Claudel wrapped the blanket around herself and sat up. Kaian handed her the apple and knife with a sigh, watching her carefully.
Her grip on the knife was weak and awkward. She held it at an odd angle and seemed puzzled when the blade slid uselessly across the apple's smooth skin rather than peeling it.
"You need more pressure," Kaian instructed. "But don't force it."
He was horrified to see her viciously trying to cut through in one aggressive motion.
"Come here," he said finally.
He positioned Claudel between his legs, where she fit perfectly into his arms—small as a child. A flower petal from the festival still clung to her hair. He plucked it with his lips and blew it away.
"Hold the apple in your left hand. The knife in your right. Watch."
When Kaian placed his hands over hers and applied gentle pressure, the peel came away in a spiral—crude compared to when he worked alone, but serviceable.
"This is my first time doing this," she said quietly.
"Are you showing off your inexperience?"
"Not at all. You can eat apples with the skin on."
"I won't stand by while you starve."
She simply let go, leaving the rest to him. He quickly peeled and sliced the apple, then fed her the pieces as she lay back on the bed. Her delighted expression was completely unguarded.
A simple slice of apple brought more joy to her face than all the dresses and jewels he'd ever given her.
*Claudel is strange,* he thought, not entirely displeased by this fact.
---
After she finished eating, drowsiness overtook her. Her eyes grew heavy.
"You need to wash," Kaian said.
"It's difficult."
"You've been nervous all day because of the festival. Wash up, then rest."
"I suppose so."
He made no mention of having bathed her earlier as part of the celebration.
He ate an apple, then after washing...
Actually, Kaian had been unusually busy—preparing for the festival, attending to Prom Hunt, maintaining a packed schedule. Time with Claudel without interruption felt like genuine rest.
"Would you like me to bathe you?" he offered when she hesitated at the bathroom door.
"No!"
Her eyes, which had been nearly closing, snapped open with alarming clarity.
"Absolutely not."
"Why?"
"That's... that's..."
"What's the difference between husband and wife?"
"Still... I... um..."
Realizing his intent, she quickly fled to the bathroom before he could follow.
"I'll wash first," she called out desperately.
Less than five minutes later, Kaian heard no sound of water, no indication of actual bathing.
"Claudel?" he called.
No answer.
He pushed the bathroom door open.
As expected, she'd fallen asleep with her arms folded along the bathtub's edge. Steam rose from the hot water, making her look even more ethereal in sleep.
Kaian reached into her red hair, dampened by the water, and gently worked in soap. Claudel, in her deep sleep, relaxed and shifted as if settling into the water, but her breathing remained peaceful.
After carefully washing her hair and scrubbing her face with a wet cloth, he wrapped her in a large towel, carried her to bed, and pressed the towel to her damp head.
---
"There was a time when seeing red hair alone made me angry enough to draw a knife."
The resentment toward Vermont seemed to have drawn a line somewhere. It hadn't disappeared entirely, but the intensity had... changed.
Even when Irena—Claudel's older sister—had visited, he hadn't been warm to her. The mutual hatred between Temnes and Vermont had roots in pride and political advantage. For hundreds of years, neither family had sought reconciliation because hostility served them both.
*Perhaps that's why I've decided to end this in my own generation,* he thought.
Even if Valmonde's lands were subjugated, ruling from Rowen's southern reach to Vermont's frozen north was impractical. But Valquiterre had always lamented his inability to access Valmonde's wealth or fully utilize the North Sea trade routes. If Kaian waged territorial war and defeated Vermont, it would demonstrate loyalty to King Oberon while establishing Temnes dominance.
*But Valmonde was Claudel's home.*
The thought had weight.
*Would it be too much to reduce her birthplace to ash?*
Rowen Castle held many of Kaian's own memories. His private study stood in the forest beyond the castle grounds. During harsh winters, Queen Silvia would spend weeks here with Crown Prince Valquiterre, caring for him. He had fewer memories of young Bianque—she'd been too small—but with Valquiterre, they'd run through the back gardens and played war games until sunset, just the two of them.
As he looked at Claudel sleeping peacefully, he felt curious about the land that had shaped her. The Valmonde she'd fled on horseback in anger, the castle she'd lived in for years.
*If I have the chance, I should take time to explore. Perhaps she has favorite places. Memories worth preserving.*
The butler was exceptionally skilled.
"When shall we visit Valmonde together?" Kaian whispered to the sleeping woman, surprising himself with the words. "Perhaps in two months?"
The butler would protest: *Two months! Nonsense, my Lord!* But Kaian didn't care.
A sound escaped Claudel—something unexpectedly sweet, uncharacteristically pleased.
*She keeps making me do things I don't want to do,* he thought ruefully.
Yet he didn't feel bad about it.
She would be his wife for the rest of his life. Claudel was bound to the name Temnes—bound to him in a way that transcended escape, even in death.
After dressing her in soft pajamas, he bathed and returned to hold her as usual, letting her sleep.
*Valmonde.*
Kaian had been planning to demolish the castle entirely—everything except the trade port Valquiterre wanted.
But now he wondered if the good scent emanating from Claudel was somehow the essence of Valmonde itself. Could he truly threaten a land that had created her?
*Would she be happy if I told her I would take her home?*
Most wives suffered from homesickness after marrying distant lords. Kaian realized, with some surprise, that he'd been thinking entirely from Claudel's perspective for some time without acknowledging it.
---
After the festival, Rowen Castle became even busier.
In this eternally temperate land, three harvests were possible annually. Despite having virtually eliminated the meaning of "autumn festival," Kaian found himself consumed with post-harvest work: fall planting, food storage, exports, and trade management.
It was during this frenetic period that an old friend arrived.
Rohan Hindenburg—whom Kaian hadn't seen in far too long—appeared at the tributary of the Shen River. A familiar ship slowly approached the dock, sails folded, lines thrown to the mooring poles.
Before the ship was fully anchored, a man jumped from the deck with a rope looped around his arm, landing before Kaian as if performing an acrobatic feat.
"Long time no see, Duke."
"It has been too long, Rohan."
Kaian greeted him warmly.
Rohan was tall, with wheat-colored hair and dark eyes. Only three years Kaian's senior, he'd revolutionized intercontinental trade by opening routes previously monopolized by Vermont. His curious, free-spirited nature meant constant danger, but his boldness, improvisation, and information-gathering abilities were unmatched.
Kaian had invested heavily in Rohan partly because Valquiterre desperately wanted access to Vermont's trade port—and Rohan had delivered by establishing an alternate northern route. The profits had been extraordinary, and more importantly, Rohan now provided funds for Kaian's planned territorial war.
"What brings you to Rowen?" Kaian asked.
"I heard interesting rumors," Rohan grinned, rubbing his chin. "Something about a new southern trade route being opened?"
The northern route through Valmonde was the fastest intercontinental passage, but Vermont's monopoly made it useless to Temnes. Rohan had discovered an eastern-west route through ancient documents—slower but viable. But the southern route was legendary.
"Hasn't the southern sea been impassable?" Kaian asked carefully.
The warm southern seas hosted unpredictable weather patterns, including the "sea monster"—a massive whirlwind that swept seawater, ships, and creatures skyward with devastating force.
"Someone's apparently calculated the monster's movement pattern," Rohan said. "The Sol Continent is in chaos over it."
"If a route opens from the south..."
"The best location for a trade port would be Rowen," Rohan finished. "So I purchased all available land in the southern Sol Continent—under merchant names, of course. But you're the actual owner."
Kaian clapped Rohan's shoulder. Few people executed delegated tasks with such excellence. Rohan invested enormous sums on Kaian's behalf without hesitation, and while vassals protested, Kaian trusted him completely.
"Your married life with your enemy seems surprisingly relaxed," Rohan observed playfully.
Kaian's eyebrows rose sharply.
"I only ask because you actually look... happy," Rohan continued.
"What you see is what you see," Kaian replied, unwilling to discuss Claudel's charms with anyone.
"I'll introduce her tonight. You'll see her often in the future."
---
That evening, Kaian witnessed an entirely unexpected sight.
Claudel gazed at Rohan with an expression of genuine emotion—hands clasped before her chest, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with admiration.
"Are you really Rohan?" she breathed. "The Rohan Hindenburg?"
Kaian's jaw tightened.
*Rohan?*
---