The blue moonlight cast itself over the bed.

“Your Highness…”

A faint voice came from somewhere above.

Josef lifted his head from where he had buried it against Amelia’s neck. Her entirely bare body was encased within his arms, as though she belonged solely to him.

And he liked that.

Amelia responded just as he had always wished. Watching her wide, round, blue eyes transition from fear to astonishment and then to tears gave him satisfaction. Her trembling, labored breaths, her attempts to press her knees together, all of it filled him with pleasure.

Her slender wrist twitched weakly, as if searching for something. While holding her shoulders close, Josef pressed his mouth to her chest. As Amelia threw her head back with a helpless gasp, she tried to push him away, her feeble strength proving futile.

“Don’t forget… your promise,” Amelia managed to say, panting under his touch.

“What promise?” Josef asked as he lifted her waist, his body curved over her on the bed. The look of terror flickered once again in her unfocused eyes.

Amelia, her hair sprawled across the sheets, gazed silently at Josef. When his unabashed gaze swept over her, she turned her head away, trying to cover herself with her hands. A faint blush rose across her soft cheekbones.

Her attempt to bring up another subject amidst their intimacy irked him for a moment, but his irritation quickly subsided.

“Look at me.”

“…”

Though it was he who commanded, meeting Amelia’s gaze unsettled Josef. There was something about her eyes—a silent power that pierced through him more deeply than any spoken plea.

“Save that for afterward,” Josef said as he spread her legs apart. “That’s part of the promise too.”

His lips descended over hers, silencing her muffled cries. His focus was not merely on satisfying his own thirst but on rendering her incapable of thought. As a result, the act grew increasingly intense.

***

Amelia, now lying face-down in the bed linens, caught the faint scent of sage. It occurred to her, quite suddenly, that bedclothes always seemed to carry the scent of their owner. The thought struck her as oddly indecent and brought her hazy thoughts back into focus.

Josef had not been overtly violent.

Yet his relentless persistence had been exhausting, leaving her struggling to catch her breath. It would be far from gentlemanly to describe his actions otherwise. Even as her body writhed and sobbed, overtaken by unfamiliar sensations, Josef had not stopped.

Forcing herself to rise against the lethargy that begged her to remain collapsed, she saw him seated at a table, absorbed in a stack of papers. The light from the golden candlestick beside the inkpot illuminated the clean lines of his profile. Not a single wrinkle marred the rolled-up tunic at his collar.

While Josef continued his work, occasionally rustling the papers, Amelia found her gown scattered on the floor and slipped it on in the pale moonlight.

Running her fingers through her hair, she glanced fleetingly at the bed, only to quickly avert her gaze from the lingering traces of their intimacy.

“…”

Amelia stood aimlessly near the bed, lost in vague disillusionment, until she interpreted Josef’s refusal to meet her eyes as permission to leave.

As she crossed the room and reached for the doorknob, his voice halted her.

“Come again tomorrow.”

She froze for a moment but neither turned around nor replied, exiting the room without another word. She assumed Josef required no confirmation. After all, if she defied him, he could reduce Brienne to ruins with a mere nod.

With his declaration, Amelia knew she would return tomorrow. No room for pointless thoughts or misplaced pride.

****

What drove Amelia forward now was a deep and bitter sense of defeat.

Walking among foreign trees, she moved as though swimming through the humid summer night air, her silhouette fainter than even a shadow. She wished she could simply vanish altogether.

But she couldn’t.

“I’m still here,” she thought.

Even if she yearned to scatter like smoke, leaving no ash or trace behind, it was impossible. Even if she longed to decay beneath the deep waters, her position forbade it.

To be a hostage meant to be tethered on behalf of her nation. To be a stand-in for Brienne meant she had no autonomy of her own. And foolishly, she had once clung to the notion of resolve, unaware of what it truly entailed.

This was a lesson Amelia had learned only after it left its indelible mark upon her.

The night pressed the forest’s scent heavily into the air. Hearing the rustle of grass, Amelia stopped abruptly.

“Oh.”

From within the thicket, a deer emerged, a handkerchief tied loosely around its neck.

“What are you doing here?”

The deer, as if recognizing her, trotted toward her. It had grown enough that its snout could now nuzzle at her waist. The warmth of its soft fur was oddly comforting.

“You should sleep inside the estate at night. The guards might get startled,” she scolded gently. The deer merely flicked its ears and nuzzled her as if in apology. When she resumed walking, it followed her at a measured pace, its steps perfectly matching hers.

The sight of the deer’s attachment always left Amelia feeling conflicted. Although Josef had told her to raise it, she planned to release the deer back into the forest someday. That was why she hadn’t even given it a name.

“…You need to go back to where you belong,” she murmured, gently stroking the fawn’s neck as if sealing a promise.

Entering the mansion through the kitchen’s back door to avoid noise, Amelia quietly climbed up to her bedroom, with the deer following close behind. It soon sprawled out on the carpet, settling in. Seeing this, Amelia let out a small smile.

“Fine. You can sleep here tonight.”

Sitting on the floor, she gently patted the curled-up fawn. It was a mimicry of her own childhood memories—when someone would hold her and stroke her back whenever she fell or cried.

The deer, its long neck bent as it lay down, blinked slowly at her as if on the brink of sleep. The sluggish motion of its eyelids closing and opening grew even more languid. Oddly enough, Amelia found herself comforted by the sight and gradually drifted off to sleep herself.

***

The next morning, Betty made her way upstairs a little earlier than usual.

Lady Amelia, like most nobles, rarely expressed her emotions openly. This wasn’t unique to Olstein; aristocratic families across the lands seemed to raise their children in much the same way.

But Amelia also refrained from doling out favors on a whim when pleased or picking petty fights when upset. She often sought solitude when she needed it, and accommodating her occasional desire for quiet was all it took to make her an easy mistress to serve. Betty sometimes felt almost guilty for how simple her role was.

Yesterday had been one of those days. Amelia’s face had looked grim after meeting with the knight commander from Brienne. Surely, they’d had an intense discussion—one far above Betty’s station to know. She likely needed time alone to sort out her thoughts.

The specifics didn’t concern Betty. Difficult matters were for those of higher rank to handle, and war was all too common a topic in Olstein. To Betty, it wasn’t something to dwell on deeply.

More importantly, Lady Amelia was safe here in Olstein, not in Brienne. However shaken she might have been by yesterday’s events, she was likely just tired today. That was Betty’s sole concern.

“My lady, I’m coming in,” Betty called, knocking on the door.

There was no answer. She waited a moment before knocking again.

“My lady, are you still asleep?”

A sound came from inside the room—not Amelia’s voice, but a faint noise Betty recognized. She opened the door cautiously.

“You again? What are you doing here?”

As expected, the deer was sniffing around the dressing table. Betty scolded it lightly, but of course, the animal didn’t understand. It nudged a perfume bottle with its nose and even tried to drink from a bowl of water on the table.

“Ugh, just—out you go… Oh!”

While nudging the fawn’s hindquarters to guide it out, Betty caught sight of something on the floor and froze.

She had assumed it was a discarded robe, but it was Amelia herself, still wrapped in her gown and fast asleep.

“L-Lady Amelia!”

Betty dropped to her knees, shaking Amelia’s shoulder gently.

“…Mm.”

Amelia’s pale face twitched slightly, her brow furrowing. Betty quickly placed a hand on her forehead. It was only slightly warm—no sign of a fever. Betty exhaled in relief.

“I thought you had collapsed.”

Steadying her racing heart, Betty inspected Amelia more closely. There were no signs that she was ill or injured. Her breathing was as calm and even as always.

“Were you too warm, my lady?”

Even so, how could she have ended up sleeping on the floor? Rising to her feet, Betty moved to prepare a bath with warm water.

It was summer, but the floor inside the mansion at night could still be quite cool. If she had spent the entire night there, it could have strained her body. Betty resolved to wake her, or if necessary, carry her to the bath to warm her up.

“My lady, it’s time to wake up. You need to warm yourself and rest properly.”

“…Mm.”

As expected, Amelia, still half-asleep, murmured drowsily.

“All right, here we go.”

Supporting Amelia’s shoulders, Betty helped her toward the bath. Amelia shuffled along unsteadily, and once she was submerged in the warm water, she immediately dozed off again, her head resting limply against the marble tub.

“I’ll make it quick, my lady. You must have had a restless night…”

But as Betty began to pour water over Amelia, she paused.

Her mistress’s skin was as smooth and fair as ever—pristine like carefully crafted porcelain.

Except for one spot.

There was a mark, clear and vivid enough for even someone as inexperienced as Betty to recognize.

“…”

Betty stared down for a moment before glancing at Amelia’s serene, sleeping face.

Without a word, she resumed her work, washing Amelia as if nothing was different.