RR 40

Chapter : 40

This time, Tris lifted his head and looked at Emblin. She ate like a small bird pecking at grain, but the expression on her face pierced into him. Her brow was drawn tight as if she might cry. Did she hate being with him that much? Tris spoke softly.

“Even if you don’t like it, endure it. I’ll make sure we don’t eat together again.”

Emblin didn’t answer. Tris continued.

“But I’ll be coming to your office often. Your record book is very useful. I’m learning about the village from it.”

Still she didn’t respond. Tris sighed under his breath.

“Feels like I’m going to choke on this bread.”

At his grumbling, Emblin finally opened her mouth.

“It’s my first time.”

“Hm?”

“Eating with a stranger. It’s my first time.”

“What do you mean? You used to attend banquets all the time.”

“Do you think I attended because I wanted to?”

Tris stared blankly at her.

“If I didn’t do as I was told, my mother paid the price. So what else could I do? I had to obey. I couldn’t swallow a thing. So this is really my first time.”

Tris pressed his lips together. Of course he knew—how much the mad Meril had obsessed over King Akkus. But he had never once considered how Emblin must have felt.

Emblin spoke quietly.

“I don’t know what to do. It’s strange and irritating and… it feels like everything changed. I don’t know.”

Her stark honesty made Tris’ chest tighten. He muttered,

“I’m sorry.”

Emblin knitted her brows. Her nose stung, and her eyes prickled as if they might burn. She didn’t understand why. Frowning, she shook her head, trying to shake the feeling off—right when Tris suddenly cupped her cheek in one large hand.

Her startlingly clear turquoise eyes deepened all at once. Tris forgot to breathe. He stared into them as if gazing into a vast, endless ocean.

Without meaning to, he stroked her cheek.

“I’m sorry, Emblin.”

Her breathing trembled. He felt unbearably close.

But that evening, she flared up at him again. Kisi and Lea had prepared his room right beside hers—and then casually returned home. What set her off wasn’t the room but Tris himself, lounging around as if he fully intended to sleep there.

Shivering with annoyance, Emblin snapped,

“You don’t actually mean to sleep here, do you?”

Tris shot her a glance.

“Then where is a lord supposed to sleep?”

Her voice went stiff.

“At the inn. I told you to stay there.”

“I have every right to be here. Don’t you remember? You gave me that right.”

Emblin’s voice died.

“And if I’m to protect you properly, it’s best I stay close. Day or night.”

Emblin’s lips parted. Leaning against the doorframe, he smiled faintly and asked,

“Didn’t you want perfect protection?”

Her face went pale. Naturally. Hah. She couldn’t tell when he was joking; teasing her was fun. Which was why he was wasting time here instead of going to the office.

“You took an oath.”

“And am I breaking that oath right now?”

He barely kept from laughing. Did she truly think he would pounce on her immediately?

Running a hand through her fallen hair, Emblin muttered,

“You’re making me uncomfortable.”

His eyes caught on her long, elegant fingers. The way her hair slid between them. Under the torchlight it gleamed bronze. He stared, breath held. Sleek, glossy strands tinged with red.

Tris’ gaze darkened. He wanted to thread his fingers through that hair. Cradle her small head. And those red lips…
He jolted. Damn it. He was aroused again.

Tris strode past her.

“I won’t sleep here. Just staying briefly in the office. That should be fine?”

Emblin barely contained her relief. She had truly felt cornered. Wrapped in her emotions, she didn’t notice Tris now seemed like a completely different man.

“Fine.”

Tris vanished in an instant.

Hurrying down the stairs into the office, he pressed firm against the front of his trousers. It hurt—he was so hard. Bracing against the wall, he shut his eyes. He had to calm down.

He thought of her sharp scolding. Her arrogant expression. The way she spoke to him as if he were beneath her.

“Damn it.”

That backfired. Instead something else rose up—her innocent expression, those captivating eyes, red lips, and her hair shimmering in the sun.

Tris jerked his trousers down. He had never been this aroused. Instinct took over. Jaw clenched, eyes blackened, breath ragged between parted lips. His reason drowned beneath raw hunger.

After breakfast, Tris listened expressionlessly as Peta spoke.

“So we’re starting logging today. From what we measured, we’ll need to fell at least ten trees.”

Arms crossed, Tris turned to Shaun.

“And? Thought about what to do with the wolves?”

Shaun answered,

“Right now logging comes first, so here’s the plan. We’ll use fire.”

Tris’ thick brows twitched. Interesting.

“Fire? You’ll set a blaze?”

Shaun explained.

“At the logging site…”

When he finished, Peta added,

“I saw Jack yesterday. Told him we needed four workers, and he said he could bring more.”

“That’ll cost too much.”

“That’s what I said. Then he said they’d split the pay.”

“Then that’s fine.”

“Yeah. But… it felt strange. They looked like starving men.”

A royal agent flashed in Tris’ mind. Hard crusts of bread. Rotten potato stew. A commoner beaten to death before his child. Hunger. Clearly the agent had done far more than collect taxes. Tris’ eyes hardened. But there were priorities.

“All right. Let’s start with this.”

Footsteps sounded outside. Jack and the workers had arrived. Everyone rose. Time to begin the long day.

Tris gripped his sword and watched Shaun. Confident, Shaun led the work. They inspected the trees to be felled, marked spots, then cleared brush in 10-meter spans. In each clearing they piled dry branches and built makeshift “walls” along both sides.

Then they lit the piles with torches. Improvised fire barriers sprang up.

“Begin.”

Standing beside Peta, Tris scanned the forest. The Riverun woods belonged to wolves.

Jack was thrilled. Yesterday he had been doubtful—today he was working. It felt like luck. With even a little pay, they could travel to another village and buy wheat.

It was February. Winters here were long and harsh. Beyond clearing snow, the frozen ground allowed no work. Hunger ruled the days. What little they harvested, the king’s agent seized in full as taxes.

So they dug up hidden rotten potatoes and lived off charity from the monastery. Then Emblin appeared—like Meril returning from the dead. They mourned Meril, but prayed she’d found peace.

Rumors had spread even here—through travelers from the capital. “Mad Meril.” Locked in a tower, locked away with her only daughter. They thought they’d never see that child again—yet Emblin came.

First joy, then grief, then relief. Seeing lights return to Wintergarden, the people felt it.

But they expected no miracles. King Akkus had sent her alone. The late Count Redian had always feared a kidnapping marriage. After his death, Meril had no guardian. Akkus clearly didn’t care.

Emblin cloistered herself in Wintergarden. Even Kisi and Lea moved silently to and from the manor.

The princess wishes to be alone.

It hurt to see her abandoned. This noble woman, left to rot. The Redian lands had been crushed under the king’s agent; they had no strength left to defend her. No knights. No soldiers. No one. If trouble came, they were helpless.

And yet… just seeing Wintergarden lit brought comfort. At last, maybe the true master of this land had returned. A hint of light in ruined lives.

Villagers put their heads together to care for Emblin. They ensured the manor never ran out of firewood, sent vegetables from the monastery’s garden, and when hunters found meat, it went straight to Wintergarden.

They themselves were cold and starving, but they would not let Wintergarden suffer. They loved her—deeply.

Work began in pairs. Jack spat on his palms, gripped his axe, and swung.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!