"Shall I take it off?"
Kaian flinched at the unexpected words.
In truth, the woman who had spoken so boldly stood perfectly still, like a doll awaiting instruction.
That sight only twisted his already warped judgment further.
"You seem rather confident."
Kaian let his gaze travel slowly over her.
Looking at her again, she was too small. Too thin.
Hers was a body that looked so insignificant and fragile it could be snapped with one hand, never mind two.
*Could a first night even be managed with someone like this?*
Tonight was Kaian's first time as well.
He had been raised under the brutal discipline reserved for Temnes heirs. The previous Duke had drilled two commandments into him above all others:
*"If you encounter a Vermonter, do not leave a single one alive."*
And the second: *"Do not sow your seed carelessly."*
Rowen, blessed with a warm, mild climate and vast stretches of fertile land, was a symbol of abundance itself. True to the old Oberon proverb that said *there are no beggars in the South*, food here grew so plentifully it rotted on the vine. The real work lay in thinning the harvest so prices wouldn't collapse—producing just enough, never too much.
As a result, the collateral bloodlines and vassal families were all large, sprawling clans. Children born in Rowen grew up effortlessly in its plenty.
But if the Lord of Rowen grew careless, the line of succession would descend into chaos.
Indeed, several times throughout the family's history, ambitious officials had turned the household into a bloodbath in their scramble to become heir.
For this reason, every Temnes successor was raised under strict, ascetic discipline. The abundance and wealth of Rowen were an endless temptation—one that could corrupt the soul of any lord who yielded to it.
In any case, this was Kaian's first encounter as a man, and it seemed unlikely that this woman could handle him at all.
Just because he had no experience did not mean he had never seen a woman in heat.
More than one girl had flung herself into Kaian's bed like a moth to flame. Women who had abandoned their husbands, women who were no longer maidens—countless others had thrown themselves at him without hesitation.
Only his softhearted guards, stationed outside the bedroom door, had paid the price. They endured insufferably long nights courtesy of pretty girls who pressed coins into their palms for passage, and for their trouble, they were dismissed.
*Let me in to see the lord*—a request any man would be glad to fulfill.
The guards never understood why granting it was grounds for removal. They could only suppose that a woman who looked perfectly lovely to their eyes must not have been to their lord's taste.
The women who had hidden in his chambers, only to be abruptly expelled, had all clung to him with violent urgency—pressing their fevered bodies against his so that he could feel the heat and hunger of the act before it even began.
Kaian caught himself following this train of thought and grew irritated.
*What am I doing—there's no need to spare this much consideration for a Vermont.*
He had never wanted this marriage.
Kaian was, in every respect, an exceptional lord and an outstanding man.
Even as a party to a wedding thrust upon him by royal decree, he could hardly think straight.
He had vaguely imagined that someday he would marry a woman of distinguished grace and sound judgment—continuing the legacy of glory as previous Dukes had done. Never in his darkest imaginings had he pictured himself trapped in so wretched a union.
In truth, the revulsion seemed etched into his very bones, and he had deliberately avoided thinking about how he ought to treat a bride from Vermont.
The enemy's daughter.
The blood of enemies.
Vermont had dared to point its sword at Temnes for generations.
Was it his fault if the woman who carried that tainted blood overexerted herself or came to harm?
He blamed her—and her father, the Duke of Vermont—for crawling into his castle fully aware of how she would be received in Rowen.
Her gaunt frame was visible beneath the thin undergarments. Her body, curved and pale in the guttering candlelight, seemed to offer little worth seeing or touching.
"I doubt there will be much to look forward to, even with it all off."
Having settled on how to handle Vermont's blood, he let the cruelty flow freely.
And still, she did not move.
Part of him appreciated her stillness—so unlike the squealing, panting women he had encountered—but he crushed that thought deliberately.
"I suppose Vermont taught you some trick for pleasing men, even with a body as plain as yours?"
He settled onto the bed and studied her with appraising eyes, as though evaluating livestock.
"Whether or not tonight's first night is properly consummated depends entirely on you. You will have to move me."
The woman offered no response to Kaian's barrage of insults.
As though his words could find no purchase in her.
She stood there, solid and unmoving, like a statue carved from soft ivory, waiting for the torrent of cruelty to pass.
"Do as you wish."
Granting her that much latitude was the most generous concession he could make for a Vermont.
Kaian reclined against the bed in a posture of deliberate indifference, and in front of him, the woman's garments slid slowly to the floor.
He forgot what he had been about to say.
Her neck was so slender and long it seemed barely able to support a head small enough to fit within a single palm. The shoulders that flowed from it looked unexpectedly elegant, her collarbones sharply defined beneath her thinness.
Below, feminine curves swelled and subsided, descending in delicate lines from pale, peach-toned knees to slender ankles.
She was not vulgar in answering his challenge that she must seduce him or fail.
She looked, rather, noble—like a saint offering him her mercy.
At her touch, the buttons of Kaian's coat came undone one by one, and his upper body was soon laid bare.
When she saw what lay beneath, embarrassment finally surfaced in her eyes. She had somehow managed to come this far, yet it was plain she had no idea what to do next.
Kaian found that, at least, this evidence of her own inexperience softened his edge—if only slightly.
Then she lowered her head and pressed her lips to his chest, exposed where his shirt had fallen open.
Only then did he clearly feel it—the faint, unmistakable trembling of her body.
Kaian savored the tingling sensation as it seeped into him, pooling warm and heavy somewhere deep within.
"What is your name?"
But the woman—who had endured every insult without flinching—went rigid and began to tremble harder.
Her wide-open golden eyes filled with a tangle of emotions, as though something she could not bear had finally struck her.
It twisted his insides and unraveled them again. The mood had barely begun to settle, yet she made him feel as though *he* were the villain.
"Don't make me ask twice. I asked your name."
A small voice, unable to conceal its trembling, answered his question.
"Claudel Quinn... Vermont."
*Damn Vermont.*
Kaian muttered softly to himself.
"Whether you become Claudel Quinn Temnes depends on your efforts tonight. I suggest you try."
He rose and blew out the candle. Perhaps, in darkness, he could manage it without seeing his young wife's red hair.
Soon his broad frame descended over the woman's.
---
Claudel Quinn Vermont.
It had been unexpected that she—neither remarkably beautiful nor plain—would become the wife of Kaian Pluck Temnes, the war god who had tripled the territory of Oberon's Kingdom.
Temnes and Vermont had both been credited with founding the Kingdom of Oberon and had long served as its two pillars of governance.
Temnes, the indomitable sword. Vermont, the guardian shield.
The martial house that dominated the battlefield and the diplomatic house that served as a bridge between nations—Vermont, with its gift for negotiation and its far-reaching network of strategic marriages—each fulfilled their role for the prosperity of the Kingdom. Thanks to this balance, Oberon had enjoyed an era of peace.
Then, roughly two hundred years ago, an incident had dealt a grievous blow to the bond between the two families.
By all accounts, the cause was absurd—seating arrangements at a banquet deemed insulting, or perhaps the trivial matter of unprepared shellfish appearing among the dishes served to honored guests.
The trouble was that the person offended by such trivialities happened to be the head of the kingdom's most powerful political faction.
Those who nursed their wounded pride, feeding it with accumulated hatred and spite, grew steadily more hostile. They clashed in every arena, great and small.
As the long years passed, the enmity between Vermont in the north and Temnes in the south reached such heights that even common folk in their respective territories would spit at the mere mention of the other's name.
When the two families had been equal in power, their fierce rivalry had at least been containable. The problem was that the Valmonde region had now endured ten consecutive years of drought.
Valmonde, situated in the north of Oberon's Kingdom, had always been a land of scarce farmland. Most of the territory consisted of mountains and frozen soil, and the majority of its residents worked in mines or foraged through mountains and forests. The harvest alone could never feed them all.
Vermont had sustained itself by selling medicines, timber, game, and precious ores extracted from Valmonde's mountain mines, then using the proceeds to purchase and stockpile food.
But when the prolonged drought ravaged Valmonde's yields, the Duke of Temnes—as though he had been waiting for precisely this moment—blocked all food exports to the north.
As the shortage worsened, the territory's residents began to flee, one family at a time.
The two pillars sustaining any lord's power were military strength and people. As the starving populace scattered, Valmonde's standing collapsed with alarming speed.
Kaian did not let the opportunity pass.
Rumors spread that he was preparing for a territorial war—seizing this chance to settle the ancient Temnes grudge against Vermont once and for all.
The crisis ended only when King Oberon intervened, brokering a peace by sending the Duke of Vermont's daughter to Kaian, Duke of Temnes.
It was obvious that if Temnes had attacked, the Vermont ducal family would have been annihilated.
Vermont's coffers had been bled dry after Temnes strangled the grain supply to the north. Asking starving people to take up arms and fight was a cruelty beyond measure.
King Oberon's public reason for propping up Vermont was that he could not afford to lose such exceptional diplomatic talent.
If Vermont fell, no one could replace them. A crucial element of Vermont's diplomatic prowess lay in marriage—noble family members wed into houses holding positions of power across multiple nations, and sometimes took in sons-in-law from abroad.
If one were to be honest: for Kaian, this was a marriage he had never wanted. For Claudel, it was one she had chosen willingly.
She could not ask the territory's people—who had suffered years of starvation—to endure a war as well.
Moreover, this marriage would compel Temnes to export food to the north.
She was grateful that there was something she could do for the starving children.
---
The next morning, Claudel woke early and forced herself to dress quickly.
Her body ached—every joint protesting after a night of suffering that had lasted until dawn—but she was well accustomed to enduring pain.
"*Cough. Cough.*"
Hannah looked at her with worried eyes as bitter coughs wracked her frame.
"You must have caught cold from the rain yesterday."
"I think so."
"I'll fetch you some medicine."
After only a single day in this household, Hannah seemed to have grasped that if she waited for someone here to help, she would wait forever.
Claudel smiled at her spirited maid.
Before long, the castle butler arrived to escort her.
Though she had passed the first night, the wedding was not yet truly complete.
She was required to descend into the castle's underground crypt and pay her respects at the tombs of the successive Dukes of Temnes—a rite expected of every new mistress.
The dark, damp stairway was slick, as though water seeped from the very walls.
Claudel gripped Hannah's hand and picked her way carefully downward until the passage opened into a vast underground cavern filled with stone tombs.
The floor had been excavated for each coffin, and above each resting place stood a tombstone engraved with a name and a record of accomplishments.
Among them, in the center, stood a newly prepared pair of tombs.
## Kaian Pluck Temnes.
## Claudel Quinn Temnes.
His place. And hers.
Claudel reached out and gently touched the cold, smooth surface of her tombstone.
What else might one day be carved beneath this stone, which bore nothing yet but her name?
The man who had told her last night that whether she could claim the name Temnes depended on her own efforts—he still did not seem to have cast her out entirely.
Not if he had gone to the trouble of having her grave made.
Just then, Kaian's cold voice echoed from behind her.
"Do you like where you'll rest in peace?"