"I don't like you."
The words hung in the air between us, and I couldn't accept them.
My small fist, still held in his hand, throbbed with something hot and desperate.
Kaian had wrapped me carefully in a blanket and his cloak, as if to prevent me from freezing. But his words made me feel exposed and cold.
"What do you mean?" I whispered.
"You're Vermont's daughter. You could have been leverage against your family. Instead, you're a liability. Saving you, feeding you, buying your jewelry—these are investments in maintaining the dignity of the Duchess position, nothing more."
I stared at him. "But you held me every night. You put me to sleep."
"It's practical. Vermont's daughter alone, sleepless and starving in my house would create problems I don't need."
The warmth from his hand felt like a lie now.
"You don't hate me?" I asked desperately, needing something.
"Does not hating equal liking?"
The question devastated me more than any cruelty could have.
I released his arm and looked away. The truth was, I didn't really know what he thought of me. He'd worried about my health, purchased beautiful things for me, held me through the nights. But he'd never asked what I liked, what I wanted, what I felt.
I'd hoped that my gratitude would grow into something mutual. That love could bloom from consistent care.
I'd been wrong.
"Would anything change if you did like me?" His rational voice cut through my thoughts. "We're married. You're the Duchess of Temnes. Whether I feel affection for you or not, that fact remains."
He was frighteningly wise and completely selfish.
"I'm not your enemy," I said quietly. "I'm Temnes now."
"But you're Vermont's blood."
There it was. The core of the problem. No matter how much warmth he showed me, he would always see the enemy first.
I'd spent half my life hungry and lonely, waiting for death. Then he'd come—with food, with gentleness, with his presence beside me in the dark. He'd made me want to live.
And now he was telling me it meant nothing.
"I can't trust you," he said finally. "If you want me to believe in you, you'll need to give me an heir. Only then might I be convinced your loyalty to Temnes is genuine."
The words echoed something from our wedding night. *"Whether you become Claudel, Queen of Temnes, depends on your efforts tonight."*
The pattern was clear. Our entire relationship was built on my efforts, my attempts, my desperate hope that eventually he'd reciprocate.
"I will try," I heard myself say.
He stood, his expression calm and controlled. "Let's return to the mansion. Have the carriage prepared."
As he turned to leave, I held myself together, not allowing tears to fall.
*At least I didn't tell him I love him.*
That was something I could keep. The last secret I could guard. If I'd confessed and he'd rejected it, I'm not sure I could have survived the pain.
Better to let him remain ignorant.
---
## From the Castle Balcony
Valquiterre watched the Temnes carriage descend the castle slope.
*I couldn't dance with her.*
The moment Claudel had entered the ballroom, she was the only person he could see—despite the nobles glittering with gold jewelry, despite the splendor around her.
He'd been irritated watching Kaian hold her waist as though displaying his possession. But Valquiterre was accustomed to hiding his true feelings.
He'd planned to ask her to dance the moment Kaian released her. It was inevitable that the Duke danced first, but afterward, she was his.
Then she'd said something to Kaian and disappeared.
Her legs must have hurt. That must be what she told him. Valquiterre had seen the concern flash across Kaian's face.
*How does he know her so well?*
"I wanted to dance with Kaian," Bianque said beside him, crossing her arms in irritation.
"I prevented you from making a fool of yourself in front of the kingdom."
"I did everything you asked," she continued, her voice whining. "I even left the tent and forced myself on him when you told me to. Do you know how difficult that was?"
Valquiterre didn't respond.
"You promised," she said eagerly. "You said if I did as you commanded, you'd make me a Duchess. Make me Kaian's wife."
"Yes."
"You have to keep that promise." She sounded desperate now. "When Grand Duke Luxen scolded me, I almost cried. But I thought about being Kaian's Duchess, and I could bear it. So you have to—"
"I won't keep it," Valquiterre said coldly.
Bianque's face went white.
He left her there and remained at the railing, watching the carriage until it disappeared completely.
Claudel was in that carriage. With Kaian.
The thought was unbearable.
---
## At the Mansion
Hannah greeted us with a warm smile as we arrived. "Welcome home. Did you enjoy the ball?"
"My wife is exhausted," Kaian said. "Have her bathe and take a meal. I'll be in the study."
As I was led away by Hannah and Madame Marcel, Kaian disappeared into his office.
---
## Kaian's Study
Alone behind the heavy wooden door, Kaian finally allowed himself to breathe.
The breath he'd been holding all evening released, and his chest heaved as though he'd been drowning.
*Claudel likes me?*
He slapped his own cheek hard, needing to verify he wasn't dreaming.
The impact stung, grounding him in reality.
It had been in her voice—the tremor, the desperation, the way she'd clung to his arm when he said he didn't like her.
She'd thought he was joking. She'd expected him to recant.
And when he didn't...
*She thought I didn't care about her.*
The realization made his chest tighten with something he couldn't name.
He'd saved her from death. He'd clothed her, fed her, held her through sleepless nights. He'd done it all carefully, precisely, telling himself it was practical necessity.
But watching her face crumble as he explained each kindness away as mere utility had been...
*Excruciating.*
"She likes me," he whispered to the empty room.
This woman who'd come to him from an enemy family, fragile and traumatized. This woman he'd taken because Valquiterre commanded it. This woman he'd convinced himself he was indifferent to.
*She likes me.*
The knowledge filled him with something dangerous—hope, perhaps. Or fear.
For the first time, Kaian wondered if his careful control had been armor against something far more terrifying than war.
---