fear.

The man paused. He seemed to be turning something over in his mind. Then he opened his mouth with a composed expression.

“It’s true that I’m a filthy wretch and lowborn. But that doesn’t make me an animal with no sense of humanity. I have no taste for pinning down someone who doesn’t want it and forcing myself on them.”

Cordelia’s bewilderment deepened. The man himself seemed entirely unbothered as he said those words about himself. As though he had grown accustomed to them long ago.

“What would you like to do? Shall we put off the wedding night? I’ll follow your lead.”

Ian said calmly. Cordelia looked at him with a conflicted expression, and in the end she told him what she wanted.

“…I want to put it off.”

Forever, if possible. If not forever, then years, months, even just a few weeks.

She wanted to delay for as long as she could the act of opening her legs beneath a man she had no feelings for and being taken.

“Understood.”

The man nodded. He showed not the slightest trace of disappointment.

Cordelia had been taught that it was a wife’s duty to open herself for her husband’s pleasure, and his easy acceptance left her slightly taken aback. But the bewilderment was quickly overtaken by a wave of intense relief.

“Undress yourself and go to sleep.”

With that, Ian turned away. Cordelia sat in a mild daze, and when he began to undress she felt a jolt and looked away. She soon got up from the bed and, with her back to Ian, began to undress herself.

She pulled off the white cloth tied around her right wrist first. Then she began to strip off the detestable wedding dress, practically tearing at it.

Fortunately the knots holding the dress together were not too difficult to undo. Recalling that tradition held for the groom to untie them himself, she removed the dress with a bitter feeling.

She was soon down to her undergarments. The thin, sleeveless shift that doubled as a nightgown ran from her collarbone to her knees. Goosebumps rose along her bare arms. She raised a hand without thinking and wrapped it around her forearm.