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He thought it a relief that she knew when to step aside.
The half-wit of House Ronz, raised as a fabricated duchess, had somehow claimed the position of queen—yet failed to bear a child within the agreed time, a woman fated for dethronement.
He had pitied her once. But every time those eyes, so like the Duke of Ronz’s, turned toward him, a nauseating surge of emotion rose in his chest, and he found himself unleashing his anger on her.
There were times when pouring scorn and contempt on her came easier than anything else.
Until she left him.
* * *
“Why didn’t you tell me that you saved me? Why did you just stand there and take every cruel word I said to you!”
But Lyden’s cry could not reach her. She had erased her memories and lived in quiet peace, having forgotten all of it.
“Aeril Ronz is no longer your wife. She is my fiancée.”
Standing there in stunned silence, Lyden Bruhail felt the urge to throw himself into the sea once more.
Maybe then Aeril would come back to him. She was kind enough to give him another chance. This time, he would burn the image of her saving him into his memory…
As Lyden sank into the freezing sea, he held onto one desperate wish:
May the one who parts those currents and takes my hand be you.
He seemed to carry that wish all the way to the moment he closed his eyes.
