She didn’t want to live as an empress in such a place. Although she had lived as a humble villager in a remote town, she wasn’t ignorant of what the title meant. It was the position of the most noble and revered woman in Solerium. It wasn’t a place to be reached simply because she had shared a bed with the Crown Prince or borne his child.

And what if someone discovered her lowly origins? They might use that knowledge to humiliate her and her child – or even target Atlion himself, mocking and attacking him through her shame. Swan didn’t care much for herself, but she couldn’t bear the thought of Mirabella suffering such humiliation.

“Swan.”

Lost in a spiral of anxious thoughts, she was startled by the voice. She looked up in the direction of the sound. A tall, imposing figure was coming towards her. Swan clutched the blanket tightly as she watched him.

The noblewomen, who had been kneeling with proper decorum, stepped aside in silence. Swan’s heart raced as she looked at him and before she knew it, she was being lifted off the ground.

“Ah!”

Swan wriggled, her cheeks flushed as she looked up at him. Atlion placed her in the steaming bath and began to pour water over her, much like the night before.

“W-What are you…”

“I was told you didn’t take a bath because you were too embarrassed to let the maids help you.”

“…”

“The servants informed me.”

Swan’s lips quivered as she lowered her head, her face sinking with embarrassment. The noblewomen were still present, watching the scene unfold. This was different from last night – at least there had been no witnesses then. Her heart pounded as she wondered what it all meant.

“I-I can manage on my own.”

“And you think you can move your body after what you went through last night?”

A faint shiver ran behind her ears and Swan’s eyes widened. Adelaide approached and removed the half-soaked blanket, leaving her completely n*ked. Embarrassment overwhelmed her and she couldn’t raise her head. She hunched her shoulders inwards, chilled by the sudden exposure.

“Lift your head.”

“I… I want to do it myself.”

“You had no problem letting me look after you last night.”

“That was… that was…”

Swan trailed off, unable to finish.

Atlion’s hands moved to her shoulders and back, his touch neutral and free of passion. But as his gaze lingered on the soft curve of her shoulders, the swell of her br*ast just below her collarbone, and the reddened marks left by his bites and kisses, a flicker of something unreadable crossed his expression.

Swan crossed her thin arms over her br*ast and avoided his gaze, looking down instead.

“If you keep curling up like that, how am I supposed to wash you?”

Swan’s chin tilted slightly and her gaze naturally landed on Adelaide’s stiff expression. The shock in Adelaide’s wide eyes only made Swan’s face burn hotter with embarrassment. The noblewomen exchanged quick, awkward coughs and averted their eyes, but their stiff expressions betrayed their discomfort.

“With so many people watching…”

“Afraid of the maids’ eyes, are you?”

Atlion remarked, raising his hand.

Adelaide, who had prepared a dry towel and a satin dress, immediately gathered the maids and led them out of the chamber. Only then did Swan breathe a small sigh of relief, though her lip trembled as she bit it and looked at Atlion.

“I can bathe myself.”

“You cried and whimpered so much last night; there’s no way you can move properly today.”

“Even so… even so, not in front of other people…”

“They need to know how much I appreciate you.'”

Atlion said, cutting her off.

“What are you talking about?”

“That you are my wife,” he said firmly.

A faint tremor flickered beneath her eyes. Atlion pressed his lips to hers as if it were nothing. Swan didn’t flinch or avoid the familiar touch, meeting his gaze instead.

His hand, which had instinctively brushed across her br*ast, now slid down the curve of her back. Swan glanced at the arm wrapped around her slender waist. Suddenly, a memory from two and a half years ago surfaced – a day when he had stood before the woman who was almost his fiancée, and yet…

“You said… you said you didn’t love me.”

Her tongue moved before she could stop herself, the words spilling out hesitantly. It was too late to resent her uncooperative tongue or stop the question she had already begun. Unable to meet his gaze, she lowered her head, her eyelashes quivering. Finally, after a moment’s thought, she looked up at him.

“You said so, didn’t you? You made it very clear.”

He didn’t deny it or ask when she’d heard it. Maybe he didn’t even remember saying it. But for Swan, the moment was seared into her memory. It was the reason she had decided to leave him.

It was inevitable, she told herself. But hearing those words out loud had felt like her heart being torn apart. She couldn’t bear it any longer. Although she had always felt his lack of love, the confirmation of it had made her feel unbearably unhappy.

How pathetic she had been, she thought, to deceive him so shamelessly and still beg for his love.

“I… I…”

“And?”

“Don’t you… don’t you remember?”

The words hung in the air, irretrievable, as she waited for his answer. Instead of covering her br*ast, Swan clasped her hands tightly as if in prayer. Atlein, who had been holding her hands, clasped them tightly and whispered with an air of indifference.

“I remember.”

Her face burned. Swan blinked, stunned. Now that she thought about it, he must have known she was eavesdropping back then. Her heart pounded wildly. Regret washed over her – she shouldn’t have brought it up. But if he asked how she knew, she had planned to say that she had overheard it by chance, and then, after that… after that…

Her lips twitched involuntarily. She looked at him with a pale face, her expression a mixture of fear and confusion. But his face wasn’t cold or hard. On the contrary, it was calm – just as it had been when he had picked her up to bathe her.

“Swan.”

“Then… then why are you…”

She stammered, unable to finish her question.

Her breathing was shallow and quick, her head spinning as her body swayed unsteadily. Atlion reached out to steady her, pulling her into his arms with a firm grip. Swan, weak and disoriented, was easily drawn to him. He ran his hand gently along her waist before lifting her out of the tub. As she wavered in his arms, she tried to slip away, but his grip was unyielding, his strength overwhelming as he refused to let her go.

“What’s love got to do with it?”

Swan stopped pressing against his chest and looked up at him, her tight lips slackening. Her eyes, which had been blinking rapidly to hold back tears, fell silent. A single tear broke free, tracing a path down her cheek. Atlion stared at her with a strange expression, but the hand that reached out to wipe away her tears was gentle, his touch as he stroked her pale chin tender and almost reverent.

He dried her body with a large towel, wrapping her pale, n*ked form in its folds. He carried her to the bed and sat down, placing her on his lap. His lips pressed lightly against her rounded forehead. Swan’s soft lips parted slightly, trembling.

“I…”

“Didn’t I say that before?”

Atlion interrupted.

“You are my wife. My bride. You bore my child, and that makes you my wife.”

The hand that had caressed her chin moved closer to her slender waist, wrapping her in its embrace. Atlion kissed the streaks left by her tears before pressing his lips to the crown of her head. Swan, too stunned to push him away, sat dazed in his arms before asking softly,

“Do you not love me?”

Atlion, who had been inhaling the faint scent of her wavy hair, stopped and looked at her in response to her question.

“Love? Don’t be childish, Swan.”

As if amused, he poked her cheek gently, then rubbed his chin against it, pulling her closer again. But Swan continued to stare at him intently, unwilling to let the matter drop. Atlion, reveling in the softness of her pale, supple body, gripped her hip tightly as he finished his thought.

“You are my wife. My possession.”

***

The carriage to Solam was spacious. Swan, dressed in an elegant gold satin gown reminiscent of marigolds, entered the carriage with the help of attentive maids. Atlion, after checking several times that his wife was seated properly, mounted his horse and prepared to accompany her on the journey.

The plan to refuse to enter the carriage until she saw Theo had been doomed from the start.

Swan had opened her mouth to ask where her daughter Una was, but Atlion’s piercing gaze silenced her. She didn’t have the courage or the strength to speak to him again.

She didn’t even understand why she had asked the question before – what she had hoped to get out of it. After all, she had heard the same dismissive answer and it made her feel foolish. The fact that she still harboured the slightest bit of longing for him filled her with shame.

The journey from the estate where she and Theo had lived in Romencastle to Solam was not long. Two and a half days was all it took. There wasn’t even a moment for her to formulate a plan or consider an escape. Every time she stepped out of the carriage, Atlion’s sharp eyes watched her like a predator, as if he feared she might disappear the moment he looked away.

His obsessive gaze followed her everywhere she went, even though he had filled the carriage with an abundance of maids to make sure she wouldn’t be left alone. But where would she go without Theo? Was that why he hadn’t returned Una to her – because he was afraid she would run away? Did that mean she couldn’t even see her child in the palace?

Atlion, however, left Swan little time to dwell on such thoughts. There was no room for her to think about Theo or Una. At nightfall, her thoughts always broke and were replaced by something else – him. Atlion never let a night pass without taking her in his arms.

Holding Swan, who cried uncontrollably like a child, Atlion spent nights panting and trembling with her in his arms – yet the next day he always had the energy to take the reins and carry on as if it were nothing short of remarkable.