Today was a little harder to bear – a feeling that was more frustrating than exhausting, Malyn thought as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

The king was passionate. The black-haired woman she had seen at the banquet – she was captivating, unlike Malyn, whose pretty face left little impression. This woman’s beauty was striking and unforgettable, so naturally the king embraced her more often than Malyn.

Most would assume that Malyn was jealous of her; given the circumstances, it made sense. The woman was a commoner who sang in Veldam’s theatre, and no one ever considered her fit to be queen. People generally treated her with little regard. But on nights like this, Malyn always found herself thinking of her.

Mostly…

She wondered if the woman found every night as overwhelming as this one.

Today, once again, the king ordered Malyn to perform. If he were the type who simply sought his own satisfaction, perhaps the ordeal wouldn’t feel so endless. As winter’s chill set in, he made Malyn wear nothing but a thin undergarment, playing with her in this fragile state.

The garment, imported from a warmer land, looked almost like fairy wings – a beautiful thing, barely the size of her palm. Malyn wore the pure white fabric that barely covered her, and the king took pleasure in whipping her, enjoying the red marks the small whip left on her skin.

Though the room was heated, the season made it so cold that the chill added to the pain. Meanwhile, the king grew irritated as he played with Malyn. He remarked that Alexis – the woman with the black hair – had a fuller, softer body than Malyn, which made the whipping more enjoyable.

Imagine distinguishing tastes in something as cruel as whipping. Do the high and mighty appreciate such tastes? It was ridiculous. Then he could just call for Alexis, Malyn thought, but she quickly reconsidered. Surely Alexis also found those long nights unbearable and frustrating. If she had any sense of humanity, she couldn’t possibly love a man like him.

‘…Of course, the world is full of people who barely deserve to be called human.’

With these thoughts in mind, Malyn endured the king’s playing with her. Occasionally, when he was pleased with her, he would mutter, “Not a princess, but a wh*re – I’ve brought a wh*re!” Despite the words, his voice was full of pleasure.

And Malyn was certain of one thing:

If it were that noble, delicate princess, the king would have locked her away in a dark room long ago.

‘Or perhaps, as he sometimes threatened his maids and servants, he would have thrown her to the dogs.’

The hunting dogs kept in the castle’s back courtyard were as large as people. Thinking of those fearsome creatures made Malyn shudder.

That princess likely wouldn’t even know what it meant to be summoned like this if it weren’t for Malyn. Could someone like her ever satisfy this twisted king’s tastes?

Malyn glanced at the king, who lay beside her, breathing heavily, and drank the prepared water, shaking the bell cord. She still didn’t have a stitch of clothing on. The king was lying comfortably on the bed, while she couldn’t even crawl under the covers. Malyn thought, hoping that the maids would bring in a cloak or, at the very least, a blanket.

‘Is being locked away in a cell a better deal than this?’

But she quickly dismissed the thought. Being locked in a cell in this cold, without even the charcoal the kitchen had distributed, would surely mean freezing to death. At least she didn’t have to worry about that. The maids kept the princess’s room carefully tended, and the king summoned her two or three times every ten days. Still, it didn’t seem to occur to her to provide a blanket for a princess who wore nothing but her underwear. Malyn frowned as she watched the maids enter the room in silence, all without bringing a cloak or blanket. Was she supposed to cross the corridor dressed like this?

As Malyn stood up awkwardly, the maids seemed nervous as well. Escorting a princess down the corridor in such revealing undergarments, even at this early hour, would be embarrassing indeed. Then, as the maids exchanged silent gestures, unable to speak in the presence of the king, her personal maid, Layla entered the room. In her hands was a red cloak. Recognising the familiar colour, Malyn realised that she must have borrowed it from one of the guards on duty.

With her head bowed, Layla handed the cloak to another maid. The maid, who often wiped Malyn’s face, took the cloak and gently dabbed at the damp corners of Malyn’s mouth before quickly wrapping it around her. Although the chill remained in her cold fingertips, the warmth of the cloak brought her some relief.

As soon as she returned to her room, Malyn wrapped herself in a feather blanket and sat down by the fireplace. Anessa, who greeted her, asked if she should prepare some hot water, but Malyn shook her head. Bathing would mean drying her hair afterwards, and by then it would be morning. She just wanted to get warm and get to sleep. The cold air made her nose tingle. She rubbed her nose absently as she warmed her stiff hands by the fire. Just then Layla appeared, hesitantly holding a pair of underwear. Malyn took the clothes and spoke.

“I’m going to learn horseback riding.”

“…That wasn’t what I intended to ask.”

Nervously, Layla clasped her hands together and bowed her head. Malyn had indeed agreed to learn riding from Layla that morning. Practicing during the day required the presence of knights and brought a number of complications. So it was decided that Malyn would practise at the same time as the king’s horses.

“What does it mean for someone meant to bear children to refuse to do so?”

When Malyn reluctantly shrugged off the blanket that still warmed her cold fingers, Layla quickly turned her head to look back at her at her words. But when she saw that Malyn was almost n*ked, she immediately lowered her gaze. Layla’s modesty no longer surprised her. Malyn removed the undergarment she’d been wearing, wondering if the sticky feeling on her br*ast was her own sweat or the king’s leftovers. Fully undressed, Malyn began to pull at her clothes and spoke.

“They say that the king can only remove his mask only after having a child?”

“That… yes, that’s true.”

“Then why doesn’t he try to?”

Malyn turned and held out her hand to Layla, who promptly handed her a cloth moistened with warm water. Despite her fastidiousness, Layla had learned to anticipate Malyn’s needs quite well. Malyn used the soft cloth to scrub her body. The warmth lingered on her skin for a moment but faded, leaving her cool as soon as the cloth was pulled away. The sensitivity of her skin, heightened by the king’s rough treatment, made the cold feel even sharper. Malyn rubbed her right br*ast in small circles with her thumb. The scar Layla had accidentally made there had long since healed.

“He just rubs his d*ck on my br*ast.”

“……”

“No matter how much he rub his d*ck in my br*ast, a child will never be conceived that way, will it?”

Layla lowered her head even further, obviously upset. Malyn spoke in a sing-song tone.

“Why are you so uncomfortable? Do my words seem crude to you? Well, there’s nothing I can do about that. You’ll just have to get used to it.”

“……”

“If you ever escape from here, you’ll find the streets full of people saying things far cruder than anything I’ve ever said.”