IWJACM Chapter 20

Rezet only creased his brow and held his silence, and a rank, sneering smile crept up the corner of Yanok's mouth.

"Don't tell me you truly don't know a thing."

"I find it difficult to understand what you mean."

"Ha! So you really have gone and fallen, then? A burning love for the ages, no less. Even a Kyrstan colder than a winter stone mountain can't help himself in front of a fox wagging her tail, is that it?"

"……."

"You went around throwing that covenant in everyone's face to claim ownership of the princess—so am I to take it that if I steal her right out from under you, you'll just go along with it, no complaints? …Answer me, you fucking dog!"

At that, even Rezet couldn't help but huff out a short laugh.

Calling a dragon-blood hybrid a "dog." If the Mad Dragon Semesitha had heard that insult, it would have dealt his pride no small wound. Rezet didn't think it was even worth sneering at.

"I've heard Ughel's warriors call themselves barbarians and flaunt their strength because of it."

He calmly detached Yanok's finger from himself. The grip Yanok felt against his skin drained the color from his face.

Rezet tossed the man's hand aside, the way one might flick off something filthy. It was a brief, simple motion, but Yanok's whole body staggered from it.

"...Gah."

"As far as savagery goes, I don't believe there's anyone on Grendel who could outdo a yon'gyn, Your Highness."

"Wh—what?"

"If I were you, I don't think I'd make the mistake of picking a fight, as a human, against something that isn't human. I imagine that counts as one of the north's unwritten laws as well."

Failing to judge who held the real power and mouthing off anyway was a shortcut to the grave. The south's polite, honor-bound knights might not know it, but northerners never back down from a fight once it's brought to them. No such thing as going easy, either. Rezet least of all.

Leaving the Ughel prince behind like this, unaddressed, would certainly cause trouble later.

'Maybe I should stomp him down a little before I go.'

Rezet glanced down at his own hand.

A faint black sheen had begun to spread across the back of it. Skin darkened, deepening quickly to something as black as obsidian, rising rough and hard.

Prince, for what that title's worth—killing him outright would be a hassle, but cutting out that sly, conniving tongue of his seemed fine enough.

But then the warning Noyre had delivered, glaring daggers, snagged at his mind.

'Don't cause trouble. Leave the capital quietly. If something comes up again that I have to clean up after you myself, you'll get to enjoy this whole summer at Lothier to your heart's content.'

Rezet weighed the matter briefly, then abandoned it cleanly. The black, hardened shell that had covered his right hand vanished without a trace.

He offered Yanok Sihat a brief, formal bow.

"Then—safe travels to you, Your Highness."

Yanok glared, for a long while, at the Grand Duke's back as he strode off with long, unhurried steps—glared as if he meant to kill him with the look alone.

"You'd best be careful, Grand Duke. That silver fox will pick you clean to the bone in the end, and vanish without a trace."

He gave a twisted, crooked laugh.

"Just like that slippery eel of an emperor Argan had..."

Lothier's knights were waiting outside Van Yela's gates. A carriage stood visible at the center of the long column.

The closer the procession drew, the more Elise felt the weight of countless eyes on her. Even by rough count, nearly two hundred pairs of eyes were pinned on her, every single one.

Elise met their gaze naturally. It was a habit worn into her from the moment of her birth, raised as a princess. She didn't have Andrei's warm charisma, the gift for holding a crowd in his hand—but she had at least been taught that no one of imperial rank should ever be the first to look away.

But every knight whose eyes met hers snapped their heads away at once.

'Ah.'

The regret came a beat too late. Elise quickly lowered her eyes. Ruben, sweating, offered an excuse.

"That—um, well, those fellows only really know how to use their fists, and they're all northerners besides, clumsy with words, so I hope Your Highness will understand."

"It's fine. Don't worry about it, Sir Ruben."

She hadn't expected good treatment from Lothier's knights to begin with. On the day she was captured by Van Yela's army, Elise had killed one of their knights. He'd been trash who tried to rape her, but to them, he'd been a comrade who'd walked the line between life and death alongside them.

On top of that, she was the one to blame for dragging their return out to a month and a half, when fifteen days by horse would have done it.

Maybe, just as Yanok Sihat had crowed, they thought of her as some seductress who'd bewitched their lord. It was, perhaps, too much to hope for a warm welcome.

"Ruben."

A voice cut in abruptly from above. Ruben clamped his mouth shut with a small gasp. The Grand Duke. A faint chill was radiating off him.

'Wait—did he just use magic, a moment ago...?'

Rezet gave an indifferent jerk of his chin.

"That's enough now. Go get the column in order. We'll depart the moment Her Highness boards the carriage."

"Yes, understood."

Ruben hastily retreated. Rezet, taking his place, guided Elise forward and opened the carriage door.

"The mountain range crossing into Lothier is rough terrain. Even by carriage, the ride likely won't be a comfortable one. There will be stretches where you'll need to switch to horseback—I'll see to you personally then, so there's no need to concern yourself with it."

"Thank you."

"There's nothing to thank me for."

The same blunt answer as always came back. He still seemed to be in something of a foul mood—but he was, apparently, still willing to cooperate in making her performance look convincing.

Elise took his hand and climbed into the carriage. The moment she'd settled into her seat, Rezet spoke.

"Take care not to let your health suffer before we reach Lothier."

"Don't worry about that. I won't let the journey be delayed—"

"The road matters nothing to me if it's slower."

"...What?"

Elise blinked, bewildered.

Hadn't he told the Emperor, plain as day, that there wasn't a single hour to spare? She'd assumed, then, that urgent business was waiting at the territory.

But Rezet, instead, asked the question as if he found it strange himself.

"Shouldn't Your Highness be the one in a hurry?"

He meant, no doubt, that there would be no shortage of matters waiting once they reached Lothier. It was also, in its way, a reminder that while he had nothing urgent, Elise had only half a year left to her.

"I'll have your maid ride with you, so change out of that gown first. You'll tire quickly if you stay in something so uncomfortable. And until I open the door for you along the way, please don't come out on your own."

"...Understood."

"Yes. Then."

The carriage door shut without delay. Elise was left there in the carriage, alone, the space around her suddenly hollow and forlorn.

How many minutes did she sit there blankly, lost in the silence, before someone knocked at the carriage door?

"Your Highness. It's Yvessa."

"Come in."

Yvessa climbed aboard, her cheeks flushed, hauling a bundle of luggage.

"Did I keep you waiting long? I got held up packing what I could. I'm sorry. Shall we get that cloak off first?"

Elise let herself be handled. Yvessa grumbled the whole while she helped Elise change.

"Honestly, though, really. He could've at least given you time to change before setting off. What's so urgent about it, anyway..."

"Something must be waiting at the territory. Or maybe he simply doesn't want to waste any more time."

"If it were really so urgent he couldn't spare even a couple hours, he'd have ridden back ahead without you, wouldn't he."

Yvessa, sounding not a little put out on Elise's behalf, took off the cloak and looked over the wedding gown it had been hiding.

"After all that trouble I went to fussing over how you looked, and your husband barely even glanced at you. He's blunt as ever, but still... I suppose it's because so many people were watching?"

"What I have now is enough for me, Yvessa."

"But it was your wedding. A woman's most beautiful day, and it only comes once in a lifetime."

"I'm not so hurt by it. Don't trouble yourself."

Even as she comforted Yvessa, Elise found herself thinking: but the Grand Duke—the one who actually mattered—wouldn't he rather hold a more beautiful woman, all the same?

She swallowed the question and asked it obliquely instead.

"Men prefer beauty, don't they?"

"Hm? Well, of course they do."

Yvessa answered while smoothing out the folds of Elise's dress.

"Men go weak in the knees in front of a beautiful woman, that's just how they are. Didn't you see the knights sneaking glances at you the whole time?"

"...Ah. Did they?"

"Of course. Their own lord's wife, and they couldn't stop staring. Honestly, these men."

'But the Grand Duke—the one who actually mattered—never once looked at me.'

Rezet had looked at her only for that brief moment during their vow-kiss. Not once after that had his eyes met hers. He was a man who never offered even a single ordinary flattering phrase, the kind other men said so easily.

Every time she thought of it, she remembered the words he'd hammered in like a nail—that she wasn't a woman he particularly wanted to hold. Elise touched her lips, still hot to the touch, and let out a long, quiet sigh.

How she looked in other men's eyes hardly mattered. It was enough, more than enough, if she satisfied Rezet Kyrstan's aesthetic standards alone.

Once they reached Lothier, there'd be no end of things he'd have to do that he had no taste for. Shouldn't there be at least this much pleasure to look at, in return?

After a moment's hesitation, Elise asked Yvessa a favor.

"Would you mind keeping my grooming simple, until we reach the territory? I'd rather not present a poor appearance to the Grand Duke or the people of Lothier."

"Oh, my."

Yvessa burst into a bright laugh, as if she'd never heard anything so absurd.

"Your Highness would be beautiful rolling in the mud. Everyone in this world would say the same. What on earth do you have to worry about?"

"...I hope that's true."

"Of course it is. Beauty like yours is exactly why you survived, even in enemy territory. A woman's looks are one of the many weapons she has at her disposal. Use it to your heart's content!"

Elise's mouth curved faintly upward. Yvessa's exaggerated praise reminded her, more than a little, of Andrei.

Foolishly, it comforted her—if only a little. Were it not for the fact that the man who rendered one of her few weapons useless was now, of all things, her husband.