"Duke of Temnes! I didn't expect to see you so soon," a woman's voice called.
Kaian turned, and I followed his gaze.
I startled.
Madame Cronac was petite, with brown hair and eyes common to Oberon. Beautiful in an understated way, her pale skin seemed defiantly youthful. But from her left ear to beneath her chin ran a hideous scar—distorted, as if flesh had been crushed. It extended down her neck, raw reddish tissue contrasting sharply against her otherwise unmarked skin.
I shuddered involuntarily before I could stop myself. The reaction was immediate and, I realized with shame, obviously visible.
Madame Cronac's eyes registered the moment but remained calm. She simply let her hair fall across her left side, effectively concealing the scar. From the right, one would never know it existed.
"I apologize for startling you, Duchess. Had I known you were coming, I would have prepared myself better."
"No, please forgive me," I said quickly. "I didn't mean to react like that."
While I fumbled through my embarrassment, Kaian addressed her with polite efficiency. "Please show us to a private room and recommend what we should see during our stay in the capital."
"Of course, Duke. This way."
She led us to a classically decorated drawing room—quite different from the bright entrance hall. Dark wood furniture, deep purple velvet cushions, an atmosphere of subdued dignity.
Tea arrived, warm and fragrant. As Kaian fed me small pastries, Madame Cronac reappeared, changed into fresh clothes and wearing a hat with a veil that discreetly covered her scar. With makeup and careful positioning, the scarring was barely visible. She was, I realized, quite beautiful.
I'd expected salons to feel decadent based on paintings I'd seen—women drinking among gentlemen. The reality was nothing like that. Madame Cronac's bearing was intelligent, composed, professional.
"I formally introduce myself," she said with a bow. "Cronac Delmore, owner of Salon Arvo."
"Pleased to meet you," I replied, uncertain if the formality was appropriate.
Kaian smiled slightly at my nervousness. "Are you unusually anxious?"
"It's my first time in such an establishment," I admitted.
Madame Cronac gestured to a servant, who placed a thick catalog before us. "The King's Birthday celebration is the capital's premier event. Naturally, it's the main attraction. But I understand the Duchess is curious about other experiences?"
Kaian responded smoothly. "My wife would appreciate seeing more of the capital than just formal events. I'd like her stay to be memorable."
I watched him work, impressed by his negotiation skills.
Madame Cronac explained the salon's services. For nobles newly arrived from provincial territories, the salon handled everything—researching attractions, hiring temporary staff who wouldn't compromise dignity, coordinating seamstresses for dress repairs, reserving tables at exclusive restaurants. They were, essentially, a noble's guide to the capital.
"Does the Duchess enjoy theatrical performances?" Madame Cronac asked, flipping through the catalog.
"Performances?" I was uncertain what she meant.
She opened to a page displaying opera information. "Opera is very popular currently. We have secured excellent seats for tomorrow evening."
The opera was titled *Karl Hamlain's Revenge*. The description read: *"The story of a husband punishing his wife for her infidelity while he was away during the five-year war."*
I frowned. *Would I truly enjoy watching that?*
A servant suddenly appeared, whispering urgently to Madame Cronac. Her eyes widened slightly.
"Duke, you have visitors waiting. What would you prefer?"
Kaian stood. "I wasn't expecting this. I'll make a brief appearance. Take your time with Madame Cronac. If you find anything of interest, don't ask my permission—make the reservation directly."
After he departed, I sighed softly.
"Are you tired?" Madame Cronac asked kindly.
"New experiences are always a bit overwhelming."
I hesitated, then addressed what had been troubling me. "I'm truly sorry for my reaction when we first met. I didn't mean to offend you."
Madame Cronac's eyes widened slightly, as if my apology was unexpected. "You're a kind person, Duchess."
"Your scar..." I began carefully. "How did it happen, if I may ask?"
"There was a fire." Her voice remained calm, matter-of-fact. "My home—everything I'd built—burned. During the robbery that preceded it, I was stabbed. I lost consciousness, couldn't escape quickly. But somehow, I crawled out. I wanted to live."
"You're fortunate to have survived such trauma," I said softly.
"The person who saved me was Kaian."
My heart stilled. "The Duke?"
"He was passing nearby when he found me. He brought me to a doctor." Madame Cronac's expression grew distant for just a moment. "It was a serious wound. The scar from the burns, the stabbing—I spent half a year hovering between life and death."
Unbidden, I reached for her hand. "But you survived. You did so well."
"Someone wanted me to live," she said quietly.
Her words stirred something in me—a memory of my own mother, the fire that took her. *If I could have saved her, I would have given anything.*
To shake off the melancholy, I deliberately changed the subject. "Isn't it unusual for an opera about a husband's revenge? Typically, such stories show the opposite—the husband enjoying himself while away."
Madame Cronac shrugged. "The opera serves its purpose by appealing to what husbands wish to see."
"But other noble ladies enjoy this story?" I asked, confused.
Madame Cronac leaned forward conspiratorially. "They enjoy the male singers."
"The singers?"
"During the second act, when the mistress seduces the wife and the husband expresses his anger, both performers... remove their clothing."
My face burned. "What kind of performance is that?"
Madame Cronac smiled. "Not all noble ladies have husbands as honorable as your Duke."
I blushed deeply. "I don't think I could watch something like that with him present. Please recommend something else."
"Among the capital's offerings, this is actually the more respectable choice, Duchess."
I fanned my flushed face with my hand, thoroughly embarrassed.
---
I ultimately agreed to the opera. Madame Cronac had persuaded me that attending would give me something to discuss with other ladies at the royal ball—an excuse to participate in capital society conversation.
Later, Kaian took me to dinner at a restaurant recommended by the salon. We sat three stories above the street, surrounded by lights and lively noise. The experience was wonderful, though the noise made conversation difficult. Being with him felt like enough.
But when we returned to the royal castle, exhaustion from the unexpected outing caught up with me.
The nightmare came swiftly.
---
*Flames. Enormous, consuming the world around me.*
*I ran through burning streets in my father's arms. Over his shoulder, I reached desperately toward the fire.*
*"Mother! Mother!"*
*Then, from the inferno, a hand emerged. A woman's hand.*
*It reached for me, grasped my small fingers.*
*Her face melted like candle wax as fire consumed her body.*
*"Do you really want me to live?"*
I screamed.
"Claudel. Claudel, wake up."
Kaian's voice pulled me from the nightmare. His hands gripped my shoulders, his eyes sharp with concern in the dim light.
"You were having a nightmare," he said quietly. "You're safe."
I clung to him, my heart still racing, the images still too vivid. The loss of my mother, the impossible choice she'd made in that fire, the guilt that I'd survived and she hadn't—all of it crashed through me at once.
"I'm here," Kaian murmured, holding me close. "I'm here."
In his arms, slowly, the trembling stopped. The nightmare receded. But the weight of old grief remained, newly awakened by Madame Cronac's story and the opera's dark themes.
*We both survived fires that should have consumed us,* I thought, thinking of her scarred face, her determination to live. *But at what cost?*
---