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CHAPTER 51…………..
Lady Cyrileze cleared her throat—ahem, ahem—as if signaling to her husband, then turned to Etisha with her kindest smile.
“Daughter-in-law, eat plenty. This man doesn’t seem like he deserves the delicious food, so I think you should eat it all instead.”
“Ah… Mother.”
“No, I don’t mean to pressure you… Don’t force yourself to eat too much, and if it doesn’t suit your taste, just leave it. No need to feel burdened—eat comfortably. I did prepare as best as I could, but I’m not sure if it’s to your liking.”
“…Yes, thank you. Everything looks so delicious. I’ll enjoy it.”
Etisha thanked her and turned her gaze to the banquet table. She hadn’t had a chance to take in the scene before, but now she saw it piled high with all manner of luxurious dishes.
Picking up her cutlery, she scooped up a little of the cream stew closest to her. The others at the table also began to eat.
Wow, delicious.
If it was food like this, she could eat a lot.
Enjoying her meal, she naturally reached for the salt. She was about to season her stew, but at the same moment, Cayenne also reached for the salt.
“…!”
Their hands touched.
Both froze, hands resting on the salt cellar.
“……”
“……”
Since yesterday, she didn’t know why it felt like time kept stopping like this. She was about to pull her hand back when she realized—oh no—both her mother- and father-in-law were at the table with them.
Ah… if I suddenly yank my hand away, it’ll look strange, right?
She needed to look like a loving couple with Cayenne. This was the time to play the part.
Ah, whatever.
Etisha asked softly,
“Your Grace, shall I sprinkle some salt for you?”
Tenderly.
Like a real lover.
Like a real fiancée.
“Yes… I’d appreciate it, Miss Etisha.”
Cayenne’s low, even voice answered. He seemed to be thinking the same thing as she was.
“All right, then, please lean in…”
She picked up the salt cellar and opened the lid. She sprinkled it twice over Cayenne’s stew, then three times into her own.
“How is it? Too bland?”
“Well… I think it’s fine.”
“Shall I add a little more?”
“Yes, Miss Etisha.”
She reached across and sprinkled a little more into his bowl. Cayenne lifted his spoon and tasted the stew. Even in such a simple motion, there was elegance and restraint befitting a noble—and even an intangible sense of authority.
Her gaze dropped from his face to his lips.
It wasn’t anything special, really, but somehow the fact that Cayenne was eating stew she had seasoned made her very conscious of it—especially because it was his lips tasting it.
Ah, lips.
Cayenne, kiss… Cayenne, kiss… Cayenne…
The tips of her ears warmed. Thankfully, her long pink hair covered them so it wasn’t noticeable.
No, stop it—Mother and Father are here. Don’t think weird thoughts.
She set down the salt and took another spoonful of cream stew. What had tasted delicious moments ago now seemed flavorless.
Luckily, once again, Lady Cyrileze rescued her from her fluster.
“Speaking of which, it’s almost time for the grey wolf hunt.”
“The grey wolf?”
“This time of year, grey wolves tend to appear in the territory. To prevent any incidents, the castle organizes hunting parties.”
“My goodness, isn’t that dangerous?”
“Dangerous? Hardly. These days it’s practically a form of entertainment among the northern nobility—more like a picnic with hunting.”
Hunting wolves as a picnic…?
Etisha knew that the north’s customs were different from the capital’s, but this was new to her. Lady Cyrileze continued, smiling.
“The meat from the wolves is cooked and eaten, and the pelts are displayed in honor. The person who catches the largest, cleverest wolf of the year is even given an honorable title.”
“Wow… that’s amazing.”
“Of course, that title has always belonged to Cayenne. Before he was old enough to participate, it was Kailles’s. If the chance comes, it would be nice for you to join this hunt.”
“Yes, Mother. If I’m allowed to, I’d like to go.”
“Fufu, good. When the date’s set, I’ll let you know. Since it’s a special occasion, it would be good if both Kailles and Cayenne took part together.”
Lady Cyrileze looked between her son and husband. Both Cayenne and Kailles wore equally unreadable expressions, neither agreeing nor refusing.
“…?”
Why wasn’t anyone answering?
Seeing Etisha’s puzzled look, Lady Cyrileze translated,
“Don’t worry, daughter-in-law. That’s their way of saying ‘yes.’”
“Ah.”
“Really… they didn’t need to resemble each other in that way.”
She shook her head lightly and dipped bread into her stew. After that, the conversation was mostly between Lady Cyrileze and Etisha, while Cayenne and Kailles remained silent.
As the banquet drew to a close, Etisha thought,
The Duke is hard to read, but so is Lord Kailles.
Honestly, something about it was strange.
She thought meeting the former duke in person would let her understand him, but she still couldn’t figure him out. He didn’t seem as cold, cruel, and ruthless as the rumors about the “Sword of the North” claimed—but he also didn’t seem as kind and considerate as Cayenne.
Kailles simply seemed indifferent, almost distant.
Difficult… I think I’ll need time to understand him.
Still, there was one relief.
At least he doesn’t remind me of Father.
When she’d thought of Kailles before, it always brought up memories of her own father, Baron Heinz. But meeting in person, she didn’t see any resemblance.
That alone was enough for her to feel satisfied.
“In truth, while the wolf hunt is important, there’s an even more important event coming up—our daughter-in-law’s wedding…”
Lady Cyrileze tapped her wine glass, producing a clear tone. Everyone set down their utensils and looked at her.
“There’s really not much time left until the wedding day. Lately I’m so excited I sometimes lose sleep. I can’t wait for you to officially become part of our family.”
She raised her glass toward Etisha.
“Let’s toast to the wedding.”
One by one, the others followed suit—Etisha, Cayenne, and former Duke Kailles.
They all drank to welcome her.
“…Thank you, Mother, Father, and Your Grace. I’m looking forward to the wedding as well.”
Though she and Cayenne had already had their private wedding, Lady Cyrileze’s heartfelt words made her want the originally planned wedding to go smoothly too.
After all, it’s the wedding Mother is preparing with such care.
She hoped the ceremony would pass peacefully, without incident.
I wonder what Lariènne will try…
She lowered her gaze and drank her wine. The sweet, slightly heavy bitterness felt like it mirrored her own mood.
Late that night, the Tower of Stars on the outskirts of Wintel Castle lay shrouded in darkness.
Dite was curled up on the edge of her bed, asleep. She trembled and sweated as if plagued by nightmares.
“No… Madam… Cayenne… It hurts. It hurts so much…”
She whimpered pitifully. If only someone could wake her—but the tower remained still and silent.
Then—tap, tap—something rapped against the closed window.
Outside stood a man in a black robe. His beauty was devilishly alluring, his silver hair shimmering in the dark, his eyes a blood-red hue—Marquis Hexion.
He tapped the glass again and again until Dite woke.
“Mm…?”
She sat up, panting, her face pale from the bad dream. Her eyes were sunken, her cheeks gaunt.
“Dite. Long time no see.”
“Marquis Hexion…?”
She rubbed her eyes and hurried to the window, opening it and speaking with reproach.
“Why are you so late? I’ve been so worried since you didn’t come for so long!”
“Security at Wintel Castle has gotten tighter. It was no small task slipping in unseen.”
He gestured toward the outside. Still, how he had managed to reach this high window was a mystery.
“Really? I thought something had happened… Actually, Madam knows everything now. And so does Cayenne.”
“I know. I just came from listening to Countess Mongmadre’s wailing. I hear her dealings with Wintel have been cut off.”
“My goodness… Is the Countess all right? I’m so worried. I tried to tell her not to, that the Duchess is a good person, but no one would listen to me.”
Hexion smirked and shrugged.
He had thought maybe Dite could be turned into a golden hawk, but it seemed she was better suited to remain a caged canary.
“Here, take this first.”
From inside his robe, he pulled a thin letter, the front scrawled with the Countess’s initials.
“Given the situation, she’s getting impatient. The Duchess’s wedding is right around the corner, after all. You’ll see the details in the letter.”
“Ah… yes.”
Dite accepted it reverently.
She thought of opening it immediately, but then a small pebble flew toward her and she caught it reflexively.
“And that one’s from me.”
It was a stone the color of fresh blood.
“What is this?”
“An emergency contact.”
“…Huh?”
“It won’t be easy for me to come find you like before. If something happens, break it, and I’ll know right away.”
“How? It just looks like a stone.”
“It’s not just a stone—it’s a magic stone imbued with my power.”
Hexion’s eyes curved in a sly smile. Dite gasped.
“Y-you’re a sorcerer?”
“That’s a secret. Just for you to know.”
“How…?”
“Well, I’ve said what I came to say. I’m off.”
With that, he leapt from the window.
Dite hurried to the sill and looked down, but all she saw was endless blackness.
“……”
She clutched the magic stone and the letter to her chest.
It seemed she would be spending a long, sleepless night.
