## Claudel's Perspective
When I saw the blood on my palm, the emotion I felt was close to joy.
All my anguish from moments before—the sadness, the resentment toward Kaian—evaporated instantly.
*I could die soon.*
My parents' devastating deaths, the insomnia that had plagued me for a decade, the endless months of hiding my coughs and containing my illness. The physical agony, the scratching pain in my chest. The arranged marriage to my family's enemy. The humiliation at Rowan Castle.
It would all end when I died. What came after was no longer my concern. A dead person's path was one of absolute forgetting—life and existence wiped away entirely.
My weakened heart pounded harder than it had in months.
Why was the sound of death's approach so achingly sweet when heard from the very bottom of one's despair?
The final stage of the disease came with blood. I would have perhaps a month after the first hemorrhage before the illness consumed me entirely.
I rose from bed with unusual energy—unlike my typical lethargy. I quickly changed my clothes and bundled the blood-soaked bedding, hiding it in the laundry basket where the watchful maids wouldn't notice. Then I returned to bed and waited.
Hannah came down from the servants' floor to check on me. I lay still, appearing to rest.
As dawn light broke through the window, I watched the sunrise with more clarity than I had in years, and I prayed.
*Please let it be soon. Just one more day. Take me before more suffering comes.*
I wanted the end to arrive as quickly as possible.
---
## Antjone's Perspective
Antjone was exhilarated.
"I never imagined a day like this would come."
All the servants and members of the Temnes family throughout the castle had allied themselves with her. Before Claudel arrived as a bride, Antjone had confidently declared to everyone: *I will be Kaian's Duchess.*
Temnes didn't typically take wives from within its own nobility—primarily because the ancestral Duke had married into the royal family itself. Kaian's mother, Lady Elise, had been a princess of Oberon. When the late King had no sons, only two daughters—the twins Silvia and Elise—his affection fell entirely upon them. They resembled him perfectly, with their blonde hair and blue eyes.
Princess Silvia had married the King of Luxen, but as Queen, she could spare only one or two months a year for her husband. Princess Elise, however, had married the Duke of Temnes and enjoyed a wealthy, content life as his consort.
The royal marriage had certainly bolstered Temnes' fortunes considerably.
Within the estate, the general consensus had always been that Antjone behaved like a wild creature, dominating the other maidens who admired Kaian. She lacked social grace and had no idea how to conduct herself properly. So everyone had simply waited to see whom Kaian would eventually choose to marry.
That was before a Vermont woman walked through the castle gates.
The moment Claudel appeared, the entire household shifted. Servants and nobility alike sided with Antjone. One poor soul had even been struck by her for daring to suggest that it was unbecoming for Kaian—who had already surpassed his father's achievements—to marry a mere Berang daughter from the estates.
Now, with a Vermont bride in residence, Antjone could easily manipulate those around her. She would murmur encouragements like *You should have been Duchess* to the other maidens, feeding their resentment toward Claudel with every word.
Antjone intended to enjoy this situation to the fullest. Vermont couldn't survive here anyway. Not for long.
After Kaian had commanded her never to appear before him again, she had retreated in fury and waited quietly for her opportunity. But that moment arrived far sooner than expected.
When she heard the delicious rumor—that Claudel had actually removed buttons from Kaian's clothing and stolen them—Antjone's confidence soared.
*The standard is truly low,* she thought with satisfaction. *Kaian must already be regretting his hasty marriage.*
After learning how Claudel had been humiliated in front of the servants and maids, Antjone decided the moment had come to execute her plan.
The guards stationed near Kaian's bedroom had long harbored their own resentments. They understood that if Antjone could reclaim Kaian's heart, Vermont would be driven from the castle. When she approached, they didn't even require her gold coins—they simply stepped aside.
Antjone waited in Kaian's bedroom for some time, then fell asleep.
When she awoke, dawn was breaking.
But Kaian had never come.
She had rolled luxuriously on his bed, enjoying her rest, but now she realized her gambit had failed. As she prepared to slip out, disheveled and embarrassed, she encountered Hannah standing in the hallway with a peculiar expression.
*Ah,* Antjone realized. *The Duke didn't go to that woman's room. Otherwise, this fighting cock wouldn't be here, searching for him.*
Her mind raced. Then understanding struck—she had misread the situation, but her words to Hannah had had their desired effect nonetheless.
*After all, a person must say what must be said.*
As she left the castle, the morning sun had fully risen, and its warmth seemed to bless her departure. She gazed at the blue diamond on her hand, catching the light.
"Soon it will be mine," she whispered.
From what she could see, Claudel looked thin and sickly—emaciated, as though consumed by illness. Antjone silently hoped the shock of Hannah's accusations would worsen the woman's condition. Perhaps her stomach would rupture. Perhaps she would die quickly.
If Claudel died soon, Kaian would certainly take Antjone as his wife.
Antjone returned home with desperate certainty burning in her chest.
---
## Kaian's Perspective
After the wedding celebration, time had moved swiftly.
The three-day banquet at Rowan Castle was only part of the delay; the journey to Valmonde Castle had taken a month in total—nearly fifteen days each direction. The Rowan Territory was diamond-shaped, stretching east to west across southern Oberon. With the castle positioned in the center, managing both sides required constant effort.
Kaian had ridden hard to Valmonde and returned to Rowan in three weeks, but it was summer fruit harvest season—a time of relentless work.
During these grueling weeks, Kaian's thoughts drifted toward Claudel in spare moments, only to dismiss her just as quickly. The butler appeared to want to comment on this pattern but held his tongue.
Kaian had never concerned himself with others' judgments or feelings, and he wasn't about to start now. Yet after publicly humiliating Claudel in front of his subordinates, the aftermath had become... complicated.
*I thought it was better than being embarrassed,* he rationalized.
But the situation had become stranger still after causing such damage over a tiny, flimsy button bezel.
After several days of reflection, he'd thought: *If I had simply said, "I gave it to you. Don't make a fuss," the people of Temnes—who would walk through fire at my command—would have accepted it immediately and moved on.*
He could have handled it that way. He knew it.
The truth was, Kaian was poor at managing interactions with women. Managing his wife was far worse. Managing a wife from an enemy family was nearly impossible.
He had been born superior and trained from childhood to accomplish everything perfectly on the first attempt. He had no experience with failure—and no experience with marriage.
He tried to recall what his parents had been like, but couldn't summon any clear memories. As a successor in training, he'd been required to study martial arts from dawn until afternoon, and to accompany his father on territorial inspections from a young age. There had been no opportunity to observe his parents' private conduct or learn how they spoke to one another.
If his mother were still alive, she could have offered guidance—how to speak to his wife, how to treat her. But that option had been stolen from him seven years ago.
The previous Duke and Duchess had been invited to Oberon Castle to celebrate the Queen's birthday when Kaian had just come of age. They had fallen ill there and died. Queen Silvia—his mother's twin—had contracted the same illness and followed them in death within days.
Two young people—one from the dukedom, one from the royal family—had suddenly inherited the throne and duchy. It was unprecedented, born of the family's most closely guarded secrets. There had been considerable upheaval, but as the young King and Duke proved themselves capable of rule, the noise had eventually quieted.
*Does that bastard Valquiter comprehend how difficult it is to manage a wife?*
Kaian had grown up alongside King Oberon—Valquiter—under the watchful care of their mothers. They were like brothers. Yet Valquiter had ordered him to marry. Without warning. Without discussion. Simply a royal decree on parchment.
When Kaian had come to the King in anger, Valquiter had merely smiled.
"Are you truly ordering me to marry a Vermont woman?" Kaian had demanded.
"Indeed. Since you're here, you might as well proceed to Valmonde, marry her, and return to your estate immediately, Duke."
The use of "Duke" instead of his name meant the King was drawing a formal line—this was royal command, not the request of a friend.
"I obey your wishes, Your Majesty," Kaian had replied stiffly, bowing with cold precision before departing for Valmonde.
Yet his cousin—the one who had thrust him into matrimony—remained contentedly unmarried himself.
*What does Valquiter understand about marriage?* Kaian thought bitterly. *If he knew the trouble this would cause, he would never have issued such an order.*
Kaian had spent the entire month in a state of anxiety. He had no idea what to do with this awkward relationship with Claudel. His body, now freed from years of enforced abstinence, cried out for release. Yet how could he explain the impulse that drove him from his own bedroom late at night to hers? How could he justify visiting her so suddenly, so unexpectedly, at such hours?
He had established a pattern: visiting, then retreating. Visiting again, then withdrawing. Over and over.
*Do you see, dear King? Marital relationships are impossibly difficult.*
Kaian was still muttering his frustration into the air when his butler entered the office, pulling him back to the work piling up on his desk.
"My Lord. Regarding this year's hunt—what should we arrange?"
"Hunt?" Kaian looked up.
"Yes, sir. The once-every-three-year crocodile hunt approaches."
"Ah. Has it been that long already?"
"I've compiled a guest list. Please review it, sir."
The butler extended a document. Planning the hunt's guest list had traditionally been the Duchess's responsibility.
Kaian's eyes lit up as an idea struck him.
*It would be good for Claudel to see this. Perhaps it would be a way forward.*
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