Roxon left the cabin, and Aslan, now alone with Canasia, picked up the cutlery himself and placed it in her hand.

“Go ahead and eat.”

Canasia started eating reluctantly at Aslan’s prompting. Aslan watched her cut the cutlet with elegant strokes of her white, thin hands, then picked up his own spoon. It was decent work, nothing compared to food on land, but not bad. Whether Canasia agreed was another matter.

Clink. Aslan looked up at the sound of cutlery. Canasia, who ate a couple of pieces of the sliced cutlet, was already setting her fork down. Aslan frowned.

“Doesn’t suit your taste?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Then?”

“I’m full.”

Canasia answered, sliding the remaining plate slightly to the side. What did she eat that she was full already? Aslan stared at her stick-thin wrist and speared a piece of the stewed fig on his fork and held it out.

“Eat more.”

“I’m fine, I ate enough.”

“Come on, just one more bite.”

“I said I’m full…… ugh!”

Canasia waved her hand and then suddenly clapped it over her mouth and stood up. She grabbed the waste bin in the corner of the cabin and retched, and Aslan jumped to his feet and patted her back.

“Are you all right?”

Canasia barely nodded, having returned the small amount she ate. Aslan laid her down on the bed and stared down at her as she caught her breath, her face pale.

Why? There was nothing wrong with the food.

Aslan looked back and forth between the lavish table and Canasia lying limp, and his brow narrowed.

……Could it be?

* * *

Lying down didn’t make her feel any better. Canasia stared blankly at the ceiling, darkened black with moisture, and let out a sigh. She closed her eyes hoping sleep would help, but the small amount she ate seemed to sit wrong, and the nausea kept sleep from coming.

Trapped in this cabin without even seeing sunlight, she might really just fade away and die. Dying with honor might be better than living in humiliation, but.

She tossed and turned clutching the rough blanket, and someone knocked on the cabin door.

“Excuse me, Your Highness. May I come in for a moment?”

It was a voice she never heard before, neither Aslan’s nor Timo’s. Canasia reflexively sat up.

The door had no lock from the inside, so she assumed whoever it was would let themselves in the way everyone else did, but the shadow outside the door didn’t move, seemingly intent on waiting until she gave permission.

What should I do? Should I pretend to be asleep?

While Canasia deliberated, the man outside gave a light, polite cough. The refined prompting, the kind you’d only encounter on land, loosened the tightly wound tension in her nerves a little.

Maybe he’s someone who came to help me.

Canasia pulled on the cardigan hanging on the bed and said.

“Come in.”

A stranger entered carrying a small bag.

“How do you do, Your Highness. My name is Bjorn Russ.”

A man with long hair carrying a faint tinge of green, tied back in one, bent one knee and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. It was a formal greeting she didn’t expect from pirates.

“The captain sent me.”

“Oh…… I see.”

Disappointment crossed Canasia’s face at the mention of Aslan sending him.

Of course. Everything that happens on this ship falls under that man’s authority, so there’s no one here who would help me. She looked at the man with a hollow feeling, and Bjorn stated his business plainly.

“I heard you haven’t been feeling well. May I check your pulse?”

“Go ahead.”

Bjorn, who asked permission politely, carefully placed his fingers on Canasia’s wrist. He checked her pulse, examined her nails, and confirmed the color of her eyes with the thoroughness of a seasoned doctor. She was starting to think he really was just here to examine her, when Bjorn asked casually.

“Forgive me, but may I ask when your last monthly period was?”

“……Excuse me?”

Canasia’s eyes narrowed at the impertinent question, one even the palace physician never asked. The man remained calm regardless.

“I understand. I must seem like a madman to you. But it’s something I must know when examining a woman.”

“Do I look like a pr*stitute to you?”

“Not at all. If I thought so, you wouldn’t be sitting across from me like this.”

Bjorn answered with a shrug. His manner was light, but his eyes were sharp. Canasia asked with a suspicious look.

“Are you actually a doctor?”

“Not a licensed one, but I do use a blade from time to time.”

“To save people or kill them?”

“That depends on the occasion.”

Canasia held back her answer and studied Bjorn intently. The refined accent and manner of speech, the measured gestures, the way he treated her. He was a pirate, but not a born sailor.

“You’re a noble. An imperial one at that.”

The man’s lips relaxed. For a moment it seemed like countless unspoken exchanges passed between their locked gazes, and then it went quiet, as though none of it happened.

Bjorn smoothly changed the subject.

“If there’s nothing unusual with your monthly period, it’s probably seasickness.”

“…….”

“Seasickness is hard to endure when you’re new to sailing. Especially on this ship. Even I thought I was going to die the first month or two after coming aboard.”

Bjorn rambled on and opened his bag. Canasia watched his profile and asked, “Why would an imperial noble come all the way to the Dead Sea to turn into a pirate?”

“I wonder about that myself.”

He took a small medicine bottle from his bag and held it out.

“It’s a sleeping draught. Take a sip when it gets bad. You’ll fall asleep right away.”

“…….”

“Don’t skip meals even if you have no appetite. It’s at least two more weeks before we reach land, and if you keep starving yourself, your body won’t hold out.”

“…….”

“It might also be worth asking the captain if you can come up on deck. Getting some fresh air might help with the seasickness.”

He talked for a long while with no response, and Bjorn turned his head. Canasia, turning the medicine bottle he gave her over in her hands while deep in thought, suddenly spoke.

“What happens if I drink all of this at once?”

“……A sturdy sailor would sleep soundly for three or four days. You, Your Highness, would sleep forever.”

“That doesn’t sound bad.”

“Do you want to die?”

Canasia gripped the medicine bottle tight and answered.

“It might be better than being used by pirates like you.”

“A meaningless death, then.”

“Does dying require meaning?”

Bjorn let out a short laugh at Canasia’s retort. A look of contempt crossed his face.

“If the person who dies is an ordinary person, it wouldn’t matter. But some people exist for others. People fated to carry the lives of others on their shoulders, whether they want to or not. Our captain, for instance…….”

People like royalty. Like you.

Canasia had no trouble understanding the words Bjorn left out. The man continued with a pitying expression.

“I, or rather, the captain doesn’t care whether you live or die. The goal was accomplished the moment you were taken. ”

“…….”

“But Hereis’s position is different. Your death would become a pretext for invasion.”

“My death would be a pretext for invasion? Not something that hastens your destruction?”

Bjorn answered Canasia’s retort slowly and clearly, as though explaining to a naive child who didn’t understand the state of the world.

“You must know this, Your Highness. Sinking this ship would bring Eldos little real benefit beyond venting anger. But if something happens to you, they would use avenging the bride as justification to interfere with Hereis.”

“…….”

“The moment you were named the bride of the king of Eldos, you as an individual ceased to exist. Only the status of princess of Hereis remains.”

A shadow fell across the face of the man standing at an angle. He looked down at Canasia biting her lip and spoke evenly.

“Be used, or do the using. In the end, it’s one or the other. Which do you prefer?”

“……Do I have a choice?”

“You will. As long as you act wisely.”

* * *

Canasia was turning the medicine bottle Bjorn left behind over in her fingers when the sound of the door opening made her quickly hide it under the bed. Aslan’s face appeared through the open door.

“Can I come in?”

You’d come in even if I said no, so why bother asking.

She nodded silently at the pointless question, and Aslan stepped into the cabin naturally. He set a rolled-up bundle of papers on the table, then perched on the edge of the bed and asked.

“How are you feeling?”

“The same as before.”

“Is the nausea still bad?”

“It’s bearable.”