Without hesitation, she stepped forward and took Renard’s large hand in hers. The sound of a sharp breath drawn in came clearly from behind the mask.

“Not Helen.”

Vivian looked up at him and gave him the most endearing smile she knew best.

“I’d like the Grand Duke to show me around himself.”

His large frame visibly stiffened as her grip tightened. His wrist twitched, seemingly about to pull free, but he couldn’t even complete that much.

It was the manner of someone beyond cautious, gripped by outright fear, seemingly worried that if he wrenched his hand away, Vivian might get hurt. In the end, Renard’s hand stayed caught awkwardly inside hers.

“Grand Duchess.”

He finally spoke after a long pause, his hand still hanging there uselessly. The voice behind the mask was low and pressed down.

“I’m not someone you should keep close. And Helen knows this castle better than I do. There isn’t a corner she doesn’t know. She’d be a hundred times better than me.”

It was a clumsy excuse, but Vivian didn’t counter it immediately. Shabby as it was, she could see it was something he wrung out of himself with every bit of effort he had. When someone refused for a genuine reason, breaking that reason solved the problem. But when someone found a reason in order to refuse, as he was doing now, arguing against the excuse itself was pointless.

Besides, that wasn’t her specialty. In all her years reigning as queen of the social world, Vivian rarely pushed her own will head-on. She knew well that the nobles of the capital didn’t want that from her. She always kept a soft face on the outside. That was one of her weapons.

Vivian loosened her grip ever so slightly. Where a moment ago the act of taking his hand was a move to block his retreat, now it was time to shift into the plea of a slight and lonely woman. Lowering her voice a tone, dropping her shoulders, letting her gaze drift from Renard down to somewhere on the floor. Every part of it came as naturally as breathing.

“Grand Duke. I set foot in this land for the first time today. In a place where the very air is different from Petrasia, where I know not a single face, I became the wife of a man I knew only by name.”

She didn’t need to look too pitiful. Sympathy was a useful weapon, but it came at a considerable cost. The voice that rang through the grand ducal residence was intimate and warm, capable of moving a heart without inviting condescension.

“This castle is the same. Everything here is new to me. I need time to grow accustomed to all of it. That includes you, Grand Duke. Even if Helen knows this castle better, Helen is not my husband.”

Renard hesitated to answer. A skilled hunter never let a gap like that go to waste.

“You already escorted me. You waited from before sunset until I arrived. You said yourself that it was the first day, so an escort was the least you could do. And yet to let go of the hand that guided me all this way, right here…… that feels a little hurtful, somehow.”

She didn’t breathe a single word about the curse. In her estimation, the greatest weapon available to her right now was Renard’s clumsy tenderness. The tenderness of a man who fled on horseback the moment the ceremony ended, yet stood at the castle gate for hours because he felt he owed the bride an escort when she stepped down from the carriage.

If he was wavering between what a decent husband ought to do and what a cursed wretch bearing a cursed mark ought to do, all she needed was to give that wavering a small nudge in the right direction.

“I’ll admit, I had my own little dreams about it. Walking slowly through a house I was visiting for the first time, hearing my husband explain it to me himself. If you simply dislike our marriage, there’s nothing to be done, but if that’s not the case, couldn’t you grant me this one small request?”

Renard faltered and couldn’t answer. Refusing meant he disliked Vivian. In the capital’s social world, where this kind of battle was a specialty, a clever refusal wrapped in another smile would likely have come back at her. But Renard seemed to have no idea how to avoid this trap.

Cornered, Renard’s gaze turned to Helen, seeking help. The unspoken plea, asking her to take over the tour and pull him out of this predicament, was plain even to Vivian’s eyes.

Helen met his gaze and smiled gently. She let that look pass through her with perfect ease and took one step back.

“As it happens, I must prepare the Grand Duchess’s first dinner this evening, my lord.”

The old housekeeper’s voice was impeccably polite and businesslike.

“The kitchen has grown sluggish from so long without guests. I’ll need to see to it myself. Besides, it has always been a spouse’s place to welcome the mistress of a house and introduce her to it. I know better than to presume to take that upon myself.”

It was a refusal that served both principle and practicality. Rather than rescue her master from his predicament, Helen chose to give him a firm push straight into it. Even by Vivian’s standards, it was a flawlessly courteous response.

The old housekeeper’s eyes met Vivian’s briefly as she finished speaking. A faint flicker passed through those eyes, which otherwise showed nothing beyond the professional, and was gone. Vivian decided she just made a good impression on Helen.

With his escape cut off, Renard let out a low breath. It was a breath of surrender.

“I won’t be able to give you a very thorough tour.”

His reluctance was plain, but he didn’t seem to be the type to simply do as he pleased when both principle and practicality stood against him. Grudging as it was, it was ultimately what Vivian wanted.

“I’ll just explain the important places briefly. And don’t walk too close.”

“Yes, Grand Duke.”

Vivian released his hand along with a promise she had no intention of keeping. Renard quickly withdrew his hand and tucked it behind his back.

He stepped forward first and put roughly two paces of distance between himself and Vivian. Whenever Vivian closed that gap, he quietly lengthened his stride to open it again.

That awkward interval held throughout the entire walk through the central hall. Vivian quickly gave up on closing the distance and instead watched Renard’s behavior from behind.

It was plainly different from when he introduced Helen. Every movement he made was slightly off. If this was an act, he was a remarkable performer, one who put effort into even the smallest details.

Whether it was real or not, the tour of the castle was more conscientious than she expected.

Renard showed no sign of wanting to rush through it carelessly. His reluctance to let Vivian come close showed he was still constrained by his so-called curse, yet he was clearly not the kind of person who ever imagined doing a duty halfway.

At every fork in the corridor, Renard paused briefly and gave a short explanation. The east annex was unused and dark. This staircase led to the spire, and the railing was old. In winter, the floor of this corridor froze, so don’t walk on it.

The tone was stiff enough to feel like commands, but after passing through several corridors, Vivian soon realized that every blunt sentence converged on a single meaning.

The worn railing, the freezing floor, the corners where candlelight didn’t reach at night. Every one of them was a place where Vivian might get hurt. Without realizing it, Vivian let the corners of her mouth lift behind his back.

“May I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Where in this castle do you spend the most time, Grand Duke?”

The broad back paused for a moment. A hesitant breath came through, seemingly annoyed at being asked something so odd. Still, the answer came faithfully.

“The training grounds.”

“What about your bedroom or your study?”

“I don’t sleep much. I can handle documents without needing to be in the study.”

Vivian noticed the answers growing just slightly longer and gave a quiet nod.

She tossed out a question every so often, just enough not to feel unnatural. Vivian knew well that when approaching a skittish animal for the first time, you offered time before you offered your hand.

Renard’s steps stopped where the corridor bent sharply.

“This is the portrait gallery…… but there’s nothing worth seeing, so we can pass straight through.”

Frames lined the walls along the long corridor. Unlike Renard, who looked eager to move on, Vivian moved with perfect unhurried grace. Even trying not to notice, she couldn’t pretend not to see the one unmistakable feature. Every portrait’s face was covered by a mask.