---
Eileen dully looked at the newspaper.
She closed her eyes and again opened them, but the headline hadn't changed.
On the first page their yesterday's wedding photo was printed.
*‘Is this me?’*
It was impossible to believe.
Eileen widely opened her eyes, continuing to peer at the newspaper.
Having taken a small sip of tea, she began reading the headlines.
Cesare, watching her out of the corner of his eye, picked up *La Verità* from the table and held it out to her.
Eileen didn't immediately take the newspaper, only looking at it.
Cesare didn't hurry her and patiently waited.
Looking at his outstretched hand, she realized that one mustn't take time from the eternally busy Cesare.
Having gathered her spirit, she took the newspaper.
She squeezed the newspaper so hard it rustled in her hands.
With trembling hands Eileen unfurled the page and glanced at the photo.
Cesare in the shot looked exactly as he had during the wedding.
Though, to be honest, not completely.
Because in reality he looked much better.
On the photo Cesare, of course, remained beautiful, but all his dangerous and charismatic charm hadn't translated.
A black-and-white image couldn't reflect his fiery-red eyes.
*‘A pity the red color didn't translate...’*
It was vexing to her that the people of the Empire wouldn't see the beauty of his eyes.
Eileen slowly shifted her gaze.
She intently examined the unfamiliar woman standing beside Cesare.
In a white wedding dress with fine embroidery, with curly locks, she softly smiled.
Eileen carefully studied the bride's face: large eyes, a small nose, plump lips...
Ideal features, like a fairy's.
Anyone would admit that before them was a flawless beauty.
Although the color of hair and eyes was impossible to tell, she was, without doubt, beautiful.
Having carefully examined the girl, Eileen came to a clear conclusion.
*‘This is someone else.’*
Apparently, an error had occurred during printing, and someone else's face had been superimposed on hers.
At first she was surprised and upset, but, having thought, decided that this was even for the best.
After all it was better if an unknown beauty turned out in the role of Duchess Erzet, and not she herself, ugly.
Besides the girl on the photo perfectly harmonized with Cesare.
But it was offensive that no commemorative shot remained.
They’d taken so many photos—really had not even one come out normally?
With these thoughts she powerlessly lowered the newspaper.
Cesare, standing at the table and drinking tea, immediately approached her.
"Something wrong?"
She tried to hide her despondency, but he, apparently, noticed everything.
"Just... the wedding photo." Eileen held out the newspaper to him, trying not to look too upset.
"It looks like it was printed incorrectly."
Cesare, having glanced at the newspaper, raised a brow.
He intently looked at Eileen, briefly huffed and said: "Reality is anyway better.
You have especially beautiful eyes."
He returned the newspaper to her, explaining that the photo was bad because it was black-and-white.
Eileen, distractedly accepting it, shifted her gaze between the newspaper and Cesare.
"But... the photo is strange..."
"Upset you came out ugly?"
"What?
Ugly?
There is just a beautiful fairy there!
That is... no, that's not the point." Eileen slightly bit her lip, hiding her vexation.
Why doesn't he understand?
After all it's not her on the photo...
Or does he not care?
She was already upset because of the failed shot, and now he was also saying some strange things.
Eileen unfurled the crumpled newspaper and showed him again.
"You see...
It's not my face.
It looks like someone else's was superimposed."
She cautiously, without a note of whim, stated the fact.
Cesare silently looked at her.
"Eileen."
"Yes..." Having answered with a stifled voice, she lowered her eyes.
He sat beside her, and his unfastened robe slightly opened the chest.
She involuntarily stared at his bare chest—a sight appearing inappropriate at this time of day—until Cesare touched her cheek.
His voice sounded low and firm.
"Now you are my wife." She didn't understand why he was reminding her of the obvious.
Eileen quietly nodded.
"At the wedding you swore to obey the husband.
And I promised to be honest with you.
Is it not so?"
She again nodded.
Cesare looked at her with tenderness, stroking her cheek, and asked: "Then, Eileen.
Whom to believe—the husband or the dead?"
She briefly thought, but immediately gave the expected answer: "The husband..."
Then he summarized: "On the photo in the newspaper—is your face, Eileen."
She wanted to object.
To say that no, look again, this girl and she are completely different.
But Eileen couldn't utter a word.
His red eyes, like poppy petals, captivated her completely.
His pleasant low voice sounded a bit quieter:
"You are beautiful.
And not only in my opinion—any objective gaze will confirm it." Cesare smirked and added: "You yourself said—like a fairy."
Eileen's cheeks were colored with blush: it came out she herself had called herself a fairy.
"But I thought that it was another..."
She timidly tried to justify herself, but he only slightly pinched her cheek and rose from the bed.
"Read the article to the end.
I need to briefly step away."
Having said goodbye to him, Eileen, having remained alone, again looked at the newspaper.
She didn't even glance at the cooling breakfast.
*‘Is this me?’*
If Cesare said so, it means it's true.
From confusion she had a splitting headache.
Clenching her teeth from pain, as if someone were piercing her skull with an awl, she turned the page.
The headache slightly receded when the wedding photo vanished from sight.
She decided to read the article, as he’d bidden.
Having moved to the second page, Eileen began to read.
[We boldly declare: this moment is worthy to take a place in the myths of the founding of the Traon Empire.
The spouses of the Erzet Duchy captivated all guests with their unseen beauty...]
Their wedding was compared with the myths of the founding of the Empire.
The description of Eileen was so flattering that she doubted—were they at the same wedding?
*‘Maybe this is a pro-Duke newspaper?’*
But she needed to believe Cesare.
He’d never lied to her.
He could understate, but didn't deceive.
*‘And yet... can it really be me?’*
She gathered her spirit and returned to the first page.
But the gaze at the photo again caused an insurmountable sensation of unreality and headache.
All her body ached after the night, and this discomfort only aggravated her torments.
In the end, she decided to distract herself and read something non-wedding.
After long searches Eileen finally found a political article and began to read.
[Count Domenico in the role of the new chairman of the Senate promises changes in the Traon parliament...
Tries to establish mediation between the Imperial family and the nobility...]
Despite yesterday's wedding, the Erzet Duke's residence remained just as quiet as always.
Except there were more decorations of fresh flowers.
The lily used at the wedding filled the living room with a sweet aroma.
But Count Domenico, instead of admiring the flowers, couldn't sit in place and nervously walked around the room.
Looking at his tossings, Cesare crookedly smirked.
"Count Domenico."
"Your Grace!" As soon as Cesare appeared, the count immediately rushed to him.
The latter with a light gesture pushed him aside and sank onto the sofa.
The count hastily sat opposite.
Cesare leaned back on the back and relaxed.
"Can it be that in my honeymoon I must meet with you?
Leaving a young wife alone in the bedroom."
Joking words made the count tense.
"It's you yourself who decided so, Your Grace."
The dry and angular count breathed heavily, hurriedly continuing: "Since when are you so interested in politics?
Did you, having gained power over the army, now also need the throne?"
Cesare only smirked in response to the rudeness.
The count, whose patience had snapped, with a shaking beard barked: "Well, better you’d killed all!
Is not the extermination of the capital nobility alone enough for you?"
Cesare unhurriedly answered: "It seems you’ve misunderstood something, count.
The throne I can get even now.
My brother and I are in good relations.
And as for the capital nobility..."
Red eyes narrowed, curving in a mocking gaze.
"Even if I kill all—will that give me what I want?"