It was strange. They had just been standing together. They hadn’t kissed or hugged, yet she felt an unbearable sense of dread. What had they talked about?

In truth, she didn’t need to hear to know. Swan had an uncanny sense, an intuition that could see through the unspoken and the hidden. Without having to uncover the details, she could sense it. She knew Atlion didn’t love her. She knew that his memories had returned to him, intact and clear, shortly after she had become pregnant with Mirabella. She knew that without anyone telling her. He even remembered his name.

But he hadn’t told her. The reason was clear, even to someone as dull as she could be. He didn’t love her. He didn’t feel the slightest affection for her. The thought of asking him to confirm that was too humiliating to bear.

“You’re awake?”

Atlion took slow steps towards her as he spoke. Swan, who had been staring at him blankly, took a step back, her face tense. He stopped walking and just stared at her. Swan’s dry lips quivered as if to speak, but instead she dropped her gaze. She did not even have the strength to hold her head up.

Before the man’s hand could reach her wrist, Swan turned her body towards the tent. Just as she began to drag her limping feet forward, she was suddenly lifted off the ground. Suspended in midair, Swan froze and looked at him.

His expression, hidden in the sunlight, was perfectly composed, without a trace of emotion. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking or how he was looking at her, and in the end, she didn’t want to know. He entered the tent and stood before her.

“You have a fever.”

He took off his gauntlet, placed a hand on her forehead and murmured softly. After sitting her down on the bed, he knelt on one knee and locked eyes with her. Afraid of their eyes meeting, Swan looked away. A shallow breath escaped between her dry lips in a faint rattle.

“Swan.”

His calm eyes were so serene they bordered on reverent, even sublime. He spoke her name, but she only blinked in response, unable to answer. Ignoring her silence, the man took her scarred foot in his hand. Swan broke into a cold sweat as the hem of her skirt rose slightly.

Her soles were already covered in thumb-sized blisters, scattered here and there. Some had burst and festered, others had formed anew.

These feet, which had never been so battered, not even from trekking on rough mountain paths, were now a mess. Their toenails were damaged and their raw, scraped skin looked like that of a burn victim – red and raw. Swan clenched her jaw and shook all over. She was afraid to cry. She didn’t want to show him such a pitiful sight.

The situation was different from the cabin. Crying endlessly… at least she couldn’t allow herself to do that.

“How did you manage to walk here?”

“…….”

“Until your feet ended up like this…”

“I’m fine.”

She tried to pull her foot out of his grasp, to get his hand off her. The man lifted his head. As he turned her injured foot back and forth to examine the wounds, her face burned with embarrassment. Swan bit her lip, twisting it slightly as she held back her tears.

“Let, let me go.”

She whispered weakly. At her words, the grip on her foot loosened. The man stood up and looked down at her. The weight of his steady gaze sent shivers down her spine.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, she asked him about Mirabella’s whereabouts.

“The child… where is she?”

“I’ll punish René.”

“W-where’s Mirabella?”

“Swan.”

“…….”

“Don’t make that face.”

It was an unexpected reaction. The tension in Swan’s tightly pressed lips faltered. The man’s thumb lightly touched the trembling skin beneath her eyes. Swan turned her head away, trying to avoid him. ‘Don’t make that face?’

What face was she making? How pathetic she must have looked?

“I left her with a maid.”

“Wh-which maid…?”

“Don’t worry. She’s a woman with experience in looking after children.”

“Please bring her to me.”

“Swan.”

“I-I feel uncomfortable with a stranger looking after my child.”

His gaze hardened in an instant. Atlion showed no intention of backing down either. Swan’s feet, wrapped in bandages, staggered as she tried to stand. His hand quickly shoved her back into her seat. His sharp eyes gleamed with intensity, a look that brooked no defiance. It was an expression she had never seen before.

“Sit.”

“Where is Mirabella? If you bring her to me…”

“You’re not the only parent she has. You always act like you are, but I have as much right to raise Mirabella as you do.”

Atlion, after staring at the woman for a long moment as she avoided his touch, retrieved bandages and antiseptic from somewhere. Instead of answering her question about the child’s whereabouts, he lifted her foot again. He lanced the blisters with a heated needle, covered the stinging wounds with cotton and wrapped them with practiced ease. His movements were skilled and familiar

He was a knight, after all. Even as the Emperor’s son… he was the kind of man who seemed born with sword and shield.

As Swan watched him quietly, her thoughts wandered to the female knight. Clad in armour, with those elegant eyes and straight nose, her smooth forehead and full lips… She was as stunning as if painted by an artist’s brush.

“……”

“Someone suitable is looking after her, so don’t worry.”

The hand on her shoulder was heavy. Swan looked at it with a helpless expression before looking away. Suddenly there was a commotion outside the tent. René’s irritated voice came in bursts, sometimes cutting off. Shortly afterwards, just as he was about to leave the tent, the female knight and René entered.

“Who told you to come uninvited?”

“Sir Atlion.”

“Have you forgotten that I restricted your access?”

“When has Josie ever followed your orders to the letter? You’re not even close. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that too?”

René asked in her loud, insolent tone. After a quick glance at her, Swan turned her attention to the woman called Josie.

Her light blonde hair was stunning, but slightly different from René’s. While René’s long, wavy hair was a rich honey colour, Josie’s was more of a pale lemon shade. However, both women were gorgeous and seemed to share a close bond.

‘Are they sisters? But they don’t look much alike…’

“I hope things get sorted out before we get back to the palace. Now that Josie is here, Brother’s attitude might change.”

René whispered quickly, pressing a cloth to her swollen cheek. Despite her injury, she chattered on without a break. Swan, watching her in silence, bit her lip.

“Can you get this woman out of the tent?”

“Enough, René.”

Josie interjected in a calm voice. It wasn’t affectionate, but there was enough composure in it to gently rein her in. Swan watched her quietly. What did it mean to be someone who didn’t follow orders to the letter? Or rather that weighty look, the eyes that hid the pain she had suffered, the pride that refused to show scars… Swan had an idea why René felt so triumphant.

“Sir Atlion, there are watching eyes. René is the daughter of the Marquis of Amiens. Please reconsider your decision to punish her.”

“Sister…”

René, who had been trembling with fiery indignation, suddenly teared up as she looked at Josie. She sniffled repeatedly, her trembling nose and tearful demeanour evoking pity.

Atlion watched her in silence. Her calm eyes, uncharacteristically determined for a noblewoman, were fixed directly on him. Of all the knights, she was the first to seem unafraid to meet his gaze. Even Raoul looked at him with reverent awe.

He couldn’t help but wonder. What had they been like before Swan had intervened? What kind of relationship must they have had to produce such an expression?

A vivid image of them standing face to face came to mind. It seemed romantic – knight and knight, the Crown Prince and a noble maiden. They must have been together long before Swan had ever met Atlion.

Swan lifted his head to look at Josie. Her sky-blue eyes, as beautiful as snowflakes, burned with an unmistakable affection that she couldn’t hide. Swan quickly lowered her gaze.

Perhaps she had taken something that didn’t belong to her. Stolen from Josie – and taken something that should never have been hers. A bond that shouldn’t have been won this way.

Suddenly the sound of a baby crying broke through her thoughts. Glancing outside the tent, she caught a glimpse of someone rocking a swaddled infant. Despite her bandaged feet, Swan hurried out.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The maid remained deeply bowed. Swan, holding her crying daughter, looked at the woman who kept apologising to Atlion. Atlion, on the other hand, turned his gaze to Josie, who also seemed upset – probably because the maid seemed to be someone she had brought with her.

René, her expression twisted in obvious displeasure, turned her head sharply and crossed her arms.

“A bastard child treated far above her station…”

“René!”

Josie’s sharp voice echoed through the air. René uncrossed her arms, her face softening into a slightly contrite expression. Swan watched her in silence before whispering softly.

“She must be tired. I’ll go calm her down.”