"It would be good for Claudel to see this right now," Kaian said.
"Yes, my Lord," the butler replied, placing the list and sample invitations on the desk before stepping back.
Kaian, unusually hurried, made his way to Claudel's room. The maids mopping the floors looked startled at his brisk pace, but he paid them no mind.
*How long has it been since I last saw her?*
After she'd told him she was unwell and unable to attend the banquet, she had remained confined to her room for days. She never emerged to eat. He'd intended to arrange a chance encounter—some natural circumstance where they might speak—but she never provided the opportunity.
*It feels like a week.*
The corridor outside her door was empty and quiet.
Temnes and Vermont were fundamentally at odds. Just as applause requires two hands clapping together, reconciliation required both parties willing to meet. Claudel, a Vermonter, seemed to offer no such willingness. Yet the servants had noticed something within days—something that made them hesitant. Kaian himself no longer felt the immediate discomfort that came with Vermont's name.
The staff had hoped she would rage at them, that she would raise her claws like a beast worth fighting. Instead, only her fierce-tempered maid had responded to their cruelty, while Claudel remained silent and calm. There was no satisfaction in tormenting someone who didn't fight back.
*But shouldn't there have been a guard?* Kaian thought, irritated. *How can anyone freely access the Lord's wife's chambers?*
He resolved to speak with the guard captain later. For now, he knocked on Claudel's door.
Silence.
*Where has she gone?*
He opened the door quietly. The interior, enclosed by thick stone walls, was pleasantly cool despite the summer heat. Yet the room felt empty.
*Perhaps she went for a walk,* he thought, his hand losing its grip on the invitations he'd brought.
He'd intended to present the hunting invitation to her, to have a natural conversation while explaining the event. But if she wasn't here...
He was contemplating whether to wait or search for her when his eyes caught something.
There—in what he'd thought was an empty room—was Claudel.
Her small, slender body lay buried beneath thick, fluffy goose-down blankets and cushions, so completely covered that it was nearly impossible to distinguish her from the luxurious bedding itself.
*How did I not see her?*
Kaian approached silently, determined not to wake her.
*Was she always this small?*
He stretched his hand over her sleeping face. Her entire head could fit within his palm. Looking more closely, he noticed her frame had become noticeably thinner—far more delicate than the Claudel he remembered.
She slept soundly, her breath so faint he could barely hear it.
Her closed eyelids were lined with red lashes against her unmarred, pale skin. Her eyebrows curved perfectly above them, also red—the same color as her hair.
She looked peaceful.
He sat in the chair beside her bed, arms crossed, simply watching her rest. He wondered what she would say when she woke.
Kaian had never bowed to anyone. Given the strange circumstances of their marriage, it seemed obvious that he should be the one to extend his hand—to ease her resistance. But the difficulty lay in the words themselves. He couldn't bring them to his lips.
A leader's prestige came from strength, not from yielding.
It was genuinely difficult to face something he'd never attempted before.
"Hmm..."
Claudel suddenly shifted toward him. Kaian's breath caught, thinking she was waking, but it proved to be only a sleeping movement. He quietly resumed his seat and his observation.
Then something caught his eye.
The bezel—the very button decoration that had started this entire situation—still graced her fourth finger. Despite the time that had passed, she wore it like a ring.
*Why does she keep it?*
Looking at it objectively, it actually suited her fine, delicate hands far better than the ornate blue diamond his mother had worn.
*Does she favor rings?*
His mother's blue diamond—enormous and stunning—would look absurd on her slender fingers. It would spin loosely, even if placed on her thumb. Of course each person's hands were proportioned differently. Kaian had never considered giving someone jewelry before, and he certainly didn't know the protocol of having sizes adjusted.
But rather than excitement at the prospect of conversation, his heart sank seeing what she already possessed.
*I'll give her another ring. That will be acceptable.*
He reached out gently to remove the bezel from her finger.
*Creak.*
The door swung open. Hannah, carrying a large vase of white freesia flowers, froze at the sight of him.
"Duke," she breathed, hurriedly setting down the vase and bowing deeply.
At the sound of the maid's voice, Claudel's eyes fluttered open. She seemed to wake instantly, her drowsiness vanishing as anxiety bloomed in her golden eyes.
The moment their gazes met, irritation flared through him. *What made her look at me like that? With such wariness?*
Kaian straightened abruptly. "You don't seem concerned with your lord's well-being."
"...Your Grace." Claudel quickly rose from the bed, standing with her head bowed.
As she threw off the blanket, he caught sight of her ankles—impossibly thin, barely wider than his own wrists. He frowned. Seeing her in daylight was entirely different from touching her in darkness. She appeared far more fragile than he'd realized.
"What's going on?" he demanded, his carefully prepared speech crumbling before he could voice it.
Seeing her flinch in fear, all his carefully rehearsed words from the entire week evaporated.
"Were you planning to do nothing but lounge about Rowan Castle?" he said coldly instead.
He threw the list and invitations onto her bed. "The butler will have prepared these. Write your responses on each invitation and sign them. Have everything organized and brought to my office by tomorrow. Give them to the butler."
He left her room and slammed the door.
Immediately, he regretted it.
*What is wrong with me?*
---
Vermonters, he knew, were like foxes with their tails aflame—cunning, manipulative, wielding their sharp tongues to entangle and deceive. In diplomacy with Oberon's kingdom, such skills were valuable. But against Temnes, a warrior family accustomed to settling matters with swords and direct action, Vermont's methods failed spectacularly.
If Temnes killed through violence—knife to the heart, blade to the throat—Vermont killed through words, slowly poisoning the mind with fever-like words. But Claudel possessed none of that venom. She was almost... innocent.
So why did he keep spouting such nonsense?
Kaian felt as though he was losing his mind.
*I didn't intend for that.*
His sharp mind replayed the moment just before. When Claudel had lifted the blanket to rise from bed, her nightgown had shifted upward, exposing slender, pale legs. For a moment, he'd been completely overcome—utterly mindless.
He'd said nothing and fled like a coward.
*Why am I like this? Why?*
If he'd simply offered a few kind words, made her smile, those legs could have been wrapped around his waist tonight.
Kaian ran his hands roughly through his hair and headed toward his office.
---
Kaian's visit had been like a thunderbolt—sudden, intense, and over almost before it began.
After he left, Claudel stood dazed for a long moment.
"What? He comes in suddenly, says you're just lying around eating, and leaves? What was that?" Hannah's tone became remarkably irreverent once the Lord had departed.
"Well, I have been lying down..." Claudel said weakly.
"Think about what the Duchess usually does. He'll feel inadequate when he sees you like this," Hannah said, sighing as she straightened the bed.
"You've been sleeping poorly for days. For the first time, you finally managed a short rest. I wish you could have slept longer."
---
At Valmonde Castle, the Duchess of Vermont—now the Duchess of Temnes—had been meticulous in managing the estate. Her personal attention to its people, especially the children in the frozen valleys around Mog Hill, had been significant and meaningful.
It would have been natural for her to assume similar responsibilities here at Rowan Castle. But Kaian had never delegated anything to her, never asked her to manage a single task.
Claudel felt both relief and bitterness at this neglect. Part of her was grateful—fewer eyes upon her meant less judgment. But another part wondered if her existence truly mattered at all.
"Yet he still gave me this task," Claudel said, picking up the scattered list and invitations.
"Don't do it. His behavior was ugly," Hannah protested.
"He said until tomorrow."
"What do you know about his moods? Should I do it for you? I'll write with my feet if necessary," Hannah said with such severity that she seemed to mean it.
Claudel sat by the window and began to write. She carefully extracted each invitation from its envelope, stacking them neatly as she documented each name.
*...Temnes.*
She paused, realizing she'd written the name almost automatically. When had her identity shifted from Vermont to Temnes? Had she even noticed the moment?
Perhaps that was why he'd given her this task—to make her realize what she'd become.
As her pen moved across each invitation, the letters formed with deliberate precision: *Temnes, Temnes, Temnes.*
---
It was crocodile hunting day, and Kaian was in a foul mood.
Claudel had brought the invitations herself, without asking the butler to deliver them. He'd overheard someone praising a visiting dignitary who'd brought fruit to the castle—and the mention of it coming from Claudel's own hands had stirred something intense within him. If the butler had delivered them, the reaction would have been mere formality. But because it was her...
Whenever he thought of Claudel, his mind became a chaotic mess. His words came out twisted and wrong, so he'd stopped trying to analyze his own anger.
*It doesn't matter. Whatever happens, I end up thinking of that woman. I might as well stop fighting it.*
She wore light brown deer boots, a white dress falling just below her knees, and a matching leather vest. Her long red hair was braided intricately and crowned with a large white hat. She looked almost girlish.
Those seeing her for the first time since the wedding banquet watched her with evident fascination.
Kaian felt an absurd impulse to abandon the hunt entirely, escort her to the rest tent, and spend his time explaining his frustrations to her.
*Stop. Focus.*
Usually, hunting crocodiles alone was impossible. But Kaian could manage it, and he took pleasure in the challenge. He caught a suitable animal and released it, shaking off his hands.
But his thoughts kept drifting, making him dizzy with distraction because of Claudel.
*That's when—*
"Watch out!" Claudel suddenly pushed him hard.
Kaian was thrown from the platform overlooking the hunting arena and fell to the ground below.
*What on earth—*
As he rose, his eyes widened. An enormous crocodile was snapping its massive jaws at the exact spot where he'd been standing moments before.
The creature's gaze swiveled toward Claudel.
Its ferocious mouth opened wide.
"No!" Kaian shouted.
The hunting ground descended into chaos. Screams filled the air.
---