The funeral to mourn the maids’ deaths was held at Himerra Monastery, just outside the Imperial Palace. It was said that Ahazan himself had carefully considered several locations before choosing this one.

Himerra Monastery was the largest in the Empire and renowned for its distinguished clergy. Many nobles wished to hold funerals there, but the required offering was astronomical. In truth, it had been decades since a funeral had last been conducted at Himerra.

People of all ranks gathered outside the monastery, hoping to witness the event. Yet only those invited were permitted entry, and when access was denied, resentment erupted here and there among the crowd.

Cutting through those murmurs of discontent, the grand procession bearing Ahazan and Clodine entered the monastery grounds.

It was the first time Clodine had faced Ahazan since the night they had clawed at each other and left wounds that still had not closed. An awkward feeling settled over her. Dressed entirely in black, they looked more like a united pair than ever before, yet the distance between their hearts was the very opposite.

Ahazan, who had been gazing out the carriage window, shifted his eyes toward her. His look seemed unintentional, dry, unreadable.

As if she had been waiting for that very moment, Clodine parted her lips and spoke softly.

“I didn’t expect you to arrange something this grand. It couldn’t have been easy. I’m grateful.”

She was not ignorant. However precious the maids had been to her, that was ultimately a personal sentiment. In her heart, she had wished to hold the funeral inside the Imperial Palace itself. Realistically, she knew she was fortunate it was being held within the capital at all.

Coldly considered, the maids were not heroes who had sacrificed their lives for the Empire. She was not even certain they deserved such magnificence. Without question, it was solely through Ahazan’s authority that this dazzlingly solemn ceremony at Himerra had been made possible.

She had to thank him.

Ahazan studied her with a calm expression that revealed nothing.

“Think nothing of it.”

His reply was so perfunctory it felt almost hollow. Clodine could find no further words and fell silent.

The carriage continued for some time within the monastery grounds before finally stopping in front of a vast building. Countless clergy clad in black mantles stood in lines, forming a path.

Ahazan stepped down first and extended his hand to Clodin.

Once again, they had reached a moment where they must clasp hands before others and perform the part of a couple without a crack between them.

Clodine leaned on his hand as though it were a solid support and descended from the carriage.

Just as both her feet touched the ground and she straightened, Ahazan’s low voice settled over her shoulder.

“Besides swimming and archery, what else did you learn?”

For a moment, she did not understand.

She looked up at him, confusion clear in her eyes. He added.

“From your knight commander.”

Only then did she realize he was referring to the day by the river, when she had mentioned learning swimming and archery from her commander.

She frowned.

“Why are you asking that all of a sudden?”

When she hesitated, Ahazan tilted his head slightly. The angle made his already cold expression seem even more severe.

“Was it a difficult question?”

She glanced around uneasily. No one paid them particular attention; all maintained a solemn posture befitting a funeral.

Lowering her voice so only he could hear, she said.

“This isn’t the time for word games.”

One corner of his mouth lifted faintly.

“I suppose I’ll have to ask the other party instead.”

The remark sounded ominous, but given the circumstances, Clodine forced herself to dismiss it.

As they entered the hall, those already seated rose at once and turned toward the central aisle.

In that fleeting instant—

Clodine’s face, scanning the sea of black, changed.

Her eyes widened, filling instantly with clear tears. Before they could fall, her head dropped low.

Had Ahazan not been holding her hand, she might have collapsed on the spot. The shift was that sudden, that precarious.

She forced her legs to move, walking toward the dais.

Then commotion broke out in one corner.

“Your Majesty, Queen of Penelope—!”

“Look! It’s Queen Penelope!”

“She truly became the enemy’s wife…!”

“I can’t believe it! This is madness!”

The most violent reaction came from the section reserved for the people of Rotermann who had been invited.

Though dressed neatly for the funeral, unlike the Imperial nobles filling the hall, they could not conceal the despair and grief etched across their faces.

As the cries, almost indistinguishable from the shouts of captives, rang out, the surrounding Imperials began to murmur as well. In an instant, order dissolved.

“You should have bitten your tongue and died instead!”

“How dare you say such a thing to Her Majesty!”

“Queen? That woman standing hand in hand with our enemy?”

“Has he truly lost his mind?!”

Words that should never have been spoken tangled with voices trying to restrain them, turning the hall into chaos.

Clodine forced herself to lift her head and look toward the seats.

Familiar faces glared at her as if she were their sworn enemy, fury blazing in their eyes. Most of them had once held high-ranking noble titles in Rotermann, pillars of ancient houses that had endured for generations. It was only natural they would possess a fierce patriotism.

Her face drained of color.

Her whole body began to tremble.

This was nothing like the scorn she had endured from the Imperials at the banquet days ago. A far more suffocating despair rose to her throat. An indescribable guilt and shame swallowed her whole.

“She must have clung to the enemy’s arms and pleaded for her life! Filthy woman!”

At last, a coarse insult spilled from the mouth of an elderly man, so vile it was difficult even to endure hearing it.

And then—

“Ahh!”

“M–My lord, stop!”

“Lord Valoran! Don’t!”

From the very back of the Rotermann section, a large black figure lunged forward in a blink and looped a long cord around the offending man’s neck.

“Say that again, Wilton.”

“Ghk! Cough…Valoran, you madman!”

The man being choked turned a sickly yellow as he clawed desperately at the tightening cord.

“If you wish, I can send you to your king this very moment. Go on. Say it again.”

As he subdued his struggling target with effortless strength, the man’s cloak slipped from his shoulders, the fastening cord now in his own hand. His face, revealed at last, was thickly covered in beard, making his features difficult to discern. But his bright brown eyes burned fiercely enough to strike fear even from afar.

The air teetered on the edge of disaster.

Clodine flinched, her body jolting.

She wanted to rush forward, to stop the scene before it spiraled further, but Ahazan’s hand held hers in an iron grip. The strength of it carried a clear message: Stay where you are.

She looked up at him.

He had already been watching her.

Their gazes collided sharply.

Even amid the uproar, Ahazan’s expression remained unchanged. He tilted his head with deliberate ease and glanced lazily toward the Rotermann section.

“That’s no knight commander, looks more like a prince on a white horse.”

He was clearly referring to the man choking Wilton.

His eyes shifted back to Clodine.

“Then I suppose that makes you the princess in distress.”

The sarcasm in his voice made his intent unmistakable.

“You despicable bastard.”

Tears brimming in her eyes, Clodin glared at him fiercely.

Ahazan let out a faint laugh.

With a slight gesture, he summoned Cal Regerson, who had been standing at a distance. Cal approached swiftly and bowed, awaiting orders.

In a low but commanding voice, Ahazan said.

“Arrest those who caused the disturbance.”

“No. Don’t, Ahazan…!”

Clodin clutched at his arm, pleading.

She understood all too well why her countrymen hated her. She did not want them punished.

“It’s better to lock them up. Listen to me, Clodine.”

Ahazan’s hand moved almost tenderly over her arm as she pressed herself against him. But the words that left his lips were chilling, merciless.

“Otherwise, I was planning to drag them out one by one and cut out their tongues right here.”