She was overwhelmed by fear and disgust. Gasping for air, she tried to shake her head, but the man only let her go after he had completely satisfied himself.

Finally, his lips parted from hers. Her lips, stinging as though they were bruised and swollen, were soaked with saliva. Yet, he continued to hold her close. Swan, coughing and sputtering, looked up at him.

He no longer resembled the man who had just kissed her so persistently and invasively. Aside from his wet lips, he appeared surprisingly calm. As she coughed, he gently patted her back, trying to soothe her. Although her coughing subsided, her face remained flushed red.

As she stood there, speechless and her eyes trembling slightly, his long arms encircled her trembling waist. She struggled to push him away, but his arms didn’t loosen their grip.

“I don’t want to go back!”

His gaze shifted to hers. His eyes, sharp and slightly cold, stared down at her. On the verge of tears, Swan gripped his arms.

“His… His Majesty…”

“You’re not going back there.”

“Then… where…?”

“We’re going to Solam tomorrow afternoon.” 

Swan’s face froze in shock. Atlion studied his wife’s pale expression, her eyes glistening with tears. He wanted to wipe away the fear that had settled into her gaze. He raised a hand and gently rubbed her eyelids, trying to calm her. Strands of red-gold hair fell across the freckled bridge of her nose. 

He untied her pinned-up red hair and let it fall, running his fingers gently through it. Then he planted a deep kiss on the milky skin of her neck. Swan shivered and tried to push him away. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he persistently licked and nipped at her neck before moving to her hollowed collarbone. Consumed by desire, he cupped and kneaded her br*ast. 

“Your Highness… ah…” 

Swan twisted her shoulders, trying to push him away. 

“This is… this is outside…” 

“You’re my wife now. So it doesn’t matter, does it?” 

His voice was firm, devoid of softness. Swan trembled at his words. 

The man led the pale woman back to his tent, carefully undoing her corset and helping her out of her dress. It was the kind of task usually reserved for servants – lowly maids, no less. But here was a knight, the Crown Prince himself, doing it in person. It felt strange. Swan, feeling uneasy, watched him in silence before sitting down on the bed in her negligee. 

Atlion planted a soft kiss on her cheek before leaving the tent. Left alone, Swan sat, absentmindedly touching the places where his hands and lips had lingered. 

***

The next morning, several dresses, as beautiful as the ones she had worn the night before, were laid out for her. The maid from the night before returned with the same expressionless face, followed by a line of other maids who looked identical – pale and silent, as if they had all been cast from the same mould. 

Swan had no desire to cooperate, but she couldn’t escape the women who insisted the bath was ready. She was led to a wooden tub filled with warm water and allowed herself to be washed and scrubbed without resistance. 

As she stood in front of the tight dresses once again, waiting to be put on, an overwhelming sense of humiliation and bitterness welled up inside her, bringing tears to her eyes. 

It was about this time that Atlion, who hadn’t returned to the tent the night before, finally reappeared. The first thing Swan said was about Mirabella. 

“Where is the baby?” 

“A maid is looking after her.”

“Please give her back to me.” 

“What happened to your face?” 

Instead of answering, the man leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Swan turned away, overwhelmed by an indescribable mix of emotions. The memory of those pale women scrubbing her chest and gr*in filled her with humiliation. 

Their touch had been cold and unkind, rough to the point of pain. They had exchanged no laughter or warmth, yet they had scrubbed her so hard that her skin had felt raw. She had tried to dismiss it as insignificant and suppress her feelings, but the effort had been in vain. 

Atlion looked at his wife, who seemed on the verge of tears, as if a single nudge would cause her to break down. Without a word, he called for his aide to bring Mirabella. 

The child was soon in her arms and Swan’s tears finally subsided. 

“Do I… have to see them again?” 

She lowered her eyes as she asked, gently soothing the child in her arms. Chubby little Mirabella whimpered softly, burying her face in her mother’s br*ast. 

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to see them.” 

His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if he did not want to say more. Swan ran her hand slowly over the child’s head, reassuring her. 

“But you’ll have to share a carriage with the woman you don’t like. That part can’t be avoided.”  Swan lifted her head. The words echoed in her mind: ‘a new wife, an heir, Mirabella.’ Words spoken so casually, so easily. At the time, they had felt distant, barely registered. But now they resounded endlessly in her ears, refusing to fade. 

“Take a new wife and let her bear your firstborn son.” 

“If you really must, you can have other wives, but that’s as far as you should go. It wouldn’t be right to expect more from her womb.” 

“Set clear boundaries.” 

The repeated murmur crushed her spirit, leaving a burning tension between her eyebrows, as if her frustration had hardened into something physical. Instinctively, she fixed her gaze on her husband’s chin. By now it had become second nature to look at his chest or chin rather than his eyes. 

“Is this carriage going to Solam?” 

“It is.” 

She nodded. What would happen when they got to Solam? Would she be better off there than in the hut? After all, Solam was huge and wealthy. The Imperial Palace was certainly large and opulent. She had never seen it, but she could imagine it. 

A place so beautiful and dazzling that someone like Swan would never get used to it, no matter how long she stayed. 

It was all too clear how Swan would live there. 

In truth, she couldn’t even imagine herself within the palace walls. She felt like a blemish, like a speck of dirt trapped in the gilded crown forged from molten gold. She was someone who simply didn’t belong in such a place. 

Her eyes, which had been wandering aimlessly over the floor, were forcibly lifted. It had been a long time since Swan had raised her head in his presence. Now she looked at him with a frightened expression, her mind plagued by the Emperor’s voice echoing in her mind. 

Her eyelids trembled slightly, and the heat that had gathered between her brows seemed to sink down. 

“When we reach the palace, you won’t have to see Renee again. She won’t have the chance to disrespect you again.” 

Atlion’s tone was gentle, as it had been since they left the cabin. He had always been kind, even in the cabin – a kindness that seemed excessive for someone who had lived all her life as a poor peasant woman in a remote country house. 

But Swan, blinded by her own longing for something she shouldn’t even dare wish for, had always found him distant. She wiped her lids and looked at him. 

“The same goes for the others.”

As if to ease her worries, the man gently rubbed the spot on her hand where her fingers had passed. Swan replayed his words over and over in her mind. He had said that she wouldn’t have to see Renee again. She wouldn’t have to endure her disrespect anymore. 

She wanted to ask him. Desperately. 

What would happen in Solam? Not in terms of how she would live, but what would become of her. It was a question she should have considered before leaving, but only now did it weigh heavily on her mind. And yet she hadn’t asked because she lacked the courage. 

In any case, there was no place for her in Solam. Her relationship was unacknowledged, unapproved. She wasn’t allowed, she wasn’t welcome – and neither was Mirabella. Hadn’t it been made clear enough? Mirabella would be sent away, given to a childless couple. 

She would be dispatched, just like that. A decision made and carried out without regard to Swan’s opinion. After all, her thoughts didn’t matter. Her input wasn’t needed. It was only to be expected. 

It felt as if the ground beneath her feet had given way and she was falling into an endless, bottomless pit. 

‘I’ll be left trembling, struggling to survive in a place where I don’t belong.’

What would happen if she lost Mirabella? If she were forced to part with her daughter before she ever heard her call her mother… it was a thought too unbearable to contemplate. The idea of living as a mistress was horrible, but the idea of living after losing Mirabella was infinitely worse. 

They had said it wouldn’t be right for her to bear another child. Which meant Mirabella would be her last. No, after Mirabella, Swan didn’t even want another child. The thought of carrying a child to term, enduring judgement and scorn, only to have it taken from her arms the moment it was born, was excruciating. 

And in Solam, that was exactly what awaited her. 

Atlion wasn’t the kind of man who cared about children. He wouldn’t care what happened to the children born from her womb. All the pain and suffering would be hers alone. 

And on top of that, she would live as a mistress – a mistress. 

The man she once considered her husband would now marry again, blessed by the world, start a family and look with tearful joy at the child swaddled in his arms. And she, like a shadow, would have to watch it all from afar. That was life in Solam. There was no other way for her. 

The very act of living such a burdensome existence would probably be seen as a blemish that they would want to erase. Though they allowed her no other way to live, even such a life would seem unbearable to them. 

A hand that had lightly brushed her eyelid moved to rest gently on her shoulder before pulling her into an embrace, just as it had the night before. 

Nestled between her mother and father, Mirabella let out a soft babble. Swan looked up at her daughter’s father with a quiet, pleading look and whispered desperately. 

“I have something to finish. Please, let me take care of it before we board the carriage.”