"You seem overprotective," Valquiterre observed mildly.
Everyone hearing his words recognized the parallel: Kaian dismissed concerns as "misunderstanding," while Valquiterre concluded Kaian was "overprotective." Both used similar methods, though from opposite presentations—the cold-seeming Duke and the gentle, radiant King.
*Blood truly cannot be faked,* I thought, observing their subtle resemblance.
Valquiterre extended his hand toward me. "The royal family awaits. Come with us."
Between Kaian's eyebrows, a slight wrinkle appeared. Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "We will go together."
Around us, Madame Marcel and Hannah exchanged knowing glances.
Kaian's rejection of Valquiterre's offered arm wasn't rude—it was possessive. His tone lacked formal honorifics, yet somehow conveyed absolute respect through the sheer weight of their brotherhood.
All eyes in the vicinity turned toward our carriage bearing the Temnes emblem.
Kaian pulled me close as he moved, and I found myself drawn along in his wake. Valquiterre had offered his hand, but Kaian had claimed me instead. The King's expression remained serene, betraying no offense, yet the message was clear: *She is mine to escort.*
*Is he always this protective?* I wondered, then caught myself. Earlier, I'd worried about proper etiquette—whether to greet Valquiterre first. When our eyes met again, he smiled gently, and I understood he held no grudge about Kaian's behavior.
I loosened my cape, which had become uncomfortably tight from Kaian's fastening. As he glanced at me, I found myself unable to look away. My husband was breathtaking—dressed in a dark blue wool coat with black fox fur trim and silver buttons, wearing the feathered hat I'd given him for his birthday.
*Thump, thump.*
My heart pounded audibly.
*Why don't I like my husband?* I thought bitterly, realizing the answer: I loved him far too much.
---
## The Winter Hunting Camp
In the expansive grassland, large tents blocked the winter wind, with braziers dotting the space. At the center stood an ornate tent—thick cloth decorated with red velvet and gold tassels.
Valquiterre rushed ahead into the tent. Kaian released my shoulder to offer his arm, and I took it, entering together.
Inside, a table and chairs surrounded two figures who didn't bother standing to greet the King. A young blonde woman with blue eyes, and a middle-aged man with silver-grey hair wearing a feathered hat.
Princess Bianque and Grand Duke Luxen.
I hesitated, unsure of proper protocol. Should I greet Valquiterre first? But he'd personally escorted us here...
Kaian, reading my confusion, took my hand and turned toward the Grand Duke, bowing slightly. I followed his lead.
"I greet the descendants of Ruksena, the kind earth goddess," I said carefully.
Grand Duke Luxen stood immediately, warmth in his expression. "Duke of Temnes! How many years has it been?"
"Four years, since you showed us grace in returning to our territory after the war's end."
The Grand Duke studied me with obvious interest. "This must be Claudel Quinn Temnes."
My cheeks burned. I'd rarely introduced myself by that name until now. The title felt strange yet precious—Kaian's name, something money couldn't buy. I'd been so occupied with my own recovery that I'd never properly announced myself as Duchess.
Grand Duke Luxen embraced me gently, patting my back. "There's no need for such formality. You're my niece and daughter-in-law. I rarely see Vermont's daughters in person—I was merely curious."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"I'm grateful you don't resemble that old man. Much better to have my blood show through." He turned to the Princess. "Bianque, greet them properly."
Bianque rose slowly, her expression showing clear annoyance at being corrected. Kaian observed her with amusement. "Do you have an illness? You moved so slowly."
"How dare you!" Bianque's indignation was immediate. "Your own sister, whom you haven't seen in years, and this is how you greet her?"
Kaian chuckled. "Your tone suggests you're perfectly fine. I thought perhaps your leg was injured."
Bianque turned her attention to me, her smile suddenly sharp. "Oh yes, I heard the Duchess injured her leg during a crocodile hunt. How tragic that she became crippled."
The word hung in the air—deliberately cruel, deliberately calculated.
I blinked, processing the offense. But I replied calmly. "Thank you for your concern, Your Highness. Fortunately, the Duke provided excellent medicine, and I recovered completely."
"How fortunate," Bianque purred, her eyes scanning me with undisguised disdain. "The rumors claimed you'd never walk again. I'm pleased they were wrong."
*Pleased?* There was disappointment in her voice, not relief.
I felt bewildered. *Are all capital social circles like this?* At Valmonde, Madame Vermont's discipline governed interactions. This was my first encounter with a Princess, and she was... hostile.
Then understanding dawned: *There had been rumors about Kaian and the Princess.*
I'd been too ill, too preoccupied with my own mortality, to think much about whether my husband had met other women. But now, watching Bianque's contempt, I realized: *She wanted him.*
Perhaps still wanted him.
Despite her obvious jealousy, Bianque was beautiful—blonde, blue-eyed, with dimples when she smiled. I could understand why the late King and the kingdom had loved the twin Princesses so dearly.
Bianque's gaze suddenly fixed on Kaian's hat. "What's that?" Her eyes gleamed with interest.
The feathered hat—my birthday gift.
"It's quite fashionable," she said smoothly. "It suits you."
"Thank you. I'll mention your compliment to our new tailor."
"So it's true that you brought Madame Marcel to Rowen?" Bianque's smile widened, displaying her dimples. "How delightfully... pretentious. The feathered style was once criticized as looking like a plucked quail. I'm surprised you'd choose something so contrary to your usual aesthetic."
Grand Duke Luxen and Valquiterre leaned closer to examine the hat, nodding in agreement.
"It suits you regardless," Valquiterre said thoughtfully. "A good choice, even if it's not your typical preference."
*Not his taste?*
My stomach twisted. Kaian had seemed genuinely pleased when I'd given him the hat for his birthday. He'd put it on immediately, tried it on with apparent satisfaction...
But everyone knew he hated this style.
Kaian's eyes found mine. In his gaze, I saw something like compassion—as though he understood my realization. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me against him.
Bianque's expression sharpened immediately, her smile fading as jealousy flashed across her features.
"It's the Duchess's preference," Kaian said quietly, his tone brooking no argument.
The statement was simple, absolute. He'd worn something he disliked because I preferred it. He'd chosen me over his own taste, over royal opinion, over every expectation.
In front of the King, the Princess, the Grand Duke—in front of everyone—he claimed me.
Bianque's lovely face darkened with fury at the clear rejection, the undeniable truth: Kaian belonged to me.
---