Unlike his rough hands, his touch was gentle as Ahazan brushed his fingers beneath Clodine’s cheek and lifted her lowered head. She had no choice but to open her eyes and meet his gaze.

When he was cold, his face allowed no room for interpretation, only chill resolve. But tonight, his expression was nothing like that. Though he was not smiling, something in him had softened, the usual barriers quietly dismantled as he looked down at her.

For that reason—or perhaps because of it, Clodine realized, faintly but unmistakably, that she would not be wounded by him tonight.

It was an absurd realization.

“I took you from where you belonged.”

He cupped her face firmly in both hands, making sure she heard him clearly. Drawing her closer, he held her gaze.

“So whatever follows from that choice, it is mine to bear.”

His low, resonant voice brushed against the rim of her ear. Tonight, every word he spoke carried more weight than usual.

“I’ve never once thought of taking anything else through you.”

She could have dismissed it as drunken talk. Yet she could not.
Or perhaps she did not want to.

‘What am I thinking…?’

Clodine bit the inside of her lip to sever the thought. The faint scent of wine, the warmth of his skin so close to hers, it made her feel feverish, dizzy.

“So if anyone dares to say otherwise.”

 As though unaware of the storm within her, gently tucking her hair behind her small ear.

His fingers lingered in her hair.

“Blame me. Elegantly.”

Clodine blinked slowly, unable to respond to an answer she had never expected.

Few in the Empire were unaware that their marriage had not been entirely voluntary. And yet now, she found herself shielded by that very fact, protected by the force that had once bound her.

The unfamiliarity of it unsettled her.

At the same time, she discovered within herself a forbidden curiosity, one she had no right to harbor.

‘You’ve lost your mind, Clodine.’

Unable to bear the surge of self-reproach, she lifted her glass and drained it in one swallow.

“What is this? No toast with me?”

Ahazan gave a faint, crooked smile and tapped his own glass against her empty one. The sharp chime made her shoulders tense involuntarily. He emptied his glass just as swiftly.

Clodine watched him as he pressed his wine-damp lips together and studied the empty glass in his hand, unaware of her gaze.

Inside her chest, the urge to confirm something grew stronger by the second.

She set her glass down and walked past him toward the bed, her steps light. The wine she had forced herself to drink began to burn warmly down her throat and into her chest. Her mind dulled pleasantly, her judgment loosening, and strangely, she welcomed it.

“You should go now. I’m tired. I need to sleep.”

With her back to him, she slowly slipped the long robe from her shoulders. Beneath it, the thin nightgown shimmered in the glow of candlelight and the hearth.

She knew exactly how it clung to her body. She knew how the red-tinged light deepened the color of her skin.

And she acted accordingly.

After hanging the robe by the bedside, she absently touched the braid that rested loosely over her left collarbone. Ordinarily she would have slept with it tied, but tonight she intended to take her time undoing it.

As she began to loosen the knot, she sensed movement behind her.

Though she had orchestrated this moment, the slow, unhurried sound of his steps sent an inexplicable shiver through her body.

“I suppose you’ll need to relearn how to dismiss a guest.”

Ahazan’s whisper fell beside her ear as he stepped close and wrapped a long, solid arm around her waist.

Clodine did not resist. As his broad frame enveloped her from behind, she felt both despair and a strange sense of reassurance.

“If you’re tired, then sleep.”

His hand pulled at the neckline of her nightgown, and his heated lips pressed against the pale curve of her neck.

“Though your dreams may not be very restful.”

His breath swept over her skin like something tangible. She bit down hard on her lower lip, her shoulders twisting involuntarily.

‘You know I cannot bear children… and yet you still hold me like this. What does that mean?’

The words threatened to spill from her lips. She forced herself to remain silent.

To ask him would be to reveal the fragile hope hidden beneath her composure. That would not be something she could excuse as drunken folly.

It would be something far more dangerous.

Ahazan quickly drove what little reason she had left into the farthest corner of her mind. In the end, she exhaled shakily and turned to face him.

Up close, his face was filled with desire, cold and burning all at once.

It was a strange description, but it fit. He radiated the ruthless intensity of someone ready to devour what stood before him, yet the warmth in his gaze was scorching.

Clodine concealed a desire no less fierce than his and gazed at Ahazan without heat before pressing her lips to his.

Whether she was truly drunk or not, the kiss she had boldly intended ended rather pitifully when her raised heels gave way and she lost her balance. It was far less triumphant than she had planned.

Had Ahazan felt the same?

For a moment, the mature hunger faded from his face. He looked down at her with a clear, almost boyish smile, as though he had just witnessed a child’s charming mischief.

“What was that just now?”

At his laughter-laced question, Clodine felt all the heat in her body rush straight to her face. Even so, her expression remained perfectly composed, elegant and unbroken.

Breathing in the warmth of his scent that filled the air between them, she exhaled in a humid whisper.

“Sleep-talking.”

A seductive murmur worthy of a burdensome dream.

From that moment on, the wine-soaked night ignited like a spreading blaze.

***

A vast chamber filled in orderly rows with sculptures of varying shapes. The floor, patterned in alternating black and white marble squares, made the entire room resemble an enormous chessboard.

Clodine walked quietly behind Yuri, who was kindly explaining the history behind each statue, and Ashton, who listened with keen interest.

As the three of them strolled through the chamber, she felt strangely as though they were chess pieces placed there by someone else’s hand.

“Shall we end today’s palace tour here and go enjoy some refreshments together?”

“I was just beginning to feel a bit hungry myself. An excellent idea. You’ll join us, won’t you, Your Majesty?”

With Yuri proposing and Ashton readily agreeing, it seemed their next destination would be the tea salon.

Judging by the color of the sunlight filling the chamber, Clodine guessed evening was not far off. The tour had begun in the morning and had taken more time than she had expected.

Still, she narrowed her brows politely, as though regretful.

“I’m afraid I cannot. I have a dinner engagement this evening with the ladies residing in the castle. I should change beforehand, so I must leave you here.”

“Please, there is nothing to apologize for. It has been an honor simply to accompany you. You will join us again tomorrow, won’t you?”

With his usual cheerful tone, Ashton pressed her for tomorrow’s schedule as well. Clodine offered a faint smile and nodded.

After Yuri and Ashton departed for refreshments, Clodine returned to her chamber to change.

Though the wedding had concluded some time ago, many distinguished guests, both domestic and foreign, still remained in the castle. Numerous banquets were yet to come. Tonight would be the first of them, and so she took care with her appearance.

“Are you tired, Your Majesty?”

Merian asked as she secured a glittering crystal hairpin into Clodine’s elegantly twisted half-up hairstyle.

Clodine lifted her heavy eyelids and met Merian’s gaze in the mirror.

“No, I’m fine.”

“There is still some time before the banquet. I will come to escort you. Please rest your eyes for a moment.”

“And risk ruining all this effort?”

Clodine let out a soft, amused breath. Merian smiled in return.

“I can always redo it. That is precisely why I am by Your Majesty’s side.”

Her tone was gentle, yet there was firmness beneath it.

Clodine’s smile slowly faded as she studied Merian’s reflection. After a long moment, Merian raised her brows slightly and offered a lighter smile, as though silently asking:

Is there something you wish to say?

“Come to think of it, I know nothing about you.”

Even at the sudden attention, Merian did not appear flustered. She continued brushing Clodine’s hair with the same calm demeanor.

At times like this, Clodine found herself curious about the life Merian had lived. From the beginning, she had recognized that beneath that clear, country-girl face lay an unexpected reserve.

“How long have you been serving in the Imperial Palace?”

“This is my fourth year.”

Clodine’s brows drew together in surprise. Given Merian’s youth and her position as a senior attendant, Clodine had assumed she had served at least a decade.

Suddenly, Clodine wondered what circumstances had led Merian Bennett to become her personal attendant. Now that she thought of it, Merian had been the only servant constantly by her side from the moment she had been brought to the Empire as a captive until now. It felt strange that she had never questioned who had arranged it—or why.

Lowering her long lashes, Clodine traced her fingers along the gold teacup resting on the vanity.

“What duties did you have in the palace before I came to the Empire?”

This time, the answer did not come immediately.

Clodine lifted the teacup, took a slow sip, and looked at Merian again through the mirror. Though her gaze remained on Clodine’s hair, her brushing hand had stilled in midair.

After a moment, Merian replied in her usual quiet voice.