"How is your health?"
When Claudel didn't answer, he pressed her again.
"Are you asking if I'm ready to die?"
She spoke with the blank face of a doll, devoid of emotion.
The Duke of Vermont's brow furrowed in displeasure at her response.
"It means your condition is deteriorating steadily."
Claudel swallowed the lump forming in her throat and said nothing.
"As you wish, Your Grace."
Only then did he lean back against the sofa with a satisfied expression, as though pleased by her submission.
"Exactly. Heaven will not allow Vermont to be humiliated by those Temnes wretches—dogs so vile they deserve to be torn apart. Vermont will have its revenge."
The Duke of Vermont's eyes blazed with fervor, the look of a madman burning in his gaze.
"This is how you repay the favor I showed when your parents died, leaving you with nothing. Do not concern yourself with what comes after. Your death will be celebrated far and wide as a glorious martyrdom once Vermont's vengeance on Temnes is complete."
He spoke with passionate intensity, his words washing over her like a torrent. Claudel remained silent.
"You've grown thinner."
"I can barely swallow these days."
"You've been sleeping well, I trust?"
The Duke directed his shameful insinuation at his niece without a trace of shame.
"Fortunately, he changes his bed partners nightly. A man of refined tastes wouldn't waste his time on someone as plain and unremarkable as you."
It was Claudel's burden to bear his contempt.
The cold treatment at Rowen Castle and Kaian's insults were nothing new to her. Born of a commoner mother, mocked by a father who had died shortly after her mother—through it all, Claudel had endured. When her uncle adopted her and gifted her the wealth of Vermont, the next ten years had been no different from what she'd already suffered.
Whether his sharp words pierced her heart like daggers or whether Temnes itself had struck her down, the pain was much the same.
She had learned to bear it well.
There was no one to sympathize with her suffering, no one to pity her.
"Still, I'm grateful you married before your condition worsened. Now that I've sent you to that bastard Duke, I can strike him from behind."
He smiled wickedly, his hands clenching and unclenching as though savoring the thought.
"If you die, I will hold the Duke of Temnes responsible. Vermont blood spilled by his negligence—King Oberon will support my claim unconditionally. It's already arranged."
"What if the King doesn't keep his promise to the Duke?"
The Duke of Vermont dismissed her question with a scoff, bridging his nose.
"You don't know King Oberon. He is truly a great ruler—fundamentally superior to Temnes, that foolish boy who wields his sword without wisdom. Despite their similar age, Oberon is skilled and mature beyond measure."
"You should be grateful every day that King Oberon himself took interest in orchestrating this marriage."
Claudel's mind wandered as her uncle's words flowed past her. All the speeches about the arranged marriage entered one ear and left the other.
Her uncle and adoptive father was fortunate not to resemble his own father.
Claudel loved her own father's red hair and golden eyes. She would have found it unbearable if the cold, heartless Duke of Vermont bore any resemblance to her father in appearance or temperament. She was grateful that beyond the coloring that marked their family, nothing about him reminded her of her father.
Had he spoken those cruel words with her father's face, the weight of them would have been impossible to bear.
"The Duke will arrive soon."
The Duke of Vermont rose from the sofa and moved to the mirror, humming contentedly.
"Even the late Duke would be laughing in his grave at the thought of someone like you as his bride—all while unwittingly signing away his life."
Claudel, unable to share in his joy, remained silent.
---
Kaian strode down the hallway with purposeful steps. He resembled a grizzled old fox, and the prospect of seeing the Duke of Vermont filled him with undisguised contempt.
"Perhaps I should deal with that old bastard myself," he muttered.
Behind him, his subordinates flinched at his words, understanding their darker implication all too well.
Today, as he envisioned hurling the Duke of Vermont—who had taken his father-in-law's place—into the burial mound Claudel had been examining, his irritation gave way to grim satisfaction.
As he walked with noticeably lighter steps, a woman suddenly blocked his path, her arms spread as though to embrace him.
"Your Highness Kaian!"
She was a striking woman with long black hair and blue eyes. Despite her youth—barely past her coming-of-age ceremony—her face bore the stubborn pride of someone accustomed to getting what she wanted.
"Antyone. What is this about?"
She was a distant relation to Kaian, a collateral branch of the family. Though her mother came from the Temnes house and she carried the Berang name, Antyone took pride in her Temnes heritage.
Since childhood, she had openly declared her intention to marry Kaian. Yet he had never granted her private audience or genuine attention.
She had sneaked into his bedchamber on more than one occasion, only to be politely—but firmly—returned to her quarters.
And even that, she had boasted to her ladies as proof of his special affection for her. But Kaian had paid her no mind. In fact, since Antyone had begun making her feelings known, the nighttime intrusions had ceased.
Kaian raised an eyebrow at Antyone's hostile glare.
"Speak plainly. What is this?"
Antyone's eyes reddened as anger flooded through her.
"How could you take another woman to your bed?"
Kaian's gaze turned cold as he observed her emotional state deteriorating.
"What are you saying?"
"Your Highness, there is no woman in this world who loves you as much as I do. I have cherished you since childhood, and yet you—you could do this to me?"
"There seems to be no end to your presumption."
When Kaian's glare turned sharp and cutting, Antyone's expression crumbled. The weight of unrequited love was more than a young lady's heart could bear.
"If you're dissatisfied with my marriage, petition King Oberon directly."
He dismissed her and walked away. After several steps, he turned back one final time.
"Never show yourself before me again. This is the end of it, Antyone."
With that, Kaian disappeared down the corridor with his guards.
Antyone collapsed where she stood, exhausted by her own emotions.
Immediately, her companions—girls of her own age who had been hiding behind a pillar watching the scene—rushed to her side.
"That was perfect, Antyone. His Highness will surely remember you now."
"We could never be so bold. You were amazing!"
As they gathered around her, she wiped the moisture from her eyes with the back of her hand. Then, standing and composing herself, she crossed her arms with the proud bearing she'd abandoned moments before.
"I'm absolutely shocked. That filthy Vermont woman has actually wormed her way into the royal chambers."
Though technically it was Kaian who had entered the Vermont woman's chambers, none of the castle servants who overheard the conversation bothered to correct her.
"You would have made such a wonderful Duchess, my lady."
"Yes, imagine the grand balls you would have hosted!"
"And all those handsome knights who would have been invited!"
The sighs and complaints of the newly-come-of-age girls echoed through the hall.
Yet the most bitter sighs came from Antyone herself.
Yesterday had been the grand celebration—a Temnes family affair. Antyone had wept from dawn until dusk, preventing her household from attending the banquet at Rowen Castle.
Her exceptional beauty had spoiled her from childhood, cultivating a pride as immense as her face was fair. Stubborn and willful, she had insisted on attending today's vassal banquet at Rowen Castle despite her family's protests, and had remained there out of sheer determination.
As she stole glimpses of Kaian at the head table from across the great hall, bitterness filled her chest.
*My Kaian. Has he truly fallen under the spell of that Vermont sorceress?*
It was Kaian who had never even allowed her to touch his fingertips, let alone embrace her. In her one-sided fantasy, she believed he was passionately devoted to her but treated her coldly for propriety's sake.
At that moment, one of her maids approached hesitantly.
"Did you bring what I asked for?"
The maid produced a small box from beneath her apron.
"All the flowers are gone, yes?"
"Everything has been incinerated in the kitchen fires, my lady."
The castle maid gazed at Antyone with longing eyes, her expression eager to please.
"How dare he, my lord, choose a Vermont redhead. This will not stand. From now on, lady, speak only to me about your needs."
"I will remember your loyalty when I become Duchess."
Antyone withdrew a blue diamond ring from the box, its stone gleaming with an ethereal light, and slipped it onto her finger.
"We're finished here. Let's depart."
Behind her, Antyone's Temnes attendants chattered triumphantly as they disappeared down the corridor.
---
The Duke of Vermont, who had spent the entire day criticizing Temnes, smiled warmly—as though he had never uttered a harsh word.
"I will not forget the kindness you have shown us, Duke."
"Indeed. Vermont and Temnes are now as one family."
"Yes, and Duke Kaian shall be the first of Temnes to earn the title of King in our realm of Valmonde."
Beneath the warmth of their words, their eyes held the glint of daggers—each watching the other, ready to strike.
Meanwhile, Claudel stood in silence, a mere ornament in the scene.
Thirty wagons laden with grain lined the courtyard before departing northward. Claudel could have wagered anything that this gift of grain would make Temnes not merely famous but would elevate the Vermont name far beyond what it deserved.
"It was quite meaningful to me," Kaian said, his question coming out of nowhere. "Did you not like the gift?"
Claudel blinked, surprised by his sudden attention.
Or perhaps... was I simply not good enough?
---