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Chapter 16
Even at that moment, Eisbrandt felt little emotion. Despite all the complicated considerations of others and various suspicions, for him, this marriage meant nothing more than “taking a woman as a wife.” Seren Rubab was not a person of political significance, and neither was her family. Nor did he expect, as the officiant’s prayers suggested, that they would embark on a new life with the joy of spring. He had no intention of letting a woman dictate his life; she only needed to exist there as his wife.
Yet, the woman who approached, veil over her head and holding a white bouquet, was beautiful. He had expected her to be pretty, but she was even more beautiful than he had imagined. She was like spring, like a flower. Even more pure and soft than the large bouquet she carried. Eisbrandt could feel his heart, which was not meant to move so wildly, beating uncomfortably like clattering stones. That, of course, was the greatest proof that this woman was his partner, but at the same time…
“Strange.” He should feel calm when he was with her. Yet he did not. The queasy, shaky, unstable sensation he interpreted as a restless excitement born from desire. He wanted to abandon all the troublesome ceremony and take her to the bed immediately. The anticipation of the feast that awaited them made his mouth water already.
“Eis—” Seren smiled shyly under her veil, unaware of the dark thoughts occupying his mind. Eisbrandt reached out his hand. She, thinking he wanted to hold hers, gently placed her hand on his. As usual, he pulled her hand and lightly lifted her into his arms.
“E-Eis…!” Seren’s voice lowered in protest, flustered. Even knowing that the Duchess of Sonz had agreed to support them, Eisbrandt walked the wedding path as if he had planned it this way all along. Murmurs of surprise spread around, and even the officiant froze in confusion. Eisbrandt did not care at all. The woman in his arms looked like a flower, as if he himself were carrying the bouquet down the wedding path.
“Really, this is too much.” Seren said in a sulky voice, soaking in the bathtub. Her cheeks had not cooled since she had been brought to the altar in his arms.
“You looked really good, Your Majesty.” The maid, brushing Seren’s hair with lily-scented oil, said. Another maid, who had brought her change of clothes, added:
“I’ve never seen His Majesty act so tenderly before.”
“It’s because he truly cherishes Empress Your Majesty.” The maid brushing her hair boasted as if she herself were being favored.
Still blushing, Seren mumbled an excuse:
“It’s just that it’s too improper…”
“What do you mean? Whatever the Emperor does is never improper or wrong.”
“But… it’s a ceremony.”
“Same thing. His Majesty is the pinnacle of the church, after all.”
“Hmm…”
“If you’re worried about undermining the Empress’s dignity, you needn’t. His Majesty cherishing you in no way diminishes your dignity.” The maid chattered on.
Yet Seren still felt embarrassed. She was not yet accustomed to attracting so many eyes. Just then, the Duchess of Sonz entered the bathroom, having apparently overheard, and scolded her:
“How dare you judge whether the Empress’s dignity is compromised or not?”
“Ah, my deepest apologies!” The maid quickly dropped her work and knelt. Seren hesitated, but as the Empress, she could not tell her not to.
The Duchess of Sonz bent one knee, lowering her height respectfully, and said:
“The wedding feast is proceeding without issue. Outside the palace, the festival has begun, and gifts are being distributed in the Empress’s name.”
“Ah.” Seren groaned softly. She had already heard about the festival and the gifts. It was now truly sinking in that she was the Empress.
“Is it really okay if I don’t attend the feast?”
“It is His Majesty’s wish.”
“Yes…” Seren replied in a tiny voice.
If not the feast, only one thing remained: washing her hair again, drying it, and rising with her fragrant body. She had to get used to showing her bare body to the maids. They dried her and helped her into a gown. Warm slippers were handed to her, and she stumbled slightly as she put them on.
“Are you all right, Your Majesty? You must be tired today.”
“Oh, no. Just a bit nervous…”
“I thought so, so I prepared something for you.” The Duchess of Sonz spoke cautiously.
At her clap, a maid brought a glass on a tray, containing a translucent honey-colored liquid. Seren, puzzled, received an explanation:
“It’s quite a strong drink. It will help you relax.”
“What if I drink it and make a mistake?”
“His Majesty will not consider it a flaw.”
Seren hesitated briefly, then drank it all at once. It was sweeter than she expected and drinkable.
“One more, please.”
“The effect will hit faster than you expect.”
“I want to relax. I’m not weak to alcohol.”
The Duchess of Sonz obediently poured another. Seren drank it in one gulp again. She had no courage to enter the bedroom sober. But the Duchess had been right; by the time they reached the bridal chamber, the alcohol began to take effect.
As Seren, her face flushed red, stepped inside, the chamber door closed behind her. Eisbrandt stood by the window. Unlike her long preparation in the bathroom, he wore comfortable shirt and trousers and even held documents, as if this were an ordinary day.
“So this is Eis’s room,” Seren murmured. Forgetting her ankle’s discomfort, she tried to approach but wobbled.
“Ah!” By the time she regained awareness, Eisbrandt had scooped her up into his arms. Seren laughed lightly.
“You’re drunk,” he said, incredulous.
“Yes. I drank to relax.” Seren wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging. Eisbrandt supported her hips and carried her toward the bed.
As she lay down, Seren laughed, tickled, and expressed her long-suppressed complaints:
“But why couldn’t I go to the feast? I had a beautiful dress made.”
“You’ll have plenty of chances to show it off.”
Saying this, Eisbrandt leaned down and pressed his lips against her small, soft lips. Seren might not have realized it, but he had been restraining himself for a long time. Had he acted fully on desire, she would not have left his bed since entering the palace. By now, he judged he had been generous enough.
“Mm.” Seren parted her lips willingly, letting out a sweet moan. Eisbrandt thought she was more proactive than ever. He lightly caressed her jaw, traced her neck with his fingers, and moved down to her chest.
Ticklish, Seren shrank slightly:
“It’s not because of the alcohol…”
“Hm?”
“Because we’re married…” Seren whispered, adding blush to her already red cheeks.
“Now I am yours, and you are mine, right?”
That was not true. She belonged to him, but he could not belong to her. He could indulge her fantasies made of sweet glances and soft voices, but he had taken her life; he had to pay that price. If what she desired was chastity, there was no problem—he had never felt desire for another woman anyway.
His hand groped her chest over the gown as she exhaled heavily. She had drunk to relax, yet she remained tense.
