Aaron scrutinized the two of them as if he were about to strip the flesh from their bones piece by piece. However, he didn’t make eye contact with Lucilia.

He didn’t want to be remembered as a pathetic man who felt inferior to the duke.

Unaware of this, Lucilia fidgeted uncomfortably, unable to sit properly, like someone caught enjoying a secret rendezvous with the duke.

“Your Grace, it’s nice to see you.”

“Is that your way of telling me to get out quickly?”

Kel had already turned to face Aaron directly.

With one buttock still on the seat, he rested his elbow on his thigh and leaned forward. Then, in a manner as improper as his posture, he advised Aaron.

“I understand you brought the Saint here because you didn’t want to be apart, but you mustn’t let even a single hair on her head be harmed.”

“You state the obvious. If I, her husband, don’t protect my wife’s safety, who will?”

Aaron responded with an irreverent attitude, seemingly indifferent to whether he was addressing royalty.

Kel could have scolded him, but instead, he carefully observed Aaron’s almost aggressive demeanor.

“This is unexpected…”

He examined Aaron up and down as if appraising him, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth. The flesh pressed by his tongue bulged and then receded.

“Your aura is certainly different from the banquet. Hmm… once addicted to l*st, rehabilitation is difficult. I thought that of all men, you would keep women at a distance.”

“…”

“To seduce our Saint so easily—how disappointing.”

As if unaware they were a married couple, he blamed Aaron as though he had corrupted Lucilia with impure temptation.

Kel’s claim was so absurd that Lucilia almost burst out laughing.

She bit her lip, trying to erase any trace of amusement.

Kel went further, giving Aaron a coy sidelong glance, as if threatening him for daring to have l*stful thoughts about the Saint.

After thoroughly rebuking him with his eyes, Kel returned to cold reality upon hearing Aaron’s calm voice.

“I’m very glad my wife is not a saint. So, Your Grace, please finally let go of the Saint in your heart and find a lifelong companion. I believe His Majesty the King also mentioned this during the Founding Day celebration.”

“Ho! I’ll handle my own affairs. You focus on your duties. Understood?”

Lucilia knew well that Kel was evaluating noble daughters according to quite demanding criteria.

While he couldn’t avoid a political marriage, he always proclaimed he would enjoy it to the fullest within the established system.

Kel had listed many conditions: a kind nature, wisdom, enlightened thinking, a lively personality, and more.

The qualities he valued most were a cute appearance and a petite frame that would fit snugly in his arms.

That’s why Kel didn’t harbor any dark intentions toward Lucilia.

She was far from having a lively personality, her appearance wasn’t cute, and she wasn’t small and dainty enough to fit into Kel’s arms.

Aaron, unaware of this, was swept up in a storm of emotion.

He felt excluded, as if Lucilia and Kel shared an intimacy that pushed him outside some secret barrier.

Strictly speaking, Lucilia was maintaining appropriate boundaries, but the duke was not.

Aaron disliked the duke’s coltish manner.

He seemed like an incompetent person unable to control even a single emotion.

Even the sunlight reflecting off his smooth skin displeased Aaron.

What was the point of proclaiming himself noble when he lacked dignity?

He was lighter than a fluttering feather.

Aaron erected a high wall against Kel.

“Please refrain from using the title ‘Saint’ as well.”

“Because of the new Saint? Or because it causes trouble for the baroness?”

“The latter. She’s been excommunicated and is no longer a saint, nor is she the daughter of the marquis’s house. She remains only as Aaron Artnal’s wife. Therefore, I take full responsibility for her, and I alone can possess her exclusively.”

Both Lucilia and Kel’s mouths fell open at his resolve, harder than diamond.

He didn’t show even the slightest crack or small scratch against any of the duke’s attacks.

Lucilia felt a strange emotion at her husband’s attitude, whether it was vigilance or jealousy.

At first her heart pounded explosively, then she was engulfed by waves so fierce they made her stomach churn.

‘Exclusive possession? Only he can possess me?’

Could those words be sincere?

Fearing he might read her true feelings, she persistently sought his gray eyes, but Aaron only stared at Kel.

“Making a person feel awkward like this… Lord Artnal, you need to work on that stiff personality of yours.”

Rather than feeling awkward from being cornered, he seemed intimidated by Aaron’s unwavering confidence.

Kel blinked several times, his eyes previously raised haughtily. Then, gently pressing his eyelids, he addressed Lucilia.

“Letting go of the Saint from my heart already leaves me feeling empty. Still, I cannot deny that you’ve become another man’s wife. I will restrain—no, I will try my utmost to restrain myself.”

As if feeling he was submitting to an order, Kel mischievously let his lingering attachment drip. Only after giving Aaron the gift of irritation did he withdraw.

As Kel moved far away, Aaron turned his head toward Lucilia.

“Once we cross that hill, we’ll arrive at the camp. Please stay in the carriage until the tent is set up.”

As Aaron closed the wide-open door, he slipped in a few final words through the narrow gap.

“I’ll come to get you personally, so don’t wander around carelessly.”

‘I can’t tell if that’s concern or control.’

As she reluctantly nodded, the door closed.

Even though it was already shut from the outside, the door rattled a few more times.

It seemed like he was pressing it firmly to prevent even a breath of wind from entering… or was that just her imagination?

The cold wind that blew fiercely from Aaron, like a thoroughly upset child, probably started from that moment.

Since his exchange with the duke, Aaron’s eyes had grown sharp.

He remained distant when he came to fetch Lucilia from the carriage after arriving at the camp, and he didn’t say a word as they walked to the tent together.

Still, if there was any consolation, it was that he held her hand while performing his duty, pretending to be distracted by his wife.

‘If he’s jealous, I could easily soothe him…’

But she couldn’t ask him directly, nor could she suddenly act coquettish.

It seemed better to observe the situation a bit longer.

The tent set up in the camp was quite spacious, different from the temporary ones they had used while traveling.

If there was anything disappointing, it was that there were two field beds.

It would be more ridiculous to forcibly bring a large, sturdy bed for a couple to share on the battlefield.

She could understand that, but…

“What is that?”

There was no need for a partition.

Aaron had installed it himself, saying it would be awkward if others discovered them.

Aaron glanced indifferently at the partition and shrugged.

“It seemed good to distinguish our separate spaces.”

“We didn’t do this in Tudra.”

“The location has changed. I am a person with living instincts. This is a battlefield where the smell of blood could permeate at any moment. I mean that I wake at the slightest sound and strike at an intruder’s vital points.”

She wasn’t without a retort. She could have countered that if his instincts were that sensitive, surely distinguishing between an intruder and his own person would be no challenge.

‘You just find me burdensome.’

‘You brought me along only because of the small possibility that I might be helpful.’

It was understandable that he might be annoyed—having his rest disturbed, having to pretend to be a couple when unnecessary, and shouldering the responsibility of protecting her.

‘Yes, I’m the one who’s burdening him.’

How on edge he must be right now.

Having resolved to understand, the resentment that had been stirring shamelessly within her subsided.

“I understand what you mean.”

Lucilia went to her space and silently organized her belongings.

Here, she had to do everything with her own hands.

It would be absurd for a noblewoman to receive a maid’s service, and there was no need since no one but the two of them was allowed to enter the tent.

Most of her clothes were inconspicuous blacks and browns. After pushing aside the mixed assortment of skirts and pants to one side, she asked Aaron, who was on the other side.

“Should I always wear the chest armor and protective gear?”

“This tent is the safest place in the camp, so do as you please. This is also where we’ll receive the earliest reports about enemy movements. When the situation becomes urgent, you can put them on then.”

Though she should have felt relieved to remove the rigid protective gear, Aaron’s consistently stiff tone prevented any sense of liberation.

“I’m going to meet General Neil, so please rest.”

Aaron set out to prepare for battle without a moment’s respite.