Renee, sobbing and repeatedly wiping away her tears, looked up at Atlion in surprise. Swan struggled to stand on one leg, swaying. Renee blinked her eyes and looked at Swan and the baby. Then, twisting her face as if to crush the muscles in it, she growled.

“I don’t want to do this! I would rather die than do this! I said I don’t want to! Being with that woman feels like dying, and that stinking baby she gave birth to…”

With a slap, her face turned and she collapsed. The woman who had fallen to the floor raised her head and lay awkwardly with her face down. Her cheeks, wet with tears, began to turn red. Renee, her eyes wide open, grabbed her cheek.

Atlion remained calm. Without any sign of agitation. There wasn’t even the slightest movement. He was more solemn and cold than when he had punished the lieutenant.

“Say it again.”

“Oh, brother.”

“How dare you speak to my wife and child like that?”

The woman who had fallen trembled violently. Her cries, breaking at intervals, shook the tent. Swan held the baby in her arms with a blank expression. “That stinking baby…” Other things were bearable, things that could be washed away, but that one remark lingered in her mind, repeated over and over again.

“Oh, brother. I… I…”

The baby, who had been asleep, opened his eyes at the commotion. Swan tightened her arm to keep from slipping. Her blurred vision kept trying to collapse. Was it the stifling heat, or the cruel insults that seemed to linger in her ears? She closed her eyes, then opened them.

“Swan!”

“Ahhh…”

A long, faint cry erupted. Mirabella, supporting her swaying mother, let out a soft wail. Atlion’s hands instinctively reached out to catch the baby and Swan. Their waxen, pale faces looked ghostly. He held the baby, who was about to slip from his arms, and pulled his wife into his embrace, shouting.

“Shut up and get out! Call the health officer!”

***

Swan was dreaming. Even though it was a dream and her mind should have been clouded, her lips continued to move steadily. For it had only been a few days – only a few days – since it had happened. The whispered words, laced with sobs, were the sins she had confessed to him three days ago.

“I blamed Uncle Tom and didn’t give him the armour. Before he melted it down to iron, before he sold it as stolen goods…”

Her halting, hesitant confession was shallow. She had always known it would come to this. But she had kept it to herself out of a belief – a vain belief – that she might be loved. That unfounded hope had weakened Swan. It had crushed her and turned her into someone useless.

Why did I believe it? Because he didn’t tell me to get an abortion? Because he never asked me about contraception? I don’t know. Living with him made me understand. He was never the kind of man to say such things. He wasn’t the type to turn his back on a pregnant woman. He wasn’t the kind of scoundrel who would blame her with resentful eyes.

If anything, he might blame his restless desires, but he wasn’t so pathetic as to resent a child already conceived. If he had been that kind of man… would I love him as deeply as I do now?

“It’s all my fault. I did it. I-I hid it and begged him to sell it later. I’m the one responsible for everything…”

“See! I told you, didn’t I? This woman is after my brother!”

Before Atlion could turn his head, the maid grabbed René’s arm and bit her lip. After shaking off the maid, René faced Swan, her eyes burning with anger. Her expression looked like she was ready to slap Swan at any moment. Meanwhile, Swan stared back at her with a pale face.

After swallowing her tears, she gathered the courage to meet René’s gaze, but she couldn’t read anything in his expression. No anger, no sorrow, no despair. Not even contempt for having wasted a year with a mere courtesan. None of the reactions Swan had expected were there. René just looked at her intently. Swan, frozen and unable to blink, returned the gaze.

René, trembling with rage and struggling to control her anger, spun Swan around violently. The hand she raised to strike was stopped in mid-air. Swan bit her lip and turned her gaze to Atlion. René, her wrist firmly grasped, turned to him with a look of shock on her face.

“What, what…?”

“Didn’t you hear me tell you to leave?”

“Brother, this woman…”

“Watch your words.”

“But, but…”

“Show respect. She is my wife, the Crown Prince’s wife.”

“What? I, I…”

“That’s enough, miss. Please leave now.”

The maid, observing the situation, called for a guard from the inner circle to restrain René. Unable to control her rage, the woman staggered and was half dragged out of the cabin. Silence fell.

It occurred to Swan that it had been easier when René was screaming and shouting. Being in her presence had been excruciatingly painful. It was like enduring a sharp, stabbing wound. Atlion’s hand reached out to Swan, who could do nothing but freeze.

With a calm and familiar touch, he led her to the bed. Gently wrapping his arm around her waist, he laid her down. As she hesitated, her face pale, he pulled the covers over her chest and placed his hand gently on her eyelids.

“Go to sleep.”

Tears began to stream down her face. She bit her lip, pulled the blanket over her sniffing nose and pressed her lips to the damp skin. The tender warmth only made Swan sob harder.

For a while, the man’s steady gaze rested on her. The crackling sound of the fire devouring dry logs echoed through the hut. Eventually, he stepped outside and returned to the hut with the knights at dawn.

Swan didn’t fall asleep; instead, she stared at him. A dull warmth seemed to rise and spread through her body. Lost in a haze, she slowly closed her eyes.

***

When she came to, a lingering fever still warmed every joint in her fingers and toes. Swan found herself staring up at the high ceiling of a tent, much higher than the one in the cabin. Even the bed beneath her, though flat on her back, was much softer than the one she’d used in the cabin. She couldn’t help but wonder how such furniture was transported on a journey.

Her eyes darted around and she slowly pushed herself up. Her body, heavy as lead, moved with great effort. Above all, the searing pain in the soles of her feet remained unchanged. As her vision swam, she lowered her head briefly and wiped her eyes.

It occurred to her that Mirabella was nowhere in sight. Her eyes swept the air before she rose. Where could she have gone? Who could be looking for her? The dizziness that clouded her vision and the burning pain in her feet were secondary – her daughter came first.

She was a child that no one welcomed. It was only natural that there would be no one to look after her.

“That stinking brat…”

Her steps stopped. The muscles around her eyes, tense from her earlier twitching, seemed to collapse and sag. Yes. Of course, it was the only way she could see her child. Thinking back, even the child’s father hadn’t been happy about her birth.

Not only did he have no special talent for taking care of children, but from Atlion’s point of view it must have been difficult to find the child completely lovable. As if she wasn’t really his. That look in his eyes… How many times had he held her in his arms to calm her?

Mirabella didn’t feel like Atlion’s child. His face didn’t have the expression of a man with a daughter. That blank, distant look… unfeeling and unaware. In the end, was he just like the others? Was she no more than a “stinking brat” to him? The thought filled her with dread.

She shuffled her feet and left the tent. René was still on his knees. Her swollen, reddened cheeks were pitiful to look at. But her golden eyes remained triumphant. When René saw Swan, her gaze shifted to Atlion.

Naturally, Swan’s gaze followed. The man was standing with a knight in silver armour. Flowing golden hair. Unlike the other knights with their close-cropped heads, his hair cascaded long and curly. Every light breeze made his golden locks ripple like a flowing river.

Beneath elegant lashes, his sky-blue eyes met Swan’s.

‘A woman.’

Her appearance was as elegant as if she had never been touched by a single ray of sunlight under a parasol. Yet she was just as imposing as knights like Raoul or Alexis, and somehow her striking appearance didn’t feel out of place.

The female knight’s face stiffened visibly when she saw Swan. Atlion, who had been standing with her, turned his head to look at Swan. Naturally, the attention of those around them shifted to her as well. Even though she didn’t know anything yet, even though nothing had happened, Swan felt as if her chest was being peeled away layer by layer, her emotions falling to the ground like discarded skin.