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Chapter : 36
That was when she saw it.
A faint light.
It was the study.
Emblin paused with the candlestick in her hand.
Someone in her mind shouted at her to hurry back to her bedroom, but her feet were already carrying her toward the study.
She had never once opened that door.
Suddenly, she remembered what the village representative, Zeck, had said.
He had visited her three days after she arrived in Wintergarden, handed her several ledgers, and said:
“These are the records of the villages. If you read them, you’ll understand all five villages completely.”
“Leave them here.”
“Understood.”
He had probably brought them thinking of Meryl.
Meryl, supported completely by her father, had been educated like an heir.
But Emblin was different.
Reading the ledgers required a range of complex knowledge while she only knew letters.
Ordinarily, she would have tried.
She would have read them even if she didn’t understand a thing, trying to memorize everything by force.
But now, she had no will for anything.
So she hadn’t read even a page, leaving the ledgers stacked in the study before shutting the door.
She had come here for freedom — she would enjoy only that.
They had lived fine without her until now, and they would continue to do so.
But now, Tris was in the study.
The fact that there was light meant he must be reading the ledgers.
Emblin clenched the sheets and bit her red lips hard.
But she didn’t open the door.
Everything belonged to him now — however he managed it was none of her concern.
Emblin headed toward the second floor.
By the time the eastern sky turned reddish, Emblin began the morning with bloodshot eyes.
A restless night had left her head heavy.
She wanted to go outside immediately and breathe cold air.
That would clear her mind.
She washed her face, brushed her hair, and put on a deep navy dress.
She had always dressed alone, so she was practiced.
Finally she put on her cape and left the bedroom.
From the landing, she looked down.
The study door — which had been firmly shut — was open.
Tris must have left.
She relaxed and walked down the stairs, crossing the hall.
She stopped before the inner door that led to the garden.
She grabbed the bolt out of habit and steadied her breath.
Every time she opened that door, her heart raced.
At last she pressed her lips together and lifted the heavy bolt.
Then she stepped into the dazzling silver world that always awaited her.
Her pupils widened, her lips curved upward.
The stubborn furrow in her brow vanished.
Her face lit up, almost glowing.
Tris entered through the back door, ears red from washing with cold water.
He had found a well outside.
Ughghgh.
Shivering violently, he stood in front of the fireplace.
He tossed in more wood and let the warm heat drive out the cold.
Bit by bit, warmth returned to his body.
Tris glanced up toward the second floor.
Not a sound — quiet as a mouse.
His stubborn wife must still be asleep.
He muttered to himself,
“I should eat breakfast and take a look around the village.”
He had read the ledgers all night, though he couldn’t finish them — there were simply too many.
He would take the rest with him when he went out.
He took a few steps toward the study to retrieve them — then froze.
“What’s that door?”
A door he hadn’t noticed yesterday — and it was open.
Cold air seeped through the gap.
Tris tilted his head, walked closer, and peered through.
At that moment, his eyes widened.
A breathtaking sight unfolded before him.
Beyond the door was a garden that held the entire world inside it.
Without realizing, he stepped forward — drawn like iron to a magnet.
Crunch.
Snow compressed beneath his boots.
In that instant, he understood why this place was called Wintergarden.
He was standing in a garden of winter itself.
A dazzling brilliance of color made his eyes feel scrubbed clean.
A broad field, a forest of fir trees wearing snowy hoods, a sheer cliff, a stream frozen mid-fall into crystal.
And then — he saw her.
Emblin.
Standing on the glowing white snow, wrapped in a black cape — she pierced into his vision.
Morning light rising.
Red sunlight.
Hair glimmering in the wind like jewels, a face whiter than snow, eyes the deep turquoise of an ocean.
Her entire body wrapped in elegant grace.
And lips curved as though smiling.
His eyes fixed on her lips.
A tiny change — yet everything felt different.
Pure, innocent, the most noble thing in the world.
His breath weakened.
His thoughts vanished.
There was only one person in the world.
His heart began pounding wildly.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Hot blood surged through him, circling his entire body.
He felt his temperature rise.
Goosebumps rippled all over him, every hair standing on end — as if praising her beauty.
He didn’t blink.
He couldn’t.
Even a split second of darkness seemed unbearable.
His senses sharpened to painful clarity, as if every pore absorbed her presence.
He twitched involuntarily — overwhelmed.
He cherished every second.
Even his breathing felt too loud — a distraction.
But he couldn’t silence his heart.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The hot blood pooling in his body began to gather in one place.
His trousers tightened uncomfortably.
A twenty-year-old man with burning blood — but until now, he had never once been aroused by a woman.
Not because he lacked desire — but because he lacked interest.
Yet now, he was seized by a desire so fierce he nearly lost his mind.
Gulp.
He swallowed dryly, his whole body flushed with heat.
The darkness in his eyes gleamed red with yearning.
Then Emblin noticed him.
Even from afar, he could see her freeze.
Cold wind carried her tension toward him.
She must have been startled.
He knew he should turn away — yet his legs refused to move.
Her chest rose and fell deeply — like she was taking a calming breath.
Had he frightened her that much?
She began walking toward him.
He watched her relentlessly, swallowing again, parched.
Then he noticed something interesting.
With each step she took, she changed.
Her tense, hunched posture straightened.
Strength returned to her legs.
And her unique aura surfaced.
Arrogant yet aloof, aloof yet completely indifferent to others.
A slow smile curled on Tris’s sensual lips.
Intriguing indeed.
He had sensed her fear, and yet — she overcame it.
Now she stood before him like the most imperious princess alive.
Emblin spoke stiffly.
“This is my space.”
Tris gazed at her without a word — his stare so intense it looked like he might swallow her whole.
Yet she did not look away.
Of course.
This was who she was — a princess brimming with pride from head to toe, bowing to no one.
That was why, at every banquet, she always caught the eye.
Even a glance while passing by could not help but fall on her.
It was her cool, aloof expression.
Anyone else would have shrunk under Maceir’s presence beside her — but not Emblin.
She narrowed her eyes, arched her brow haughtily, and twisted her lips into a mocking sneer.
“Leave.”
Emblin’s shoulders were stiff.
His abrupt intrusion had soured her mood.
“You greet someone in the morning by telling them to get lost?”
Emblin lowered her gaze, unsure how to respond to his rudeness.
Get lost?
Even though he was a duke’s son?
Why did he speak like that?
Seeing her avert her gaze — as if looking down on him — made Tris feel worse.
Why?
Was she dismissing his knight’s oath?
Did it mean nothing to her?
He snapped,
“Fine. I’ll go.”
Emblin jerked her chin higher and pointed toward the door.
“Right now.”
A laugh escaped him — disbelief.
She was ordering him?
Was she confused about who she was now?
She was no longer a princess.
She was a wife — that was all.
And among nobles, wives had little power — never enough to command.
To them, women were fragile things to be protected, not obeyed.
And she dared give him an order?
Did she really think she stood on equal ground?
She barely reached his lips in height — slender shoulders, a thin, frail body that looked like one flick of his finger could send her flying.
A faint flush appeared on Emblin’s cheeks — she was angry.
Sure enough, her voice hardened.
“Get out!”
Starting the morning with rage again.
Tris frowned and stepped back.
What a temper.
He had never met such an angry woman.
That angel who stood in the snowfield earlier — he must have imagined her.
His eyes truly must have been fooled.
To think he had shivered with awe and even gotten aroused.
