Chapter 7

Hearing Flora’s subdued voice, Emeric, as if displeased, pulled the velvet curtain over the carriage window, cutting them off from the outside.

“Emeric!”

“No basic manners at all.”

“What did you say?”

“When someone is speaking, you should look them in the eye. Not stare off somewhere else while they’re talking in front of you. Charllon, really…”

With that, Emeric shot her a look as if cursing at her with his eyes. He stared at her with a gaze full of contempt. Who needed to curse out loud, anyway? His intention was already more than clear.

“Sorry, but how much farther do we have to go?”

“How far do you think we’ve come?”

Judging by Emeric’s dumbfounded expression, it seemed they hadn’t even made it halfway yet. Having barely slept and being on edge with that man since early morning, Flora felt a wave of exhaustion crash over her.

If Ellie were there, they would have sat side by side, supporting each other and dozing off as they traveled, but now she was sitting face-to-face with Emeric in this spacious carriage.

Of course, she couldn’t just hug the blanket and nod off in an unsightly way, either.

The steady sound of the carriage wheels felt to Flora almost like a lullaby. In short, she was overwhelmingly tired and sleepy.

“I was just asking.”

Flora let out a deep sigh, closed her eyes, and tried to meditate. Or rather, she began studying how to sleep with her head held stiffly upright.

“Could you open your eyes when you talk?”

She really didn’t like this Emeric, who nitpicked about everything. Did he think being handsome was everything? Was having platinum hair as soft as cotton candy all that mattered? Every word out of his mouth was rude, arrogant, and completely lacking in courtesy toward a lady.

The rumors she’d heard in Charllon about him killing people mercilessly suddenly seemed plausible. Killing wasn’t always about using weapons.

Maybe wounding someone’s heart with sharp words, stabbing at them again and again, was another way to drain the life from a person.

At Emeric’s words, Flora opened her eyes wide and stared at him for a long while.

Emeric, receiving Flora’s silent gaze, frowned in annoyance and crossed his arms, looking out the window.

“What?”

“Why are you staring at me so rudely?”

He even shook his head in disbelief.

“What? What did you say? Didn’t you just tell me to open my eyes when I talk?”

“I meant you should look at the other person’s eyes when you talk. Don’t they teach manners in Charllon at all?”

Flora realized something. The more they spoke, the more they just criticized and blamed each other. She decided it was better for her own mental health to just keep her mouth shut.

She stared at Emeric for a moment, then eventually looked away. She didn’t have the courage to keep looking into those blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through her.

A silence fell between them.

Flora struggled to steady her breath.

Suddenly, she realized she’d been left all alone in this place.

If only Ellie were here.

If only cheerful, kind Ellie were by her side, chatting to her in that western accent, she wouldn’t feel so hollow inside.

Flora, growing more and more depressed, forced her eyes wide open to keep the tears from falling.

She slowly turned her head to look out at the barren plain beyond the window. It was a sight that matched her feelings perfectly.

“It would be better if we stopped talking about Charllon from now on.”

Flora was just about to say the same thing to Emeric—if every word was going to be criticism, it was better not to speak of Charllon at all. She was a little surprised he said it first.

“In Blois, it’s best if you forget everything about Charllon. Think of it as advice disguised as an order. Maybe someday in the distant future, you’ll thank me for this advice.”

Emeric Blois kept talking as if he were bestowing a favor, arms crossed arrogantly.

To think such a cold, icy person was to become her husband.

And one thing wouldn’t change: Flora Charllon would remain the most miserable new bride in the world.

* * *

When Flora arrived at Blois, she was already completely exhausted.

She hadn’t slept properly for almost two days, and having to keep her guard up against Emeric, who sat across from her all day, had nearly driven her to a nervous breakdown.

When she arrived at the Blois castle—Charmant—and got out of the carriage, her feet felt strange against the ground, and she almost collapsed into Emeric’s arms.

If quick-witted Emeric hadn’t pushed her away, she might have ended up falling into his arms in front of everyone.

Maybe it was because of the cold temperament of the people of Blois, or maybe it was just their way of showing they didn’t want to get close to her, but there was no welcoming banquet for Flora, who had come such a long way. She was told that the banquet would be held the next evening, and that she should rest in her room and recover from the journey tonight—a message that was more than welcome.

From Tanya’s awkward expression as she delivered the message, Flora realized it was probably meant as a slight, but she felt nothing but gratitude. All she wanted was to take a bath and sink into a soft bed.

With Tanya’s help, Flora bathed in warm water, dried her hair, and put on her chemise. Then she began to feel chills all over her body. Seeking warmth, she crawled under the covers, but could sense Tanya hesitating in the distance.

“Is something wrong?”

“Well, um…”

“Why? Just tell me.”

“Sir Emeric asked me to tell you he won’t be coming tonight.”

“So he was supposed to come tonight, then?”

It was Tanya who seemed more surprised by Flora’s response.

“Well, since the bride has arrived, it wouldn’t be strange for you to sleep in the same room.”

“But we haven’t even had the wedding yet. Just tell him it’s fine. In fact, I’d be happy to have separate rooms forever.”

“Should I really say that?”

Tanya couldn’t hide her shock.

“Why not?”

“I know it’s not my place, but since I’ll be serving you from now on, may I offer a piece of advice?”

Flora had never really thought of Tanya as her person, but she sat on the bed and nodded.

“My Lady, if you don’t bear a child, my life will be in danger. Of course, your life as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“You mustn’t neglect your duty to produce an heir. Even if you don’t want to, you have to at least pretend to try. And especially, you must never show in front of others that you’re happy your husband isn’t coming or that you want separate rooms. I don’t want to die, My Lady.”

At Tanya’s serious voice, Flora suddenly felt a chill of fear.

Hearing an easterner say she didn’t want to die brought back all the rumors Flora had heard in Charllon. In fact, after talking to Emeric over the past couple of days, Flora had felt relieved—he didn’t seem as cold-blooded, barbaric, or ruthless as the rumors claimed.

But Tanya’s demeanor was somehow calm and yet anxious.

“If I don’t have a child, will we really be in danger?”

“You understood perfectly.”

“So my only use is to produce an heir.”

“A miserable reality, isn’t it?”

“But what if Emeric doesn’t want a child with me?”

“That too will be blamed on you.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s just how things are done here.”

Maybe it was because the scenery she’d seen from the carriage was so strange and beautiful.

She’d almost fallen into the illusion that she was on a brief journey. But in truth, her duty was to marry by the king’s order, banished from her home and thrown into enemy territory—a captive, nothing more.

“If I can’t bear a child, what will become of me?”

“Do you want the fairy tale version? Or the cruel version?”

“Tell me both.”

“To put it in children’s terms: you’ll be divorced for the crime of not having a child. But Devilleon doesn’t allow divorce for religious reasons, so there’s no such thing as a beautiful divorce.”

“And the cruel version?”

“You’ll be branded as a woman possessed by evil spirits, maybe even accused of being a witch. People will say that witches lay with demons, which is why their husbands can’t father children with them. After that, something irreversible happens.”

It wasn’t just Emeric she had to worry about. Her entire situation was a problem.

A witch… Flora’s body trembled.

She felt as if she were coming down with a terrible fever.

“Are you cold?”

“Tanya, sorry, but could you stoke the fire a bit more?”

“Of course. I’ll make it warmer.”

After that, Flora had a long, long dream.

She was dragged out in her nightgown to an unknown square, tied to a stake, and accused of being a witch.

Even when she tried to wake up, her body wouldn’t move. After a long struggle, Flora finally managed to open her eyes.

She could feel her body was damp. She must have sweated a lot in her sleep.

The room felt chilly; the fireplace, which had been blazing, was now dying down.

That must have been why she woke up feeling cold.

Flora pulled back the sheets and slowly stepped out of bed. She was looking for something to drink in the room.

At that moment, she felt a shiver run down her spine.

She’d only taken a couple of steps, feeling the texture of the carpet beneath her feet, when—

“You’ll catch cold wandering around like that.”

Flora was so startled she gasped, but at the same time, she managed to act calm in front of him.

She saw Emeric’s large shadow sitting on the sofa in the room.

By now, she could recognize his voice instantly.

“I’m thirsty.”

“Unfortunately, there’s nothing in here but alcohol.”

He shook a small bottle, as if asking if she wanted a drink.

She didn’t know why, but Flora unconsciously walked toward him.

He could see her thin chemise without anything to cover it, but she didn’t care.

He would be her husband in a few days, and besides, hadn’t Tanya just said it?

That if she didn’t have an heir with him, her life would be in danger.

If it meant survival, what wouldn’t she do?

“At least put a blanket on if you’re going to wander around.”

“I’d put one on if I could see where it was.”

Emeric and Flora exchanged words in voices tinged with irritation.

It seemed that whenever they met, all they could do was growl and get on each other’s nerves.