Chapter 8
“How about it, doesn’t it sound interesting? Your husband and mortal enemy will soon be put on trial by the nobles.”
Fernir spoke such mischievous words and laughed as if he found this situation delightful. Then he looked at Anaide, who was fidgeting with the surface of her teacup.
She sat with her mouth closed and a stiff expression. Fernir kept his gaze on her a bit longer to read the meaning in her expression, but still couldn’t understand her inner thoughts.
‘Why is she keeping her eyes lowered?’
Were his words too transparent? But even when I laughed, you only kept your head down. I couldn’t feel even a glaring look, much less breathing.
Literally, he had only mentioned it thinking Anaide would welcome what would happen in the near future. Even if she genuinely rejoiced and laughed at those words, it wouldn’t matter.
Unlike Fernir, who had been far removed from capital society, she was a celebrity of Rutilan.
The moment she appeared, attention focused on her; the dress she wore was instantly copied and hung in boutiques; the accessories she wore commanded top prices the moment they were put up for auction under the princess’s name.
During their peak romance days, how much effort had he put into monopolizing her when she was busy meeting this person and that?
It was even worse when the founding festival banquet was held a few months ago. Fernir had to take actions more precise than an assassin’s to get into the princess’s palace.
Even now, thinking about it made his hair stand on end. To enter her private chambers, he had to avoid not only the knights but also the maids passing through the back corridors.
If the princess’s chambers hadn’t been on the first floor, it would have been a reckless act with exponentially higher chances of being caught. It would have been even more problematic if Anaide had suspected him for entering her chambers.
He also couldn’t leave Anaide in her chambers and go outside. If she woke up alone on the bed and happened to inform the former king of the situation, Fernir, who was already a thorn in his side, would have been finished.
Of course, how much effort he’d put into cutting off all those guys who kept swarming around her. There were many times he regretted being the princess’s lover.
…And that naive woman probably didn’t know about such hardships.
Fernir raised his eyebrows while examining Anaide, who had lifted her teacup again.
Anyway, she clearly wouldn’t be able to enjoy the peak-level popularity and honor she’d had before the former king died. But now she was the king’s wife. In terms of status, she was absolutely no less than a princess.
‘She’s naturally more familiar with society than I am, and no matter how much the capital nobles have been replaced, there should be favorable ones among provincial nobles too…’
Fernir found it strange that he couldn’t feel clear hatred and desire for revenge from Anaide toward him. It was a markedly different reaction from the capital’s pro-former king nobles who gnashed their teeth at him.
A declaration that she wouldn’t forget her princess-like haughtiness? Or pride?
If not that… she just disliked his very approach.
But he had no intention of obediently stepping aside. Perhaps it was true that position makes the person–he felt sadistic pleasure in wanting her to feel as uncomfortable with him as he despised her.
Whatever the case, her ignoring his words was unacceptable. Fernir raised his shoe heel with a crooked smirk that seemed mocking.
“I don’t mean anything special, just the literal meaning. You know well that I didn’t often participate in social events or banquets.”
“…”
“Royal schedules related to society will come up soon, so when that time comes, you won’t have the luxury of spending time leisurely.”
“…I see.”
“So if you want to survey your surroundings in advance, it would be good for you to host a light salon yourself. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I understand.”
After a strange back-and-forth exchange, it was cut short by Anaide’s brief response.
Heavy air settled between the two. She seemed to realize what she had just done and carefully covered her mouth. Her soft-looking lips were visible below her slender fingers.
“I have nothing else to tell Your Majesty. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be ‘sorry’ about.”
“…I apologize. Winter is so bleak and quiet that I seem to be getting dry too. It would be unseemly for me to take up more of Your Majesty’s time, so I’ll have Miss Fides escort you out.”
Anaide stood up abruptly before Fernir could even respond. She was about to call the maid who had been standing far away so as not to interfere with the conversation between king and queen.
Fernir’s focus flowed downward like water. The hem of her dress, thickly adorned with lace like cake cream, fluttered in the gentle breeze. Fernir stared at her hair as it lightly rose and fell, using the air as clouds.
Around her sunlight-like hair, instead of spring-scented light green leaves, there were only grayish-brown stems.
Anaide trying to send him away.
Anaide who disliked him and didn’t want to be with him.
Anaide who had snapped that she didn’t have the confidence to live looking at his face…
Her various appearances repeatedly became transparent and overlapped beneath his corneas. Fernir secretly frowned.
How could he stop that woman? Fernir’s excuse to call her back was very clear.
“Wait.”
Because her outfit was different from usual.
Fernir got up from his seat and approached Anaide closely. Startled by the sudden call, she curled up her body. Anaide’s already small body was gradually shrinking like a deflated balloon, but that wasn’t his concern.
His fingers reached her dress collar.
It was a design that layered several large pieces of lace fabric to prevent the skin texture inside from showing while also being splendid.
‘Why did she cover it?’
From watching Anaide through nearby maids for the past few days, she had been walking around the queen’s palace dressed to show her pure white neck and shoulders. She had erased all the traces he’d left with her regenerative power.
Seeing that, he’d wondered how luxuriously she must have lived to walk around without even a shawl on this winter day. She acted like someone who had never experienced cold that couldn’t be blocked even by wearing thick fur clothes.
But today, even though they were in a greenhouse, she was covering her neck like a nun.
No way. No way…
Fernir swallowed and carefully, yet thoroughly, untied the ribbon that fastened the lace fabric.
Anaide tried to step back in surprise, but he gently stroked her neck as if soothing a child. Her body was helplessly drawn toward him.
“…”
What was revealed at Fernir’s fingertips was skin as clean as always.
Today too, Anaide had completely erased all marks with the power she possessed.
‘What was she thinking…’
Fernir laughed emptily at the absurdity. Even he found himself ridiculous.
Why had he really believed this woman would have left his traces? That was truly idiotic–
“…I’m cold.”
Fernir’s fingertips twitched weakly. Just as he was about to fall into deep contemplation, Anaide’s voice brought him back to reality.
She tilted her head and fidgeted. The long ribbon slowly slipped from his grasp, and a soft texture touched his palm. Though it should have been high-quality fabric, the feeling against his skin wasn’t very pleasant.
Fernir, who had been staring at his wife’s neck and below, narrowed his eyes.
‘Lie.’
If she were really cold, her ribcage wouldn’t rise and fall so greatly like that. Besides, this was inside a greenhouse.
Anaide tried to pull and tie the ribbon Fernir was holding, but since he was grasping it like a noose, it wasn’t easy to do so. She spoke curtly.
“Please let go now. If you have no business, I’ll be going.”
“Is being cold the problem?”
“…That’s right.”
She replied with lowered eyes as if it were obvious.
Until then, Anaide hadn’t looked at Fernir even once. She seemed to be instinctively trying not to bring him into her field of vision.
The effort was admirable, but it was definitely unnatural avoidance.
‘At this point, wouldn’t she look out of curiosity about what this guy might do?’
A strange emotion welled up from deep within. A feeling like it was rippling like water and then painfully tickling inside his throat. An impulse for self-harm, like wanting to scrape out his esophagus with a fork.
Fernir alternately looked at the ribbon wrapped around his fingers and at Anaide, who had been showing only half-closed eyes.
Since it had come to this, he had no choice but to personally leave a mark for her.
He made a circle with his finger. Like paper being sucked into a machine, the ribbon wound around his thick finger.
Fernir pressed his lips to Anaide’s neck before she could react.
The scent of flesh rushed to his nostrils. Opening his mouth wide, he left tooth marks on her neck as if biting into cake.
When he pulled away, her tender skin was flushed red. Anaide’s face briefly turned pale, then became as red as the color of the bite mark.
Fernir took out a neatly folded handkerchief like a well-mannered gentleman and pressed it firmly against the marked area on her neck.
“This won’t be cold.”
“Wh-what kind of crazy act is this…”
The handkerchief that had clung as if it would slip inside her clothes stopped at wiping away the saliva on her neck. She had been struggling to remove his touch but soon sighed and stopped resisting.
And her pale golden eyes finally rose like a moonrise.
Finally.
Finally, the woman who had entered his domain looked directly at Fernir.
Though her resentment was glimpsed in her confused gaze, it was much better than avoiding him like before.
At least this appearance reminded him that she was alive.
Just having a reaction let him know she wasn’t a corpse.
Instead of suppressing the sigh-mixed laughter trying to escape his lips, Fernir patted Anaide’s trembling shoulders.
“Looks like some wolf bit you, doesn’t it?”
“…”
“There won’t be secondary infection. That beast’s teeth are clean.”
While arranging Anaide’s dress collar, Fernir cheekily pointed to his canine tooth with his fingernail tip. He could see her opening her mouth and licking her lips with her tongue in distaste.
Fernir called the maid standing far outside the greenhouse and sent Anaide away. Lace hems fluttered behind her back. Her gait seemed quite filled with indignation.
When the dress hem disappeared beyond the garden’s dry branches, maids had already entered the greenhouse to clean up the tea table.
After blinking several times, he smiled silently while recalling Anaide’s eyes that remained like an afterimage.
See, you shouldn’t have dared treat me like I didn’t exist.
I’m the usurper who drove out your father and planted a flag in the palace that was his ‘territory.’
Putting aside negative emotions, I’m even coming to you every night, yet you erase the traces I left and shamelessly pretend nothing happened.
Since you too are a person belonging to this palace, this ‘territory,’ when the palace’s owner changed, you shouldn’t always avoid me even if you can’t be favorable to that owner…
Fernir was satisfied just by the fact that his captured prey had brought him into her sight.
In other words, that alone was enough.
For now.
