Before her morning riding lesson with Ahazan, Clodine entered the stables dressed as impeccably as she had been on the first day.

The stable hand inside, who had been bathing a horse, quickly stopped what he was doing upon spotting the Empress and her attendants.

“Your Majesty.”

“You need not trouble yourself. I only came to look at the horses. Please continue.”

Clodine remained at a safe distance from the animals as she spoke. The stable hand bowed and resumed scrubbing the horse.

Sandy, the small pony Ahazan had brought for her first lesson, stood within the same enclosure. The pale patch of fur between his brows, about the size of a fist, made him easy to distinguish from the others.

Clodine slowly approached the fence and faced Sandy. As she adjusted her gloves, her palms predictably began to sweat.

‘Your knight’s release will remain on hold until you can ride and trot on your own.’

That had been Ahazan’s condition the day she agreed to learn.

Even now, Lord Valoran remained imprisoned.

Her heart should have been anxious.

No—just yesterday morning, it had been.

Clodine swallowed a sigh.

“How long does it usually take for a beginner to reach a trot?”

The stable hand straightened, pondering the question.

“That depends greatly on the individual, Your Majesty. Someone with natural talent might manage within a month. Others… may take several months.”

“I see…”

Though she knew she was not one of the naturally gifted, the word month echoed in her thoughts.

‘A month…’

Did that mean Ahazan had no intention of leaving the palace within that time?

Her gaze dropped to the ground.

For the first time in her life, a month felt painfully short.

‘Why does it trouble you so much?’

No answer came, no matter how she pressed herself.

Blaming the constricting riding attire for the tightness in her chest, she suddenly reached up and tore the ribbon from her hair. Her long, heavy locks spilled over her shoulders and down her chest like a curtain.

“Your Majesty, your hair—”

Clodine said lightly, smoothing her hair back with slender fingers.

“I have a headache, I will rest today.”

Her complexion had been pale since the previous day, so Merian reacted as though she had expected this.

Soon after returning to her chambers and changing into something more comfortable, Clodine sat at her desk and began reviewing documents related to the memorial service.

“Your Majesty, if you are unwell, should you not lie down?”

Clodine lifted her head.

“Yes. Let it be known that I am ill and sleeping. A cold, perhaps. Tell them I do not wish to spread it. No one is to enter.”

Merian blinked in surprise at the peculiar instruction, but being both loyal and perceptive, she understood at once. She bowed and left the room.

The moment the door closed, Clodine’s hand, still holding her pen stilled midair.

She stared at the page without seeing it, letting time pass in silence.

***

“Move.”

“But, Your Majesty, the Empress specifically instructed—”

“Do not make me repeat myself.”

Ahazan did not even look at Merian as he spoke.

His voice was so cold that even she rarely one to shrink fell silent.

For two days prior, he had turned away at the door, honoring Clodine’s wishes. But three consecutive days of illness were not something he intended to ignore.

Merian reluctantly stepped aside.

As Ahazan approached the Empress’s door, a servant came hurrying down the corridor, carrying something folded neatly in cloth.

“What is that?”

The Emperor’s gaze settled on the object.

“Your Majesty, these are the trousers Her Majesty ordered to be made. They were just completed.”

“Trousers?”

Ahazan lifted the folded garment slightly, examining it with visible curiosity.

From behind him, Merian added cautiously.

“I do not know their precise purpose, but Her Majesty recently asked for clothing that would allow easier movement.”

Even though it was an explanation he hardly needed to hear, Ahazan’s expression subtly eased.

After taking the trousers from the servant’s hands, he entered Clodine’s chamber without hesitation.

He had expected to find her lying in bed, unwell, but instead she sat neatly at her desk. Perhaps she had anticipated his arrival from the faint sounds outside, for she leaned back in her chair and stared at him directly.

“You claimed you were ill, yet you refused my visits these past few days.”

Ahazan met her gaze, concern laced with a trace of anger. If she was sick, what was she doing seated at her desk?

Without slowing his stride, he crossed the room and approached her. He placed the folded trousers on the desk with a light toss, then without preamble pressed his palm, neither warm nor cold, to her forehead, his eyes moving slowly as he examined her.

“You don’t feel feverish. Tell me exactly what hurts, Clodine.”

Gripping the sides of her chair, he turned it toward himself and bent his knees to meet her at eye level. With his hands braced on the armrests, she found herself completely trapped between the chair and him.

His gaze moved restlessly over her small face. He could take it all in at once, but whether from worry or from having missed her, his eyes would not stay still.

Only now after defying her wishes for the first time in three days did he face her like this. Perhaps he should have done so sooner. The tightness in his chest finally seemed to loosen. Though her healthy complexion felt faintly irritating, the relief that she did not appear gravely ill overwhelmed any resentment.

“There’s no need to look at me like that. I’m perfectly fine.”

Clodine gently pushed his hand away from her cheek. There was a cool detachment beneath her calm voice. Ahazan withdrew his hand without resistance.

Lowering her gaze to avoid his eyes, she continued,

“I wasn’t sick at all. I lied because I didn’t want to continue the riding lessons with you.”

Her confession flowed without hesitation, as though she had resolved to speak plainly from the beginning.

Ahazan stared at her in silence, his expression unreadable.

“You weren’t sick?”

Clodine nodded, her eyes fixed somewhere along the front of his shirt.

He said nothing for a long moment.

Instead of asking directly, Ahazan began to speculate on his own about the reason behind her lie. He had long been accustomed to searching for her reasons in silence rather than demanding answers.

And it did not take him long to reach a conclusion.

‘You dislike me. Time spent with me means nothing to you.’

The thought ignited something violent in his chest, heat sweeping through him in an instant.

‘You no longer love me.’

He struggled to restrain the flickering edge of reason before a reality he neither wished to accept nor could grow used to.

After a long, heavy silence, he finally spoke.

“So after trying it once, you decided you simply can’t be with me.”

Clodine kept her lips tightly sealed.

A cold sneer touched Ahazan’s face.

“Did you regret agreeing? Do you still hate having me at your side that much?”

His voice hardened, irritation seeping in. Afraid he might say something irretrievable, he clenched his teeth and straightened.

The brief relief he had felt moments ago vanished. His chest tightened again, as though there were no space left to breathe.

Turning his back to her, he faced the window and drew in a slow breath, scratching lightly beneath his chin as he tried to calm himself.

If only she had been honest from the beginning. He had barely slept for days, imagining her suffering alone in the next room. The thought of his own foolish worry made him seethe.

Convinced he could no longer speak rationally, Ahazan strode toward the door.

But halfway there, he stopped.

Without turning around, he added coldly.

“If you don’t enjoy toying with people, then treat your promises more carefully.”

Even to his own ears, his voice sounded merciless.

And perhaps it was only natural. He was exhausted, exhausted by the constant friction between them, by the erosion of trust.

‘Then again… you so easily discarded the promise of marriage we once shared. What more did I expect…?’

His fist tightened at his side as he resumed walking.

Then footsteps hurried quickly behind him.

It could only be Clodine. Yet she so rarely moved in such haste that the sound felt unfamiliar, almost as if it belonged to someone else.

But only for a moment.

When she stepped in front of him blocking his path with tear-streaked cheeks.

Ahazan stopped abruptly,

his breath catching in his throat.